Page 93 of Poison Wood
“I mean seriously. I’m not saying a word about ... last night.”
“You and I are in complete agreement on that,” I say, keeping my eyes forward.
“Why did you mention that skull to Johnny?”
I look at him, but I don’t answer. I wait a beat, then face the long ribbon of road in front of us.
“You’re not the only one who gets to ask questions,” he says.
“Didn’t say I was.”
“Put yourself in my shoes,” he says.
“Put yourself in mine.”
“I want to help Johnny. He’s got a hard road ahead of him. Getting out is one thing. Acclimating to a society that has changed drastically in seventeen years is something else completely. I want to make sure he doesn’t mess up.”
“Off to a roaring start,” I say, and Grant cracks a smile. Then he laughs. He laughs so hard, I start to laugh.
“Stop,” he says, still laughing. “This is serious.”
“I know,” I say, trying to regain my composure. “You stop.”
Finally, we both take deep breaths.
“Seriously,” he says, wiping his eyes. “I know this isn’t funny. I think I’m losing my mind.”
“We’re just coping,” I say. “What made you want to be a liaison?”
“My dad.”
I glance at him. “He was one?”
Grant keeps his head turned away from me. “No. He was an inmate.”
I’m not the only one in this car with a haunted past.
His phone chimes, he hurries to swipe it open, and exhales. “Okay, good.” He types something out, then sets his phone aside. “Johnny is going to meet me with the car.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“Just take me to the hotel,” he says.
The sun is hanging low in the sky when I finally pull into downtown. I drop Grant two blocks over from the hotel so no one will spot us together. He climbs out, then leans back in.
“Let’s help each other,” he says.
I nod, but I don’t make any promises. His goal and mine are not quite aligned. Unlike him, I’m not completely convinced Johnny Adair is someone I need to be helping.
Thirty minutes later I’m in the neighborhood that backs up to my father’s property again, and I get out, unlock the back gate, and drive through, relocking it after.
This day is only half over, and it feels as if it has come full circle. As I steer out of the woods, I see a plume of smoke in the distance and hear the beeping of a bulldozer. Maybe not quite full circle.
There’s still something my father and I haven’t discussed: my mother.
I follow the driveway to the left, away from the house. I lower the window and follow the sound of beeping and the smoke until I find him at the crest of the hill. Trees are scattered all over the ground like they’ve been plucked from the soil and discarded. Whatever caused this damage must have been terrifying.
I watch him from the truck a minute as he puts the dozer back in gear and pushes a stray burning log back onto the burn pile. Debby waves to me from the opposite side of the bonfire. I shake my head. Myfather is still wearing his robe. I think he would have preferred to wear his white terry cloth even on the bench.
