by Ruth Ozeki
“Why did you come?” I asked.
“I needed to apologize to your father. I want to make amends to you.”
He stood there at the gravesite, looking eager and contrite. “Please,” he said. “Yummy. Yumi . . .”
“All right,” I said.
Oh, God, how nice it would be if the story could just end here! With Lloyd’s earthly body dead and buried in the ground and his heavenly body in transit to the hereafter. With his seeds safely disseminated, his wife wading in shallows of forgetfulness, and his daughter poised on the threshold of reconciliation with her onetime rapist. I could turn over the farmhouse to the Quinns and take Momoko and the kids back to Hawaii. Elliot could join us, and Phoenix would learn to tolerate his new stepdad, or he wouldn’t. Cass and Will could get back to their business of growing potatoes, a little lonelier—no, a lot lonelier—than before, and the Seeds of Resistance could pack up the Spudnik and move along down the road, sowing their message and saving the world.
How nice it would be. . . .
Wouldn’t it?
Impossible to say, because something went suddenly and terribly wrong in the story. It may simply have been an accident, random and tragic, a bit of very bad luck. Or it may have been something far more sinister—a rogue element set loose in Liberty Falls, who knew about Lloyd’s passing and when the funeral was scheduled to start. Maybe he watched us leave the farmhouse that morning, all dressed in black, crammed into the Pontiac and the Quinns’ Suburban. Maybe he parked on the side of the road and slipped down the driveway, knowing no one would be there. I can imagine him, shadowlike, skirting the barn and moving toward the parked Winnebago. Maybe he’d been inside before.
Geek would say that when you release an agent, randomly and carelessly, into an environment, it follows that all hell breaks loose, but even Geek was blindsided. “I expected a fallout,” he said, broken and bewildered. “Just not like this.”
The mourners brought casseroles and salads and roasts and gratins. They brought brownies and cookies and pies. Following the service, they reconvened at our house for a supper, which had been precisely coordinated by the members of the Ladies’ Aid Society. They had preassigned the courses in order to avoid an insufficiency of meats or an overabundance of side dishes. They brought the floral arrangements from the funeral home and placed them in the parlor. They greeted the guests and took their coats, steering them past the flowers toward the food, which they had set up buffet style in the kitchen.
Reverend Glass was one of the first to arrive, accompanied by members of the congregation. The president of the Chamber of Commerce was next, then the veterans from the local VFW, who had fought alongside both Lloyd and Will in their respective wars. Sheriff Odell brought his wife. The men from the Potato Growers Association arrived with their families, looking stiff and uncertain about mingling with the gardeners and the hippies. They greeted Momoko, then stood apart and admired the floral wreaths. The wives sneaked sidelong glances at me. They helped themselves to potato salad. They ate ham.
It is said that the brain retains the moments that precede a disaster with preternatural clarity. Time slows—or so it seems—and images linger, imprinted on the memory like shadows on a retina, bloated with light. I had put Poo down for his nap in my bedroom, then changed out of the black dress I’d borrowed from Cass for the funeral and put on something loose and yellow and, by Liberty Falls standards, entirely outlandish. Downstairs, amid all the somber funereal garb, I felt like a dislocated sun on an overcast day. Geek had brought a bottle of rum from the greenhouse and stashed it in the kitchen, and I drifted through the roomful of my parents’ friends drinking a heavily spiked Coke. Little groups of ladies eddied around me, patting my arm and telling me over and over what a good man my father had been until I wanted to scream. Yes! He was a good man, and a lot of other things, too, but I didn’t say anything. I just wanted them all to finish up and leave. I was half thinking about Elliot, wondering what he had to say and if I even cared anymore. I spotted Ocean and called to her. She threaded her way toward me through the forest of legs.
“Geek’s taking us out to the Spudnik, Mom,” Ocean said. “This scene is a drag.”
I agreed. I gave her a polite smile and a little pat, something I’d picked up from the ladies. She looked at me like I was weird, then headed over to where Geek was standing with Phoenix at the edge of the crowded room. I caught his eye.
