\nA minute late and she wouldn\u2019t forgive herself. Barbara hurried to the patio, teapot in one hand. Wayward leaves drifted softly from the oaks beyond the yard, adding to the shin-high blanket which had gathered over the past weeks\u2014 a fact which stoked a vexing headache. A child should take care of her mother, she thought. But she didn\u2019t need Annie if Annie didn\u2019t need her. When the last leaf falls, one big cleaning. Things will be right again. Her eyes turned to the sun, just over the yellow hills encircling this spoiled suburbia.\n<\/p>\n
\nDeliberate and detailed, she made sure everyone\u2019s plate was set. Though they never ate\u2014 and who could blame them, for when conversation is good, who can eat\u2014 it\u2019s best to be prepared. In their usual places around the patio table were Donnie Fitzstevens in his dashing straw hat, Bearel Brownfur with his dapper golf attire, Mr. and Mrs. Hunchenbauer, stout in lederhosen and dirndl, Mrs. Pinkerton proud in her top hat and monocle, and stern old Job. If she had one more wish, it would be that things never change.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe napkins were folded, finger sandwiches set in even rows, and dairy-free creamer pots brimming. The table smelled of earl gray, fresh ham, and baked biscuits. Satisfied, Barbara took her seat with a groan and looked over her home\u2014 a slim two-story Victorian like all the others on the block. The flan-colored paint was blanched and chipping. As she watched the sun\u2019s nightly bow, her mind turned back to the fantastic man\u2014 or creature\u2014 which had given her life again. Two years ago, she thought in disbelief. How in this very spot she\u2014\u2014shivered in the winter winds. Alone. The funeral, the words, the tears, they felt distant but inescapable. She looked at the empty chair across from her, the last place she\u2019d seen Jollen\u2014 beyond the coffin. The \u2018C\u2019 word\u2026 she couldn\u2019t even think the name anymore. Her pain was like an echo down an endless cave, always coming back. It felt like just yesterday this space had been filled with flowers, children, and friends. Who\u2019s hands are these, she thought, staring at the paper thin skin over her trembling fingers. The black outlines of bats flutter from the trees and into the night. She realized something. Jerry, Glorieta, Jollen, their only connections to this life hinged upon her decaying brain. The cold wind whispered, \n“I haven\u2019t seen an angel cry since Calvary,” the stranger said.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara gasped at the gray-suited gentleman and his extended handkerchief. She thought to scream, but something in his clean-shaven face and smooth grin brought about an otherworldly tranquility. Tall, slender, and dignified, he reminded her of someone. For a moment, her father, another, Jerry, the next, what she imagined her miscarried son would\u2019ve looked like.\n<\/p>\n \n“Please,” he said, insisting with the handkerchief.\n<\/p>\n \nBy the time she\u2019d dried her cheeks, he was in the seat across from her. His eyes held an unearthly tenderness, as if he could see everything withering inside her and truly felt the weight.\n<\/p>\n \n“It\u2019s hard getting old, Barbara,” he said.\n<\/p>\n \nShe nodded\u2014 hardly caring that she hadn\u2019t given her name. In all likelihood, this was death. She folded the handkerchief, just like her mom taught her, and handed it back. Manners were important. Something the youth had forgotten.\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m sorry, Sir, I don\u2019t think I got your name?” she asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“The pronunciation is an ordeal. Call me Jay.”\n<\/p>\n \nSome animal shrieked from somewhere up the street.\n<\/p>\n \n“A pleasure, Jay.”\n<\/p>\n \nHe smiled earnestly. “Likewise.”\n<\/p>\n \nIt was hard to tell how long she spent in that pleasant and hypnotic silence, watching a sea of vivid memories and futures in his dilated pupils. Eventually he said, “Barbara, I\u2019ve made it my business over the years to help people like you. Those who\u2019ve lost everything.”\n<\/p>\n \n“That\u2019s very kind of you, Sir,” she sniffled. His gaze reflected a false yet lovely vision of her and Jerry on a Bermuda beach somewhere in their golden years.\n<\/p>\n \n“It\u2019s an obligation,” he said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Why?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Everyone\u2019s obliged to something, I figure this is the best I could do.”\n<\/p>\n \nWhat a fine man, she thought.\n<\/p>\n \n“Tell me, if you had one wish, what would it be?” he asked. Barbara laughed merrily, but he pressed, “I\u2019m serious.”\n<\/p>\n \nGiven this question most would inanely answer with money, superpowers, or immortality, but Barbara had grown past trivialities. Crushed under the surf of this budding generation, Barbara had learned the hard way the agony of fighting over things long established. Expectations, conduct, the nature of being. She didn\u2019t see where the confusion arose. Why her daughter had chosen it over her. Why teenagers angered and terrified her.\n<\/p>\n \n“If I could wish for anything,” Barbara said, “It would just be to have people who understand me. Who have some common sense.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Your common sense?” Jay asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“Common sense is common.”\n<\/p>\n \nHe laughed. “I guess so.”\n<\/p>\n \nJay straightened his jacket and went around the yard collecting figurines. A scarecrow from near the fence, two ceramic gnomes by the sliding door, the top-hatted flamingo in the flowerpot, a wooden bear statue in golf attire near the barbeque, and the small tiki-faced boulder Jerry got from Annie long ago for Father\u2019s day. He arranged them in the chairs around the table.\n<\/p>\n \n“They won\u2019t go anywhere, but <\/em>if you say the words, from sundown to sunup, you\u2019ll have exactly what you want.”\n<\/p>\n \nA great many questions arose in her head, but the first, “What words\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n\u2014 Barbara looked to the setting sun, an ambient amber crown over rounded crests. It was time. “Flee from daylight, return in night, with this tired sun, these souls ignite.”\n<\/p>\n \nA strong gust tossed the leaves like white-capped waves as shimmering streaks of rainbow light danced around the figurines. In a flash, they shot down their eyes and mouths. A chorus of life-giving breaths rang out. Hands cold and shaking with excitement, Barbara filled the cups with steaming black tea. Their\u2014 and of course her\u2014 favorite.\n<\/p>\n \n“Hello, everyone,” Barbara said, grinning. “Welcome back to the Supper Club.”\n<\/p>\n \nDonnie removed his hat and shook out his loose straw hair. Through wide button eyes, he noticed the puffy winter jacket covering his overalls.\n<\/p>\n \n“What\u2019s this?” he asked.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara took a proud sip. “You said you were cold.”\n<\/p>\n \n“My dear, you\u2019re sweeter than marmalade,” Donnie said. She knew he\u2019d like it.\n<\/p>\n \n“And vat about us?” Mr. Hunchenbauer said, his gnomish eyeline\u2014 like his wife\u2019s\u2014 just barely over the table. “Are ve just chopped currywurst? Vhere\u2019s our jackets?”\n<\/p>\n \nShe laughed so hard she nearly dropped her cup.\n<\/p>\n \n“Too soft,” Job said, in a slow, baritone she figured was innate to all talking boulders.\n<\/p>\n \n“You igneous bastard,” Donnie said. “You\u2019re poking fun. I might be soft, but you\u2019ll find out the hard way what follows thunder.”\n<\/p>\n \n“How about you show some class,” Mrs. Pinkerton said, peering through her monocle.