Strange Folk, page 11
As he led her away from the fire toward the trees, a sharp voice came from behind them.
“Get your hands off her.”
Meredith turned to find a tall, sturdy woman with tangled black hair silhouetted imposingly against the fire.
The boy immediately dropped her hand and backed away. “No problem, ma’am. I’m gone.” He walked quickly back to the security of the couches.
The woman approached Meredith slowly, her face coming into focus with each step. The hollows in her cheeks, her wrinkles, and finally her hazel eyes, ones that reminded Meredith of her own, came into relief. “Redbud.”
“Meredith.”
Redbud smoothed a hand over Meredith’s hair and then lightly cupped her cheek. “Why were you following that boy? I know you’re smarter than that.”
“I thought he would teach me magic. Tiffany said I could learn here—that’s the only reason I came.”
“That boy has nothing to teach you, honey. I guarantee that.” Redbud studied her and then crouched down and put her palm to the ground. “Do you feel it?”
Meredith thought she might cry. Finally, someone who would talk to her about it like a real person. “Yes. I feel it. It’s like this surge of energy coming up through the land. It courses through me at night and I can’t sleep.”
An intense, unreadable expression passed over Redbud’s face. “You feel it now?”
Meredith turned inward and assessed. “It’s not very strong here. It’s much stronger back at the cabin.”
Redbud smiled crookedly, as if her hard, craggy face had forgotten how. “You remind me of myself when I started to feel it.” She guided Meredith over to a pair of lawn chairs and motioned for her to sit. “Has Belva showed you anything? Have you been learning from her?”
Oh god, Meredith thought. Please don’t let this ruin my chance. “No. She wanted to, but my mom wouldn’t let her. She thinks it’s dangerous.”
Redbud smiled again. “Your mama was always so smart.” Meredith thought she looked a little sad then, but she pulled herself back together. “That’s good, though. I know it don’t seem like it, but Belva is dangerous. You don’t want to be learning from her.”
Meredith was surprised to hear this, but it didn’t seem impossible. She couldn’t deny the fear that she sometimes felt around her. She’d never experienced people who could be both tender and threatening before she came to Craw Valley.
“You’ve been given a powerful gift, darlin’. It’s important you learn how to use it right.”
“Will you teach me? I’ll be careful. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Redbud was solemn. “Yes, I’ll teach you. But it’s gotta be our secret.” Her eyes pierced Meredith’s. “All right?”
Meredith’s breath shallowed. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Redbud nodded, and she pulled one of the stamped glass jars from underneath the chair. She handed it to Meredith and instructed her to take a small sip. “For anointing,” she explained. “To keep you safe from the spirits while passing through their realm.”
Meredith let a bit trickle into her mouth, careful not to take too much. It tasted like nail polish remover, scalding her throat with its cold fire. She choked, and Redbud handed her another jar. “Don’t worry, this is water. Drink.” Meredith chugged it.
When she was done, Redbud led her over to the fire, and they both sat down. Tiffany was still there. Someone had given her a jar, and she was drinking from it. When their eyes met, it felt like Tiffany was looking through her at something else.
“Do you have a black book? Like Belva?”
Redbud bristled. “No. I don’t need a book. I got it all up here.” She pointed to her head and smirked. “You and I don’t need books or anybody else to do our work.”
Redbud told her to lie down in the grass, and she obeyed. It was like the night she’d watched Belva’s ritual; she could feel the energy surging up from the land. But it wasn’t the same; it didn’t feel like it was speaking to her. It just radiated without form. “It feels… different. Is it this land? Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, baby.” Redbud lay down next to her. “It’ll do that now that you’re learning to use it.” She took a deep breath. “Now, I want you to focus on that energy and imagine directing it into your hands. Pull it out of the earth and store the energy in your palms.”
Meredith imagined it as a sort of fog made of light. She channeled it into two gaseous tentacles on either side of her and directed them to penetrate her hands. After a few seconds, she could feel warmth in her palms, and she brought them up in front of her face. They glowed gold against the night sky. She had a distant notion that she should be exclaiming and freaking out, but she was adrift in some current, unable to form the expressions.
“Now sit up and find that boy from before.” Redbud’s voice flowed along the current with her, like an oracle chanting in her brain.
Meredith obeyed and scanned around the fire. There he was, across the flames.
