{"id":3099,"date":"2024-09-24T15:38:04","date_gmt":"2024-09-24T19:38:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=3099"},"modified":"2024-09-24T15:38:04","modified_gmt":"2024-09-24T19:38:04","slug":"issue-17-fiction-moore","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/?page_id=3099","title":{"rendered":"Good Girls Are Hard to Find"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

by Anna Moore<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n
\"\"
Artwork | Jerry Craven<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Stacey walked straight to the Subaru and sat in the backseat. She left the car door wide open so her family could see her. She crossed her arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She did not want to go to Florida. She readied her phone so she that she could hold it in her stepfather Gregory\u2019s face. He was first when they emerged from the house, his tee shirt bright blue with I\u2019M HERE FOR THE PROTEST blazing on the front in yellow. He held baby Jason, who wriggled as Gregory put him in his car seat. Jason was hugely cute and happy. When he was first born, Stacey liked to watch him. Awake and on his back he was a turtle\u2014 helpless, lacking armor, a kicking mass of life. He was nine months old now. He cooed and grinned, his lips tiny and soft, a single tooth in his lower gums.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If her family weren\u2019t there, Stacey would have smiled at him and squeezed his chubby foot. Tickled his belly. But instead, she held her phone up to Gregory\u2019s nose as he adjusted the shoulder straps of the car seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe is still in Florida,\u201d Stacey said. \u201cHe was last seen right where we\u2019re going!\u201d Gregory put the pacifier in Jason\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t take my kids anywhere near there!\u201d Stacey said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy can\u2019t she stay home?\u201d asked Bug, Stacey\u2019s little sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll burn the house down,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cSteal all the silver.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cWhat are you going to do if he finds us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not looking,\u201d said Belinda. In an effort to look wilderness-oriented, she wore a purple North Face cap with her hair in a ponytail out the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s got his own militia,\u201d said Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe had <\/em>his own militia,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cHe might not even be in this country anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going to die!\u201d Stacey said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bug started to cry. She had long hair, smooth and fine, like their real father\u2019s had been before it all fell out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know why Stacey has to come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy mother wants to see her,\u201d Gregory said. \u201cGod knows why.\u201d He took a deep breath, put his hands on the steering wheel. Looked at Stacey in the rearview. \u201cYou know I didn\u2019t mean that,\u201d he said. \u201cGrandma wants to see you and so do we.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whenever Stacey felt Gregory\u2019s guilt and exasperation, which was all the time, she lashed out. Gave herself a manicure on his father\u2019s antique sideboard and left a Rorschach splotch where acetone burned off the finish. Drove his precious Corvette on the highway for an hour even though she didn\u2019t quite have a license. Hid his phone. Took her dinner plate to her room and locked her door and looked out her window while they knocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey, please, <\/em>Belinda had said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I will kick this door in! <\/em>Gregory yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But he hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody had, and now she ate up there alone. Which was fine with her, obv.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pushed her purple glasses up her nose and touched her waistband through her tee shirt. It split her gut in two\u2014a roll above, a roll below. She unbuttoned her shorts like she always did and hated herself for doing it and hated herself for caring that she did it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She checked the CNN Fugitive Finder again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A red dot blinked on the Georgia\/Florida border, north of Jacksonville.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re heading right to him!\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat was weeks ago,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cHe\u2019s not going to be standing on the side of the road.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot without an M-16 to kill us all!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d said Bug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They drove. Strip malls and trailer parks, trees and shrubs and ditches covered in kudzu, a giant drape that smothered all life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey\u2019s real father\u2014the one she shared with Bug, when they\u2019d all lived in Maryland, had been getting one more round of radiation when Belinda met Gregory, whose nonprofit was traveling to schools, soliciting volunteers to create awareness campaigns about world hunger. Great for their college applications, he\u2019d said, but the priority was to bring young people together to work toward a goal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, thanks?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ya\u2019ll can fix the world\u2019s problems, he always said. If you\u2019d come together. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Puke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey\u2019s phone CLINKED<\/em>, a text from her friend Sapphie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Where ru<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside Thomasville SHOOP What ru doing SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CLINK Shakespeare paper<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGregory hates that,\u201d Belinda said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you turn that off and look around? The country is beautiful through here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe country is fucking boring through here,\u201d Stacey said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLanguage,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mom is such a bitch SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CLINK She\u2019s sweet, also skinny<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her butt is so full of cellulite it\u2019s gross<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

SHOOP CLINK YOU are such a bitch!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ikr SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CLINK But your mom is so nice!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a front SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belinda snatched her phone, turned it off, and put it in the glove compartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have to keep track of the news!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re texting,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFuck you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d said Belinda. She squeezed Gregory\u2019s shoulder. \u201cPlease, Stacey,\u201d she said. \u201cI am so tired.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey looked at the houses set back from Highway 319. Dirty mobile homes, some cars in the yards. Tarps over holes in roofs. A few families with busy kiddie pools and adults smoking in painted metal chairs spackled with rust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre they poor?\u201d Bug asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cLook at those children.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you feed them<\/em>, Gregory?\u201d asked Stacey, as she always did. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you do anything for our <\/em>people?\u201d she asked. \u201cIn say Mississippi? Louisiana? Or even right here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll people are our people,\u201d Gregory said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a phony,\u201d she said. \u201cSuch a neo-lib.\u201d In her most recent essay for AP American Government, Stacey had shredded them all. Their over-and-over-again votes for aristocratic elitist drips so they could keep what was theirs while the world died in fires of climate change and floods of fascism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A+++++++!! <\/em>The teacher had written. You really know your stuff!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d printed out the paper with comments and left it on Gregory\u2019s pillow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through the rearview, Stacey saw two veins on his forehead pop out like interstates on one of those old relief maps that hung on the wall of her school library, there on display to prevent anyone from moving out of nostalgia\u2014a fake feeling anyway, Stacey had learned in Advanced Sociology, an empty space of longing to keep everyone grounded in times past and eras long gone. A big con.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

God, she couldn\u2019t wait to go to college. She\u2019d made it not into Columbia, her first choice, but Berkeley. With a scholarship. Despite being forced to move to Atlanta her senior year. Despite her dead dad. She had kept herself at the top of her class.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sun beamed on her thighs. Fat girls wore shorts all the time. Why couldn\u2019t she just deal with it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll these strip malls,\u201d Gregory said. \u201cIt never used to look like this. There was more wilderness. More beauty.\u201d He told endless and boring stories about growing up in rural Georgia, eating Fudgesicles and playing in the woods, screen doors slapping open and closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDevelopers,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere used to be more forest between towns.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we go to Chick-Fil-A?\u201d asked Bug. Jason grinned at Stacey from his car seat. She wanted to pull on his toes and hear his huge laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey crushed the urge like a failed revolution.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re against gay rights,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t have gone last time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They passed a funeral home that looked like a miniature casino, a rectangle-sign over the front door with blinking lights around the border. Serve your dead well<\/em>, it said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis place is gross,\u201d Stacey said. She meant the South. All of it. Every dripping racist inch of it. She pulled her nail file from her front pocket. It was frosted glass, the handle etched with lacy flowers. The top point had broken off, leaving two jagged and lopsided spikes. She carefully filed her pinky nail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are we going to eat, then?\u201d asked Bug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTerry Tarleton\u2019s Piggy Park!