\n<\/p>\n \n“You know what, I think y\u2019all are just jealous. Y\u2019all can\u2019t stand the fact that I\u2019m Barbara\u2019s favorite!” Donnie said, slamming his fist onto his armrest with a soft pat.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nThe gang gasped.\n<\/p>\n \n“Her favorite!” Mrs. Hunchenbauer said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Why else would she get me such a nice coat while you all got horse doo.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Because you\u2019re a baby,” Bearel said.\n<\/p>\n \nHis cheeks didn\u2019t need to change color for Barbara to tell he was about to lose it. “Please, everybody calm down,” Barbara said. “You\u2019re all my favorite.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Favorite is one,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“There\u2019s only one first place,” Bearel said, pointing with his small wooden club.\n<\/p>\n \n“This isn\u2019t sport. It\u2019s friendship,” Barbara said. “Now, I didn\u2019t put all this together to listen to nonsense. I wanted civil discussion with\u2014 who I thought were\u2014 civilized folk.”\n<\/p>\n \nTheir faces lowered in shame. Hard as it was hurting them, the depth in which they received her words gave her strength.\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, Mrs. Pinkerton spoke up, “The sandwiches look sublime.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Oh hush, they\u2019re the same as ever,” Barbara said, masking her smile behind the cup.\n<\/p>\n \n“People just don\u2019t make them like they used to,” Mrs. Hunchenbauer said, the bell on her hat jingling as she shook her head.\n<\/p>\n \n“It\u2019s not just sandwiches,” Donnie said, snorting some imaginary mucus.\n<\/p>\n \n“Clubs,” Bearel said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Cars,” Mrs. Pinkerton said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Kids,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“This country went down the drain as soon as they took the lead out of gas,” Mr. Hunchenbauer said.\n<\/p>\n \nMrs. Hunchenbauer said, “Remember last night? Those kids speeding down the back street, blasting music. Common decency is dead. It\u2019s a new era of dinosaurs.”\n<\/p>\n \nOf course Barbara had done the same for a time, cruising in Chadwick Stepheno\u2019s convertible, hair in the wind and living to The Beatles and all the real artists which had become myths. But it was different then. There was common sensibility, even in senselessness. People were good and the world understandable.\n<\/p>\n \n“I just don\u2019t think they care about anything but themselves,” Barbara said, taking a biscuit.\n<\/p>\n \nEach hummed <\/em>in agreement.\n<\/p>\n \n“It\u2019s the parents,” Bearel said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Too soft,” Job thrummed, with narrowed eyes.\n<\/p>\n \n“Our parents voudn\u2019t have let us get avay with an extra lick of gravy, let alone driving around with our privates out,” Mr. Hunchenbauer said, his stout arms crossed tightly. “If grandma had seen me acting like that, she\u2019d throw me into hell herself.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara thought of her own father, a relentlessly firm individual, at times wrathful, but all class. Principles are principal, as he used to say.\n<\/p>\n \n“Hell\u2019s got to be overflowing by now,” Mrs. Hunchenbauer said.\n<\/p>\n \n“I think the problem is that men and women were just that <\/em>when we were young,” Mrs. Pinkerton said, jabbing the tip of her wing onto the table. “No confusion. No pampering. By twenty-four my father fought in World War II, graduated from Stanford, and had two children. Most twenty-four-year-olds now haven\u2019t been to the bathroom alone.”\n<\/p>\n \nLaughter rolled over the table.\n<\/p>\n \n“Too soft,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Exactly! Vell put, Job, vell put!” Mr. Hunchenbauer said, slapping his stomach.\n<\/p>\n \nIt pained Barbara to ponder the acidic effect of this new generation. Post modernists had ruined the world and the only thing which had survived were opinions. She recognized that she didn\u2019t actually know many youths\u2014 which she was glad for\u2014 but she saw them on TV, the internet, and in the streets, protesting every little injustice they could concoct and dying their hair colors which could make a peacock blush.\n<\/p>\n \n“What do you think, Barbara?” Donnie asked.\n<\/p>\n \nThey waited for her answer, but the truth was rarely comforting.\n<\/p>\n \n“I got you all a little something.” Barbara said. The six of them stared curiously.\n<\/p>\n \n“Vat?” Mrs. Hunchenbauer asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“A surprise,” Barbara said, with a mischievous smile.\n<\/p>\n \nPerplexed silence filled the space. Donnie asked, “For what?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Your birthdays!” Barbara said, before wincing to a sharp pain in her right shoulder.\n<\/p>\n \n“Is that tomorrow?” Mrs. Pinkerton asked.\n<\/p>\n \nWonderful as they were, they often came up dry in terms of sense and memory. It was the same last year.\n<\/p>\n \n“I suppose ve didn\u2019t think of it,” Mrs. Hunchenbauer said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Well, I <\/em>did,” Barbara said. “Can you believe, two years? Where\u2019s the time gone?”\n<\/p>\n \nThe wind blew the dying steam from the cups.\n<\/p>\n \n“Is there anything you\u2019d like?” Barbara asked. “Games? Balloons? Ice-cream?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Too soft,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“I should\u2019ve known,” Barbara said.\n<\/p>\n \nThey stared with an indifference she couldn\u2019t comprehend.\n<\/p>\n \n“You know, Barbara,” Donnie said. “If you have plans one of these evenings, it\u2019s okay. We don\u2019t want to keep you to ourselves.”\n<\/p>\n \nIt was as if her lungs had been stabbed. “Are you suggesting I miss your birthday?” They tried to refute but she continued. “I would never! Not for the world!”\n<\/p>\n \n“Ve aren\u2019t saying you have to,” Mr. Hunchenbauer said. “Just that\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“You\u2019ve got my heart racing now, and you know how much I hate when my heart races,” she said, feeling the beads of sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.\n<\/p>\n \nMrs. Pinkerton said, “We just feel\u2026”\n<\/p>\n \nWhatever they were thinking was left there. Hot in the temples, Barbara said, “You only turn two once!”\n<\/p>\n \nThe group\u2019s solemn expression slowly turned into half-hearted smiles.\n<\/p>\n \n“Your tea\u2019s cold,” Barbara said. “I\u2019ll get some more.” Arthritic pain shot through her knees as she pushed to her feet and went about emptying the cups into the dirt. With each subsequent moment of silence, the burden of the next word became all the greater. Light gray clouds drifted softly through the western sky. She couldn\u2019t remember the last time she\u2019d been annoyed by them.\n<\/p>\n \n“What about some music?” she asked.\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \n \n“It\u2019s time,” Donnie said, with a sigh.\n<\/p>\n \nUnder the weight of the violet sky, Barbara surrendered to the inevitable. How nice it would be to share them with the world, she thought. She imagined Paris, Rome, and London together. Like something from an old cartoon, she and her merry friends perusing the streets. She could just as easily share pictures of those places here in the yard.\n<\/p>\n \n“Get some rest,” Mrs. Pinkerton said.\n<\/p>\n \n“You know I can\u2019t,” Barbara said. “That old pillow kinks my neck.