Redbud’s voice came from right behind her ear. “That boy thought he could take advantage of you.”
Meredith stared hard at the boy, and the rage was stoked, heating her hands to a nearly painful temperature.
“But he has no idea how powerful you are. How much stronger you are than him.”
The rage burned higher. She flexed her fingers in and out at her sides.
“Make him regret ever thinking he could take you. Make him regret the day he met you.”
Meredith extended her hands toward him and imagined the energy leaving her palms like snakes. They moved like twisting neon through the darkness over the fire and wrapped around the boy’s head. She saw sparks, and her breath caught in her throat. Oh god, what have I done? What if he gets really hurt?
But then she noticed he didn’t seem to be reacting. “There’s something wrong. I don’t think it’s working.”
Redbud took her by the shoulder. “Look—his head is starting to get hot. He’s sweating.” They watched him scratch at his dreads as a sheen of new sweat glistened along his forehead. “You’re still learning, so it ain’t very strong. But you did that. You made that happen.”
Meredith felt the remaining energy travel from her palms to her middle, and it pulsed there like static electricity waiting to strike. It was real. It was actually fucking real. And she could do it. She could use magic.
The people in the lot started to move toward the fire and encircle them. Redbud stood and reached for Meredith’s hand to pull her up. “It’s time for bed, kid. You okay to get home?”
“But I want to stay. I won’t tell anyone anything. I promise. Please let me stay,” she pleaded.
Redbud shook her head. “This ain’t for you, honey. Not yet. But keep coming to see me, and I’ll teach you, okay? I’m here most nights.”
Meredith didn’t protest. She could sense it was futile, just like with Belva or her mother. They were more alike than any of them knew. She searched around the circle for Tiffany, but she was nowhere to be found. “My friend—I need to find her.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll look out for her. Run along now.”
Though they’d only just met, Meredith felt she could trust Redbud. There was something strong and direct about her; she didn’t have to wade through subtext to find the truth. She didn’t understand what Belva and Mom were so worried about—Redbud was amazing.
At this thought, Meredith felt the rage rise up anew. Her mother had kept her from this all of her life; it was only now that she’d taken things into her own hands that she was discovering the magic and the family that she’d been missing.
But she tried to push these thoughts away—she wanted to revel in this night. She wouldn’t let her mother ruin this, too.
As Meredith walked home through the trees, she noticed how her filter on the world had changed. There were slightly different colors, different smells, an altered feeling. The darkness radiated gem-like hues, and she could smell each part of the forest down to the sweet, earthy beetle shells and musky tree nuts. She felt grounded with a good dirt—the best, most-fertile soil. Solid, clear, awake. Rooted to the earth. The opposite of her old, hazy self.
It wasn’t like Cliff’s visions.
No.
It was the sense that one era had ended and a new one had begun. And she would never be the same again.
TWELVE
LEE
As Lee crested the peak, the dense trees receded into rock and open sky. She could hear Otis close behind her, his breath steady and strong where hers was short and ragged.
They scrambled up a large limestone rock jutting out over the edge of the mountain, known by locals as Giant’s Tooth, and sat down at the top. The air up there was thin and violent, and they huddled together and looked out over the scenery in awe. She wished she could dissolve into the moment and give herself over to the majesty of the view. But she couldn’t let go of the feeling that somewhere in the miles of ancient trees surrounding them, Mr. Hall’s killer was watching.
“I’m glad you could take off early on a Wednesday.”
He smiled. “Me too. Teacher hours seem pretty great. Done by three p.m., the rest of the day yours.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I have to be at work by seven, and it’s basically hell, but I see your point.”
Otis pulled two bottles of brown glass out of his backpack and uncapped them with a simple silver opener. He handed one to Lee.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He smiled. “My beer. I put basil in this batch. Tastes a little like pizza, but it’s not bad.”
Lee took a sip. The herbal bite reminded her of soap, but there was a raw sweetness that made it almost enjoyable.
“And… honey?”
“I’m impressed. Belva helped me with the recipe. Gave me some of her honey.”
Lee took another sip and let the bubbles linger on her tongue.
She wondered if Otis knew Belva’s honey was a love potion of sorts. There were those who had fallen for one another under its influence, others who had rekindled stale marriages, and still others who had merely experienced the greatest sex of their lives. For a moment, Lee imagined dipping her finger in a pot of the honey, spreading it on Otis’s lips, and licking it off.
