Alex Bledsoe - Wisp of a Thing

Rob stood up. The others ignored him, except for Stella. She stared, astonished to see him and confused by his tears.

He no longer cared about her. He kicked his guitar case aside and stumbled away from the fire toward the cave entrance. But he was disoriented, and somehow found himself in one of the side tunnels. He kept moving into the dark, crying aloud and feeling like each sob might snap him in half. He was the worst person in the world, he’d sold out everything he believed was important for a few minutes in the spotlight, and even Anna had been sacrificed on the altar of his narcissism. Just like Omie Wise, she’d died because she trusted him and came to him when he asked her to. Now he deserved to die slowly and painfully, each bit of agony an atonement for the hurt he’d inflicted on others. How had he ever thought he could do good? Real men did good. He was a petulant, whiny boy.

Although he’d gone around several turns in the tunnel, the singer’s voice seemed just as pure, just as loud.

He got tangled up in another curtain, this one much heavier than the others. He swiped at it with his hands as it fell over him, then finally grabbed two thick handfuls and pushed forward.

The curtain dropped away. Light blinded him.

He saw blue sky directly ahead and the tops of trees far below.

Then his momentum carried him out of the tunnel and into the air.

He screamed in free fall as he tumbled three hundred feet to the base of the cliff below.

It was midmorning by the time Bliss got into Needsville and stepped onto the post office porch. As she’d told Rob, Rockhouse was there, all alone and slowly rocking. She stood with her arms folded and waited to be acknowledged.

When it was clear she wouldn’t be, she said, “Most men grow their beards for winter and shave them in the spring. But you just have to be contrary, don’t you?”

The old man stopped rocking and turned to look at her. He was clean-shaven again, and his cheeks were pink with the freshness of it. “You taking another day off? You’ll be out of a job if you keep that up. Those are tough to come by these days, especially if you get a name as a slacker.”

“Don’t worry about my job,” she said.

“Whoo-ee, you sound pissy. About to get your monthlies?”

Bliss sat in one of the other chairs. “Why’d you grow that beard, anyway?”

“Sometimes a man just needs to get hairy. Has to let nature have its way for a while. If you’re one of them modern girls who shaves her privates, you know what I mean.”

“My privates are none of your business.”

“Your momma never shaved hers.”

Bliss narrowed her eyes. “That’s beneath even you, Rockhouse. And you won’t piss me off, so you might as well stop trying.”

“Don’t sound like I need to,” he said with a self-satisfied wink.

“You’re mad at me because I tried to broker a truce about this whole situation, aren’t you? Didn’t even matter that I came up to your place to do it, out of respect for your position. You took it as an insult, just like when we stood up to you at the barn dance. And you took it out on Uncle Node.”

He looked away from her, at something in the far distance. “You know, before the power company cleared out trees for the phone lines, the top of that hill used to have a whole stand of sugar maples. Still get them damn saplings in the spring from seeds that just won’t give up trying to sprout, even after all this time. They ain’t never gonna grow to trees, but they come back every spring and have to be cut down. Kind of like the people who think they’re smarter than me.”

“Really?” Bliss said dryly.

He looked at her with a bully’s smug amusement. “Girl, you ain’t nothing to me. Nothing. You think you can protect that little snot Mandalay until she gets growed up and haired over, well, I got news for you: I could rip that little whore to pieces right in front of you and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do. I let her stay, because I get tickled watching you folks sneak around and try to outfox me. And you, Miss Bliss? You’re a joke. A babysitter who has to take orders from the baby.”

Bliss was not intimidated. She leaned toward him and said, “Keep rambling, old man. Keep acting like you never missed that stroke in front of the queen.”

Pure hatred blazed from his eyes, and his features distorted as something behind them tried to escape. But it was only for an instant. Then he smiled and said, “This ain’t the first time someone’s tried to shellack me. Won’t be the last. For me, that is. Might be the last time for them. Every spring there’s fewer and fewer saplings to cut down.”

Bliss started to fire back, But this is the first time the night wind’s done it. She held back, though, as a new thought struck her.

Rockhouse didn’t know. He thought it was another plot, this time by Mandalay. He had no idea the night winds themselves were not just facilitators this time, but instigators. They’d sent the apparition to Rob. They’d sent the Kate Campbell song to her. They’d probably even planted the suggestion that Rockhouse grow a beard so Rob wouldn’t recognize him right away.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rockhouse said, bringing her out of her reverie.

She stood, straightened her jacket, and said, “Maybe you’re right, Rockhouse. Maybe this time you’ll outfox us all again. But sooner or later, you’ll slip up. And then what happens, huh?” She patted him on the arm. “You have a good day, old man. Stay warm. Fall’s coming, and you never know when there might be a chill in the air.”

“Why, thank you kindly,” he said mockingly. “And speaking of falls, shame about that boy from the TV show. Must’ve been a suicide, or maybe just an accident. Reckon we’ll never know.”

Bliss went cold inside, but kept it off her face. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out. Surprised I had to tell you about it.”

“You’re pathetic, Rockhouse.”

“You know they say trouble comes in threes. First Uncle Node, then your boyfriend. I’d be watching my back if I was you.”

He turned to look back into the distance, dismissing her from his presence. Bliss forced herself to walk casually back to the Catamount Corner, where her truck was still parked from last night. She drove with the same nonchalance until she knew she was out of his sight, then floored it.

Rob wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he opened his eyes. He saw blue sky, which was also the last thing he remembered seeing. He’d read “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” in high school, and wondered if he was still in mid-fall, heading toward certain death below. He didn’t seem to be moving, though, and no wind whistled past his head.

He shifted a little and felt solid ground under him. He reached down and touched rocky dirt. Okay, he was on the ground, but there was no way he was still in one piece. Was he split open like a grape, then? If he moved his hand another inch, would he encounter one of his own internal organs? What would the texture of a disembodied pancreas feel like?

Slowly he turned his head. He saw the tops of trees, now above him instead of below. A flock of starlings rose noisily from their branches. He wondered if they were going to circle back and begin to feed on his shattered remains. He’d seen crows and blackbirds picking over road kill, and was glad these little guys wouldn’t have to worry about traffic.

Then he heard a woman singing.

He followed the sound with his eyes. He wondered if there was no pain because his spine was severed somewhere below his neck.