The Grove

by John Rector

  I started picking the ants away, one at a time, pinching them between my fingers and ripping them out of my pubic hair.

  How had I not seen them? How had I not noticed?

  I looked down at the spot where Jessica and I had slept the night before, and I felt a slow scream build in my chest. I bit down hard, forcing it back.

  My sleeping bag was lying next to Jessica’s body.

  The ants swarmed them both.

  I felt my stomach lurch, and fought the urge to turn and run. I wanted to be as far away from that spot as possible. I didn’t want to see what I was seeing, but at the same time, I couldn’t look away.

  Jessica’s skin was the color of asphalt.

  Her eyes were gone and the skin around the sockets had been eaten away, exposing the bone underneath. Her lips had turned black and split into an agonized grin, and a flood of tiny white maggots spilled from her nose and mouth, turning over and over in the morning sun.

  Her abdomen was swollen, and several fingers were missing. I leaned in and looked closer. There were tiny teeth marks on the skin.

  They’d been chewed to the bone.

  I thought of the rats in the field, and this time I did scream. I couldn’t hold it back.

  I stumbled away, then turned and ran naked through the grove toward the house. When I got inside I ran to the bathroom and turned the shower to hot, then leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror.

  I was crying. The tears ran down my face, leaving clean lines through the dirt.

  I saw movement in my hair and leaned over the sink, slapping at my scalp. Several ants dropped into the white bowl, but I knew there were more. I could feel them.

  I stepped back and slammed my head against the mirror. A long crack split the glass in two. My legs dipped, and white light flashed behind my eyes, but I didn’t fall.

  I held onto the edge of the sink and stared at the ants moving around in the bowl. I felt my stomach clench and my body heaved, again and again.

  Nothing came up but acid.

  When it finally stopped, I eased down to the floor, crying. I wanted to pray, but I didn’t know the words.

  I tried anyway.

  A moment later I felt something scurry across the bridge of my nose and bury itself in my hair. I moaned and climbed over the edge of the bathtub and into the shower.

  The water scalded my skin, but I forced myself to stay under it.

  I wanted to burn.

  When I got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and went into the kitchen. I took one of the Johnny Walker bottles from the cabinet above the refrigerator, opened it, and drank until my throat and sinuses screamed.

  My body shook. I leaned against the counter, waiting for it to pass. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick again. I could still taste the dirt and stomach acid in my mouth, despite the whiskey. Part of me doubted it would ever go away.

  I crossed to the window and reached for my pill bottle above the sink. I popped the cap off and tapped one of the tiny red pills into my palm.

  “Dexter?”

  I closed my eyes, didn’t answer.

  “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  I stared at the pill, wanting to raise my hand to my mouth and swallow it, but I couldn’t. I heard a lifetime of doctors telling me it would help, and I believed them, just like I always had.

  If I took the pills, things would get better. The world would dim, the colors would blend, and I’d drop back and fade to gray.

  At that moment, it was exactly what I wanted.

  “Dex, look at me.”

  I turned around, slow. Jessica stood in the doorway. She’d been crying, and her eyes were swollen.

  “What about last night?” There were tears on her cheeks.

  “The way we felt together?”

  “That wasn’t right,” I said, motioning to the field, then to her. “And this isn’t right, either.”

  “Dexter—”

  “You’re not real.”

  Jessica stepped closer, and I moved back against the counter.

  She stopped, smiled through the tears.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  I didn’t know what was true anymore, and I told her so. All I knew was that everything had changed and I needed to get control. “Please, go away.”

  “I can’t do that,” she said. “Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Jessica smiled. “What do you mean, why not? Do you think you can tell me to go away and I will?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that?”

  I looked down at the pill in my hand.

  “Those won’t help you.”

  “They’ve always helped before.”

  Jessica took another step closer. This time there was nowhere for me to go, and I closed my eyes. I felt her come close and her hands touch my face. When she spoke, her breath slid smooth and soft against my skin.

  “You saw what’s out there.” Her voice was calm. “Do you think it’ll go away just because you want it to, or because you take a few pills?”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “It won’t,” she said. “It will still be there tonight and tomorrow, and it will be there whether you take those pills or not.”

  “I have to take them, I—”

  Jessica shushed me, long and slow, and I felt her lips brush against mine, close and sweet. “If you take them, you’ll be alone, and I’ll be alone. We won’t be able to help each other.”

  “Help each other?”

  “Of course,” she said. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  I opened my eyes.

  Jessica was in front of me, and for a moment I didn’t recognize her. Her hair was flat against her scalp, and heavy shadows sagged under her eyes.

  There was a bruise forming on her cheek, and tiny red lines spider-webbed off the edges. It made me think of her body lying alone in the grove.

