Weedeater

by Robert Gipe

  June said, “You want to go to Megamart?”

  I said, “No. I’ll go see if Hazel has one.”

  * * *

  EVIE’S MOTHER Hazel sat in a lawn chair under an umbrella at the roadside sale between the cutoff to Ridge Road and the place where Rooster the tree trimmer lived. She was sitting with a woman with a crewcut. Hazel’s friend had on a yellow tank top and was selling baby clothes, statues of black Jesus doing different Jesus things, and framed pictures of unicorns flying over enchanted cities. Hazel had a white bandana with black paisleys wrapped tight against her skull, hiding her snow-head of hair. She had on short pants that came to her knees, pants full of buckles and straps and extra pockets. She had on a tie-dye T-shirt had the sleeves cut out, and seen me before I seen her out of her little round mirror sunglasses.

  She said, “Misty Dawn Jewell,” said, “come here and give me a hug, girl.”

  I was sorry then I hadn’t gone to Evie’s funeral.

  Hazel said, “How are you, darling? I have had you on my mind.”

  I told Hazel I was OK. She raised her sunglasses and looked at me with peppermint candy eyes and talked about how sad she was and how she wasn’t sleeping. I said,

  Hazel said, “She loved you, Dawn Jewell. You should have heard the way she talked about you.”

  I said, “What did she say?”

  Hazel said, “She thought you hung the moon.”

  I said, “Well.”

  Hazel said, “What about Calvin and Belinda?”

  I said, “What about them?”

  She said, “Are yall going to do anything?”

  I said, “About what?”

  She said, “Most folks figure one of them killed Tricia. Folks are wondering what yall are going to do.”

  I said, “Nothing, I reckon.”

  Hazel took her cigarettes out of her pant pockets, said, “My heart is jacked up. I’m supposed to walk the track at the park. I don’t. I’m supposed to give up my caffeine. I don’t. I’m supposed to give up my cigarettes. I don’t.”

  I said, “You think we should do something to Calvin and Belinda?”

  Hazel said, “That aint for me to say, honey.” Hazel’s hand shook and sweat beaded on her lip and forehead. “I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

  I said, “Yall got a bathing suit fit Nicolette?”

  Hazel said she might. She didn’t, but a woman two trucks down did. I got Nicolette a purple bathing suit with pink polka dots. It matched her water wings.

  I said, “Hazel, you ought to go with us to Decent Ferguson’s floathouse on the lake in Tennessee.”

  Hazel said, “Sweetheart, the last thing I need right now is to be out on a lake.”

  I said, “You sure?”

  Hazel hugged me tight, said, “You stay close, you hear?”

  I said,

  Hazel pulled back, held me by the shoulders, said, “When you coming to see me?”

  I said, “Before the end of the month.”

  Hazel smiled and said, “You bring the beer. I’ll have the weed.”

  10

  FLOATHOUSE

  DAWN

  Decent Ferguson’s floathouse didn’t really float. It was anchored in a lake down in Tennessee. The floathouse had been a little party house for TVA bosses. At least that’s what Decent Ferguson told us. She bought it from a friend of her father’s.

  Decent Ferguson was broad-hipped and lived in Tennessee. She was a school principal at a special school for bad kids. She had lived in Canard for most of her life. She’d gone back to school to get her principal papers when her kids got old enough. She used to live out on the Trail. People used to go to her house to party, but not bad party. Fun party. She’d have parties where people play music, tell funny stories, bring all their junk mail and cardboard boxes and set fire to a stump she was trying to burn out in the backyard. People would sit around the fire in camping chairs and Decent Ferguson’s big black dog named Angus would chase all over the yard. Angus would chase a stick straight into the fire if you threw it in there, but that didn’t happen more than twice a year.

  Decent Ferguson’s house in Canard had been her granny’s, and she always had way more stuff than she could ever eat stacked up in the kitchen. Cases and cases of pop and cases and cases of ramen noodles. Bags and bags of Grippos. Her refrigerator she’d had in Canard was covered with refrigerator magnets of places she’d been and magnets made out of pop bottle tops. Decent Ferguson had an aboveground swimming pool and sometimes people would jump in it in their underpants. People wouldn’t get naked at Decent Ferguson’s house.