\u201d said Belinda. \u201cIt\u2019s a famous local place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wasn\u2019t hash made of boiled pig\u2019s head? Hadn\u2019t Stacey read that somewhere? Melted skin, softened pieces of bone and cartilage in gravy and broth. She sat at the picnic table on the back patio of Terry Tarleton\u2019s Piggy Park and watched a father feed it to his kid. The table was crumby and mildly grimy, with divots of chipped paint on the surface and the bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreat restaurant choice,\u201d Stacey said to everyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bug sat on the bench, legs gently swinging. Stacey wanted to touch her shoulder and smile, giddy-up her braid like she did when they were younger. This time she waited for the urge to shrink and then felt it disappear, a drop of water in hot earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Sphynx Cat, hairless and wrinkled, slept on one end of a bar that this place obviously never used since it was lined with bus tubs full of papers. On the other end, a TV was on CNN. Another interview with his former wife, who somehow was not in prison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan I please have my phone back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d said Gregory, bouncing Jason on his knee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want to know where they\u2019ve seen him last.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s in the forest, hiding under rocks where he belongs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou said there was no more forest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s hope he\u2019s in a hole, like Saddam,\u201d said Belinda. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\u2019s Saddam?\u201d asked Bug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere you go!\u201d said Terry Tarleton herself, walking out from the kitchen with plates of food stacked up her arms. She was a big woman with most of her weight in her hips. She wore a dark orange shirt with grease stains around the collar, tight slacks, and a gigantic white apron. She put their plates in front of them and looked at the TV. Radar circles, a map, that red dot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s getting closer,\u201d said Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan\u2019t we go home?\u201d asked Bug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGrandma wants to see us,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cWe\u2019re already a little late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll call her,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease do this time,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Sugar,\u201d said Terry to Bug. She sat right beside her on the bench and pointed to the TV. \u201cThat man comes around here, we don\u2019t call the police.\u201d She nodded to the gun cabinet behind the bar, glass panes foggy with dust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gregory and her mother hated guns. Belinda, who had never been anywhere near a mass shooting, wept whenever they happened. Stacey used to hold her hand, but now she rolled her eyes and said Oh please <\/em>and offered to write a memoir called Mom\u2019s Manufactured Trauma<\/em>. Sometimes you just toughened up. Grew some armor. People in prison did! Women in Texas did! Nurses did! Why couldn\u2019t Belinda? Because she believed that LOVE WINS, the words printed at the top of that sign of lies that Gregory insisted on keeping in their front yard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But love didn\u2019t elect white supremacist racists or kill everyone with a virus. Love didn\u2019t boil babies. Stacey learned about this when she wrote a paper on war crimes for International Baccalaureate World History. During an attack on a tiny village in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, soldiers had dropped newborns, alive, into a cauldron of boiling water while the mothers watched, begging in terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love could not re-freeze arctic ice or restore forests burned to ash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love could not save anyone. It had lost long ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So Stacey no longer had a problem with guns. The last time she\u2019d stayed over at Sapphie\u2019s, she had agreed to show Stacey how to use one. They went into Sapphie\u2019s garage and she opened the gun safe in the corner. They stood in the middle of the concrete floor where a car was usually parked, the garage door closed, the light on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou just line up the sights,\u201d said Sapphie, holding a Glock and aiming at the lightswitch. \u201cThe front and the back. Stand hard. Put your legs apart a little, like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She handed it to Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs this plastic?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe grip is,\u201d said Sapphie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Plastic weapons. Sapphie showed her the safety, turned it on and off. She was barefoot with pretty toenails. Light blue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s unloaded,\u201d she said. \u201cYou can pull the trigger.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sure? Can you check?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt always is,\u201d said Sapphie. \u201cWe\u2019re not crazy.\u201d Stacey aimed for a black cabinet knob.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPull it,\u201d Sapphie said. \u201cGo ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Click.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey and her family had stopped eating to watch the silent TV. Footage of the last moments of the trial, when he wept and put his head down on the defendant\u2019s table like a child in trouble at school. They had taken his giant toup\u00e9e and his scalp looked white and pink, dotted with freckles. This bothered Stacey. They couldn\u2019t let him have his hair? Just that little thing?