Those who walk away
Kennewick Roundabout / “E”
The day Aaron chose how he would live the rest of his life, he woke up early, tucked a machete in his belt and a paperback in his coat pocket, and rushed out before sunrise so the first golden rays would bless his path, just like Agnes said he should.
The crunch of gravel under his feet was his only guide as he tried to cling to the side of the road, narrowly avoiding all the cars rolling towards morning shifts at the potato processing plant or the linen factory. It was hard work for low pay, and it’d only gotten more challenging since the unionization attempt. Half the town suddenly found themselves unemployed, and the corporations would happen to float the idea of shutting down the factories entirely every time it seemed like the survivors would try again. Aaron decided a long time ago he wouldn’t live that life. But if he still lived here, that meant living under the veil of the factories’ ghosts.
The ‘nine-month summer’ everyone joked about had finally ended with a single overnight frost, and now Aaron’s breath swirled in front of him as he made his way up the foothills. Golden sunlight glazed over the sea of sagebrush and snake holes as he cut down bursts of golden yarrow and purple sage, stuffing them into an army duffle bag with his brother’s name carefully blotted out.
Nothing around him had bothered him yet. It was probably a good sign. He had plenty bothering him on the inside.
The sun’s feet had hopped off the top of the hills by the time Aaron had harvested enough and made his way to the ravine where she waited, already doing her own hard labours.
“Agnes,” he said, dropping the now overflowing duffle bag, “I’ve got it. It’s time.”
“Aaron!” Her weathered face lit up, her chores forgotten as she sprung up and grasped his hand. “So good to see you, honeypie.”
She was old-school, too old-school for this old town, and stayed naked except for an apron lined with deep pockets bursting with bunchgrass. He sometimes asked her how she avoided rattlesnake bites, and she never gave him any answer but a wink. The rainbow infinity pin Aaron’s psychiatrist had given him sat neatly where her left strap met the front panel, a shiny piece of modernity in her ancient presentation.
“You… You’ve thought long and hard about where you’ll settle, right?” Her smile turned worried.
“Long and hard,” he assured her, his expression mirroring hers. “I still don’t think I can stay here, Matron.”
“Well, I thought I couldn’t either when I first built this cottage.” Her hands tightened around his, and her eyes drifted towards the little house twisted together out of bitterbrush and sagebrush. “But I’ve been here this long.”
“And you’ve been lonely as hell.”
“Not that lonely! The ladies from the old coven do come around from time to time…” she said, her smile wavering, her brows furrowing.
“They visited because they knew they had to leave!” He dropped his hand out of her grasp. “These people just don’t like us anymore, and they could see it before you! I know your own Matron told you about how the townsfolk used to come over and ask for tea, but those townsfolk are gone and only left their bitter kids behind. Agnes, I had to drop out of school because of what those kids were doing to me before I even started apprenticing with you!”
Aaron’s hand darted out, frantically tapping the pin on her apron. “This almost got me killed when I was moving heaven and earth to act like I was one of them. Do you think I would have lasted a day if I ever dropped that act? Do you think I get treated any better now that people know I’m one of your kind? Our kinds of people aren’t running to the west side for fun, Agnes. It’s because we know this side doesn't want us to survive.”
Agnes’s face got hard. “I know that. You might think I’m stupid for staying, but I know damn well how much it’s changed and how bitter and hateful everyone’s gotten. I could have left with the coven and shared a half acre outside Seattle, but I didn’t. You know why?”
Agnes remained dead silent, staring at him with a glower until he finally said, “Why?”
She jabbed a returning finger in his chest. “Because I know there’s a half dozen more of our kind in these parts, and I know they’re lonely as hell, just like me. And I know if I leave, then they’ll really have no one. So you can throw that duffel in the back of your truck and drive over the Snoqualmie if you want, Aaron, but I’m not coming. I’m always gonna be here, no matter how much they hate me. Because I know there’s always one person in those crowds that likes me, and all the others hate them for it.
“So you can all run off to the cities and keep shouting how it’s the only safe place you’ll ever have, but I’ll stay here. And one day, you might look up and realize it was a damn dirty lie you just said, because I’ll have a comfortable little crop of our people over here, and we’ll feel just as fine as you do.”
Aaron didn’t speak for a moment, leaning back, lips in a harsh line. What was there to say? He’d seen the rest of the coven begging her to come over for years, and he’d seen her stand her ground for just as long. “I guess I’ll visit you.”
“Good,” she said, her smile returning as she inclined her head towards his pocket. “And keep the copy of Master and Margarita. Consider it my going-away blessing.”
“I will,” he nodded, defeated.
“I’ll always be here if you find that big city of yours isn’t as nice as you thought.”
He couldn’t imagine a city as cruel as this town had been. “I know.”
“I’ve never been as happy as the days I was teaching you, Aaron. First time in a long time I wasn’t alone.”
Aaron couldn’t bring himself to respond, instead wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing his fingers into her sagging, creping skin. He basked in the warmth wafting off her, bitterly aware that as long as she might live, he might not ever find the courage to see her again.
Deckard-Lee Schaefer is a ghost gently nailed to your local telephone pole for all of eternity!