After the Rain

“Sympathy, I have. Time, I don’t.”


Basically Redman was saying he didn’t want to deal with her. I remember hearing stories, growing up, about Redman and Bea. My father had said that his parents, my grandparents, were too warm and nurturing. They were pushovers, so they would send Dale and my dad out to the Walker Ranch for some tough love from Redman and Bea—the almighty wake-up call, they would say. I wondered if my father’s grounded personality was owed to the summers he had spent on the ranch.

My father came from money and I came from money, but at the ranch there was a sense that no one was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. We are all just trying to live right by each other. My father said Redman told him having too much money caused a man’s sense of survival to atrophy. I guess I understood what he meant.

Avelina was the only person on the ranch who was not at Bea’s long dining table that night for shepherd’s pie. I didn’t ask why. Dale and Redman reminisced about the good times with my father while I tried to discreetly dodge the meat in my dinner. Afterward, I helped Bea take the dishes into the kitchen.

Across from the sink was a screen door leading to the side yard where Bea kept chickens. Ava was sitting on the two concrete steps to the yard with her back to the door. I could tell through the screen that she was eating. Next to her, sitting stoically, was the ugly dog.

I walked to the sink and then heard the screen open behind me but I kept my head on the task of rinsing the dishes.

“I’ll take care of that.” Her voice was small. When I turned to face her, she looked down at her feet, her long hair hanging forward.

“I’m Nate. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

She looked up finally and smiled very slightly, just enough to show she could be polite. Staring into her big brown eyes, I said, “I’ll wash if you dry?”

Her smile grew wider. “Okay.”

We did the dishes in silence as the others congregated in the kitchen to say good night.

Patting me on the back, Dale said, “Good, I see Ava’s already puttin’ you to work.”

Ava laughed. “He’s the one who put me to work.”

Everyone in the room turned and looked at her with shocked faces as if they had never heard her speak.

Ava immediately blushed, her pouty lips flattening. Trish warily approached her with outstretched arms but Ava bolted past her and ran out of the house, followed by the ugly dog.

“What the fuck?”

“Language!” Bea scolded me.

Caleb left the kitchen shaking his head.

“Why’d everyone look so shocked?” I asked.

I turned to Dale, whose face was etched with compassion. His dark bushy eyebrows were bunched together. “We just haven’t heard her laugh in five years.”

“Oh.” The kitchen went quiet again.

On my way to bed, Bea caught me in the hallway. “She seemed to warm up to you rather easily. Red and Caleb will tell you to stay away, that she’s cursed. She’s not. Sometimes I think those boys are just tryin’ to protect her. None of us could bear to see her hurt anymore,” she said, her smile sincere and deep.

A sobering feeling ran through me. “I’m not going to hurt her. I barely said five words to her.” I suddenly thought about Lizzy, on her hospital bed, looking up at me with trust in her eyes. Fuck. “I think I need to get some air, Bea. I’m going for a walk.”

“Okay, honey.” She kissed me on the cheek. I pulled her tiny frame into my arms. Her long, gray hair smelled of the tobacco smoke from Redman’s pipe. I thought about the years she had given her life to him, with no children to bind her to him, and I wondered in my pragmatic mind why on earth a person would do that.

“That was nice,” she said, once she pulled away.





CHAPTER 5

A Light

Avelina



They had been shocked that I filled one moment of my life, one second, with a tiny bit of joy. They didn’t think I deserved it. Trish had reached for me cautiously while Nate had stood there with soapsuds on his hands, looking dumbfounded. Redman’s eyes had been as big as sand dollars, and Bea’s had been squinting and beady, as if she hadn’t heard things right. The walls had started closing in and then I ran, like I always do.

I wished it had been just Nate and me in the room so that I could remember what it felt like to be around at least one person who didn’t think I was poison. He seemed nice enough, and he didn’t ask me a bunch of stupid questions.