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr. Tarleton is the best shot in Lowndes County,\u201d Terry said. \u201cWe don\u2019t worry about a thing in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t support him?\u201d Belinda asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHoney, I was never with that monster.\u201d She put her hands on her hips. \u201cHe wasn\u2019t doing nothing except for himself. I told my friends\u2014you\u2019re voting for a menace! A liar! Terrorizing the whole country! Taking us all back! And now they know. And they say, Terry, you told us so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just wonderful that you never supported him,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey cringed whenever her mother said just wonderful<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Terry shook her head. \u201cNo Ma\u2019am. Things ain\u2019t the way they used to be, though.\u201d A call bell rang in the kitchen. Jason hiccupped. \u201cWe crossed a line. We ain\u2019t never going back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gregory forced them to go to three antique stores in Thomasville and bought matching brass lamps, bases tarnished green. Stacey stayed in the car, but he refused to let her have her phone back until they were on the road again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fuck my life SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

CLINK Maybe your grandma will give you money again<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not worth it, between her and Jason too much drool SHOOP<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s stop at that Confederate monument!\u201d Belinda said. Jason was asleep in his car seat. Stacey rested her arm on it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to be late,\u201d Gregory said. \u201cDid you call Grandma?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think it\u2019s just up here,\u201d Belinda said. \u201cStacey, check your phone?\u201d Belinda didn\u2019t like to use hers. She thought cell phones and the Internet in the palm of your hand were responsible for the decline of western civilization.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBelinda\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEvery time, you say we\u2019ll stop.\u201d Belinda said. \u201cEvery single time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll just be a plaque, if even that,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belinda crossed her arms. \u201cI would like to see a Confederate monument, please. I still haven\u2019t, not out in the country. We are in the South. It is part of their culture.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey turned the sound off on her phone. \u201cIt\u2019s this road coming up,\u201d she lied. Because fuck them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis next one?\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought it was further up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine,\u201d New Stacey said. \u201cDon\u2019t believe me.\u201d She crossed her arms, looked out the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGregory, make the turn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have time!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes you do. Please, honey! Go on!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The tires barely squealed as Gregory turned onto the county road, and Belinda whooped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lamps thunked in the trunk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The road stretched deep into countryside, the hills slow and rolling. They drove past brick homes, a weedy public park, a tiny closed General Store, then through an abandoned downtown and a neighborhood of dilapidated tract houses with families on the porches, a diapered child in the dirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe poverty,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cLook at that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe should turn around,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKeep going,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cLike 2 more miles. It\u2019s a former plantation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cReally?\u201d asked Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s a plantation?\u201d asked Bug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere slaves were forced to live and work,\u201d said Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMasters in the mansion, slaves in shacks.\u201d Belinda shook her head. \u201cAwful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019d think they\u2019d have signs,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt says it\u2019s been unmarked for years,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cI think everyone forgot about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAmazing!\u201d said Belinda. \u201cI\u2019m so excited!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother. Always looking for that real thing, that real experience. In IB English, Stacey had read \u201cThe Loss of the Creature,\u201d and was left with a clear understanding of Belinda\u2014her superficiality, her hollowness. Her desperation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt says turn here,\u201d said Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a dirt road,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what it says.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey nodded her head. \u201cPositive!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay. Here we go.\u201d The road was brown but tinged a dark orange, a rusty curve that cut into the earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks, honey,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey put her phone face down in her lap and turned the sound back on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tall pine trees grew along the road on either side, the tips mottling sunlight that shone into the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat time do we have to be there?