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Too soft,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Exactly,” she said, massaging the soreness in her lower back. Given the extended hours out here, a more comfortable chair would be much appreciated, but she feared that change, even a slight one, might take their magic. “Jerry\u2019s soft pillows have been the death of me,” she said, sipping the last bit of tea. “Did I ever tell you all how I once stuffed his pillowcase with bricks after I caught him passed out at McConnell’s downtown? Oh, he didn\u2019t talk to me for a week!”\n<\/p>\n \nThere was no laughter, just a flaccid scarecrow sliding down his chair, a pair of impassive gnomes, a still flamingo, frozen bear, and puckered boulder. Slim shards of dawn\u2019s light pierced the sky from over the house. Hope lingered in these moments that somehow they might break their cast and really be. She held a deep breath, and when it burned too much, sighed.\n<\/p>\n \nWith the table clean, she spared one last glance, locked the sliding door, and started down the beaten carpet path towards what used to be the guest room. Adorning the beige walls were a plethora of photos. Shots of her and Jerry when the world was ready to bear life. The last one before her room was a professional portrait of Jerry and her holding a swaddled new-born Annie. Most of that time was blurry, the memories more painted in feeling than image. What she did remember was that Annie had diarrhea that day, at least she thought it was that day.\n<\/p>\n \nInto her nightgown, pill by pill, out of her makeup, and into her bed, Barbara sank deep into the left side and turned from dawn’s light at the rims of the drawn curtains. She thought about her real bed on the second floor, her and Jerry\u2019s indents in the mattress and that indescribable smell she\u2019d forgotten. Some days she wanted to die. It was only the pain that scared her.\n<\/p>\n \n \nOne of the few things Barbara enjoyed about her age was that she didn\u2019t need much sleep. One of the worst was that her stomach didn\u2019t tolerate dairy. Deep in her plush recliner, she ate small spoonfuls of granola and soy milk, which even after a good soak, was still rough on her teeth. The cat clock on the wall tick, tick, ticked. <\/em>12:39PM.\n<\/p>\n \nAt the forceful rumble in her stomach, she placed the bowl on the side table, closed her eyes, and turned up the TV\u2019s volume in order to lose herself in channel 205\u2019s debate. Those on the panel\u2014 as well as those from surrounding news programs\u2014 were almost as good of friends as the Supper Club. In a semi-circle around the glass desk sat three dapper gentlemen and one woman with more class than all of Green Valley put together. Today, shoved onto the rightmost end of the table, was a guest. A flabby jellyfish of a man in a horizontally striped suit, bawling and pulling his springy hair.\n<\/p>\n \nFrom the center seat, Jennifer said, “Immigrants are stealing babies. It\u2019s a fact.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara perked up and massaged her feet.\n<\/p>\n \n“Not just stealing them,” the feathered Adonis, Harry said. “But selling them! Stem cell research, cosmetic companies, dog food conglomerates, I\u2019ve seen the documents, dammit! Pupchow allows up to seven percent infant remains.”\n<\/p>\n \nConroy shook his head and smoothed his pencil mustache. Barbara had never been too attracted to anyone of dark complexion, but Conroy, was undeniably handsome.\n<\/p>\n \nLaird narrowed his baby blues\u2014 a look made all the more intimidating by his high and tight haircut. “The problem isn\u2019t even that immigrants are killing them, selling them, or turning them into playdough, it\u2019s that they\u2019re here in the first place. Should you be mad at a coven of mambas for killing your family if you let them in your home?”\n<\/p>\n \nThe flabby, spring-head wailed, “They\u2019re people!” before covering his face and shooting\u2014 what Barbara thought was impossible\u2014 projectile tears.\n<\/p>\n \nAll three except Conroy\u2014 who seemed to be nursing a headache\u2014 rolled their eyes.\n<\/p>\n \n“Jesus Christ, Jefferson,” Laird said. “Why do we keep inviting this guy on?”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara wasn\u2019t ignorant to the fact that Channel 205 brought on dramatic caricatures from the left to illustrate their points, just like 206 brought on slow-witted bulls from the right to paint a resentful picture of sensible folk. But caricatures stemmed from truth\u2014 most of the time.\n<\/p>\n \n“You alone might be responsible for keeping Kleenex in the black,” Harry said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Do you at least want to contribute something today, Jefferson?” Jennifer asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“I just want you to speak with some respect!” Jefferson said. “How could you ever understand? You\u2019ve never struggled a day in your life!”\n<\/p>\n \nConroy massaged his shining bald temples.\n<\/p>\n \n“You presumptive son a\u2014 beep<\/em>,” Laird said, pounding the desk. “I served this country for ten years. I grew up in Rosedale, Mississippi eating gruel out of a sock! I had a block of wood for a pillow for the first ten years of my life. What do you know about struggle?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Don\u2019t shame me!” Jefferson said.\n<\/p>\n \n“This is what you get when you have nothing but scarecrows and Care Bears in office,” Harry said. “Spineless jellyfish.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara howled with laughter.\n<\/p>\n \n“Your parents should\u2019ve beat you,” Jennifer said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Why?” Jefferson sniffled, “So I can be like you? I\u2019d rather be dead. Unlike everyone here, my parents loved me.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Telling someone you love them is easier than raising them right,” Jennifer said.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara felt herself floating into the screen, devoid of physical pain.\n<\/p>\n \n“I wish you\u2019d drown in quicksand!” Jefferson said.\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019d rather drown in quicksand than listen to you!” Laird said.\n<\/p>\n \nJust like her parents, Barbara believed that what made the United States of America special was hardworking and honest people. Honest with each other and themselves.\n<\/p>\n \n“The only reason people are desperate is because we\u2019ve made them that way,” Jefferson said. “They\u2019ve been rejected.”\n<\/p>\n \n“And they should be! If you can\u2019t pull your weight, what good are you?” Laird asked.\n<\/p>\n \nConroy sighed and stood. The group\u2019s bickering came to a hush.\n<\/p>\n \n“Everything alright, Conroy?” Laird asked, a perplexed wrinkle in his brow.\n<\/p>\n \n“I can\u2019t do it anymore,” Conroy said, pulling the mike out of his jacket.\n<\/p>\n \n“What?” Harry asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m done,” Conroy said.\n<\/p>\n \n“With what?” Jennifer asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“Everything. I can\u2019t argue anymore.”\n<\/p>\n \n“But\u2026 that\u2019s what we do,” Laird said, with a smirk.\n<\/p>\n \n“Do you guys realize we started this segment out with a poll on hotdogs and hamburgers? What the hell is even going on right now? You know, Jefferson, you\u2019re right. It\u2019s all hard heads and broken hearts, a world of rejects who can\u2019t figure out how to cope.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m right?” Jefferson asked, with a sniffle.\n<\/p>\n \n“Definitely not,” Conroy said, tossing the mike onto the desk. The camera tracked him through the set and crew before turning back to the perplexed panel. After some time, and with off-screen prompting, Jennifer cleared her throat. “We\u2019ll be back.”