She put her hand on his thigh and let it slide between his legs. He made eye contact with a trace of surprise in his gaze, then cupped her face and kissed her deeply. She pulled him on top of her as she leaned back onto the rock. The world around them receded, and it surprised her how quickly she wanted him inside of her, the need coursing through her without ceremony.
It wasn’t that she’d lost her sexual desire. It had never left. But for years it had been relegated to a fantasy compartment of her brain, disconnected from Cooper or any other person.
In these moments with Otis, Lee felt the desire rising to the surface, this craving to be touched by something solid and outside of herself.
A strong gust ripped over them, cooling her feverish skin, and they broke apart. Lee looked around and saw a family of four approaching from below. The kids had already broken away and were climbing the steep walls of the boulder behind theirs. She pushed away from Otis and sat up, chuckling softly as she pointed at the kids. He smiled with flushed cheeks. She’d nearly forgotten why she asked to see him and was grateful for the cold, sobering air beating against her face.
“Do you have something stronger? Maybe some of that liquor from the party?” She hoped she sounded casual, or a bit fiendish at worst, but not someone with an ulterior motive.
“Naw, that’s only for… certain occasions.”
“Where’d you get it? I’ve never had anything like it.”
“Oh, a friend gave it to me. It’s one of his hobbies.”
“Which friend? I’d love to buy some.”
His expression changed. “I don’t know. He can be pretty paranoid. It’s illegal, and he could get arrested if it got out.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She hoped she wasn’t pushing too hard, but he was being more guarded than she’d anticipated.
He looked at her skeptically before relaxing again. “It’s TJ. He makes it.”
Lee remembered how people had treated him with reverence at the bonfire. “Oh, cool. Do I just text him, or how does it work?”
“He doesn’t do phones. You have to look out for the signal at the turn-off to his place. If you see it, they’re open for business. If not, don’t go up there.”
“That’s intense.”
“He just doesn’t want to get caught. He could go to jail for a few jars of craft liquor.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
Lee dropped it then. She was pretty sure TJ wasn’t some country hipster resurrecting outmoded artisanal practices, but whatever else the black flower entailed seemed outside of Otis’s purview. She would go to TJ’s under the guise of buying moonshine and gather more information. She could sense she was getting closer.
Lee took a sip of her beer. “I’m sorry again about the other morning. I wasn’t trying to be cold. I was tired and hungover and… it’s still strange being back.”
Otis set his beer down and looked into her eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.” Lee wanted to tell him about Mr. Hall and the black flower and the strange connections that seemed to radiate out from it, but she couldn’t without revealing her suspicions about his friend and exposing her family. There was something undeniable between them, but she couldn’t trust him yet. “I’m worried about Meredith. She was there when we found his body, and she won’t talk to me about it. Things have been strained between us since we got here. We used to be so close, and now she fights me on everything.” She had never felt this much distance from her daughter, and it was unnerving. “I see my kids assimilating here and finding joy, and I’m mystified by it, because this isn’t what I wanted for them. They don’t see that they’re taking a step backwards. But then I wonder if I’m just jealous that they’re able to touch the world in a way I never have.”
They had once been a trio that shared their own strange world, but her children were growing beyond the confines of that world and finding belonging here. Lee didn’t know where she fit in this new life.
“Like I said, it’s not so bad here.”
She gave him a look, and he let it go.
“Things hit you harder when you’re a kid. When my mom died, I didn’t want to be around anyone. Everything they said made me want to scream.” Otis reached out and put his hand on Lee’s. “But you’re there for her, which is what counts. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”
Lee leaned against his shoulder. “I remember when she passed away senior year. I thought, I wish my mom would die. Then at least she’d have some peace and I’d be really alone and not in this limbo state where she was there but not there. It was a terrible thought, and I felt evil for having it.” She paused. “Not to make it about me. God, I’m sorry.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her closer to him against the wind. “When my sister OD’d the first time, I kept imagining her waking up in the hospital with this new lease on life and wanting to get clean. Something about seeing the other side and realizing she didn’t want to die anymore.” He chuckled. “But when she woke up, she told me she wished they’d let her die. She started using again as soon as they let her out.” He looked out over the valley with the mountains rising beyond it. “I’m sure your mama wished she was dead, too. That disease is torture. It’s hard to watch the people you love in pain like that. You wanted a bit of mercy for her.”
