100 Years of the Best American Short Stories

by Lorrie Moore

  This too much to ask?

  Eva quiet.

  Could see wheels turning.

  Eva wild about Lilly, would walk in front of train for Lilly.

  Then shared story w/Eva re summer job I had in high school, at Señor Tasty’s (taco place). Was hot, was greasy, boss mean, boss always goosing us with tongs. By time I went home, hair + shirt always stank of grease. No way I could do that job now. But back then? Actually enjoyed: flirted with countergirls, participated in pranks with other employees (hid tongs of mean boss, slipped magazine down own pants so that, when mean boss tong-goosed me, did not hurt, mean boss = baffled).

  Point is, I said, everything relative. SGs have lived very different lives from us. Their lives brutal, harsh, unpromising. What looks scary/unpleasant to us may not be so scary/unpleasant to them, i.e., they have seen worse.

  Eva: You flirted with girls?

  Me: I did. Don’t tell Mom.

  That got little smile.

  Believe I somewhat broke through with Eva. Hope so.

  Discussed situation w/Pam tonight. Pam, as usual, offered sound counsel: Go slow, be patient, Eva bright, savvy. In another month, Eva will have adjusted, forgotten, will once again be usual happy self.

  Love Pam.

  Pam my rock.

  SEPTEMBER 25TH

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  Family hit by absolute thunderclap, future reader.

  Will explain.

  This morning, kids sitting sleepily at table, Pam making eggs, Ferber under her feet, hoping scrap of food will drop. Thomas, eating bagel, drifts to window.

  Thomas: Wow. What the heck. Dad? You better get over here.

  Go to window.

  SGs gone.

  Totally gone (!).

  Race out. Rack empty. Microline gone. Gate open. Take somewhat frantic run up block, to see if any sign of them.

  Is not.

  Race back inside. Call Greenway, call police. Cops arrive, scour yard. Cop shows me microline drag mark in mud near gate. Says this actually good news: with microline still in, will be easier to locate SGs, as microline limits how fast they can walk, since, fleeing in group, they are forced to take baby steps, so one does not get too far behind/ahead of others, hence causing yank on microline, yank that could damage brain of one yanked.

  Other cop says yes, that would be case if SGs on foot. But come on, he says, SGs not on foot, SGs off in activist van somewhere, laughing butts off.

  Me: Activists.

  First cop: Yeah, you know: Women4Women, Citizens for Economic Parity, Semplica Rots in Hell.

  Second cop: Fourth incident this month.

  First cop: Those gals didn’t get down by themselves.

  Me: Why would they do that? They chose to be here. Why would they go off with some total—

  Cops laugh.

  First cop: Smelling that American dream, baby.

  Kids beyond freaked. Kids huddled near fence.

  School bus comes and goes.

  Greenway field rep (Rob) arrives. Rob = tall, thin, bent. Looks like archery bow, if archery bow had pierced ear + long hair like pirate, was wearing short leather vest.

  Rob immediately drops bombshell: says he is sorry to have to be more or less a hardass in our time of trial, but is legally obligated to inform us that, per our agreement w/Greenway, if SGs not located within three weeks, we will, at that time, become responsible for full payment of the required Replacement Debit.

  Pam: Wait, the what?

  Per Rob, Replacement Debit = $100/month, per individual, per each month still remaining on their Greenway contracts at time of loss (!). Betty (21 months remaining) = $2,100; Tami (13 months) = $1,300; Gwen (18 months) = $1,800; Lisa (34 months (!)) = $3,400.

  Total: $2,100 + $1,300 + $1,800 + $3,400 = $8,600.

  Pam: Fucksake.

  Rob: Believe me, I know, that’s a lot of money, right? But our take on it is—or, you know, their take on it, Greenway’s take—is that we—or they—made an initial investment, and, I mean, obviously, that was not cheap, just in terms of like visas and airfares and all?

  Pam: No one said anything to us about this.

  Me: At all.

  Rob: Huh. Who was on your account again?

  Me: Melanie?

  Rob: Right, yeah, I had a feeling. With Melanie, Melanie was sometimes rushing through things to close the deal. Especially with Package A folks, who were going chintzy in the first place? No offense. Anyway, which is why she’s gone. If you want to yell at her, go to Home Depot. She’s second in charge of Paint, probably lying her butt off about which color is which.