\u201d Gregory asked. \u201cI don\u2019t want Mom to worry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have plenty of time,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cI\u2019ll call and let her know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bug\u2019s side of the Subaru was all shade. The road was getting worse. Gregory hit a pothole so deep that the bump woke Jason. He started to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow much further?\u201d Gregory asked. Through the rearview, Stacey saw sweat on his upper lip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that a railroad bridge?\u201d asked Belinda. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think so,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s tiny,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cIt\u2019s like a ruin. How weird.\u201d She turned to Stacey, who was looking out the window. \u201cLook at your\u2026 oh my God.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey clasped her hands and hooked them around her knees as she met her mother\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said Stacey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTurn around,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d asked Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe lied about everything. Turn around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod damn it!\u201d Gregory yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jason cried louder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belinda blinked, sniffled, then put her hands over her face and sobbed. \u201cMommy?\u201d Bug asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m okay, honey.\u201d She pulled a Kleenex out of the glove compartment and blew her nose, still sobbing. \u201cI\u2019m okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no plantation?\u201d Bug said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, honey. Stacey didn\u2019t get the directions right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe were going to see a mansion!\u201d Bug started to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat does this get you?\u201d Gregory slapped the steering wheel in fury. \u201cWhat? What does\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey\u2019s phone rang. She\u2019d set the tone to By the Seaside, a jolly organ melody that startled them all, especially Gregory, who lost control of the steering wheel as the Subaru hit another pothole, bounced as if on a trampoline, and went hard into the sloped shoulder. They crashed downward into a thicket of blackberries. Green knobs of fruit and tiny thorns pressed onto Stacey\u2019s window. The tires kept spinning, pushing the car further in, back tires scraping dust and gravel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs everyone okay? Jason! Bug!\u201d Belinda yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEverybody out!\u201d Gregory yelled. \u201cI can\u2019t back up!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thicket was blocking Stacey\u2019s side of the car. Belinda helped Bug out and tried for Jason but couldn\u2019t unbuckle the car seat. He cried for Mommy, arms reaching toward her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get him!\u201d Stacey yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you touch him!\u201d What Gregory called Stacey at that moment was unthinkable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She started to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gregory climbed over the gearshift to exit the Subaru from the passenger side, then reached into the back and finally unclicked Jason\u2019s seat belt and hoisted him out. He was screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey kept crying. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m so sorry, I\u2019m sorry I\u2019m sorry I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you okay?\u201d Belinda asked, looking in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey nodded and wiped her face with her fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belinda sighed and closed her eyes. \u201cTry to climb around the car seat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey maneuvered herself, got out, and stood with her family. The road ended at the bridge; the forest continued on the other side. Sycamores towered above them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe had an accident, Gregory!\u201d Bug said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Gregory said, looking at his phone. \u201cNo service.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe had an ACCIDENT!\u201d Bug screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey\u2019s phone was in the bottom of the Subaru. She heard it clink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have service!\u201d Stacey said. \u201cI could crawl back in and try!\u201d No one looked at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey heard birds. Jason grew quiet; Bug hugged her mother\u2019s legs. Gregory held his phone up to the sky and stared at it, walked toward the bridge. \u201cCome on,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey pictured herself walking through the trees, finding a house, calling for help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They heard a car and all five of them turned to look. Dark blue, driving toward them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a limousine,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOn this road?\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bug jumped up and down. \u201cHelp! Help! Help us!\u201d She waved her arms and ran toward it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome back here, Bug!