stupid.” Ella pulls the DVD from Jamie’s grasp.
“Don’t call me stupid! I’m gonna tell Mommy.” He tries and fails to get the DVD back from her. In an attempt to get something from her, he pulls her long blond braid and she yanks it back out of his hand.
“Mommy’s not here.” She grins.
“How many minutes makes an hour.”
“Sixty, I think. Yeah, sixty.” Ella squints up to the ceiling thinking.
“How many sixties are in a hundred three three?”
“I don’t know, Jamie, okay? It’s summer and I don’t want to do math.” Ella stomps off into the kitchen.
The trees are lush. They reach high into the sky and interlace like fingers above the narrow winding road. A calm breeze pulls a few leaves from them and they dance lazily in the sunlight as they drift softly to the ground. Butterflies dip and float along the dry creek bed.
The sound of a hound announcing a treed coon breaks the silence. A deer startles and bounds up a steep hill pausing briefly at a fence, then leaps up and over.
The scent of dry grass and honeysuckle fills the air. The creek that runs along the road lacks the sound of trickling water. Its flow has long stopped with the drought that’s set in. Green sludge pockets lead to crusty brown patties where the creek was just weeks prior.
A car approaches and passes slowly, then disappears around the bend. All that remains is the sound of birdsong.
The sound of Cora’s iPhone breaks the back-and-forth bickering of Ella and Jamie. They stop suddenly and both run toward Cora’s purse.
“I wanna get it!”
“No, Jamie, let me get it!”
They struggle over the purse before Ella finally pulls the singing phone from the side pocket. She studies the face of the phone and sees that it’s her father calling.
“Answer it!”
“How do I do it?”
Ella sees the flashing green button that says, ‘answer’ next to the red button that reads, ‘ignore’. She touches the answer button and holds the phone up to her ear.
“Daddy? Daddy? Are you there? It’s Ella”
There is nothing. The phone is quiet. Jamie pulls the phone away from her and puts it to his ear.
“Daddy? Where are you, Daddy?” Jamie takes the phone away from his ear and yells at Ella, “You hung up on him!”
“No I didn’t, we missed the call; we didn’t get to it quick enough.” Ella carefully sets the iPhone on the table. Just as she pulls her hand away, the phone chimes. They both shoot their gaze at the screen; it reads, ‘new message from Shawn, listen? Close’.
“It’s a message from Daddy.” Ella hits the ‘listen’ button and holds it up to her ear. Jamie pulls at her arm and squeezes his ear up to the phone, “I wanna listen too!”
“Hi, Cora. Hey, I need you to deposit some money into the business account today. I think $300 will be enough, I’ll pay you back in a couple weeks. Things are moving quickly here, looks like we should wrap up next week sometime. I’ll probably skip coming home this weekend and just work through till we’re done. Call me when you get a chance. Give the kids kisses from me. Love you.”
Ella pulls the phone away from her ear and sets the phone back on the table. The screen reads, ‘call back’ and ‘delete’. After a few minutes the screen goes black.
Stan’s arms burn as he lugs rocks into the trailer two at a time. His anger still rages. The image of the fresh dent in his new pickup, his pride, is burned into his thoughts. He’s had this landscaping business for twelve years and has never owned a new vehicle. Now that the business is finally successful, he’d decided it needed to appear more professional. After much thought and consideration, he bit the bullet and took out a loan for a brand new Ford 350 with a flatbed. The first thing he did was have his logo painted on the doors. He hates letting the crew use it but it would be silly not to. They do all of the back and forth driving.
The insurance will cover the dent, he knows this, but it pisses him off regardless. The premiums will most likely go up now because of that moron.
A twinge in Stan’s back causes him to pause. Placing his heavy hand on his lower back, he stretches his torso upward. The rage has fueled his work over the last hour—he’s pushed his body too far. All this over-doing it, he must force himself to slow down. The last thing he needs is to throw out his back during the prime landscaping season.
He rolls his eyes at the thought of having to go through applications to find a replacement for Jeremy. The applicants are pathetic. No one wants to work anymore. The kids are useless. All they want to do is play video games and send text messages. He loads the last few stones and hops into his truck. Inside he finds Jeremy’s empty Mountain Dew can. The smell of cigarette smoke permeates the air. Outraged, he throws the truck into drive and peels away.
