Amy Greene - Bloodroot

I walked out to the field, bare and dead under a hard blue sky. I sat in one of the lawn chairs where the burned spot was, imagining bonfires rising up toward the stars and Carolina’s sweet voice singing over the notes of Ford’s guitar. I stayed in the field for what seemed like hours, getting colder and colder, watching brown winter birds peck around in the grass, until Carolina came. She put her hand on my head, my cheek, the side of my neck. My heart stopped and for an instant the copperhead that still existed in me, even here, with Carolina, was disappointed that Ford had lived. I folded her into my coat and pressed my lips against her temple. I couldn’t tell her how much I loved her.

As the weather grew warmer and Ford grew stronger, I moved back into the shed. I didn’t like hearing Ford and Carolina murmuring to each other in the night. I should have gone back to Millertown but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Another week passed and I began to imagine that Ford and Carolina wanted me gone. I sat huddled in the shed for a full day, not even walking across the yard to eat. They didn’t come out to check on me, which seemed to prove my suspicions. The next morning I heard their voices outside but they didn’t knock on the shed door. After a while, I stepped out into the sun. There was no sign of Ford but I saw Carolina kneeling by the front steps with her back to me. She was pulling up the dead things of winter, ripping up the ruins of what we had planted together to make room for the new growth of spring. I crept up on her, not sure exactly what I meant to do. I knelt down and slipped my arms around her from behind. She stiffened at first, but then she melted into me. I could feel her heart beating under my hands. “Why didn’t you come out to see about me?” I asked into her hair.

“We thought you wanted to be by yourself.” She turned around in my arms and her face was inches from mine. She smelled like dewy grass.

“You want me to go,” I said, trying to control my breathing.

“No, Johnny.” There was an eyelash on her cheek, a tiny black crescent. I raised my hand slowly between our bodies and Carolina caught her breath. I brushed delicately at the eyelash with my finger. Then her eyes widened a little. She was looking over my shoulder. I stood up and turned to see Ford standing there, holding the gas can he kept under the trailer. It was March and time to mow. The look on his face was not one of anger but of fear. Carolina stood up, too, and moved away from me. I reached out and took hold of her arm instinctively, pulling her back, not wanting her to leave my side.

“Let go of her, Johnny,” Ford said. When I didn’t release Carolina’s arm his eyes hardened. My possessive gesture must have said it all. Carolina looked down at my hand on her arm and then up at me, her face sad and pleading at the same time.

“What have you two been doing?” Ford asked.

Carolina turned to him, shocked. “Nothing, Ford.”

He stared at me. “I saw in a vision you’d betray me. I didn’t want to believe it.”

Carolina looked stricken. “He never betrayed you, Ford.”

Ford took a step toward me. “I’ve treated you like a son,” he said.

I was stunned when he launched himself at me, knocking my breath out against the porch. We grappled and fought and it was strange to feel him on top of me, to be that close, the stink of his sweat, the heat of his breath, and the weight of his bones. As much as I had always wanted to hurt someone, it was no good. We couldn’t best one another. He was surprisingly strong for an old man, especially one who had been so sick. We wrestled in the yard for what seemed an eternity, the dogs barking and snarling all around us, and Carolina wailing like a wounded animal herself. I don’t know which one of us caught sight of her first, but she was the reason we both gave in at the same time. She was crouched by the porch steps, hives like bright red welts covering her face and neck and chest. I had the thought that we were killing her. We staggered to our feet, panting and spitting blood. She gaped at us, clutching at her middle, and then ran into the trailer.

Ford and I stood in silence for a long time. The dogs circled around our legs, growling and snapping at each other. “Shit, Johnny,” Ford said at last. “I can’t blame you. I know better than anybody what it’s like to be around her.”

I took off my shirt and wiped my throbbing face with it. I looked down at the blood smeared there. When I raised my head and saw the look in Ford’s eyes, I knew he’d answer me this time. “How’d you lose it?” I asked. “How’d you lose that finger?”

“All right, Johnny,” he said softly. “Here’s the truth. I was working at a furniture factory down in Oliver Springs. Damn drill press cut it off. That’s all it was.” We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then he turned and limped across the yard, back into the woods with the dogs at his heels.

I watched Ford’s sagging back until he disappeared from view. Now I knew the story of his missing finger, the one I had hoped might somehow be rotting to yellowed bone in my mama’s box. Like always, the truth had turned out to be disappointing. But in that moment I didn’t care who my father was or what kind of curse I carried in my blood. I turned around and walked back to the trailer. As soon as I opened the door, I knew that it was empty. There was a note on the kitchen table. It said, “I can’t stand this. Don’t forget I love you both.” I heard Ford’s truck starting up and bolted outside. She was pulling out of the driveway as I leapt off the porch and skidded in the grass. I ran to the road and watched as her taillights disappeared around a curve. The land looked deserted for miles. I had a familiar feeling that the whole past year had been a dream, one long hallucination. Maybe I had been there by myself all along, having a vision of my own.

LAURA

I still don’t know if the hospital or Clint’s mama sent that woman. As soon as I seen her, I knowed what she came for. I had gone to the door with Sunny in one arm and a wet dishrag in the other. The house was a mess where I’d been feeling bad them last few weeks of being pregnant. The day that woman came I had been working on a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

I was expecting Louise. She’d cooked spaghetti and was bringing me the leftovers. She was always dropping off food for me that way. She knowed how tired I was. When I opened the door my belly was growling, but soon as I seen that woman I got sick. My legs got weak. The only thing that held me up was Sunny in the crook of my arm. If I fell it might have hurt him. Right off that feeling of going wild came over me. She said, “Are you Laura Blevins?” I didn’t answer. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what I was going to do. There was black spots in front of my eyes but I still seen her badge necklace. She had on a blue pantsuit. There was a big purse on her shoulder and a clipboard in her hands. She looked hard and rocky. Not like creek rocks, but jaggedy ones. Her eyes was empty. I could tell she didn’t care about me and Sunny. She wouldn’t notice how cute it was when he sucked his fingers. She wouldn’t see his cheeks like two fuzzy peaches. “I’m Pat Blanchard, with the Department of Children’s Services,” she said. “We had a call that you might be having some trouble taking care of your baby.”

If she said anything else, I never heard it. Because that’s when she turned her eyes on Sunny. She moved her hand toward him, the one not holding a clipboard. Looking back on it now, she might have just meant to touch him. Maybe she wanted to tickle his foot that had come out of the blanket. Or she might not have been meaning to touch him at all. She might have just been gesturing toward him. But her movement broke something inside of me that was loose for a long time. It’s hard to tell exactly what happened. I wasn’t in my right mind. I just wanted her to go away. From what I remember, I did the best I could to drive her off with the arm that wasn’t holding Sunny. I raised up the wet dishrag and started whacking her with it. I slapped that woman Pat Blanchard over and over, across the face and hands and arms. I believe I was screaming and crying. She tried to cover her face. There was a big red welt across her nose and cheeks. Then the worst thing happened. She stumbled backward trying to get away from me and fell down them steep porch steps. After that, it got quiet. She laid there groaning at the bottom, like she wasn’t all the way awake. It’s awful, but I wasn’t worried if she was okay. I was just worried about how to get out of there with Sunny and where to go.