  The maggots, the empty sockets, the fingers chewed to the bone.

  I closed my eyes and forced the image away. After a moment I said, “I won’t sleep out there anymore. I can’t.”

  I thought she’d get upset. I thought she’d cry and try to get me to change my mind, but when I opened my eyes she was smiling.

  “I think we’re beyond that now, don’t you?”

  CHAPTER 26

  The kid bagging my groceries dropped the last of the boxes in the bag, then shook his head and smiled.

  “Something funny?” I asked.

  “That’s just a lot of ant traps.” He held my bag out to me.

  “I’m guessing you bought every last one.”

  He was wrong.

  I’d left the Howard’s brand traps on the shelf. They didn’t work worth a shit anyway, and I didn’t want to waste the money. But the rest, I took.

  I reached for the bag. When I did, I noticed him staring at my hand and the galaxy of tiny red bites on my skin. He looked up at my face and neck, then back at my hand. The bites were everywhere, burning and swollen. There was no way to hide them.

  “Got a small ant problem,” I said, taking the bag. “That’s all.”

  The kid nodded. “I hope these help.”

  I turned and headed for the door, ignoring the stares from other customers. I’d been so focused on getting the traps that I hadn’t noticed the attention I was getting. I hadn’t thought I looked that bad.

  I’d parked my truck in the far corner of the lot, and I took my time walking back. My skin felt like it had been stripped off, exposing the meat below. My legs screamed with each step. I couldn’t wait to get home and take off my clothes and lie flat on my back in the middle of the living room, not moving, just staring at the ceiling.

  When I got to my truck I unlocked the door and set the bag on the seat. I was about to get in when I heard someone call my name.

  I recognized the voice and turned.

  Liz’s smile dropped at once.

  “My God, what happened to you?” She pushed her
purse up on her shoulder and came toward me, fast. She put a hand against my cheek. “What are these?”

  The spot where her hand touched was cool and calm, and for a moment all I could think of was how good it felt.

  “You look like you have chicken pox.”

  “Bug bites,” I said. “I fell asleep outside.”

  Liz lifted the collar of my shirt and looked at my neck. “You’re completely swollen.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “This is terrible, Dex.” She reached for my hands, turning them over in hers. When she got to my left hand, and the wedding ring, she let go and stepped back.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I said, “How are things at your mom’s?”

  She was still staring at the bites on my skin, her gaze moving from my arms to my face. I thought about telling her she should see my chest and stomach. That stretch of skin was by far the worst.

  Instead I said, “Liz?”

  She looked up. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  I asked her again.

  She shrugged. “Things are OK, but I don’t know what I was thinking when I moved in with her. It hasn’t been easy to get used to.”

  I wanted to tell her that it hadn’t been easy for either of us, that I didn’t have any idea what she’d been thinking when she left, either.

  But I didn’t. I was too tired and too sore and too damn sick of the same old fights.

  I think Liz knew I was holding back. She glanced toward the store, then said, “I was thinking about stopping by this weekend, if you don’t mind?”

  “You already took all your things.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I wanted to see you. I thought maybe we could talk.”

  “Jesus, Liz.”

  “Why not? Do you like things the way they are?”

  I leaned against my truck and stared off at the cars passing along the road.

  “Because I don’t like them at all,” she said. “And I think we need to talk about what we want to do.”

  “Do you want a divorce?”

  “Dexter.”

  “It’s an easy question.”

  She didn’t answer right away, just shifted her weight from one foot to the other, staring at the ground. When she did speak, her voice was quiet.

  I didn’t hear, and I asked her to say it again.

  “I said, I don’t think so.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I still love you, but it also means we have things to talk about.” She paused. “I can’t go back to the way things have been since Clara died. I can’t handle missing her and then having to deal with your shifts at the same time. It’s too hard.”

  Shifts. Liz’s word.

  It was as good a word as any.

  “How are you doing with the pills?” she asked. “They helping?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Greg was happy to see you’re taking them again.”

  I paused. “When did you talk to him?”

  “He came in the store the other day asking about that missing girl.” She shook her head. “Did you see they’re putting together a search party? They’re signing people up over in the park.”

  This stopped me for a moment. The possibility of a search party worried me, but I tried not to let it show on my face. “Why were you two talking about me?”

  “I asked him about you.”

  “And he volunteered the information?”

  “I’m your wife. He thought I’d want to know how you were doing, and he was right.”

  “You couldn’t ask me?”

  Liz laughed. “After our last conversation? Sorry, I didn’t think you’d tell me the truth.”

  She was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any better. I got in my truck and closed the door.

  Liz came up to the window. She reached for me, then stopped and said, “I wish you wouldn’t get so mad.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “He means well, Dex. We both do.”

  I started the engine.