\n<\/p>\n \nA SportsPiker commercial blared in place of her friends. Poor Conrad, Barbara thought. He must have an upset stomach. The cat clock tick, tick, ticked. Meow! <\/em>Time to get to work.\n<\/p>\n \nSlowly she gathered the cake\u2019s ingredients, a box of Betty Crocker Strawberry Mix, a bottle of vegetable oil, and the necessary eggs\u2014 which smelled a little off, but it might have been the refrigerator. A few years back, she might have made it from scratch, but for one reason or another, something always turned out wrong nowadays. With the tray in the oven, she laid out a baby blue blouse, matching skirt, white flats, her favorite pearl earrings, and a solid gold bracelet. After a seated shower, she dressed herself, and for a small time, there was no stiffness in her knees or back. Anticipation welled within her heart over the inevitable gratitude which would be poured out\u2014 though through her reveries, she couldn\u2019t help but think of Conroy. It was like seeing a mountain crack.\n<\/p>\n \nThe last step was her makeup, a relatively difficult process with the shakes, but like everything in her life, she managed. After three spritzes of perfume, four, she looked in the mirror, and though she couldn\u2019t say she was \u2018happy\u2019 with how she looked, she knew it was the best she could do.\n<\/p>\n \nIn the oven awaited a fluffy pink delicacy she was proud to call her work. Once more battling her shaky hands, she fought the frosting pipette and laid the cake’s border. To round out the spread, she assembled a selection of ham and turkey sandwiches, wafers, dessert biscuits, hard candies, and black tea. Only one thing left, she grabbed the green wrapped gift and placed it carefully at the table\u2019s center. With everything set, she took her seat and wondered why she\u2019d ever need anyone else. Still, there was something strikingly melancholy about seeing the club inanimate. Maybe it was knowing what lay trapped within them. Maybe it was how she only felt whole twelve hours a day. Maybe it was the lingering fear that one day they wouldn\u2019t wake.\n<\/p>\n \nDing-dong!<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nHer first thought, Annie? Of course not. A salesman? The mailman? A teenager playing a prank? As a child the doorbell brought joy, but now, with all the charlatans and delinquents, that bell was the sound of someone coming to take advantage.\n<\/p>\n \nAgain, Ding-dong!<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe jumped. Less than a third of the sun showed over the hill. Not enough time. Whoever they were, they\u2019d go away.\n<\/p>\n \nDing-dong!<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nHer fists shook.\n<\/p>\n \n<\/em>Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara grit her teeth and, with reckless abandon, stormed the front door. Cane in hand, she moved as fast as she could, and nearly screamed\u2014 though fright stole her voice\u2014 as the tip of her toe snagged on the lip of the step. With a quick hand to the door frame, she caught herself just before toppling.\n<\/p>\n \nWhat had been frustration mutated to rage. Though there was no peep-hole, Barbara felt no fear. She ripped open the four locks, raised her cane to jab into the chest of this intruder, and\u2014 Half expecting some suited con-man or runaway inmate she instead found Mrs. Tessa Davis from down the street, smiling in a white lambs-wool sweater and loose blue jeans. The light bleached afro, gave the mother of three a late twenty-something appearance.\n<\/p>\n \n“What do you want?” Barbara growled.\n<\/p>\n \n“Hey Barb,” Tessa said. “I wanted to see if you could go for a walk, but it looks like you\u2019re going out. By the way, you look beautiful.”\n<\/p>\n \nAs pleasant as the woman seemed, she was a loud busybody, always coming around and trying to get Barbara to do things she didn\u2019t want to do, constantly hosting get-togethers, book-clubs, and advertising \u2018causes\u2019 on her front lawn.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara grumbled to herself before saying, “I\u2019m having friends over.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Oh, <\/em>that\u2019s great. I haven\u2019t seen you leave the house in a while\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“Are you watching me?” Barbara asked, jabbing the air with her cane.\n<\/p>\n \nTessa backed away a step. “No, I just noticed your car\u2019s been in the same spot. I was worried you might be getting a little stir crazy, or\u2026 I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m fine, thank you,” Barbara said, closing the door.\n<\/p>\n \n“Wait!” Tessa said, grasping it with herculean strength. “Would you be interested in coming to dinner this weekend?”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara\u2019s eyes narrowed.\n<\/p>\n \n“Juan went hunting a few days ago and brought back some great venison.”\n<\/p>\n \n“My doctor says I can\u2019t eat red meat,” Barbara said.\n<\/p>\n \n“That\u2019s fine, we can make anything you want.”\n<\/p>\n \nThe shadows stretched long in the street. Barbara wasn\u2019t usually one for swearing, but in that moment, she came damn close.\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m sorry to keep you\u2026 I just want to make sure you\u2019re alright. My mom lived alone for a long time. I know how tough it can be.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I told you, I\u2019m fine,” Barbara said. Tessa\u2019s arm was like an industrial clamp.\n<\/p>\n \n“The Stevensons have been telling me about how your conversations in the yard\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“I knew they were snooping! That\u2019s exactly why I put the block on the fence.”\n<\/p>\n \nWhy\u2019s she looking at me like that, Barbara thought, her right eye twitching.\n<\/p>\n \n“It can be hard to ask for help, but you\u2019ve got friends.” Tessa said.\n<\/p>\n \n“… I know.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Maybe we can talk one of these nights,” Tessa continued on, but Barbara saw only the lavender sky and ticking of her watch. Panic sealed her throat. Anything to make her go.\n<\/p>\n \n“Fine! I\u2019ll-have-dinner-this-weekend,” she said, so quickly the words blended together.\n<\/p>\n \n“Really? That\u2019s great!”\n<\/p>\n \n“I’ll have to be home before five thirty,” she said, spittle on her lips.\n<\/p>\n \n“Oh\u2026 <\/em>okay. That shouldn\u2019t be a problem. Saturday then?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Yes,” Barbara said. “Now please, I have to go.”\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, Tessa released. Damn her! she thought, her heart pounding in violent offense. Does that woman have any decency! Shuffling at a demon\u2019s pace down the hall, she checked her watch, and her heart sank. 5:50PM. Maybe there\u2019s time\u2026\n<\/p>\n \nSince that first night, she\u2019d never missed a sundown\u2014 outside of the last day she\u2019d seen Annie; but that was another story altogether. She came down the single patio step in a sideways shuffle, her gaze on the hills. No orange was left. Just encroaching darkness. Frantically, she said the words. “Flee from daylight, return in night, with a tired sun, these souls ignite.”\n<\/p>\n \nNo Donnie or Bearel. She said them again. No Mrs. Pinkerton or Job. No Hunchenbauers. Just lifeless figurines. Barbara clenched her teeth, rage and sorrow pounding in her temples. She looked upon her spread. The futility of it all. Tears pressed at the back of her eyes. Shock ran up her arm as she bashed her cane into her metal chair again and again. Each time yielded an uneasy mix of pain and catharsis.