Alex Bledsoe - Wisp of a Thing

Tears trickled down her face. Nothing could take it back; nothing could cure it. It was done. She was done. And yet she didn’t take the step so many other girls had taken when left in this state. There were two reasons for that: One was the forlorn but still present hope that Stoney might one day want her again, that she might experience that amazing sensation of being transcendently beautiful. And two—the most frightening of all—was that she wasn’t sure this addiction wouldn’t also follow her to the other side. Perhaps Stoney was surrounded by the haints of girls like her, all still tied to him and aching for corporeal pleasures they could never again experience. She would sometimes lie awake at night, wide-eyed, contemplating that.

Rob and Doyle sat across from each other at the Waffle House near the interstate, outside a town called Unicorn. It had taken half an hour to reach it, but Rob didn’t feel comfortable talking anywhere near Needsville. He wanted to be completely off the Tufa radar until he decided how much he could really trust Doyle.

When they parked, he’d noticed a bumper sticker on another truck: IF IT AIN’T KING JAMES, IT AIN’T BIBLE. The presence of this sign of normal Southern Fundamentalism filled him with relief.

The waitress, attractive except for a ton of blue eye shadow, left two empty cups and a carafe on the table. Doyle said, “Alsie, you mean you ain’t even gonna bring us coffee that’s been saucered and blowed? What if I burn myself?”

Alsie gave him a pretend scowl. “Doyle Collins, I am not your momma. I figure you’re smart enough not to scald your pretty little tongue.” As she walked to the next customer, Rob wondered if her hips were doing an authentic Southern sashay.

Alsie stopped at the only other occupied booth, where a tired-looking woman sat with a six-year-old boy. She had the long straight hair and denim skirt that marked a Pentecostal believer.

The boy loudly sneezed. “Cover your face when you do that,” his mother admonished.

“You don’t want to spread your germs everywhere,” Alsie added.

“Germs and Jesus, that’s all I ever hear about,” the boy said in a voice too weary for his age. “Germs and Jesus. And you know something? You can’t see neither one of ’em.”

Doyle grinned, poured coffee in his cup, and asked Rob, “So what’s the big secret?”

Rob nodded toward the waitress and asked softly, “Is she Tufa?”

“Alsie? Nah. Well, maybe a smidgen. No more than I am, at any rate. Why?”

Rob paused, then decided to plow ahead. “Did you hear about that woman who disappeared in town yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

Rob drank his coffee and made a face. “This tastes like mud.”

“Well, it was fresh ground this morning,” Doyle deadpanned.

Rob ignored him. “I didn’t see germs or Jesus, but I did see that girl last night at this barn dance Bliss took me to. And some weird shit happened there, man.”

Doyle sipped his coffee. “Like what?”

“You’ll think I’m nuts if I tell you.”

Doyle sat expectantly.

“Well… Bliss told me some stuff about the Tufas. And while it’s loopy, I gotta tell you, I halfway believe it. Especially after meeting her baby sister.”

“Who?”

“Her sister, Curnen.”

Doyle looked puzzled. “Bliss doesn’t have a sister.”

Rob was silent for a moment before saying, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve known her all my life, she’s an only child. Her mom got that thing, endometriosis, right after she was born. Couldn’t have any more children.”

“So… you don’t know anyone named Curnen Overbay?”

“’Fraid not.”

Rob looked down at the greasy coffee in his cup. Now he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Well… do you know a guy named Stoney?”

“Stoney Hicks? Big guy, looks like a Chippendale? Oh, yeah, I know him. ”

Rob leaned closer. “I need your word that this doesn’t go any farther. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Last night, this Stoney guy was dragging around that woman who disappeared yesterday. She looked like she’d been awake for a week. Do you know where he hangs out?”

Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I need to talk to that girl. Let her know her husband’s all torn up about the way she’s treating him. I tried last night, but there were too many people around.”

Doyle shook his head. “I wouldn’t go poking around, trying to find him. His uncle’s that old guy you had the run-in with at the post office, Rockhouse Hicks. Between the two of them, they’ve got some mean family and friends.” He looked out the window at the sunrise, and his tone changed. “Besides, I ain’t never known Stoney to have to make a girl come with him. They just kind of drop their panties if he nods at ’em. Don’t matter what promises they’ve made to someone else.”

It took Rob a moment. “Wait, you mean him and Berklee?”

Doyle nodded. Rob never imagined such a common gesture could encompass so much sadness and regret.

“Wow,” Rob said.

“Yeah,” Doyle agreed.

Rob pressed on. “I’m sorry to hear about that, really. But I need to find this girl and talk to her. Her husband’s not a bad guy, and he doesn’t deserve the hassle he’s getting from the cops over this. If she’s where she wants to be, that’s fine. I’ll pass along the word and everyone can get on with their lives.”

“I wish I could help you, but honestly, I ain’t seen Stoney myself in probably six months. And anyway…” He seemed to want to say more.

“What?” Rob prompted.

Doyle thought it over. “This is going to sound kind of strange. You see… Stoney likes to use the fact that he’s real good-looking to get girls to do things for him. Nothing, like, mean or anything, he doesn’t hit ’em, he just kind of… I don’t know, uses ’em up. Wears ’em out. Lots of the girls he’s dated died within a couple of years after he broke up with ’em. From just kind of giving up on things.”

“Giving up,” Rob repeated.

“Yeah. They don’t eat, they don’t go to school or work, they just… quit. Quit life. Some even kill themselves. Happened to two girls I personally knew back in high school. Damndest thing.”

“And nobody thought this was weird?”

“Weird’s relative around here. Our most famous local murder was over a spelling bee.”

Rob just looked at him.

“I’m not making it up. Back in 18-something-or-other. A schoolmaster and his student who won the big county-wide spelling bee got ambushed by the head of another school who was jealous ’cause they won. True story.” He drank some coffee, then followed it with water to wash down the taste. “Y’all may think this is silly, but there’s stuff in this valley that… well, it goes back a long ways. Most folks outside of here consider it superstition and bullshit like that, but around here, it works. It’s for real. Now, I ain’t saying I believe in it or anything, but I am saying that I’d be stupid not to, given everything I’ve seen over the years. And on top of that, the girls all have their own special secrets that the boys don’t never know.”

“That’s true everywhere.”

“Not like it is here with the Tufa girls.”

Rob could only nod in agreement to that. “So you’re saying that I should just forget about finding Stella Kizer?”

“I’m saying that if Stoney’s got his hooks in her, it won’t change anything if she goes back to her husband.” He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I saw one girl’s suicide note, man. Jillie Rae Keene. She said it was like Stoney took part of her soul away, and without him, she could never be a whole person again. It was downright spooky. ”