I.
“Caleb Holloway,” he said, disturbing Elvina’s meditation. She opened her eyes and considered him rude. It was obvious that she was occupied. Elvina was seated in her gun metal gray wheelchair among the pine grove on the hill just behind her house. Ellen must have sent him, she guessed. She sighed, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holloway. I’m Elvina

Grunwald.” She did her best to sound interested. Why did the back yard garden matter less to her than the pine grove? She wasn’t sure, but it did. Perhaps it was the proximity to the Queen Anne home her mother left her in the will. She believed she would prefer in this moment to be seated in the front bay window, doing her knitting. Why did she frequently wish to be somewhere else?

“I’ve come about the garden,” he said as if it were a question. She could see in his tentativity that he wasn’t rude after all.

“Oh, yes. Yes, let’s go up the hill. If you don’t mind pushing me?” she asked. Caleb Holloway grasped the handles of her wheelchair and guided her down the gentle slope with surprising speed. Ellen was always so careful with her. “This is not a cross-country event, Mr. Holloway!” she called, laughing.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. Well, the back yard garden did need to have some plants removed and some pruned, and also there was a space for some lilies. Elvina imagined all the flowers in white, now that she gave it some thought, yes, a spray of lilies would make it all quite fine. She considered adding a hawthorn bush, in honor of her grandmother’s carving, but then the thought left her mind as she smiled, thinking the wheelchair was still going too fast.

II.
They had retreated to the kitchen from the back yard garden. “So, these are where the lilies will go,” he said, looking down at her face, his eyes passing over the dark blue pendant on her neck, traveling down to the purple lace around the neck of her t-shirt. His face was close to hers, and she saw his eyes were a clear China blue and that his expression showed some urgency she believed too great considering the topic.

What was on Caleb Holloway’s mind, she wondered. “And the Carnelian Cherry Dogwoods?” she asked.

“Thin them out,” he said as he drew lines to the front of the property. “Move some to the front yard.”

She nodded in agreement. Elvina thought that a good idea. And that would make a nice place for the lilies, she acknowledged to herself. “Alright, Mr. Holloway, we’ve got a deal,” she answered and smiled up at him.

“Call me Caleb,” he replied.

III.
Elvina was holding the baby and waving the pacifier above her face, as if it were a butterfly. The infant watched the blue object over her head with rapt attention. Caleb Holloway was hanging her new painting next to the nightstand. She had finished it yesterday. It featured a blue night with a heavy oak tree trunk drenched in moonlight without a visible moon. The bark of the tree struck him as quite detailed. “Thanks for helping me and Jess,” she said; “She never has to work days, but I guess they really need more dispatchers with the flooding. The day before, the Sabine River had overflowed and displaced many people who lived nearby; four went missing. Elvina looked at Caleb from her perch by the front window, lingering on his strong back and arms. She turned towards the window, thinking of Jessica with a baby and a partner living in a small trailer. Elvina worried. The baby was now looking up at her origami swans. They encircled her bed, hanging from strings attached to the ceiling. They gave Elvina a sense of protection when she went to sleep.

Ellen was there most days, except for weekends, and Elvina felt that she could handle herself for two days. She didn’t bathe. And she ate things she kept in a small refrigerator in her large master bedroom upstairs. There was just less risk if she did not have to negotiate the elevator. She feared getting stuck in it and being there all weekend. The baby was stretching one little pink arm, reaching for the swans. Elvina maneuvered over to her nightstand where a new half-assembled paper swan lay. She clasped the piece of paper and Caleb’s arm brushed hers. He smelled of sandalwood.

The baby fingered the half-made swan and began to put it in her mouth. “Oh, Belinda,” Elvina cooed; “Look at this,” she said. Elvina picked up the ruby pendant that was lying beside the swan. She swung it back and forth in front of the baby’s face, who then lurched for it and grabbed onto its gold chain, sending it to the reddish-brown mahogany floor with a clatter.

Elvina watched Caleb’s lean body bend down to pick up the necklace. ‘Be careful with that,” he admonished her. He looked into her brown eyes and thought how she often looked surprised. He imagined that life in a wheelchair might make a person vigilant. “There,” he said, placing the bright red hammer on the nightstand. “It’s really pretty,” he added, looking at the great tree trunk. ‘What made you think of that?” he asked.

“Oh, I see it outside my front window every night. I often knit in front of that window and watch the moonlight, if there is a moon,” she replied. Caleb thought how she would have time to look at trees and moonlight in the evening; whereas, he was often so tired at night that he fell asleep by nine or ten. He looked at her neck. Elvina slipped the ruby pendant into a peach-colored silk pouch and put it in the pocket of her dress.