\n<\/p>\n \nA few more strikes and her energy was gone. Heated breaths pained her lungs. Small divots marred the shaft of the cane. Thoughts of vengeance rose from the carrion of the evening, to march down the street and beat Tessa with this cane. But in her withered and tired state, she hadn\u2019t the strength to even hold onto that fantasy. Outside of the fact that she\u2019d been raised better, she wouldn\u2019t be able to stomach the sight of her right now.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara took her seat and for a long time watched her friends, praying for a miracle like she\u2019d experienced in this very spot two years back. It took a good hour and a half of cold and bitter indignation before Barbara finally collected the trays and plates. The tea and cake\u2014 now with a thin layer of wax below the stub candles. The gift.\n<\/p>\n \nOnce the patio and kitchen were cleared, she sat down before the television and watched the debate ensue. That night their anger only further stoked her own. There\u2019d be no rest. From her bed, she stared at the popcorn ceiling and imagined fire.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe next morning was the same as before\u2014 though a bit earlier than she was used to\u2014 though after yesterday\u2019s events and a poor night\u2019s sleep, everything was more irksome. Her aches screamed louder, her hair misbehaved, the cake was stale, and the news drove a headache. To be sure there were no disturbances, she placed a strip of tape over the doorbell and closed the blinds. Eventually the cat\u2019s tick turned to a meow and she readied once more. She realized, painful as it was to miss the Supper Club\u2019s real birthday, they\u2019d forgive her.\n<\/p>\n \nSame as before, sandwiches, biscuits, tea, cake, and a gift. Like nothing changed. Pleased with her work, she groaned into her seat, and waited. She tried to enjoy the bird\u2019s songs and faint warmth, but something felt off, many things. Maybe it was that Conroy didn\u2019t return to the table and, according to the team, wouldn\u2019t for some time. Maybe it was that when routines break, so do their practitioners.\n<\/p>\n \nOut towards the south she noticed a gray cloudfront. Fear left a tangled cramp in the back of her throat. The weather hadn\u2019t called for a storm. She checked her watch once again and lit the candles. Will they remember the present like I do? she wondered.\n<\/p>\n \nA light buzz shook her handbag. The suddenness caused her to flinch. She wasn\u2019t used to getting calls, and in general, hated her phone. She had a half mind to throw it over the fence, but with a deep discontented breath and the remembrance of why she was supposed to keep it, she figured it best to simply shut it off.\n<\/p>\n \nThe screen read, \u2018Annie\u2019.\n<\/p>\n \nIce dripped down her spine and tensed her hand into a claw.\n<\/p>\n \n“Not now\u2026” she said.\n<\/p>\n \nHow long had it been since they last spoke? A year and a half? Her initial reaction was to ignore it, but guilt struck sharp between the ribs. Fights be damned, this was her baby.\n<\/p>\n \n“Sweetie?” Barbara answered. “… Is that you?”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara’s heartbeat played against the line\u2019s silence.\n<\/p>\n \n“Hey, Mom,” Annie said, her voice dry and uninflected.\n<\/p>\n \nLike a cold northern wave, her words crashed and rented the breath from her lungs. Barbara stood, guided by an instinctive need to move.\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2026” Barbara said, not knowing how to continue. “… How are you?”\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019m fine. Look, I\u2019ve been giving this a lot of thought\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \nThe sea of dead leaves crunched beneath her feet and cane. Is she ready to let me back in? she asked herself.\n<\/p>\n \nAnnie continued, “I think it\u2019s best to just tell you\u2026 I\u2019m moving east. To New York.”\n<\/p>\n \nBetrayal stopped her in her tracks. She grasped her chest. Was this a heart attack?\n<\/p>\n \n“Oh\u2026<\/em>” Barbara said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Danny got a job out there. And I think it might be best for us to get some separation.”\n<\/p>\n \nDanny? Who\u2019s Danny<\/em>? Barbara asked herself, but there were more pressing concerns. Barbara cleared her throat, hoping to articulate at least one of her questions, but before she could speak, Annie said, “I read an article about cutting negative energies out of your life and how it can lead to spiritual balance. I think that\u2019s what I need. What we need.”\n<\/p>\n \n“You and Danny?” Barbara asked, in a small voice.\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 And Light.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Light?” Barbara asked, wrapping her arms around herself.\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 Our daughter.”\n<\/p>\n \nA reflexive gasp almost knocked her back. She gritted her teeth and, with a shaking arm, laid more of her weight on the cane.\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 You have a daughter? I have a granddaughter?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Sorry I didn\u2019t tell you. I\u2019m just not ready for you to be a part of her life yet. You might ruin her.”\n<\/p>\n \nHer hands went cold and eyes filled with saline tears. Barbara had never been shot, but she was certain this was the pain. “I\u2026 I don\u2019t think so dear\u2026 I\u2019d only bring love. She\u2019s my granddaughter. I have to meet her. She needs me.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Maybe with enough time I can forgive you. But for now, it wouldn\u2019t be good for her to know there are people like you in the world.”\n<\/p>\n \nUnable to hold back any longer, Barbara asked, “Why do you hate me? All I believe in is common sense! I don\u2019t hurt anyone. I just don\u2019t understand you. Please! I need to meet her. I need to see you\u2026”\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 That\u2019s not going to happen. I\u2019m just letting you know.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Wait, wait, wait,” Barbara said, pacing faster and sensing the end. “I\u2019ll change. Whatever it takes, whatever you need me to do\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019ll reach out when I\u2019m ready,” Annie said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Wait! Sweetie! Talk to me!”\n<\/p>\n \n“…Take care of yourself.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Annie!” Barbara cried.\n<\/p>\n \n“…”\n<\/p>\n \nFor a long while, she stood there feeling the phone\u2019s warmth on her cheek before she gathered the strength to look and see the call was over. With quivering breaths, she sat and stared at the cold sun. It rested at the magic point. Turning to their inanimate faces, she thought, I don\u2019t want to see them. They aren\u2019t her. They\u2019re not Light.\n<\/p>\n \nThis is what it meant to be crushed by gravity. Ruined by a force beyond understanding. She\u2019d die without reconciliation, never knowing her grandchild and filled with unrequited love. The horror of that solitude spurred her to say the words as fast as she could.\n<\/p>\n \nThey gasped, sat up in cheer, and looked over the spread.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara,” Donnie said, “It\u2019s beautiful!”\n<\/p>\n \nOnly then did they notice her, hunched forward and weeping.\n<\/p>\n \n“Vat happened?” Mrs. Hunchenbauer asked, with glittering eyes.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara heaved small insubstantial breaths. “Annie\u2019s gone.”\n<\/p>\n \nGlances shot around the table, and just like her, none could speak.\n<\/p>\n \n“… What do you mean?” Mrs. Pinkerton finally asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“She\u2019s abandoning me.”