  She paused. “Are you going home?”

  “That was my plan.”

  “I won’t stop by this weekend, if you don’t want. We can talk some other time, when you’re ready.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  She stood for a moment; then she stepped back and pulled her purse up on her shoulder and said, “I was thinking about signing up for the search party. They’re going out tomorrow.”

  “Where are they looking?”

  “I have no idea, but I’d like to help.” She looked down at her feet, then back at me. “Do you want to come? We can go together.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

  “You mean like a date?”

  Liz shrugged. “It’s something we could do together. You know, small steps.”

  “It would be just like a picnic,” I said, still laughing. “Except we’d be searching for a corpse.”

  I saw the hurt on Liz’s face, and stopped. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Liz shook her head and backed up. “No, you’re right. It was a dumb idea.”

  “Liz.”

  “It’s OK.” She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m pushing things. You’re not ready to talk and maybe I’m not either. We’ve got time, right?”

  I nodded, tried to smile.

  Liz came forward. “I’m proud of you for going back on your pills. It means a lot.”

  The anger I’d felt before flashed, but this time it was weak and easy to ignore. After it was gone, all that was left was guilt. “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I mean it,” Liz said. “It was the right thing to do, and I’m proud of you.” She touched my cheek before turning away and heading for the store. She’d only made it about twenty feet before she looked back and said, “Take care of those bites. They look terrible.”

  I watched her walk away, disappearing behind the dark automatic doors. Then I put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

  As I drove, I thought about the search party and Liz’s invitation. The idea of spending a day with her touched something alive in me, and I cursed myself for laughing at the idea.

  Small steps. She’d been right.

  I turned the truck around and headed downtown, toward the park. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 27

  Two of the picnic tables under the gazebo were covered with sandwiches, potato salads, pies, cookies, and several other foods I didn’t recognize. It’d been a while since I’d eaten, so I grabbed a sandwich and a cookie and sat on the steps leading down to the park.

  Behind me, several people stood around another table waiting their turn to sign up for the search party. I tried my best to listen to their conversations while I ate.

  No one seemed to care where they’d be searching, just speculating on what they’d find. I didn’t hear anyone come out and say Jessica was dead, but the thought must have been in everyone’s mind. Why else have a search party unless you’re trying to find a body?

  Of course, you can’t say a thing like that. At least, not with Jessica’s parents standing there.

  “Coffee, hon?”

  I glanced up at the woman in front of me and nodded. She was older and wore a tattered straw gardening hat pushed back on her head. There was something familiar about her, and I tried to place her face.

  It didn’t come to me.

  She handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. I chewed fast, swallowed, then said, “Thanks.”

  “It’s not a problem at all,” she said. “We appreciate you coming out to help.”

  I sipped the coffee. It was warm and bitter and good, much better than I’d expected. I started to feel alive.

  “Have you signed up yet?”

  I shook my head. “Got sidetracked by the food. I will, though.”

  “Which group were you thinking?”

  “Group?”

  She nodded. “We’ve
got three going out early tomorrow afternoon. We’d like to cover as much ground as possible.”

  “Where are they searching?”

  She told me. I took another drink of the coffee and smiled. They were all looking down by the river, not close to my farm or the grove.

  “I hope we find her,” I said.

  The woman gave me a half smile and said, “I don’t. If we find her, the news will only be bad.”

  I couldn’t argue.

  “How is Mrs. McCray? Is she here with you?”

  Once again, I tried to remember where I knew her from. It could’ve been anywhere. Most of the people in town knew me by reputation and that gave them a sense of familiarity. It was possible I didn’t know the woman at all.

  “Liz is coming later.”

  The woman smiled. “It’s so wonderful to see you two helping out.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “It might even be healing.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  The woman squeezed my shoulder and thanked me again, then turned back toward the crowd and continued handing out coffee.

  I finished my sandwich and tossed the crusts into the grass for the birds.

  When I got to the front of the line, I saw a framed picture of Jessica on the table next to three sign-up sheets. I stared at the photo, but all I saw were maggots and flies and torn skin. I felt sweat bead on my forehead, and I made myself look away.

  “Which group would you like to join?”

  The woman behind the table looked exactly like Jessica would’ve looked if she’d lived another twenty-five years, and for a moment I couldn’t speak.

  The woman watched me, staring at the red blisters on my skin, trying not to be obvious.

  Finally, I found my voice. “All the groups are searching down by the river?”

  She said they were. “Jess would sometimes go down to the landing by the Jefferson docks to think and to be alone. It seems like the best place to start.”

  I looked over the names on the lists and realized Liz hadn’t been there to sign up yet. I had no idea which one she’d choose. I shuffled through the pages, feeling the impatience of the people in line behind me.