“Thanks.” I mouthed the word, pointing to my children. He held up his fingers in a peace sign. He was trying to help. Things had been strained between us. A lot had happened since we’d shared blue drinks in the hammock.
I was dying to slip away, too, but I didn’t want to leave Momoko. She was doing a pretty good job pretending to recognize all the people who approached her, but I didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up. I watched as she straightened a lampshade and noticed that one of Lloyd’s labels was attached to it. The label said LAMPSHADE. It was the last normal thing I recall.
inferno
Cass was slicing ham when the first explosion occurred. She and Charmey had been organizing the donations of food, but Charmey still got tired easily, and after sorting out a few vegan dishes for herself and the Seeds, she had told Cass that she wanted to lie down. She took Tibet to the Spudnik, and Frankie went with her. He came back to the kitchen awhile later, bouncing the baby up and down in his arms.
“She nursed, but she wouldn’t go to sleep,” he explained to Cass. “She likes it here with all the people. She likes to party. Don’t you, babe?”
Cass worried about the way the boy handled his daughter, but Tibet just gurgled and wiggled her fingers at Frankie. He bent his head and nuzzled her belly. She patted him on the head.
Geek, Y, and Lilith came tromping into the kitchen, followed by Phoenix and Ocean. They all headed toward the door.
“Hey,” Geek said. “We’re gonna split. We’ll be in the Spudnik.”
“Wait up,” Frank said. “Charmey’s out there. She’s trying to take a nap. You mind hanging out here awhile longer?”
They all stopped and did an about-face. “Well?” Geek said.
“We could go up to the attic,” Phoenix said. “We could play Monopoly.”
“A brainwashing tool to indoctrinate youth into the values of the capitalist hegemony,” Geek said happily. “Sure.”
“I hate Monopoly,” said Ocean. “Phoenix cheats. He changes the rules.”
“That’s what happens in a patriarchy,” Lilith said. “Men make the rules. But I’ll tell you what. We’ll form an anarcho-feminist collective. We’ll organize and overthrow the system.”
Cass was just starting to slice the ham when Frankie sidled over. He cradled Tibet against his shoulder and snagged a thick slab with his fingers, tearing off a bite.
“Ooooh, look!” Ocean cried. “Frankie’s eating meat! I’m telling Charmey. She’ll be mad at you!”
Frankie dropped the rest of the ham into his mouth, spit out a clove, then sucked his fingers clean. “Ocean’s a snitch,” he said to Lilith. “I wouldn’t trust her.”
“I’m not a snitch. I’m a narco-feminist, and eating meat means you’re a traitor.”
“It’s not meat,” he said. “It’s fruit.” He peeled a round slice of soggy pineapple from the top of the ham, wiggled it over Ocean’s head, and pretended to drop it.
“Oooh, gross!” Ocean cried, and twisted away.
He licked the sweet, sticky rind. He took a big bite, and that’s when it happened.
Cass felt it an instant before she heard it. She felt it in her feet and legs, a jolt followed by a violent tremor, and then the sound reached them—a deafening clap and boom of thunder, only she knew it couldn’t be thunder, because it was far too loud and besides, it had been a beautiful day. Everyone froze, and Cass would never forget the look on Frankie’s face, caught there with his daughter in one hand and a limp slice of pineapple in the other.
“Charmey!” he said. He dropped the fruit back on
to the platter and passed Tibet over to Cass. A split second later he was through the screen door. He moved so quickly it was like he left a hole behind him, which the others soon filled, but by the time they caught up, following him out the door and onto the porch, he was already down by the barn, a small figure silhouetted against the inferno that was now the Spudnik. Whorls of flame rocketed up into the darkness with each new explosion as, one by one, the tanks blew. First the propane. Then the methane. Then the biodiesel. The smell of burning french fries filled the air.