Lee never talked about Redbud with anyone. It was easier to hold it inside and avoid exposing its complexities to others’ misunderstanding and judgment.
But Otis was different. He was open and thoughtful in a way she’d never encountered, and she trusted him with this one piece of her strangeness.
“It was more than that.”
She told him how her mother’s disability and other assistance had covered her pain pill prescription, paid the scant utilities, bought some food. But anything else Lee needed, like shampoo or college application fees, she had to figure out for herself. The prospect of plunging fries into oil or working the cash register as the dull hours ticked by seemed torturous, though she knew if she said this to anyone, they would accuse her of “smelling her own piss,” as if ambition was a character flaw. They thought someone like her should be grateful for whatever she was offered.
It was Mr. Hall who introduced her to Beau, a man who lived in Cradleburg and built solid wood furniture that was popular on the craft fair circuit. He needed an assistant. In the months leading up to the deadline for her college applications, Lee saved every dollar Beau paid her and stored the cash in a wooden box she’d made herself. By Thanksgiving, she had completed all the forms and written the essays. She only needed to slip the cash inside and seal the envelopes. That evening, after Lee ate tater tots alone at the kitchen counter for Thanksgiving lunch, she went to her box for the cash, and it was gone. Not a single bill left.
Lee could still remember it vividly. An old black-and-white movie was playing on the TV in her mother’s bedroom when she went to confront her. She was under the covers, and Lee could only see the black frizz of her hair poking out from the top. The room was even more sour than usual, and there was a sweet tang where there was normally an earthy body odor. She got closer and saw that vomit stained the edge of the sheet and was dripping down onto the floor. She pulled the covers back, and her mother’s face was already turning violet. She put her finger up to her nose and felt nothing. She called Billy, who called a friend who was a paramedic. While she waited and stared at her mother’s body, she did not try to save her life, even though she’d learned CPR in health class. Underneath the panic and fear, she felt a bit of relief. Maybe now things would finally change. Maybe now her mama would find some peace.
As Lee finished her story, her chest tightened and her stomach churned.
“It wasn’t your job to save her,” he said.
“I know.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Meredith turned to find a tall, sturdy woman with tangled black hair silhouetted imposingly against the fire.
The boy immediately dropped her hand and backed away. “No problem, ma’am. I’m gone.” He walked quickly back to the security of the couches.
The woman approached Meredith slowly, her face coming into focus with each step. The hollows in her cheeks, her wrinkles, and finally her hazel eyes, ones that reminded Meredith of her own, came into relief. “Redbud.”
“Meredith.”
Redbud smoothed a hand over Meredith’s hair and then lightly cupped her cheek. “Why were you following that boy? I know you’re smarter than that.”
“I thought he would teach me magic. Tiffany said I could learn here—that’s the only reason I came.”
“That boy has nothing to teach you, honey. I guarantee that.” Redbud studied her and then crouched down and put her palm to the ground. “Do you feel it?”
Meredith thought she might cry. Finally, someone who would talk to her about it like a real person. “Yes. I feel it. It’s like this surge of energy coming up through the land. It courses through me at night and I can’t sleep.”
An intense, unreadable expression passed over Redbud’s face. “You feel it now?”
Meredith turned inward and assessed. “It’s not very strong here. It’s much stronger back at the cabin.”
Redbud smiled crookedly, as if her hard, craggy face had forgotten how. “You remind me of myself when I started to feel it.” She guided Meredith over to a pair of lawn chairs and motioned for her to sit. “Has Belva showed you anything? Have you been learning from her?”
Oh god, Meredith thought. Please don’t let this ruin my chance. “No. She wanted to, but my mom wouldn’t let her. She thinks it’s dangerous.”
Redbud smiled again. “Your mama was always so smart.” Meredith thought she looked a little sad then, but she pulled herself back together. “That’s good, though. I know it don’t seem like it, but Belva is dangerous. You don’t want to be learning from her.”
Meredith was surprised to hear this, but it didn’t seem impossible. She couldn’t deny the fear that she sometimes felt around her. She’d never experienced people who could be both tender and threatening before she came to Craw Valley.
“You’ve been given a powerful gift, darlin’. It’s important you learn how to use it right.”