  Decent Ferguson left Canard one day, said she wanted to see how the rest of the world did things, so she moved to Tennessee, left her son in her granny’s house, didn’t hardly bring anything with her but some clothes and a couple of pots and knives. There wasn’t a place for what she called her art collection—wild animals and famous women in history made out of painted gourds, all kinds of paintings with stuff stuck on them with a hot glue gun. She didn’t take her music collection. All she took was a portable CD player she set in her kitchen window.

  * * *

  THE ROAD to Tennessee was green woods and red clay, block-set houses tucked against slopes, lowhill cows lined out against blue skies, church signs and old gas stations still in business, still selling beer and worms and Styrofoam coolers. To get to the lake, to Decent’s floathouse, you didn’t go the Kingsport way. You went the Knoxville way. Doing that, you went right by where we seen that man die. Where we’d first run up on Weedeater.

  It was me and June, Nicolette and Pharoah, in June’s little red Honda car. Nicolette made Pharoah nervous, so Pharoah set far away as she could, dragging her nose across the car window till June cracked it open. June talked about me going to school, and whether I was sure nursing was for me. She worried I wasn’t going to be fulfilled.

  I think she thought I couldn’t do it. The classes would be hard, but the way I figured it, if Willett was going to get fired from every job he ever got, I didn’t see how being fulfilled was really an option for me. Not if I wanted to be the one do for Nicolette. Not if I wanted to keep her from being raised by Willett’s mother. I should have asked June about the tattoo business. But I didn’t. I was too chicken. It used to feel good for June to advise me. But by that day going to Decent’s floathouse, it seemed we were going in opposite directions, seemed I had to strain to hear what she was talking about. And when I did hear it, it seemed to make a lot less sense.

  There weren’t any flowers on the road sign where that man’s Buick hung up, on the spot where he died, but none of us needed reminding where it was. June slowed down and Nicolette made a crashing sound and I could see in my mind the people piled up at the scene, could see how white that man’s hand had been against the blue velour of the Buick seat, how yellow-white his eyes were rolled back in his head, how red-black the cave of his mouth was. Part of me wanted to come out there and ziptie plastic flowers to that sign.

  June said, “Evie was wearing a recorder when she died. She was recording what she and Hubert were talking about.”

  I asked June how she knew. She said Weedeater told her.

  June said, “Why you reckon she did that?”

  I said, “Cause she was a snitch, I guess.”

  We went through the tunnel into Tennessee. It was hotter in Tennessee. Brighter. We went down the four-lane through Harrogate, the Abraham Lincoln college on one side of the road, Hardee’s and Dollar General and the IGA on the other. June pulled into a beer store. She went in. Me and Nicolette sat out in the car. Nicolette snored in the backseat, baking in the sun. Pharoah leaned against the opposite door, whined. June came out with plastic bags full of beer and Funyuns. She already had two big bags full of wine and fancy crackers and cheeses, weird grainy salads with lemon juice and parsley. June packed like she was wanting to have fun, but there wasn’t much fun in her eyes.

  June said, “When are you going back to Kingsport?”

&nbs
p; I said, “I aint in no hurry.”

  We turned on a long, straight road, ridges on either side of us, barns had GET RIGHT WITH GOD on their roof. I said, “You should have got whoever done that barn to help you with your sign.”

  June explained who the man was had done the barn sign. He did those stone markers you see beside the road say “PREPARE TO MEET GOD” and “JESUS IS COMING SON.” June said the man lived on the road we were riding. It’s hard to get ahead of June in knowing stuff like that.