\n<\/p>\n \nDonnie\u2019s button eyes pursed in thought. “I thought she already did?”\n<\/p>\n \nGlobules of sweat formed and fell\u2014 regardless of the autumn cold. “She\u2019s moving east.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Why?” Bearel asked, his round ears drooping somberly.\n<\/p>\n \n“She wants separation\u2026 she doesn\u2019t want me to see my grandchild.” Wrathful embers stoked within her veins. “That ungrateful brat! That busybody! I gave her everything! The best years of my life. All the love I had. She\u2019s a disgrace. A bitch!”\n<\/p>\n \nA strong breeze blew out the candles.\n<\/p>\n \n“Where did I go wrong?” she said, eyes trembling so that she saw three gifts in the table\u2019s center. “How did she turn out so different?”\n<\/p>\n \nTheir heads fell. Just like her, they knew no words for this tragedy, like her they were ashamed, and like her\u2014\n<\/p>\n \n“Maybe it\u2019s not all her fault,” Donnie said.\n<\/p>\n \nThe small twitches in her eye flared once more. “What?” she asked.\n<\/p>\n \nA hush came over the Supper Club.\n<\/p>\n \n“… She\u2019s your daughter, Barbara. From everything you\u2019ve told us, outside some ideas, she\u2019s like you.”\n<\/p>\n \nNever had she heard such slander.\n<\/p>\n \n“What are you saying, Donnie?” she asked.\n<\/p>\n \nThe others hunched like pill bugs.\n<\/p>\n \n“Now you can\u2019t speak?” Barbara growled. “Go on, explain!”\n<\/p>\n \n“It\u2019s just\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \nShe interrupted, “I taught her how to love!”\n<\/p>\n \n“… You taught her how you <\/em>love,” Donnie said. “Which is deep and passionate, but it\u2019s also\u2026”\n<\/p>\n \n“What!” she asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“Firm.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Firm?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Maybe a bit rigid.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Rigid!” she shouted. Violent thoughts flashed through the periphery of her disbelief.\n<\/p>\n \n“Children don\u2019t pick up habits from nowhere\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \nBearel cleared his throat and said meekly, “I think Donnie\u2019s rural vernacular might not do his intention justice.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Perhaps, willful,” Mrs. Pinkerton said, circling her wings as if rounding a ball.\n<\/p>\n \n“Hard,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \n“You\u2019re saying I\u2019m stubborn?” Barbara said, breathing through her teeth.\n<\/p>\n \n“Sometimes it\u2019s good to be stubborn,” Donnie said. “When you believe in something, you won\u2019t let go without reason.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I told her I wanted to talk! That I could change. She was the one who wouldn\u2019t listen.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Give her time,” Donnie said. “You can\u2019t blame her for drifting.”\n<\/p>\n \n“When Don said she\u2019s like you, he meant it as a good thing,” Mrs. Pinkerton said. “If you\u2019re ready to change for her, she\u2019ll do the same\u2026 eventually.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Be strong,” Job said.\n<\/p>\n \nTreachery, she said to herself. This club was made for her, to be what she wanted, and this is how they treated her? They were like everyone else.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara,” Mr. Hunchenbaur said, “Breath. We just vant to help.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I don\u2019t need you! You\u2019re all make believe! Toys. You don\u2019t know love. You don\u2019t know what it means to have your heart torn out. I thought we were friends.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Maybe it wasn\u2019t the best time to share all this,” Donnie said, massaging his painted nose. “You\u2019re a woman of truth, we figured\u2026 If I could stand, I\u2019d hug you.”\n<\/p>\n \nShe shook her head, “I couldn\u2019t think of anything more repugnant.” Unable to stomach this conversation another moment, she stood. With each hurried step, she pounded the butt of her cane. How could she be headstrong when she\u2019d given birth to a child that she hadn\u2019t wanted? Barbara turned to expound the truth, but as she did, her sole pivoted too swiftly on a dry patch of leaves and stole her balance. Panic surged. She squeezed tight to her phone and cane. Sharp spots of anguish flared from her shoulder, hip, and palm. The crack of glass rang as her phone slammed and head snapped.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara!” they shouted, sitting up as much as their existence allowed.\n<\/p>\n \n“Someone help!” Mrs. Pinkerton called, flapping her wings wildly.\n<\/p>\n \n“She\u2019s down!” Bearel said.\n<\/p>\n \nTheir voices drowned into white noise. She tried rolling up from her side but the throbbing pain was too great. In the distance, there swept the low roar of thunder. A dry, earth rich aroma filled her nostrils from the leaves around.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara!” they shouted.\n<\/p>\n \nVenom flew as spittle, “Leave me alone! I don\u2019t need you. I don\u2019t want you.”\n<\/p>\n \nThe pain in her shoulder was unyielding, but nothing compared to that in her heart. “Annie\u2026” she cried.\n<\/p>\n \nHow long she lay there, moaning under the gale\u2019s roar and waning stars, she couldn\u2019t be sure. No joy\u2019s worth this, she said to herself.\n<\/p>\n \n“Is anyone there?” Barbara cried weakly. “I need help.”\n<\/p>\n \nThere was a time when the world would open its doors to a knock or run to the cries of one in need, but just like Jerry and her friends, those days only existed in her decaying memory.\n<\/p>\n \n“Donnie,” she said, in a whimper. There was no reply. “Bearel? Can any of you help?”\n<\/p>\n \nFlaccid around the table, the lot of them, stoic and lifeless. Barbara had always thought hollowness equated to emptiness, but at that moment, she found the hole which bored her was in fact brimming with heartache.\n<\/p>\n \n“Please, don\u2019t leave me,” she said.\n<\/p>\n \nA strong gust carried Donnie\u2019s hat towards the fence. Alone as ever. Maybe she was stubborn, but only because nothing could stop her. She tossed her shattered phone, and hand by hand, pulled herself through the leaves and towards Job\u2019s chair. With the combined support of her cane and armrest, she pushed herself up. Pain shot through her hip with each step towards her room where, without changing, she laid gingerly atop the covers. Crimped and weeping under the exhale of thunder, Barbara imagined the face of the grandchild she\u2019d never meet.\n<\/p>\n \n \nPsheww!<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara jolted up from an uneasy sleep\u2014 wincing immediately from the pain. Thunder\u2019s reverberations trembled through the walls. She sat up\u2014 as much as she could\u2014 and listened to the howling winds, contemplating whether to open the curtains. Strangely, there was no rain.\n<\/p>\n \nShe exhaled her concerns and laid back to old ones. New York, she said to herself. Light. I\u2019m not stubborn. Regrets sealed her lips tightly. How could she say what she had to the club?\n<\/p>\n \nHard throbs of agony pulsated from her joints. She needed help but her phone was cracked and still on the patio. She couldn\u2019t believe she\u2019d been tricked into getting rid of the landline. Why bother getting a new one, she wondered, who\u2019s going to call? Visions of childhood flashed through her head, running with friends to the ice cream parlor and swimming in the river. They felt like memories of memories. She wondered if they were real or the story she\u2019d told herself. A distant crack of thunder shook the house.