  Feel angry, violated: someone came into our yard in dark of night, while kids sleeping nearby, stole? Stole from us? Stole $8,600, plus initial cost of SGs (approx. $7,400)?

  Pam (to cop): How often do you find them?

  First cop: Honestly? I’d have to say rarely.

  Second cop: More like never.

  First cop: Well, never yet.

  Second cop: Right. There’s always a first time.

  Cops leave.

  Pam (to Rob): So what happens if we don’t pay?

  Me: Can’t pay.

  Rob (uncomfortable, blushing): Well, that would be more of an issue for Legal.

  Pam: You’d sue us?

  Rob: I wouldn’t. They would. I mean, that’s what they do. They—what’s that word? They garner your—

  Pam (harshly): Garnish.

  Rob: Sorry. Sorry about all this. Melanie, wow, I am going to snap your head back using that stupid braid of yours. Just kidding! I never even talk to her. But the thing is: all this is in your contract. You guys read your contract, right?

  Silence.

  Me: Well, we were kind of in a hurry. We were throwing a party.

  Rob: Oh, sure, I remember that party. That was some party. We were all discussing that.

  Rob leaves.

  Pam (livid): You know what? Fuck ’em. Let ’em sue. I’m not paying. That’s obscene. They can have the stupid house.

  Lilly: Are we losing the house?

  Me: We’re not losing the—

  Pam: You don’t think? What do you think happens if you owe someone nine grand and can’t pay?

  Me: Look, let’s calm down, no need to get all—

  Eva’s lower lip out in pre-crying way. Think, Oh, great, nice parenting, arguing + swearing + raising specter of loss of house in front of tightly wound kid already upset by troubling events of day.

  Then Eva bursts into tears, starts mumbling, Sorry sorry sorry.

  Pam: Oh, sweetie, I was just being silly. We’re not going to lose the house. Mommy and Daddy would never let that—

  Light goes on in my head.

  Me: Eva. You didn’t.

  Look in Eva’s eyes says, I did.

  Pam: Did what?

  Thomas: Eva did it?

  Lilly: How could Eva do it? She’s only eight. I couldn’t even—

  Eva leads us outside, shows us how she did: Dragged out stepladder, stood on stepladder at end of microline, released left-hand EzyReleese lever, then dragged stepladder to other end, released right-hand EzyReleese. At that point, microline completely loose, SGs standing on ground.

  SGs briefly confer.

  And off they go.

  Am so mad. Eva has made huge mess here. Huge mess for us, yes, but also for SGs. Where are SGs now? In good place? Is it good when illegal fugitives in strange land have no money, no food, no water, are forced to hide in woods, swamp, etc., connected via microline, like chain gang?

  Note to future generations: Sometimes, in our time, families get into dark place. Family feels: we are losers, everything we do is wrong. Parents fight at high volume, blaming each other for disastrous situation. Father kicks wall, puts hole in wall near fridge. Family skips lunch. Tension too high for all to sit at same table. This unbearable. This makes person (Father) doubt value of whole enterprise, i.e., makes Father (me) wonder if humans would not be better off living alone, individually, in woo
ds, minding own beeswax, not loving anyone.

  Today like that for us.

  Stormed out to garage. Stupid squirrel/mouse stain still there after all these weeks. Used bleach + hose to eradicate. In resulting calm, sat on wheelbarrow, had to laugh at situation. Won Scratch-Off, greatest luck of life, quickly converted greatest luck of life into greatest fiasco of life.

  Laughter turned to tears.

  Pam came out, asked had I been crying? I said no, just got dust in eyes from cleaning garage. Pam not buying. Pam gave me little side hug + hip nudge, to say, You were crying, is okay, is difficult time, I know.

  Pam: Come on inside. Let’s get things back to normal. We’ll get through this. The kids are dying in there, they feel so bad.

  Went inside.

  Kids at kitchen table.

  Opened arms. Thomas and Lilly rushed over.

  Eva stayed sitting.

  When Eva tiny, had big head of black curls. Would stand on couch, eating cereal from coffee mug, dancing to song in head, flicking around cord from window blinds.