  We got on the interstate for a while and then get back off the interstate and wound around the lake before we got to the boat dock, where we took a boat out to the floathouse where Decent Ferguson stayed. The boat was a johnboat, didn’t have much motor, so it was slow going. We motored past a bunch of party boats like you see on Miami Vice, boats with dumb names like Aqua-holic and Ship Happens, and the names of the people who own them and the places they come from painted on the side. There were a few people out, a woman with long legs all wrinkled and brown piling up pool toys and a big-belly man with silver hair and a beer in a hugger at 10:30 in the morning.

  Decent jumped out when we got to the house and tied the boat to the deck. We had to crawl around the boat and pass her the rope and hold each other’s hand as we got out. Nicolette wore a orange life jacket that about swallowed her up. She liked the life jacket, said it made her feel like she had big muscles.

  Decent’s house was one room, with a kitchen where you came in, a bed in the center, and a bench with cushions around the wall. After we got settled in, Decent set out the crackers and cheeses June brought, and sausages and olives in little bowls, on a table on the deck. Decent and June drank their wine and Nicolette and I drank pop. Nicolette liked all the stuff they had to eat. I ate cheese on crackers with pickles a woman worked at Decent’s school had put up and give to her. The lake was ringed round by hillsides. The lake was there cause the river had been dammed by the TVA. It was weird knowing you were floating over what used to be people’s houses and farms. Where it was Sunday morning, there weren’t many people out, just a jet ski or two. A pontoon boat went by every now and then. Nicolette chased Pharoah around the deck until I told her three times to stop, and when she did, Pharoah pooped right there on the deck.

  June said, “I’m so sorry,” and jumped up.

  Decent said, “Honey, that aint no problem. It’ll give me a chance to show you how the toilet works.”

  She took us to the back of the house and showed us the closet of a bathroom. The commode was almost dry. You had to poop and then flip an old-timey metal switch and then there was a garbage disposal grinding sound grinding up your poop as it went down and I wondered did your poop just go out in the lake and Decent said no, said it went in a tank and said you called this woman and told her it was full and these guys came in a boat and pumped out your tank into a tank on their boat and hauled it off.

  Decent threw the dog poop wrapped up in toilet paper into the commode and turned on the grinder. We went back on the deck. I got in the water with Pharoah and Nicolette and her life jacket. Pharoah paddled around a while and then she decided she’d had enough. She needed help getting out because the deck was four or five feet above water level. Pharoah got scared when we tried to help her out, and tried to bite all of us, but we eventually got her out.

  Me and Nicolette stayed in the water, hanging onto a purple pool noodle. She chattered on about wishing she could bring all the dogs in the world to the lake and let them swim, all at once. She kept chattering until she ran out of talk, until it was just her teeth chattering. Nicolette wanted to climb the ladder by herself, but she wasn’t strong enough yet, so June and Decent hoisted her out, swallowed her up in towels, and June held Nicolette while she and Decent rambled on and it was just me floating in the water.

  My legs hung off the purple noodle down into the cold cold water. I let myself be alone. My elbows draped across the noodle and my chin rested on it and I felt safe and let go of how scared I was of how lonesome I was going to be without Mamaw and Momma and Evie. I got mad at myself, saw myself for how foolish I was for thinking I was tough, for thinking I was independent. I’m an idiot.

  But I didn’t want to break in new people to help me, didn’t want to have to get used to a new bunch of whoever to talk to to figure things out. I felt like a noodle myself, like a bowl of school lunch spaghetti, too full of water, nothing to keep me from sliding off the fork except getting into a twist.

  I closed my eyes and the water lapped me, and my mind went off on its own. I turned into a dark hollow room. I heard Willett’s voice. He was real happy. He was looking for me and he wanted me to come do something I didn’t want to do, something he thought was fun. I thought I’d lost something. I wanted him to help me look for it. He said it was at the place he wanted me to go. I couldn’t get mad at him. I wanted to, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I didn’t like not being able to get mad at Willett.

  “Dawn,” June called to me from the deck and woke me up.

  I said, “What?”

  She said, “I’m going with Decent to the store. Her neighbors are coming over tonight.”

  I said, “To do what?”

  June said, “To have dinner. Sit around and talk.”