“Will you teach me? I’ll be careful. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Redbud was solemn. “Yes, I’ll teach you. But it’s gotta be our secret.” Her eyes pierced Meredith’s. “All right?”
Meredith’s breath shallowed. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Redbud nodded, and she pulled one of the stamped glass jars from underneath the chair. She handed it to Meredith and instructed her to take a small sip. “For anointing,” she explained. “To keep you safe from the spirits while passing through their realm.”
Meredith let a bit trickle into her mouth, careful not to take too much. It tasted like nail polish remover, scalding her throat with its cold fire. She choked, and Redbud handed her another jar. “Don’t worry, this is water. Drink.” Meredith chugged it.
When she was done, Redbud led her over to the fire, and they both sat down. Tiffany was still there. Someone had given her a jar, and she was drinking from it. When their eyes met, it felt like Tiffany was looking through her at something else.
“Do you have a black book? Like Belva?”
Redbud bristled. “No. I don’t need a book. I got it all up here.” She pointed to her head and smirked. “You and I don’t need books or anybody else to do our work.”
Redbud told her to lie down in the grass, and she obeyed. It was like the night she’d watched Belva’s ritual; she could feel the energy surging up from the land. But it wasn’t the same; it didn’t feel like it was speaking to her. It just radiated without form. “It feels… different. Is it this land? Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, baby.” Redbud lay down next to her. “It’ll do that now that you’re learning to use it.” She took a deep breath. “Now, I want you to focus on that energy and imagine directing it into your hands. Pull it out of the earth and store the energy in your palms.”
Meredith imagined it as a sort of fog made of light. She channeled it into two gaseous tentacles on either side of her and directed them to penetrate her hands. After a few seconds, she could feel warmth in her palms, and she brought them up in front of her face. They glowed gold against the night sky. She had a distant notion that she should be exclaiming and freaking out, but she was adrift in some current, unable to form the expressions.
“Now sit up and find that boy from before.” Redbud’s voice flowed along the current with her, like an oracle chanting in her brain.
Meredith obeyed and scanned around the fire. There he was, across the flames.
Redbud’s voice came from right behind her ear. “That boy thought he could take advantage of you.”
Meredith stared hard at the boy, and the rage was stoked, heating her hands to a nearly painful temperature.
“But he has no idea how powerful you are. How much stronger you are than him.”
The rage burned higher. She flexed her fingers in and out at her sides.
“Make him regret ever thinking he could take you. Make him regret the day he met you.”
Meredith extended her hands toward him and imagined the energy leaving her palms like snakes. They moved like twisting neon through the darkness over the fire and wrapped around the boy’s head. She saw sparks, and her breath caught in her throat. Oh god, what have I done? What if he gets really hurt?
But then she noticed he didn’t seem to be reacting. “There’s something wrong. I don’t think it’s working.”
Redbud took her by the shoulder. “Look—his head is starting to get hot. He’s sweating.” They watched him scratch at his dreads as a sheen of new sweat glistened along his forehead. “You’re still learning, so it ain’t very strong. But you did that. You made that happen.”
Meredith felt the remaining energy travel from her palms to her middle, and it pulsed there like static electricity waiting to strike. It was real. It was actually fucking real. And she could do it. She could use magic.
The people in the lot started to move toward the fire and encircle them. Redbud stood and reached for Meredith’s hand to pull her up. “It’s time for bed, kid. You okay to get home?”
“But I want to stay. I won’t tell anyone anything. I promise. Please let me stay,” she pleaded.
Redbud shook her head. “This ain’t for you, honey. Not yet. But keep coming to see me, and I’ll teach you, okay? I’m here most nights.”
Meredith didn’t protest. She could sense it was futile, just like with Belva or her mother. They were more alike than any of them knew. She searched around the circle for Tiffany, but she was nowhere to be found. “My friend—I need to find her.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll look out for her. Run along now.”
Though they’d only just met, Meredith felt she could trust Redbud. There was something strong and direct about her; she didn’t have to wade through subtext to find the truth. She didn’t understand what Belva and Mom were so worried about—Redbud was amazing.
At this thought, Meredith felt the rage rise up anew. Her mother had kept her from this all of her life; it was only now that she’d taken things into her own hands that she was discovering the magic and the family that she’d been missing.