People came streaming out of the house. Y and Geek ran after Frankie. He was dancing at the edge of the flames, screaming Charmey’s name. He covered his head with his jacket, bent low, and charged, again and again, trying to breach the wall of fire, but it kept spitting him out. They grabbed him and tried to hold him back, but he fought them off, flailing and kicking. On the porch Cass clutched Tibet and watched the howling shadows of the boys against the bonfire. It looked like they were dancing. She shielded the baby against her chest. She saw Yummy, frantic, searching for Phoenix and Ocean, then spotting them on the porch as they were about to follow Frank into the yard. Cass heard her scream, “Do not leave this porch!” Phoenix shot her an anguished look, but he obeyed.
Someone phoned the fire department, but it was a volunteer department, and half the firemen were here already, and they had no truck. Yummy ran down to help Will direct them, locating buckets and irrigation supplies, whatever they could find. They formed a bucket brigade, heaving containers of water from one to the next, knowing all the while that it was too late.
Hours later, when the ambulance pulled away from the driveway, it was empty. There was nothing left of Charmey to find or remove. Frankie had been standing quietly off to one side while the sheriff and the paramedics searched, but when he saw the empty stretcher carried out, he snapped. He plunged back into the charred shell, kicking and ripping away at the buckled metal. Will and Billy Odell went after him, lifting him by the armpits and dragging him up to the porch. Frankie fought them, but when he caught sight of Cass standing there with Tibet, he stopped. Stricken, he held out his hands, burned and bloodied and caked with soot. Cass hesitated, then handed him the baby. He sank down onto the top step and curled his body around his tiny daughter. Tibet started to cry.
“Shhh, baby, please,” Frank said, but her crying just got louder. He looked up at Cass. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “I think she’s hungry.”
The mourners left as soon as the fire was out. They had come to grieve for Lloyd. They didn’t even know who Charmey was, and what are you supposed to do when someone gets blown to pieces at somebody else’s funeral? Even the Ladies’ Aid Society was at a loss for what to do. The fire truck had finally arrived, and in the stillness that settled, the lights swirled red against the wreck of the Spudnik, making it throb in and out of darkness, like a skeleton breathing. The firemen were packing things in, getting ready to go.
The baby had worn herself out crying and gone off to sleep. Cass brought her inside, and when she came back out again, Billy Odell was taking statements. The Seeds were there, and so was Yummy. They were all watching Geek, who was sitting on the bottom step of the porch pounding his forehead against the newel post. His glasses were broken. “It’s my fault,” he was saying, only he wasn’t talking so much as intoning the words. Over and over.
Odell stood next to him with his notebook in hand. “What’s your fault, boy?”
Geek’s face was smeared with soot. The emergency lights were flashing red in his busted glasses.
“The propane tanks. Something was wrong. I was trying to fix them—”
“For God’s sake, Billy!” Cass said, cutting him off. “Don’t write that down. He’s in shock. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” She went over and stood beside Yummy, who reached over and squeezed her arm.
The sheriff said, “A statement’s a statement.”
“You want a statement, I’ll give you a statement,” Lilith said. “You’re the one responsible. Your guys were screwing around with the Spudnik when we were in jail. They busted the propane line.”
“That’s right,” Y said. “Geek was just trying to fix it. This is a fucking setup.”
Geek just sat there, slowly banging his head.
“Surely it was just an accident,” Yummy said.
Lilith looked at her like she wanted to spit. “Just an accident? Ask your son.” She turned to Odell. “Phoenix was here. He witnessed what went down.”
Odell looked around.
“Phoenix didn’t witness anything,” Yummy said. “Anyway, he’s in bed.”
“No I’m not.” The door slammed, and Phoenix sauntered out onto the porch. He was wearing his surf jams and a T-shirt. His feet were bare.
Odell looked him over. “You ever seen someone tampering with that vehicle, son?”
“Sure,” Phoenix said, going to stand next to Lilith. “Lots of people. You should know. You were one of them.”
Odell’s face turned red. “Don’t get wise with me. That was part of a crime investigation.”
The boy shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Tell him about the other guy,” Lilith said. “The one with the sunglasses who kept coming back.”
Phoenix frowned. “He wasn’t wearing a uniform or anything, just these sunglasses with mirrors. He had a real old car, and he looked kind of gnarly.”