\n<\/p>\n \nAfter maybe a half hour she realized, even if the club couldn\u2019t hear\u2014 maybe it was better that way\u2014 she needed to speak to them. She grabbed her cane and, with great difficulty, forced herself down the hall. Beyond the wind, there was a strange, breathy crackling. A light orange glow shone within the family room. Perplexity stalled her thoughts and the pain became distant as she continued beyond the hallway and came face to face with the high wall of flames in the yard, a snapping inferno rising from the dead fall. Pillars of flame swayed in the harsh wind. Barbara screamed and looked around the room in a panicked search for a solution.\n<\/p>\n \nHow did this happen? Within the flames she saw the blackening faces of her scorned friends succumbing to the flames. Her immediate impulse was to save them, but those heroic notions were quick lived as the flames licked the house. Loud bangs <\/em>rocked the front door.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara!” a man shouted. “Wake up!”\n<\/p>\n \nFear circled like a shark to blood, holding her still in black waters. Small distending heat bubbles showed within the wallpaper.\n<\/p>\n \n“Your yard\u2019s on fire! Wake up!” the voice said.\n<\/p>\n \nShe screamed at the hard smash. The door shook but stayed firm. On the third impact, splinters sprayed from the frame. A bulbous man toppled forward, wearing nothing but a white tank top and boxers. It took a moment to recognize her neighbor, but the round head and thick mustache were unmistakable.\n<\/p>\n \n“We have to save them!” Barbara said.\n<\/p>\n \n“Who?” Nick asked, pulling her arm with a manic expression.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara pointed to the patio table. Nick looked to the flames with bulging eyes. “What the hell are you talking about? We\u2019ve got to go!”\n<\/p>\n \n“But\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“Now!” he said, yanking her arm.\n<\/p>\n \nShe screamed at the jolt of pain in her shoulder. She screamed even louder as he scooped her over his shoulder and ran.\n<\/p>\n \n“Save them!” she said.\n<\/p>\n \nUpside down and bouncing over his back, she saw the growing crowd on the street, all those neighbors who\u2019d ignored her cries now gathered to watch her life burn. Nick placed her down on the road, crumbled to his knees, and wheezed. Nina ran to her husband and wrapped her arms around his bowling-ball frame.\n<\/p>\n \n“Jesus, Nina,” he said, pushing her off. “Let me catch my breath!”\n<\/p>\n \nNone of it seemed real. But if it wasn\u2019t, how could she so acutely feel everything? The icy wind on her face, the rough stitching of her skirt, the tension in her feet through the flats, and acrid stench in her nostrils. Poisonous columns of black smoke carried from the devilish tongues which had claimed the roof. Whispers rang up the street and more lights flicked.\n<\/p>\n \n“Did you see the lightning?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Did it hit the house?”\n<\/p>\n \n“Nick got her out.”\n<\/p>\n \nBoards crumbled under their own weight and embers ignited the neighbors walls. Sirens wailed from the freeway. In those hundreds of glittering eyes around, Barbara saw the enemy. Some ever smiled. If only the flames could swallow everyone. Red and whites flashed over neighboring streets. Disreality continued with the hurried squad of Kevlar-clad firefighters. She felt like a ghost amongst the masses, a spectator of her own life. What do I have left, she wondered.\n<\/p>\n \nThe bitter scent of charred wood and burning metal emanated from the rolling black clouds. Ambulances arrived, then police. Firefighters worked in tandem with them, supporting hoses, clearing houses, tending to the coughing and soot covered. She wondered if it was personal that they started with the neighbors\u2019 houses and worked the flames back towards hers.\n<\/p>\n \nThere were no words, not for busybodies or EMTs asking whether she needed assistance. They looked and sounded like aliens. Spiders in human forms. Come the dawn\u2019s light, when the fire had been quelled and all that remained was smoke and ash, the last firefighters went about collecting statements.\n<\/p>\n \n“What do I do?” Barbara asked the burly red-haired man.\n<\/p>\n \nHe closed his notebook and wiped the black sweat from his brow. “Do you have fire insurance?”\n<\/p>\n \nShe shook her head.\n<\/p>\n \n“A lawyer?”\n<\/p>\n \nA cramp trembled in the base of her throat. He sighed and scratched his hair. Barbara knew he was contemplating how best to explain she was screwed. “You\u2019re alive, that\u2019s all that matters,” he said.\n<\/p>\n \nThe home hissed, all the walls black and shriveled, but it stood. So not to scare away hope, Barbara whispered “Can it be repaired?”\n<\/p>\n \nHe massaged the bridge of his nose. “It\u2019s hard to say. We\u2019ll need to have an inspector come out and they\u2019ll be able to tell you what can be repaired and what needs to be replaced.”\n<\/p>\n \n“… I’m still allowed to stay here?”\n<\/p>\n \n“We technically can\u2019t tell you whether you\u2019re allowed to stay or not until the inspector writes up their assessment\u2014 which might not be for a few days\u2014 but, I suggest you find somewhere. Outside of the foundation, house fires kick up a lot of chemicals. Is there anywhere else you can go?”\n<\/p>\n \n“…”\n<\/p>\n \n“I\u2019ll talk to my supervisor for you,” he said.\n<\/p>\n \n“That\u2019s okay. I\u2019ll figure something out,” Barbara said, extending her hand.\n<\/p>\n \nHe stared at her like a dying puppy. “I\u2019m glad you\u2019re okay, Mrs. Stills. This could have been a lot worse.”\n<\/p>\n \nUnable to speak anymore, she turned away. He understood and solemnly started back to the engine. By the hour\u2019s end, the crew made their leave and the remaining neighbors went back to their houses. A few provided condolences but soon she was alone, staring at the black shell of a home, wondering why God kept her alive.\n<\/p>\n \nSlow and silent, Barbara started around the house and passed through the shattered remnants of the side gate. Loose piles of ash and charred wood lay scattered across the patio. With no remaining fences, she saw the neighbors’ yards lay equally singed and empty. It surprised her how much it hurt to see. Hunched and empty, she stared into the exposed interior of her home. Scorch marks ran up the walls and holes showed in the ceiling. The cabinets were toppled, carpet seared, and plates scattered across the boiled linoleum.\n<\/p>\n \nIt took a great deal of strength to turn and face what remained of the Supper Club. The metal table remained, but her friends\u2026 She figured Donnie and Bearel were amongst the ash, Mr. and Mrs. Hunchenbauer the shattered pieces of porcelain, and Mrs. Pinkerton the puddle of melted plastic. Only Job\u2019s foundation remained intact, the ever unmovable\u2014 though now faceless\u2014 boulder. The spread was gone and plates were charred, and at the center of it all, where the present had been, nothing. The sweet vinyl she\u2019d saved from her parents\u2019 collection, an original copy of Frank Sinatra\u2019s \u2018You Make Me Feel So Young\u2019. She tried to play the melody in her head but it was gone.\n<\/p>\n \nHer gaze drifted up to the clouds above. Would their souls rest? Did they have souls?\n<\/p>\n \nStiff and aching, Barbara pulled out a chair. She let the tears fall as gravity directed them and crossed her arms over her lap in a dignified manner. Would her father have cried? With each burning inhale she liked to think she was taking in the past. She closed her eyes and pondered the memories around this table. It made her realize how little she\u2019d accomplished in two years. Still, she felt the time wasn\u2019t wasted.