  Now this: Eva sitting w/head in hands like heartbroken old lady mourning loss of vigorous flower of youth, etc., etc.

  Went over, scooped Eva up.

  Poor thing shaking in my arms.

  Eva (in whisper): I didn’t know we would lose the house.

  Me: We’re not—we’re not going to lose the house. Mommy and I are going to figure this out.

  Sent kids off to watch TV.

  Pam: So. You want me to call Dad?

  Did not want Pam calling Pam’s dad.

  Pam’s dad’s first name = Rich. Actually calls self “Farmer Rich.” Is funny because he is rich farmer. In terms of me, does not like me. Has said at various times that I (1) am not hard worker, and (2) had better watch self in terms of weight, and (3) had better watch self in terms of credit cards.

  Farmer Rich in very good shape, with no credit cards.

  Farmer Rich not fan of SGs. Feels having SGs = “showoffy move.” Thinks anything fun = showoffy move. Even going to movie = showoffy move. Going to car wash, i.e., not doing self, in driveway = showoffy move. Once, when visiting, looked dubiously at me when I said I had to get root canal. What, I was thinking, root canal = showoffy move? But no: just disapproved of dentist I had chosen, due to he had seen dentist’s TV ad, felt dentist having TV ad = showoffy move.

  So did not want Pam calling Farmer Rich.

  Told Pam we must try our best to handle this ourselves.

  Got out bills, did mock payment exercise: If we pay mortgage, heat bill, AmEx, plus $200 in bills we deferred last time, would be down near zero ($12.78 remaining). If we defer AmEx + Visa, that would free up $880. If, in addition, we skip mortgage payment, heat bill, life-insurance premium, that would still only free up measly total of $3,100.

  Me: Shit.

  Pam: Maybe I’ll e-mail him. You know. Just see what he says.

  Pam upstairs e-mailing Farmer Rich as I write.

  SEPTEMBER 26TH

  When I got home, Pam standing in doorway w/e-mail from Farmer Rich.

  Farmer Rich = bastard.

  Will quote in part:

  Let us now speak of what you intend to do with the requested money. Will you be putting it aside for a college fund? You will not. Investing in real estate? No. Given a chance to plant some seeds, you flushed those valuable seeds (dollars) away. And for what? A display some find pretty. Well, I do not find it pretty. Since when are people on display a desirable sight? Do-gooders in our church cite conditions of poverty. Okay, that is fine. But it appears you will soon have a situation of poverty within your own walls. And physician heal thyself is a motto I have oft remembered when tempted to put my oar in relative to some social cause or another. So am going to say no. You people have walked yourselves into some deep water and must now walk yourselves out, teaching your kids (and selves) a valuable lesson from which, in the long term, you and yours will benefit.

  Long silence.

  Pam: Jesus. Isn’t this just like us?

  Do not know what she means. Or, rather, do know but do not agree. Or, rather, agree but wish she would not say. Why say? Saying is negative, makes us feel bad about selves.

  I say maybe we should just confess what Eva did, hope for mercy from Greenway.

  Pam says no, no: Went online today. Releasing SGs = felony (!). Does not feel they would prosecute eight-year-old, but still. If we confess, this goes on Eva’s record? Eva required to get counseling? Eva feels: I am bad kid? Starts erring on side of bad, hanging out with rough crowd, looking askance at whole notion of achievement? Fails to live up to full potential, all because of one mistake she made when little girl?

  No.

  Cannot take chance.

  When kids born, Pam and I dropped everything (youthful dreams of travel, adventure, etc.) to be good parents. Has not been exciting life. Has been much drudgery. Many nights, tasks undone, have stayed up late, exhausted, doing tasks. On many occasions, disheveled + tired, baby poop and/or vomit on our shirt or blouse, one of us has stood smiling wearily/angrily at camera being held by other, hair shaggy because haircuts expensive, unfashionable glasses slipping down noses because never was time to get glasses tightened.

  And now, after all that, our youngest to start out life w/potential black mark on record?

  That not happening.

