Tatjana Soli - The Forgetting Tree

“I think later—”

“Go!” he yelled, and Minna flinched as if he had hit her, bowed her head, and left them alone. Paralyzed, Claire felt her heart press against her lungs, her breath come in shallow spurts.

“I told Maleva here, it be a good thing if you sign over the farm to her. To make the working of it go fine.”

“Why do you call her that name? That’s not her name.”

“She take good care of you, non ? Better than that worthless family of yours.”

Claire processed that her family had been discussed between them, judgment passed. Something terrible was dawning on her, a pressure behind her eyes that made the objects in front of her swim — Jean-Alexi’s face distorted into a fun-house mask. “It’s not my farm to give.”

“There’s ways, lady. Anyway, Maleva alone in the world like you.”

Finally something from him she could grab on to, control the direction of the conversation. “Tell me. She won’t.”

But he shook his head, determined on his own narrative. “The ways I see it, lost got to help the lost in this world.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t help but agree with him. His power both attracted and terrified her. How could an innocent girl such as Minna hold out against the likes of a Jean-Alexi? “Is that what you two are doing? Helping each other?”

“You got it wrong, lady,” he said, coming up close. “ I am not lost. I am one of the conquerors of this world. Don’t forget it.”

“You won’t let me forget it, will you?”

“There’s work to be done.”

“The farm belongs to my husband’s family. I’m calling him to come meet you.”

“No need. I just passing through. Don’t want any trouble for Maleva, do you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but he smiled, picked his teeth, and walked off. A terrible, strutting little rooster.

Minna came out, watched him walk away, shaking her head. “The devil must have his little day…”

* * *

The next days passed in a game of cat and mouse, Jean-Alexi conducting business out in the barn on his cell phone, coming into the empty house only for meals. During those meals, he always waited till Minna was out of the room, then broached again the subject of signing over the ranch. It did not seem possible that Minna was unaware of these efforts, and Claire put it to delicacy on her part to refuse to acknowledge them.

When she was alone with Minna, she pleaded that he be sent away.

“Got to be careful what genie you let out of the bottle,” Minna said. “Jean-Alexi goes the opposite way he’s told.”

“He’s asking me to sign the farm over to you.”

Minna bit her lip. “That’s his making. I was foolish calling him. He’s too lazy to work the farm. He’ll be moving on.”

“But why did you call him?”

“Why? Why?” Minna mocked her. “He’s home. He’s familiar. No matter how bad, he knows me. You can’t escape your history.”

* * *

Now it became clear to Claire that the elixirs were doing the opposite of what they once had, now the cause of her tiredness, but she did not exactly blame Minna for this, figuring instead that in her zeal for Claire’s health, she was unaware of the side effects and maybe even desiring them. Perhaps Claire was safer asleep, out of the range of Jean-Alexi and his obsessions. Nonetheless she went on a campaign to dump the drinks when the two were out of sight. Her strength built, and one morning, feeling the strongest yet, she dressed before Minna came into the bedroom.

“I’m going to visit Mrs. Girbaldi.” It came as a shock how long it had been since she had talked to her old friend, or Forster for that matter.

Minna quickly shut the bedroom door. “Not a good idea.”

“I’m tired of being shut up in here.”

“Don’t make him angry. For me.” Genuine fear was in her eyes.

Claire was so pleased that Minna was finally talking truthfully to her, acknowledging the reality of their situation, that she hardly comprehended the admission of the danger they were in. “Tell me, what’s going on?”

“I made a mistake, calling him. He wants more than he’s owed. That’s where my money went.”

So that was the explanation of the mystery. “You only assumed he’d help. All alone in this country,” Claire said, already on her way to making excuses for her. “You forgot not all people are like you.”

“Once he realizes there’s nothing more to get, he’ll leave.”

“We must get rid of him,” Claire whispered. “Police?”

The awful panic in Minna’s eyes was something Claire had never before witnessed. “Please, for me, no. They will take me to prison, too. Or send me back. Give me time. If you care anything.”

“So it was all a lie? Jean Rhys, Cambridge?”

“Would you have allowed me in any other way?”

“That’s not true.”

Of course she was right. The beautiful false life had sanctified the skin color. As if poverty and misfortune were contagious. Claire thought of fate — the one that killed Josh and brought her cancer, but also the one that insured each of her children would not be born in want. Minna more beautiful and shining than most babies, but of course that didn’t count. The world shunned those born in misfortune. The unfairness of it shamed Claire even now as she suspected she might be made victim of the victim.

* * *

Claire sat on the porch. Minna was in the kitchen, satisfied she had won Claire’s obedience. Still Claire wanted to test the boundaries of the situation. She refused to feel fear, and in fact Forster or the police were only a phone call away. Unattended, she started to walk down the driveway. Quickly, Jean-Alexi was at her side. Confirmed, the realization that it had come to a kind of velveted house arrest.

“Where we going, lady of the house?”

“To visit a friend.”

“That’s fine. But don’t you be complaining.” He touched her elbow.

“Don’t ever touch me!” She looked down and saw his dusty, cracked bare feet. Calloused feet unused to shoes, used to hardship, backbreaking labor. Feet that told of chasms of life experience between them.

“Or I call the police and tell them about our little Marie. She ever tell you about the Florida woman? Stealing from her?”

“I thought you cared about Minna.”

He laughed in her face. “Only a rich person can afford to think like that.”

* * *

That night, Minna and Claire sat alone in the empty living room, candles throwing monstrous, grasping shadows across the ceiling from the winds. “Tell me about this woman in Florida,” Claire started, interrupted by a banging on the door. They looked at each other in confusion and dread, neither of them daring to move.

“Mom! Mom, you there? Anyone home?” Lucy’s voice.

Both women scrambled to their feet; Minna raced to the door and threw it open.

“Surprise!” Lucy said, her arms full of flowers and presents. She looked more gaunt than before. Dark circles under her eyes and unwashed hair screamed relapse.

Claire’s heart buckled at the sight of her. “Why are you here?”

“I promised I’d come, didn’t I?” Lucy walked in and looked around. “Remodeling?”

“Things are complicated right now.”

Lucy put her hand on Minna’s stomach. “Oh my God, I had no idea! You both are just glowing. Mom, you look so much better.”

“Oh, baby.” Claire hugged her, then hugged her tighter. In some strange corner of her mind, the situation had remained an experiment until now. Lucy changed the rules.

Steps behind them, and Jean-Alexi was sprawled across the doorway, arms folded over his chest, head wagging. “ Kisa ou ap fe isit? What do we have here?”