But she tried to push these thoughts away—she wanted to revel in this night. She wouldn’t let her mother ruin this, too.
As Meredith walked home through the trees, she noticed how her filter on the world had changed. There were slightly different colors, different smells, an altered feeling. The darkness radiated gem-like hues, and she could smell each part of the forest down to the sweet, earthy beetle shells and musky tree nuts. She felt grounded with a good dirt—the best, most-fertile soil. Solid, clear, awake. Rooted to the earth. The opposite of her old, hazy self.
It wasn’t like Cliff’s visions.
No.
It was the sense that one era had ended and a new one had begun. And she would never be the same again.
TWELVE
LEE
As Lee crested the peak, the dense trees receded into rock and open sky. She could hear Otis close behind her, his breath steady and strong where hers was short and ragged.
They scrambled up a large limestone rock jutting out over the edge of the mountain, known by locals as Giant’s Tooth, and sat down at the top. The air up there was thin and violent, and they huddled together and looked out over the scenery in awe. She wished she could dissolve into the moment and give herself over to the majesty of the view. But she couldn’t let go of the feeling that somewhere in the miles of ancient trees surrounding them, Mr. Hall’s killer was watching.
“I’m glad you could take off early on a Wednesday.”
He smiled. “Me too. Teacher hours seem pretty great. Done by three p.m., the rest of the day yours.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I have to be at work by seven, and it’s basically hell, but I see your point.”
Otis pulled two bottles of brown glass out of his backpack and uncapped them with a simple silver opener. He handed one to Lee.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He smiled. “My beer. I put basil in this batch. Tastes a little like pizza, but it’s not bad.”
Lee took a sip. The herbal bite reminded her of soap, but there was a raw sweetness that made it almost enjoyable.
“And… honey?”
“I’m impressed. Belva helped me with the recipe. Gave me some of her honey.”
Lee took another sip and let the bubbles linger on her tongue.
She wondered if Otis knew Belva’s honey was a love potion of sorts. There were those who had fallen for one another under its influence, others who had rekindled stale marriages, and still others who had merely experienced the greatest sex of their lives. For a moment, Lee imagined dipping her finger in a pot of the honey, spreading it on Otis’s lips, and licking it off.
She put her hand on his thigh and let it slide between his legs. He made eye contact with a trace of surprise in his gaze, then cupped her face and kissed her deeply. She pulled him on top of her as she leaned back onto the rock. The world around them receded, and it surprised her how quickly she wanted him inside of her, the need coursing through her without ceremony.
It wasn’t that she’d lost her sexual desire. It had never left. But for years it had been relegated to a fantasy compartment of her brain, disconnected from Cooper or any other person.
In these moments with Otis, Lee felt the desire rising to the surface, this craving to be touched by something solid and outside of herself.
A strong gust ripped over them, cooling her feverish skin, and they broke apart. Lee looked around and saw a family of four approaching from below. The kids had already broken away and were climbing the steep walls of the boulder behind theirs. She pushed away from Otis and sat up, chuckling softly as she pointed at the kids. He smiled with flushed cheeks. She’d nearly forgotten why she asked to see him and was grateful for the cold, sobering air beating against her face.
“Do you have something stronger? Maybe some of that liquor from the party?” She hoped she sounded casual, or a bit fiendish at worst, but not someone with an ulterior motive.
“Naw, that’s only for… certain occasions.”
“Where’d you get it? I’ve never had anything like it.”
“Oh, a friend gave it to me. It’s one of his hobbies.”
“Which friend? I’d love to buy some.”
His expression changed. “I don’t know. He can be pretty paranoid. It’s illegal, and he could get arrested if it got out.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She hoped she wasn’t pushing too hard, but he was being more guarded than she’d anticipated.
He looked at her skeptically before relaxing again. “It’s TJ. He makes it.”
Lee remembered how people had treated him with reverence at the bonfire. “Oh, cool. Do I just text him, or how does it work?”
“He doesn’t do phones. You have to look out for the signal at the turn-off to his place. If you see it, they’re open for business. If not, don’t go up there.”
“That’s intense.”
“He just doesn’t want to get caught. He could go to jail for a few jars of craft liquor.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
Lee dropped it then. She was pretty sure TJ wasn’t some country hipster resurrecting outmoded artisanal practices, but whatever else the black flower entailed seemed outside of Otis’s purview. She would go to TJ’s under the guise of buying moonshine and gather more information. She could sense she was getting closer.