“I’m hungry.” Jamie sits with his elbows on the kitchen table, the palms of his little hands holding up his head.
“So eat.”
“I’m going to make some ramen noodles.” Jamie pulls himself from the table with a plan in his head.
Ella writes a note and doesn’t pay any attention to Jamie. She wants to tell her mom how mad she is at her for not coming back yet.
Jamie hoists his body onto the counter and hangs by his belly. Supporting his dangling body with his left hand, he quickly reaches up with his right, opens the cupboard door and pulls out a bowl, then lets his body fall back to the kitchen floor. He opens the lower cabinet and grabs a package of ramen noodles.
“Ella, I can’t open these.” He bites at the corner of the plastic.
Ella gets up and walks over to the counter. In a motherly fashion she pulls the scissors out of the drawer and begins cutting the edge of the package. After she takes the ramen noodle square and puts it in his bowl, Jamie pulls the chair over to the sink and fills the bowl with water.
“How long do I microwave them?” Balancing the bowl so the water wont spill out, he carefully puts the bowl into the microwave.
“I think you hit number four.”
Jamie searches the number keys, then pushes on the number four. He stares into the door waiting for one long minute before he loses interest and runs off to the bathroom. When the microwave dings, he runs back to the kitchen.
Excitedly, Jamie reaches for the hot bowl with his bare hands and attempts to pull it out. “Ow! Owie! I burned myself, Ella!” Jamie holds his hand, crying. The intense pain makes him drop the bowl onto the counter, the hot liquid splashes onto his hands.
“Let me see. Does it hurt?” Ella gently opens his hands. The pads of his fingers are red and he has splash marks on the tops of his knuckles.
“You sit down, I’ll finish making your noodles for you.” Ella grabs the strainer from the cupboard, sets it in the sink and, using the towel to hold the bowl, dumps the noodles and boiling water into it. Using a fork, she scoop most of the noodles back into the bowl, then opens the seasoning package with a tear. She dumps the entire thing on top and tries to mix them in but most of it stays stuck together in a clump at the center of the noodles.
“It doesn’t taste like Mommy makes them.” Jamie says as he pushes them away to the center of the table.
“I can make you toast, Jamie.” Ella tries to cheer him up. She suspects he misses Mommy and now that he is hurt, he wants her that much more.
“Where’s Mommy?”
Cora moves her tongue across the roof of her mouth, her taste buds flood with the metallic taste of blood. Oh, God. Her body screams in pain from her left hip and leg, the heat radiates throughout her body. Crickets screech and toads croak. Leaves rustle in the wind. Where am I? Cora tries to open her eyes but they won’t open. Her left eye is captured under the weight of her head on the ground. The other is glued shut. Dried leaves lay like a crunchy pillow under her cheek.
As her mind comes to life, Cora begins to obsess with the thought of opening her eye. If she can just get her hand to her eye and pry it open. But her left arm is trapped under her body and when she
tries to pull her other arm toward her, a shock of pain shoots up to her shoulder, and brings tears to her eyes. Eventually the tears melt the blood that holds her eye shut.
Cora fights to open her eye; she blinks repeatedly trying to clear her vision. At first she sees nothing but darkness; then slowly the image of dead leaves close to her face appear. Then she sees the night sky on the horizon of a hill and a million twinkling stars beyond.
Stan, exhausted, pulls into his driveway, his headlights catch on the trees as he turns. It’s after eleven. He has spent the day doing the labor of two men, working until dusk. Now he has spent the last hour going over resumes and searching on Craig’s List for possible employees.
He received a call from the job north of Simpsonville. Jeremy had delivered the wrong mulch to the crew there and now Stan would have to go all the way back up there with a load of the right mulch and pick up the other stuff tomorrow. What a waste. Damn kids. He had told Jeremy they wanted the red, not the black. Jeremy probably had that obnoxious music in his ears when he told him.
Stan calculates his week, tries to figure out when he can squeeze it in. It may have to wait another day. He will probably lose customers over it.
Stan’s dinner sits covered on the stove. His wife Sara went to bed hours ago. She seldom bothers to wait up for him anymore. After grabbing a beer he sets the plate of food on the table and begins eating methodically, trying to calm his brain before