  I said, “Lord.”

  June said, “You want to go to the store with us?”

  I said, “No.”

  June said, “You want us to take Nicolette with us?”

  I said, “Where is she?”

  June said, “She’s in there on the bed asleep.”

  I said, “Leave her there.”

  June said, “You sure you’re going to be OK here?”

  I said, “I reckon.”

  June said, “We’re going to take the boat. You won’t have any way off the lake. Are you sure you want to stay?”

  I said, “Yeah. You’re not going to be gone that long, are you?”

  June said, “It’ll be a little while.”

  I said, “Well. Go on if you’re going.”

  June looked at me a minute, then her and Decent puttered off.

  I went in the house and checked on Nicolette. I took a drink out of a bottle of bourbon sitting on the counter and went back outside. I sat with my back against the house. I watched bats weave around between the lake and the shore, listened to bugs buzz. I lay on my belly, still wet from swimming. I rested my cheek on my hands. I stared off over the water, drowsing. Before long I heard something paddling. I opened my eyes and there was that damn Calvin, sitting a little lower than eye level in a kayak.

  I sat up and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He said, “Dawn, I need to talk to you.”

  I said, “No, you don’t.”

  He said, “Dawn, it’s my fault your mother is dead.”

  I said, “Get out of here, Calvin.”

  He said, “Dawn.”

  I said, “How did you know I was here?”

  He said, “Dawn, it was me shot up your mother. It was me killed her.”

  I said, “Why? Why would you do that?”

  Calvin said, “It was an accident. Please believe me.” Then he said, “Can I come up there and explain what happened?”

  I said, “No. You can’t come up here. You stay down there in your stupid boat. Just go away.”

  That’s what I said, but by that time I was thinking that if what he said was true, then I needed to keep him there. I needed to get him where we could get him arrested, get him on his way to prison. So I said, “You want to come up here?”

  He said, “Yeah.”

  I went over to the door, pulled it shut, said, “Come on up.”

  Calvin started talking before he got his boat to the ladder, said, “Your mother, buddy, me and her got along great. I aint never seen a woman so sweet. She didn’t care. She laid herself out there. Emotionally. You know what I mean?”

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe my mother went with this man. Calvin grabbed hold of the ladder, said, “We were p
artying, Dawn. Me and her and your brother and that little redneck girl he goes with.”

  I said, “Evie.”

  Calvin said, “Evie. Yeah,” said, “I heard she didn’t make it.” Calvin said, “Anyway, so your mother said she wanted the needle but was scared to do it herself, said she wanted me to do it for her and I told her I would and I did, and I’m sorry that’s how it ended, Dawn. I wouldn’t have done it for the world. I loved your mother, Dawn.”

  I stepped over and blocked him getting off the ladder. I said,

  Calvin tried to step off the ladder. I shoved him, said, “Where did it happen?”

  He said, “Dawn, let me off this ladder and I’ll tell you.”

  I said, “You tell me now.”

  He said, “Dawn, it was an accident.”

  I said, “Where did you do it, Calvin?”

  He said, “Dawn, it don’t matter.”

  I shook the ladder and Calvin goes, “Dawn, honey, don’t do that. I can’t swim.”

  I said, “Where’d you do it, Calvin? Where did you kill my mother?”

  He said, “Dawn.”

  I shook the ladder again and he said, “Up there at that apartment. In Causey.”

  I said, “How did she end up on the riverbank?”

  Calvin said, “Dawn, it was so crazy.”

  I said, “You took her down there, didn’t you?”

  Calvin said, “Dawn.”

  I said, “Say it, Calvin. Say you dumped her body like it was a bag of garbage.”

  Calvin said, “Dawn, it wouldn’t have done no good . . .”

  Before he could finish, I shook the ladder and kept shaking it and he slipped on it, got his leg caught in it. One side of the ladder come loose and he went down into the water headfirst, his leg still hung in the ladder. He sputtered and gagged, and I said, “Say it, Calvin.”

  He said, “Dawn, get me up.”