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The car stopped, motor running, tinted windows up. The limousine was alien, out of place. There was no breeze. Sweat pooled in Stacey\u2019s bra, her stupid bra with pads that were too big for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t they get out?\u201d Bug asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCheck your phone again,\u201d Belinda said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to go get mine,\u201d Stacey said. But then the driver\u2019s window went down. A man got out of the back and stood on the road beside the limousine. He wore a red cap that was illfitting and cheap\u2014they could all see it, a spot of aberrance in all the green.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d whispered Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMommy!\u201d Bug cried. \u201cMommy!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d said Gregory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod help us,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He approached them and pulled a gun from his front pocket. He held it with a drooping, awkward wrist and thick fingers that didn\u2019t know where to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s you-know-who,\u201d he sing-songed. The writing on his cap was frayed, unreadable, marred with dirt and grime. He wore a white undershirt with a tear in the shoulder, suit pants, and filthy black dress shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe won\u2019t tell anyone we saw you,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGot that right,\u201d he said. He was much thinner. He turned his head to the side but kept his eye on them. He put the gun in his pocket. \u201cCome on, boys!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two men got out from the front of the limousine. One wore a cap with a rainbow peace sign and overalls that hung only to the middle of his shins; the other wore a suit without a tie and no shoes. Both of them had automatic rifles, the kind men used in mass shootings. They left the car doors open. The sky above the trees held a faint orange glow where the sun had just been.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe won\u2019t tell,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cWe just want to go home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s tough, yeah,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s tough all right. Like tall grass tough, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said Belinda. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike Times Square. Yeah. I know. I know it all. I knew more than anyone, do you get that? Did you get that? I had it all. I knew more than anybody. Ever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His face looked like papier m\u00e2ch\u00e9 painted pink and blobbed with red. As if he were wearing a pull-on mask of himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur family is in crisis right now,\u201d Belinda said. She rocked Jason as she spoke, twisting back and forth at her waist, spreading her fingers around the back of his head, pulling him to her shoulder. \u201cWe just want to go home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey made me eat dog food out of a bowl,\u201d he said. \u201cOn the floor of a cell. A rat right on my foot.\u201d He pointed to his toes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men walked toward them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s tough. Yeah.\u201d He smiled and his teeth were so white they shocked Stacey. Whiter than real, young and shining, a fantasy. \u201cBut I\u2019m tough.\u201d He sat on the ground and grunted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey knew what to do. She knew! She knew psychology. She\u2019d taken beginning, advanced, even a lab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She squatted down to meet his eyes. \u201cYou are tough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at Stacey, the skin beneath his eyes desiccated and sunken. He was no longer a big man. \u201cDo you know me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike you\u2019re my own father,\u201d Stacey said. She didn\u2019t know where her voice was coming from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d think of me like a daddy.\u201d He licked his finger and made a clean stripe through the layer of dust on his shoe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cI will.\u201d The man with the peace cap walked to Gregory and nudged him gently toward the trees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s he going?\u201d Belinda asked. \u201cWhat are you doing? Please God please God please God please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey took my money,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gregory walked into the trees, rifle at his back. \u201cBelinda!\u201d he called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think you\u2019re a good man deep inside,\u201d said Stacey. Because wasn\u2019t everyone? When everything was stripped away?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He crossed his legs into lotus position but cringed as if the effort caused him great pain. Dust from the road stirred around him and settled into his pants, his black socks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go into the trees,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve been everywhere in the world. I\u2019ve been to Abu Dhabi. You know that? I\u2019ve been everywhere there is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re right, Daddy,\u201d Stacey said. Everything had left her now. \u201cAbout all of it. You\u2019re always right.