You still haven’t answered my question, Mama said. What are you suggesting we do to try and fix this?
We cash out, Katie said. We sell our land back to the state while we still can. Take the money and start over someplace else.
Mama showed a painful smile. Start over, she said. Does anyone here really have the energy to go through that again?
If it’s between that and eviction, Dawn said, I think I could manage.
Of course you’d say that. You’re what, twenty, twenty-five years old? Everything’s still an adventure to you. If farming doesn’t work out, you can just go back to working at whatever hole-in-the-wall dive Elliot found you in.
I took the glass of wine from Mama’s hand and set it on the table. She looked at me. Mama, I said. You owe Dawn an apology. Katie’s right. There’s no use fighting among ourselves.
In the space of a few blinks, Mama’s eyes turned glossy. You don’t—
Mama. Apologize. Please.
She looked at Dawn with the corners of her mouth turned down. I’m sorry, she said. Please try to understand. That farm’s been my home for eighteen years. Good and bad, my whole life’s been built around it.
It’s all right, Dawn said. I know what it means not to have a home.
Katie stepped up to the coffee table. There was only a little bit of wine left, and she didn’t seem to mind drinking straight from the bottle. You asked me what my suggestion is, she said. Still figuring that out myself. But here’s what I think. If we were to throw our lots in together, we could apply for cooperative status and get a whole new parcel to start on fresh. We could deal directly with the national ag bureau, bypass the good ol’ boys at the local level. And there’d be no limit to how many acres we could buy.
That’s because we’d be selling short, Jennifer said. That’s how these co-ops operate. The government pays them to sell their produce for less than it’s worth.
And we’d be at the mercy of our pickers and packing house boys, Claudia said. They’d all be shareholders under the law.
Watching Katie kill the bottle gave me a giddy little thrill. Ladies, she said. Wives, women, whatever. Listen here. Whether we want to admit it or not, there’s a reason the five of us ended up together in this room. You’ll know what I mean when I say Elliot was never a heartthrob, even as a younger man. It doesn’t make me proud to say, but I was in desperate straits when I met him, and at the time just about any man with a bit of money and an eye to settle down could’ve won me over the same way he did. He was my golden ticket out of the Kingsburg tavern I was working in at the time. I believed in him, and here’s where it got me. Here’s where belief landed me in my middle age.
Katie shook the bottle to see that it was empty. Then she walked to the side of the room and stood with her arms crossed over her chest like her sons.
So how’s about we try believing in ourselves for a change?
It was still light out when the meeting adjourned. Mama took Gracie to wash up and use the restroom before we headed home. She said to give her a while, that she needed to get her head together before she got back behind the wheel. I left Jessie with Beth and headed out under the twilight sky, following an old American irrigation ditch about a quarter mile into the orchard. That time of year, it wasn’t much different from our orchard at home—horse-flies clustering around stray dog turds, fermented fruit and pits hardened into a dark macadam. Not the best smelling place for a girl to grow up, but good for losing yourself in a daydream. I wandered barefoot with my shoes dangling from my fingertips, toes slapping on the hard dry ground.
Suddenly a voice called out to me, Goddamn you’re heavy-footed.
I stopped and turned in time to see Anthony slipping out from behind a column of leafy branches, kicking up globs of dirt with his sneakers.
If you were a deer you’d be shot already, he said.
What the hell do you know about hunting?
A lot, he said. I’ve got a .22 at home. Foreman taught me how to use it.
Good for you and your foreman.
He smiled and circled around me a couple paces. How old are you, anyway?
How old are you?
Sixteen.
Well, I’m thirteen. What of it?
You’re pretty scrawny for thirteen. You a hermaphrodite or something?
A what?
A he-she. Born with a dick as well as a pussy.
You’re an ass.
Maybe you are and your mom never told you. Maybe that’s why she gave you a boy’s name.
How do you know what my name is?
My mom. She said one of my new sisters was named after our dad. I figured she must be a real beast.
Elliot can be a girl’s name too.
Then how come you never see any girls named it?
I dropped my shoes on the ground and slipped them on. Since third grade I had gone up to my teachers on the first day of every school year and asked them not to call me by the name listed on the roll sheet. Now the most annoying boy in the world had found me out, and I wasn’t going to stick around to hear what else he could make of it.
Where are you going?
Home. Mama’s waiting for me.
Anthony laughed. Don’t go away mad, he said. Who knows when we’ll see each other again?
We’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on. Unfortunately.
How’s that?
Our moms decided on it just now. Daddy was breaking the law with his parcels, so they’re selling the farms and buying a new place for us to live on. The whole family. I started walking, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back around. Don’t touch me, I said, and yanked my arm away.
What the hell do you mean they’re selling the farms?
It’s happening. We all agreed. Katie says if we get the papers filed right away, we should have the new place up and running by the time school starts.
He set his hands on his sides and gawked. Son of a bitch, he said. No one asked me how I feel about moving.
Guess you shouldn’t have run off, then.
A drop of sweat rolled down Anthony’s face. His eyes, Daddy’s eyes, appeared suddenly hollow, like egg shells or paper mâché, like one hard blow could cave them in. When he started to move, I feared he could come at me, but instead he turned and took out his anger on the nearest pair of trees. In a rage he tore away handfuls of plums and leaves and snapped the narrow laterals so that they hung fractured with only slivers of bark holding them to the branches. I stood watching his tantrum play out until his fingers were green and dirty and he was all out of steam. And then he was down on his knees with his face in his hands, crying like a baby.
Did that make you feel better?
He didn’t answer. I took a few cautious steps forward until I was standing over him. His soft, defeated style of wailing reminded me more of Mama than of Gracie. I tried stroking his back like I did for her, but he pulled away.
Listen, I said. Moving’s going to tough on all of us. I’m not wild about changing schools myself. But everything will be okay.
He wiped his nose on his arm. It’s not that, he said. I can’t help it. I’ve been going back and forth like this for a while now.
How come?
What do you mean? Anthony looked up at me with his eyebrows wedged in confusion. Our father’s dead, he said. And he was a liar and a cheat.
Oh. That.
He stood and shook the sand from his pant legs. Fuck is wrong with you? You’re younger than me, and a girl. My kid sister. You’re supposed to cry and I’m supposed to say everything will be okay.
I don’t know what to tell you.
You know what the saddest part is? When he was alive, he hardly ever gave me the time of day, but now that he’s dead it’s like I’m the only one who cares. I’m the only one who’s broken up about it.