\n<\/p>\n \nBeyond the yard, blackened and shriveled, the last of the oak\u2019s leaves crumbled. She closed her eyes and imagined their faces. If nothing else, she could dream of them.\n<\/p>\n \n \nBarbara gasped awake from the nightmare, though the image remained. Her at the center of a coliseum, the faces of which were all turned away in disgust. Orange shards of light gleamed over the western hills. In an act, not of hope, but tragic remembrance, she whispered “Flee from daylight, return in night, with a tired sun, these souls\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara?” a voice called.\n<\/p>\n \nFootsteps crunched up the side yard. Tessa Davis craned her neck around the corner. The same venomous hate Barbara had felt for all the neighborhood rolled her tongue into a knot. But as quickly as the anger had arisen, it too faded. There was nothing left in her.\n<\/p>\n \nTessa walked slowly. A reflective glitter played off her eyes as she looked over the remains. “I\u2019m so sorry.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara nodded blankly.\n<\/p>\n \n“Can I sit?” Tessa asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“Why not?”\n<\/p>\n \nNervously, Tessa took a seat. Her stare drilled deep into Barbara\u2019s core\u2014 an easy task given the shell had burned away. She didn\u2019t care.\n<\/p>\n \n“… Where will you go?” Tessa asked.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara looked back to the house.\n<\/p>\n \n“Barbara, I can\u2019t imagine how you’re feeling or what this home means to you, but it\u2019s not safe. It could fall any moment.”\n<\/p>\n \n“Then it falls.”\n<\/p>\n \nSo lost in delirium, Barbara didn\u2019t notice until Tessa\u2019s hand was on her. She recoiled at first, but in that moment, brought back to humanity, the first touch she\u2019d felt in years, Barbara shattered. Face buried in her palms, Barbara wept shamelessly. Tessa jumped from her seat and blanketed her with a warm embrace.\n<\/p>\n \n“They\u2019re gone\u2026” Barbara said, words muffled by the heels of her hand.\n<\/p>\n \n“Who\u2019s gone?” Tessa said, rubbing her back.\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 Everyone.”\n<\/p>\n \nTessa\u2019s brow raised curiously before she let the comment go. “I\u2019m right here.”\n<\/p>\n \nThe sharp contrast between the deep cold inside and the warm touch of a woman who had no need to comfort her left Barbara in limbo.\n<\/p>\n \n“I talked to Juan,” Tessa said, “I want you to stay with us until everything is figured out.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara bawled into the gray wool of Tessa\u2019s shoulder. “I can\u2019t\u2026”\n<\/p>\n \nTessa pulled away, a look of offense in her eyes. “Why not?”\n<\/p>\n \nI don\u2019t want to ruin your life too, Barbara thought.\n<\/p>\n \n“Don\u2019t let pride win,” Tessa said. It was eerily close to something her mom used to say. Same as her dad. Admit when you\u2019re wrong, you stubborn brat.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nArm in arm, they walked to Tessa\u2019s home, a similar Victorian\u2014 though a much lighter shade of baby blue. As they came up the walkway, Barbara was struck by a familiar melody.\n<\/p>\n \n“What\u2019s that?” Barbara asked, with a tingle beneath her skin.\n<\/p>\n \nTessa slid the key in the lock and said, “Juan\u2019s been playing weekends at the piano bar downtown. They like the classics.”\n<\/p>\n \nThe throbbing in her joints mellowed for a sweet moment as the melody of \u2018You Make Me Feel So Young\u2019 took her back to Loveland, Ohio and the days before she realized that her life\u2019s happiness was rented, and in time would be owed twice over.\n<\/p>\n \n“The kids love them,” Tessa said with a smile.\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara followed inside, lost between eras and her misunderstanding of who occupied them. The place bore a golden glow, shining pine floors and soft white walls. Toys and stuffed animals lay strewn throughout the living room. Three beautiful children bounced atop the couches, shouting over the piano.\n<\/p>\n \n“Get down from there!” Tessa said, with a bite in her voice Barbara remembered from her own childhood. “What the hell, Juan? I leave for ten minutes, and you let them destroy the place. We haven\u2019t even finished paying these couches off!”\n<\/p>\n \n“We\u2019re just having a little fun,” Juan said. The trance continued even after he stopped playing. He stood, smoothed his tucked shirt, and pushed his round glasses up\u2014 a variety Barbara had always fancied.\n<\/p>\n \n“Fun doesn\u2019t have to destroy the house\u2014” Tessa cut off abruptly. She looked at Barbara with pursed lips and exhaled her frustrations. “Kids get over here and say hi to Mrs. Stills.”\n<\/p>\n \nLike trained soldiers, they formed a line. The boy was about ten and girls between five and seven. Juan came to his wife\u2019s side and put his arm around her shoulder\u2014 which she begrudgingly accepted. His smile, all of theirs, were bright and welcoming. In the momentary silence, filled only with the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, Barbara felt herself shrinking. Tears stung her eyes and throat as she said, “I\u2019m so sorry.”\n<\/p>\n \nJuan and Tessa shared a confused look. “Why?” he asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“\u2026 I\u2019ve never helped you…”\n<\/p>\n \nHe shrugged. “What does that matter?”\n<\/p>\n \nAll these years and I never saw you, she thought. What was I so afraid of? What is it about an unwrinkled face that makes me so bitter?\n<\/p>\n \n“Are you hungry?” Juan asked.\n<\/p>\n \n“… I am.”\n<\/p>\n \n“I was going to make steak tonight.”\n<\/p>\n \nTessa interrupted, “I told you, she can\u2019t eat red meat.”\n<\/p>\n \nBarbara wiped her tears. “That\u2019s alright. It\u2019s been a long time since I had steak.”\n<\/p>\n \nA sudden dunk <\/em>sounded on the window.\n<\/p>\n \n“A bat,” Juan said, unperturbed. “I don\u2019t know why they keep trying to get in. Marcus.”\n<\/p>\n \nThe boy sighed and started out of the room with slumped shoulders. “I\u2019ll get the Windex.”\n<\/p>\n Mark Manifesto is a writer, teacher, father, and lover of stories. He\u2019s been writing fiction, essays, articles, and poetry the past seven years. He studied Environmental Science, Business Administration, Religious Studies, and Classic Literature at Saint Mary\u2019s College of California.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A minute late and she wouldn\u2019t forgive herself. Barbara hurried to the patio, teapot in one hand. Wayward leaves drifted softly from the oaks beyond the yard, adding to the shin-high blanket which had gathered over the past weeks\u2014 a fact which stoked a vexing headache. A child should take care of her mother, she …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107977,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20140],"tags":[20141],"class_list":["post-140385","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-53-autumn-2024","tag-the-colored-lens-53-autumn-2024","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140385","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107977"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140385"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140385\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140386,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140385\/revisions\/140386"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140385"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140385"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140385"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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