\u201d She took a step toward him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His gun rested on his palm, open in his lap. \u201cI\u2019m thirsty,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man in the dirty suit walked to Belinda, Bug, and Jason. \u201cThese are my babies,\u201d said Belinda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll turn on you,\u201d he said. \u201cI bet they will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, Daddy,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cWe\u2019re loyal. She raised us like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked away from her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe adore you,\u201d Stacey said. \u201cWe never stopped loving you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood. Stacey saw the whiteness of his skin beneath his undershirt. He walked her through the legs of the trestle. Stacey saw bits of wrappers, cigarette butts, tiny pecks of glass and batteries and plastic bits and pieces that you\u2019d never have known were there from a distance. Nobody ever did. No one knew how much there was. It was all so infinitesimal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped beneath a cluster of trees and stood behind her, put his hands on her waist and squeezed her flesh. He smelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy little girl.\u201d He turned her toward him, with Belinda and Bug and Jason right there\u2014 but no, they were back on the road, Stacey couldn\u2019t see them anymore. Were they crying? Was that what she heard? Or was it animals?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey\u2019s throat was tight, a rubber band around a scroll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He guided her to the ground and her legs bent strangely; she couldn\u2019t quite feel them. But at her hip, something pressed into her flesh like the tip of a knife. The nail file. Its jagged edges had torn a hole in the lining and cut her skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Above her, the branches formed shapes and spaces, layer over layer with the sky behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSay Daddy to me,\u201d he said, his breath on her ear and in her neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey pulled out the nail file and wrapped her fist around it so the spikes stuck out. He took a breath to speak and Stacey envisioned his head as a water balloon and plunged the file into his neck and pulled it toward her like a lever. Blood spurted. A stream arced in the air. Did it whistle? Was that a whistle? Stacey scrambled out from under him. He gurgled and put his hands over the wound. Blood poured between his fingers. Stacey was shivering, freezing. Her chin trembled; her shoulders hurt like she had the flu. She heard him fart, smelled his shit, saw him piss himself as he convulsed. His hand dropped hard onto the face of a rock. She heard his little bones crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stacey clutched herself, her teeth clicking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cSir?\u201d a man called sharply. \u201cYou there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Could he hear her teeth? She bit her tongue. There was no trace of sun, no clouds. Was it dusk? Everything was gray but clear, all the trappings swept aside, the nail file a nub in his neck like a miniature tombstone. She heard herself breathe, high slices deep in her ears. She tried to pull the gun from his pocket, but her hands were thick with blood and made the metal too slippery. She wiped her palms on her shirt, on her bare legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSir?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She could not swallow. She tasted blood (from her tongue?) and opened her mouth, closed it again, licked her lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re coming, Sir!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She heard a rush of footsteps and grabbed the gun and held it exactly as she\u2019d been taught. Her arms came together in an arrow and she took a tiny step forward. She was about to scream, a wild baby assassin, desperate to do good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Anna B. Moore has published lots of creative nonfiction and a little fiction in places such as American Scholar, Shenandoah, The Offing, Missouri Review, Pembroke Magazine, Pithead Chapel, and Black Warrior Review<\/em>.  Her essay, \u201cDeathbed,\u201d was an honorable mention in Best American Essays  2022. Two others, \u201cThat Our Stars Had Become Unmanageable,\u201d and \u201cJenny Dies by Jet Ski,\u201d were nominated for Sundress Press Best of the Net Awards in 2022. Her first novel, Don’t Pity the Desperate<\/em>, will be out on September 10 with Unsolicited Press. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jerry Craven is director of Ink Brush Press and active founding editor of the literary Journal Amarillo Bay<\/em>. He is a member of the Texas Institute of letters, Texas Association of Creative Writing Teachers, Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, and the Texas Literary Hall of Fame. In 2011 he designed and began Lamar University Literary Press, which he directed for twelve years. Craven has published thirty-three books and is currently completing the 34th<\/sup>, another collection of poetry. He is an award-winning graphic artist; samples of his art are posted on the website www.jerrycraven.com. He lives in Texas with his wife the poet Sherry Craven.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by Anna Moore Stacey walked straight to the Subaru and sat in the backseat. She left the car door wide open so her family could see her. She crossed her arms. She did not want to go to Florida. She readied her phone so she that she could hold it in her stepfather Gregory\u2019s face. He was first when they emerged from the house, his tee shirt bright blue with I\u2019M HERE FOR THE PROTEST blazing on the front in yellow. He held baby Jason, who wriggled as Gregory put him in his car seat. Jason was hugely cute and happy. When he was first born, Stacey liked to watch him. Awake and on his back he was a turtle\u2014 helpless, lacking armor, a kicking mass of life. He was nine months old now. He cooed and grinned, his lips tiny and soft, a single tooth in his lower gums. If her family weren\u2019t there, Stacey would have smiled at him and squeezed his chubby foot. Tickled his belly. But instead, she held her phone up to Gregory\u2019s nose as he adjusted the shoulder straps of the car seat. \u201cHe is still in Florida,\u201d Stacey said. \u201cHe was last seen right where we\u2019re going!