Lee took a sip of her beer. “I’m sorry again about the other morning. I wasn’t trying to be cold. I was tired and hungover and… it’s still strange being back.”
Otis set his beer down and looked into her eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.” Lee wanted to tell him about Mr. Hall and the black flower and the strange connections that seemed to radiate out from it, but she couldn’t without revealing her suspicions about his friend and exposing her family. There was something undeniable between them, but she couldn’t trust him yet. “I’m worried about Meredith. She was there when we found his body, and she won’t talk to me about it. Things have been strained between us since we got here. We used to be so close, and now she fights me on everything.” She had never felt this much distance from her daughter, and it was unnerving. “I see my kids assimilating here and finding joy, and I’m mystified by it, because this isn’t what I wanted for them. They don’t see that they’re taking a step backwards. But then I wonder if I’m just jealous that they’re able to touch the world in a way I never have.”
They had once been a trio that shared their own strange world, but her children were growing beyond the confines of that world and finding belonging here. Lee didn’t know where she fit in this new life.
“Like I said, it’s not so bad here.”
She gave him a look, and he let it go.
“Things hit you harder when you’re a kid. When my mom died, I didn’t want to be around anyone. Everything they said made me want to scream.” Otis reached out and put his hand on Lee’s. “But you’re there for her, which is what counts. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”
Lee leaned against his shoulder. “I remember when she passed away senior year. I thought, I wish my mom would die. Then at least she’d have some peace and I’d be really alone and not in this limbo state where she was there but not there. It was a terrible thought, and I felt evil for having it.” She paused. “Not to make it about me. God, I’m sorry.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her closer to him against the wind. “When my sister OD’d the first time, I kept imagining her waking up in the hospital with this new lease on life and wanting to get clean. Something about seeing the other side and realizing she didn’t want to die anymore.” He chuckled. “But when she woke up, she told me she wished they’d let her die. She started using again as soon as they let her out.” He looked out over the valley with the mountains rising beyond it. “I’m sure your mama wished she was dead, too. That disease is torture. It’s hard to watch the people you love in pain like that. You wanted a bit of mercy for her.”
Lee never talked about Redbud with anyone. It was easier to hold it inside and avoid exposing its complexities to others’ misunderstanding and judgment.
But Otis was different. He was open and thoughtful in a way she’d never encountered, and she trusted him with this one piece of her strangeness.
“It was more than that.”
She told him how her mother’s disability and other assistance had covered her pain pill prescription, paid the scant utilities, bought some food. But anything else Lee needed, like shampoo or college application fees, she had to figure out for herself. The prospect of plunging fries into oil or working the cash register as the dull hours ticked by seemed torturous, though she knew if she said this to anyone, they would accuse her of “smelling her own piss,” as if ambition was a character flaw. They thought someone like her should be grateful for whatever she was offered.
It was Mr. Hall who introduced her to Beau, a man who lived in Cradleburg and built solid wood furniture that was popular on the craft fair circuit. He needed an assistant. In the months leading up to the deadline for her college applications, Lee saved every dollar Beau paid her and stored the cash in a wooden box she’d made herself. By Thanksgiving, she had completed all the forms and written the essays. She only needed to slip the cash inside and seal the envelopes. That evening, after Lee ate tater tots alone at the kitchen counter for Thanksgiving lunch, she went to her box for the cash, and it was gone. Not a single bill left.
Lee could still remember it vividly. An old black-and-white movie was playing on the TV in her mother’s bedroom when she went to confront her. She was under the covers, and Lee could only see the black frizz of her hair poking out from the top. The room was even more sour than usual, and there was a sweet tang where there was normally an earthy body odor. She got closer and saw that vomit stained the edge of the sheet and was dripping down onto the floor. She pulled the covers back, and her mother’s face was already turning violet. She put her finger up to her nose and felt nothing. She called Billy, who called a friend who was a paramedic. While she waited and stared at her mother’s body, she did not try to save her life, even though she’d learned CPR in health class. Underneath the panic and fear, she felt a bit of relief. Maybe now things would finally change. Maybe now her mama would find some peace.
As Lee finished her story, her chest tightened and her stomach churned.
“It wasn’t your job to save her,” he said.
“I know.”