IV.
It was midnight. The trees were being blown by gusts of hot air. Jessica had gone to work and little Belinda was crying. Caleb held her in his lap and watched her pull on her left ear. It was red. He took a sip of beer and placed his feet on the wooden stump he used as a foot rest when he sat on the makeshift porch. They had tacked a piece of tin to the trailer and built a wooden frame around it. When it rained it was nice to sit under the metal and listen to the sound of the rain on the roof. He wasn’t comfortable with his thoughts just then. He took another sip of beer as the baby’s cries got louder. She needed a doctor but the emergency room was not cheap and they didn’t have the money. He was thinking of Elvina’s breasts.

And then just as quickly he saw himself, taking the sapphire, the ruby, and the chunky diamond bracelet she wore on Sundays. He and Jessica had already talked about moving to Mexico. She could still get her father’s social security benefits till she turned twenty-two and her own for disability; she had been considered deeply depressed for a long time. He laughed at the thought. It still allowed her to work as well, some. They would have to come back for a month, and stay with Mike every six months, but Mike had already said they could. The back yard garden was finished. He wouldn’t even have to tell Jessica anything. Caleb bounced Belinda on his knee and started googling “baby earache” on his smart phone, looking for home remedies.

V.
Caleb looked at Elvina’s body and wondered how this had happened. Her eyes were closed and her head lay against the satin pillow. This had not been a part of his plan. He didn’t really have a plan, but he never thought of this. As she began to look up at him, he watched his hands travel up her torso. He felt her collarbone, thinking how thin she was, and something felt like it took hold of him, a fierce feeling he could not understand. He watched the fingers of his hands move up to her face but he did not feel tenderly. He moved his hands around her neck and then began to press, gently at first. He looked at the vines on the wallpaper behind the headboard. They were thin, with very few leaves. She pulled at his fingers with her own hands, but he kept pressing.

Next, he listened to the ceiling fan. The monotonous churn as it went round and round. He continued pressing for a long time. She struggled, much more than he would imagine she could. He made himself envision Belinda and Jessica and Mexico. She began to turn red and then blue. His hands were aching and he was feeling exhausted but he kept on until he was certain. Then he lay back and felt his hands throb. That is when he saw it. It was long and the color of green bottleflies. It was a knitting needle, impaled in his chest next to his heart. He felt the thud of his heart still beating. Caleb felt for blood on his shirt. There was only a small bit around the needle. Trying to think more calmly, he considered that Jessica would be home now.

He sat up and walked to the nightstand and found the peach-colored pouch. He put the two pendants in it and found the diamond necklace at the back of the drawer. The wooden flower carving caught his eye and he put that in his right pocket for luck, placing the silk pouch in his left. He believed it best to leave the needle in; removing it could cause a gush of blood and he might or might not survive that. He could take it out before he went inside the trailer, wrap some tape around a kerchief from the car, and Jessica might not have to know. He could tell her once they got across the border. He carried the condom to the bathroom and flushed it in the toilet. He wetted a washcloth and rubbed soap in and washed Elvina’s neck. Then he took the stairs carefully, one at a time. The old Golf was parked in the back. It was three miles to the trailer.

VI.
Caleb stood against the Hackberry behind the trailer, thinking. Jessica had not seen him yet. He better hurry up. He pulled the pouch from his left pocket and placed it next to the pink heart-shaped rock that said, Happy Birthday, Jessica, 2023. He leaned against the tree and counted. He pulled on the needle. It was excruciating. He fell to the ground. He could feel himself fainting and gave the needle one more jerk. He felt the wetness begin to spread. He looked at his white t-shirt and saw the red blossoming like food coloring in a glass. His head lay against the cool of the pink stone. He smelled the jasmine. Caleb began to contemplate how hard he had always tried. He hoped God could forgive this.

VII.
Jessica Reed sat on a folding chair behind the trailer. Caleb lay against the Hackberry and she felt for the pouch in her bra, and then for the flower carving in her pocket. It was all she would have to remember him by. She looked down at the baby in her car seat. It was almost time. She needed fifteen more minutes to gather herself, but she didn’t have fifteen minutes. She wiped a tear from her nose and considered that if she started to cry harder now, she might not be
able to go at all. Her eyes focused on the knitting needle that lay beside Caleb. Her brows began to crease. Jessica heard the gravel crunch and saw Mike’s Civic pull up beside the trailer. It was time for Mexico.

 

Sarah Susanna Wood grew up in Richardson, Tx and received a B.A. in Plan II from the University of Texas at Austin and an M.A. in English Literature from the University of North Texas. She enjoys writing fiction, poetry, and volunteering at East Lake Pet Orphanage in Dallas.