  Pam and I discuss, agree: must be like sin-eaters who, in ancient times, ate sin. Or bodies of sinners? Ate meals off bodies of sinners who had died? Cannot exactly recall what sin-eaters did. But Pam and I agree: are going to be like sin-eaters in sense of, will err on side of protecting Eva, keep cops in dark at all cost, break law as req’d (!).

  Just now went down hall to check on kids. Thomas sleeping w/Ferber. This not allowed. Eva in bed w/Lilly. This not allowed. Eva, source of all mayhem, sleeping like baby.

  Felt like waking Eva, giving Eva hug, telling Eva that, though we do not approve of what she did, she will always be our girl, will always be apple of our eye(s).

  Did not do.

  Eva needs rest.

  On Lilly’s desk: poster Lilly was working on for “Favorite Things Day” at school. Poster = photo of each SG, plus map of home country, plus stories Lilly apparently got during interview (!) with each. Gwen (Moldova) = very tough, due to Moldovan youth: used bloody sheets found in trash + duct tape to make soccer ball, then, after much practice with bloody-sheet ball, nearly made Olympic team (!). Betty (Philippines) has daughter, who, when swimming, will sometimes hitch ride on shell of sea turtle. Lisa (Somalia) once saw lion on roof of her uncle’s “mini-lorry.” Tami (Laos) had pet water buffalo, water buffalo stepped on her foot, now Tami must wear special shoe. “Fun Fact”: their names (Betty, Tami, et al.) not their real names. These = SG names, given by Greenway at time of arrival. “Tami” = Januka = “happy ray of sun.” “Betty” = Nenita = “blessed-beloved.” “Gwen” = Evgenia. (Does not know what her name means.) “Lisa” = Ayan = “happy traveler.”

  SGs very much on my mind tonight, future reader.

  Where are they now? Why did they leave?

  Just do not get.

  Letter comes, family celebrates, girl sheds tears, stoically packs bag, thinks, Must go, am family’s only hope. Puts on brave face, promises she will return as soon as contract complete. Her mother feels, father feels: We cannot let her go. But they do. They must.

  Whole town walks girl to train station/bus station/ferry stop? More tears, more vows. As train/bus/ferry pulls away, she takes last fond look at surrounding hills/river/quarry/shacks, whatever, i.e., all she has ever known of world, saying to self, Be not afraid, you will return, + return in victory, w/big bag of gifts, etc., etc.

  And now?

  No money, no papers. Who will remove microline? Who will give her job? When going for job, must fix hair so as to hide scars at Insertion Points. When will she ever see her home + family again? Why would she do this? Why would she ruin all, leave our yard? Could have had nice long run w/us. What in the wo
rld was she seeking? What could she want so much that would make her pull such desperate stunt?

  Just now went to window.

  Empty rack in yard, looking strange in moonlight.

  Note to self: Call Greenway, have them take ugly thing away.

  2014

  LAUREN GROFF

  At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners

  from Five Points

  LAUREN GROFF was born in Cooperstown, New York, in 1978. She has a BA from Amherst College and an MFA from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and was the Axton Fellow in Fiction at the University of Louisville.

  Groff is the author of The Monsters of Templeton, a finalist for the Orange Prize for New Writers; the story collection Delicate Edible Birds; Arcadia, a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Fiction and a New York Times Notable Book of 2012; and a forthcoming novel, Fates and Furies. Her fiction has been published in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, and Tin House and anthologized in The Pushcart Prize, PEN/O. Henry Prize Stories, and three editions of The Best American Short Stories.

  Groff writes with rich, evocative language about the intersection of mythology and desire. The New York Times called her work “timeless and vast.”

  She has lived in Gainesville, Florida, for nine years and has just begun to write about the state. This story is indebted to stories her father-in-law has told of his Florida childhood.

  ★

  JUDE WAS BORN in a cracker-style house at the edge of a swamp that boiled with unnamed species of reptiles.

  Few people lived in the center of Florida then. Air conditioning was for the rich, and the rest compensated with high ceilings, sleeping porches, attic fans. Jude’s father was a herpetologist at the university, and if snakes hadn’t slipped their way into their hot house, his father would have filled it with them anyway. Coils of rattlers sat in formaldehyde on the windowsills. Writhing knots of reptiles lived in the coops out back where his mother had once tried to raise chickens.