“This area up here isn’t that heavily populated. Big-sky country and quite beautiful. With a bit of maneuvering, this could be an enclosed living area for those groups I’m talking about. Of course, there’d have to be peacekeeping forces on-site.”
In the audience, people murmured as Today’s Guest sat onstage, wearing a beatific smile. Before the break, Ms. Host reminded everyone that tomorrow’s show featured chefs from three-star Michelin restaurants. One would be cooking seafood crepes. Ms. Host had recently returned from the Caribbean, where she’d bought an entire island, and let her tell you, the ocean was so blue and the seafood had been fresher than fresh!
The screen went to a commercial for laundry detergent. Another for disposable diapers starring a baby so adorable, my womb hurt looking at her crawling across a wood floor. The woman hired to play her mother urged her on.
“And we’re back!” Ms. Host said. “Before the break, Today’s Guest explained his plan to relocate all undocumented immigrants to Montana.”
There were thirteen minutes left, minus commercials. Ms. Host went in for the kill.
“I believe your so-called relocation plan is a redo of the Trail of Tears, which didn’t work too well for the Native Americans, now did it? And President Lincoln’s initial idea for shipping all the slaves back to Africa was scrapped as well. Don’t you understand this is a ridiculous proposal?” The noise coming from Ms. Host could be a laugh. She tussled it into subjugation, but the audience was her chuckling proxy. As ever, they were on her side.
Today’s Guest looked at Ms. Host severely.
“No, I don’t. This is an excellent plan. I would think you of all people could see its merits. I can explain, if you keep an open mind.”
By the time the credits rolled, I was whirling from codeine: it took a few attempts before I could rise from the couch. In the bathroom, I stripped down to my underwear and sat in the empty bathtub. I opened the straight razor, but then I dozed off.
When I awoke, I was standing in the creek, down in Chicasetta, and the long-haired lady sat on the bank, my friend from my bed-wetting days. She spoke, but I couldn’t understand her, until Lydia appeared beside her.
“She says, ‘My, you’ve grown, my daughter.’”
“Is that you, Lydia?” I asked. “Or is the codeine just that good?”
“Yes, baby sister, it’s me. I’m here.”
I hurried out of the water toward her. We embraced, and she touched my face. Don’t cry, she said. Sit with her a spell, and I settled on the creek bank, between my sister and the long-haired lady. The plantation house was in the distance, tall and ghostly and unburned.
A basket appeared in the creek and floated up to the bank. It was filled with corn. The long-haired lady passed us the ears. She began to shuck, and my sister and I mirrored her, our fingers making a trance as we filled the basket.
There were catfish swimming in the water, fat, bold with switching tails. The long-haired lady walked into the water and began to throw the creatures upon the bank.
“I’m so hungry,” I said. “When can we eat?”
“Don’t you remember?” Lydia asked. “We have to clean those catfish first. Do you have a knife?”
I showed her the switchblade.
“I can let you borrow it,” I said. “But I’ll need it for later.”
“No, Ailey. Once I take the knife, you can’t have it back. Are you sure you want to give it to me?”
I was craving fish, fried and crispy. I wanted to swallow until I split open. I handed Lydia the switchblade, and she passed it to the long-haired lady, and then my sister told me wake up. Open my eyes and step out of the tub. Come home.
I Need My Own Car
That June morning, Mama and I sat on the corduroy couch in the basement. She was preparing for our annual trip to Chicasetta and gossiping about our family. She’d made her two piles of laundry, one for clean and one for dirty. One the other side of the basement, the washing machine was humming.
“Mama, I’m taking my own car to Chicasetta.”
“What kind of sense is that? Two folks driving separately to the same place? That’s just a waste of gas money.”
“I have some emergency funds. And Uncle Root told me I could stay with him. He needs somebody to drive him.”
“You’re only going to be there two months. I can take him if he needs to go somewhere.”
“What if you’re gone visiting?”
She looked at me. Her eyes narrowed. “Ailey Pearl, what is this about?”