\u201d Gregory put the pacifier in Jason\u2019s mouth. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t take my kids anywhere near there!\u201d Stacey said. \u201cWhy can\u2019t she stay home?\u201d asked Bug, Stacey\u2019s little sister. \u201cShe\u2019ll burn the house down,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cSteal all the silver.\u201d \u201cMom,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cWhat are you going to do if he finds us?\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s not looking,\u201d said Belinda. In an effort to look wilderness-oriented, she wore a purple North Face cap with her hair in a ponytail out the back. \u201cHe\u2019s got his own militia,\u201d said Stacey. \u201cHe had his own militia,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cHe might not even be in this country anymore.\u201d \u201cWe\u2019re going to die!\u201d Stacey said. Bug started to cry. She had long hair, smooth and fine, like their real father\u2019s had been before it all fell out. \u201cI don\u2019t know why Stacey has to come.\u201d \u201cMy mother wants to see her,\u201d Gregory said. \u201cGod knows why.\u201d He took a deep breath, put his hands on the steering wheel. Looked at Stacey in the rearview. \u201cYou know I didn\u2019t mean that,\u201d he said. \u201cGrandma wants to see you and so do we.\u201d Whenever Stacey felt Gregory\u2019s guilt and exasperation, which was all the time, she lashed out. Gave herself a manicure on his father\u2019s antique sideboard and left a Rorschach splotch where acetone burned off the finish. Drove his precious Corvette on the highway for an hour even though she didn\u2019t quite have a license. Hid his phone. Took her dinner plate to her room and locked her door and looked out her window while they knocked. Stacey, please, Belinda had said. I will kick this door in! Gregory yelled. But he hadn\u2019t. Nobody had, and now she ate up there alone. Which was fine with her, obv. She pushed her purple glasses up her nose and touched her waistband through her tee shirt. It split her gut in two\u2014a roll above, a roll below. She unbuttoned her shorts like she always did and hated herself for doing it and hated herself for caring that she did it. She checked the CNN Fugitive Finder again. A red dot blinked on the Georgia\/Florida border, north of Jacksonville. \u201cWe\u2019re heading right to him!\u201d she said. \u201cThat was weeks ago,\u201d said Belinda. \u201cHe\u2019s not going to be standing on the side of the road.\u201d \u201cNot without an M-16 to kill us all!\u201d \u201cShut up,\u201d said Bug. They drove. Strip malls and trailer parks, trees and shrubs and ditches covered in kudzu, a giant drape that smothered all life. Stacey\u2019s real father\u2014the one she shared with Bug, when they\u2019d all lived in Maryland, had been getting one more round of radiation when Belinda met Gregory, whose nonprofit was traveling to schools, soliciting volunteers to create awareness campaigns about world hunger. Great for their college applications, he\u2019d said, but the priority was to bring young people together to work toward a goal. Well, thanks? Ya\u2019ll can fix the world\u2019s problems, he always said. If you\u2019d come together. Puke. Stacey\u2019s phone CLINKED, a text from her friend Sapphie. Where ru Outside Thomasville SHOOP What ru doing SHOOP CLINK Shakespeare paper \u201cGregory hates that,\u201d Belinda said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you turn that off and look around? The country is beautiful through here.\u201d \u201cThe country is fucking boring through here,\u201d Stacey said. \u201cLanguage,\u201d said Belinda. My mom is such a bitch SHOOP CLINK She\u2019s sweet, also skinny Her butt is so full of cellulite it\u2019s gross SHOOP CLINK YOU are such a bitch! Ikr SHOOP CLINK But your mom is so nice! It\u2019s a front SHOOP Belinda snatched her phone, turned it off, and put it in the glove compartment. \u201cI have to keep track of the news!\u201d \u201cYou\u2019re texting,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cFuck you!\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d said Belinda. She squeezed Gregory\u2019s shoulder. \u201cPlease, Stacey,\u201d she said. \u201cI am so tired.\u201d Good. Stacey looked at the houses set back from Highway 319. Dirty mobile homes, some cars in the yards. Tarps over holes in roofs. A few families with busy kiddie pools and adults smoking in painted metal chairs spackled with rust. \u201cAre they poor?\u201d Bug asked. \u201cVery,\u201d said Gregory. \u201cLook at those children.\u201d \u201cWhy don\u2019t you feed them, Gregory?\u201d asked Stacey, as she always did. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you do anything for our people?\u201d she asked. \u201cIn say Mississippi? Louisiana? Or even right here?\u201d \u201cAll people are our people,\u201d Gregory said. \u201cYou\u2019re a phony,\u201d she said. \u201cSuch a neo-lib.\u201d In her most recent essay for AP American Government, Stacey had shredded them all. Their over-and-over-again votes for aristocratic elitist drips so they could keep what was theirs while the world died in fires of climate change and floods of fascism. A+++++++!! The teacher had written. You really know your stuff! She\u2019d printed out the paper with comments and left it on Gregory\u2019s pillow. Through the<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3099","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3099","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3099"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3099\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3099"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}