“Gnarly?”
“Yeah. You know. Skanky.”
“He was a spy!” Lilith said. “I remember him from the action. He was wearing a cap with a GroundUp logo.” She spun around and pointed at Yummy. Her eyes were dark and accusing. “He worked for her friend, the PR fuck. I saw them talking.”
“Oh, please,” Yummy said. “That’s insane.”
“Sure is,” Odell said. “This is farm country. You know how many guys around here got caps like that?”
“Exactly,” Yummy said, nodding at the sheriff.
Phoenix stood beside Lilith, looking as dark and bruised as she did. He glowered at his mother.
“No!” Lilith said. “I’ll tell you what’s insane. Every time her old Cynaco fuck buddy shows up around here, some evil shit goes down! First it’s letters threatening to burn us down and kill us with swords. Now our trailer gets bombed, and Charmey is murdered. It’s not a coincidence. It’s conspiracy and terrorism, and her friend is behind all of this.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Yummy said. She turned to Phoenix. “Elliot Rhodes isn’t a terrorist, and he wasn’t hiring spies to bomb us. Besides, he quit his job. He has nothing to do with this or Cynaco or anything else, so don’t look at me that way.”
“God!” Lilith said. “You really are an idiot.”
The sheriff interrupted. “This is all beside the point,” he said, snapping his notebook shut. “We got a confession right here.” He pointed the edge of the book at Geek. “That’s good enough for me.”
Will stepped forward from out of the darkness. “Leave it, Odell,” he said. “Just walk away.” He had been helping get the fire truck ready to leave, and now it had turned off its emergency lights and was backing out of the drive. “You can’t even search that wreck properly until it cools down.”
Everyone got real quiet. Then Odell raised his hands in exasperation. “I don’t get you, Will Quinn. This is the scum that tore up your field.”
“Go home, Billy. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“He might flee our jurisdiction,” the sheriff said.
“My husband and I will vouch for him,” Cass said, placing a hand on Geek’s shoulder. “He’s not fleeing anywhere.”
The moon was high in the sky as the sheriff’s truck drove away. Will came over and helped Geek to his feet. “I’ll take him on home, then,” he told Cass.
She watched as her husband put his arm around Geek and slowly walked him away. You could always count on Will. When they passed Yummy, Cass saw her reach out to Geek, to touch him perhaps, or offer him some comfort, but he flinched and pulled
back as though she’d slapped him.
Y and Lilith collected Frankie.
Cass headed inside to get Tibet. “We’ll find room for them all at our place,” she told Yummy. “They shouldn’t stay here.”
The baby was sleeping in a corner of the sofa, barricaded with pillows and blankets. Yummy followed Cass into the living room and sank into Lloyd’s recliner.
“Oh, God!” She rubbed her face and looked at her watch. “It’s only nine o’clock. It feels so late.”
Cass looked down at the baby. A lot had happened.
“I don’t suppose you could take the kids, too?”
“Sure,” Cass said. “If you think it’s better for them not to stay here.”
“Just for a couple of hours. I’ll pick them up on my way back.”
Cass gasped. “Oh, no you’re not! Not tonight!” She watched the color in Yummy’s face rise.
“I won’t be long.”
Cass looked away and reached for the phone. “I’ll call Will,” she said. “I’ll stay here until you get back.”
The screen door slammed. “You don’t have to,” said Phoenix. “My mom’s not going anywhere.” He stood there in his surfing jams, silhouetted in the doorway.
“Phoenix . . .” Yummy said. There was a warning in her voice.
He wouldn’t meet her eye. “My mom’s staying here.”
“Phoenix!”
But he wasn’t listening, he was talking right over her. “My mom’s not going off to a sleazy motel to get fucked by some fucking PR scumbag murderer.”
“Damn it, Phoenix! Don’t you talk to me like that!”
“I’m not talking to you. There’s no point.” He wouldn’t even look in her direction. “You can go home now, Cass.” He climbed the stairs. “We’ll be okay.”