A sense of accomplishment washed over me, and I made the weirdest decision of my life. “I can live here without them. I don’t need anyone but myself. And maybe Soloman. He’s good company.” I opened the barn doors and the scene in front of me seemed to have changed vastly after the reality set in of my new life.
Snow hung on the peaks of the mountains at the back of our property. Dad had called it Mother Goose Glacier, but my teacher said he was wrong. She told the class there wasn’t a glacier near enough to Moose Pass that we could see it with our own eyes. The snow-capped mountain was just another peak along the Kenai mountain range.
The blue sky of Alaska was like nowhere else in the world. Not that I would know; I’ve never been anywhere else. Mom used to tell me, though, and I believed her.
Tall green trees only grew so far up the steep rocky terrain before it was impossible for them tosurvive. Livestock ambled beside our pond in the valley. Would they know what had happened?
“Dammit. Why do we have to live so far from everything? And everyone.” I tilted my head and smirked. “Wait. That could be good for me. A benefit.” In the past, Dad’s choice of words annoyed me; I silently thanked him for the education.
I inhaled long enough to fill my lungs with the clean mountain air. On the exhale, I let my shoulders release the tension I had been holding. Calm bursts of air moved the branches on trees which lined the driveway.
The split-rail fence separated them from the driveway and kept the cows in the north pasture. Sunshine, warm on my face, made me smile. Birds chirped as if today had been a repeat of the day before.
Am I the only one who knows why it’s different? So completely different.
I decided to survey my land—myproperty—to determine how to start my new life. Desperation rose in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Mom’s face appeared in front of me as I walked in the center of the half-mile-long driveway.
This time, though, her eyes were bright, and she grinned. I became numb, unable to feel my feet, my knees buckled. I tried so hard not to cry. I didn’t want to be a baby, like my dad called me when I got upset. I failed.Figures.
Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t control it. I loved my mom so much and now she was gone. Sadness turned to anger when I watched my dad pull the trigger. Again. The vision repeated when I closed my eyes. He pulled the trigger again and again, almost like a CD skipped. Or the movieGroundhog’s Day.
“If Jasmine were here, I bet she’d know what to do. She would have been just like Mom—smart and calm. A planner. I should have paid more attention when Mom taught me things instead of getting distracted by kittens. Jasmine should have lived. I’m sorry, Mom. I wish I could have saved her. And you. I let you both down.” Talking to myself wasn’t helping. It just made me feel worse.
A rustling within the woods along the driveway sent a chill up my spine. I stopped to listen; if a grunt or growl broke the silence, I knew I was in trouble. Bears would start to hunt soon.
I need to close up the barn.
Darkness came quickly in these hills.
MY DAD’S expressionhadn’t changed from the previous night. I’m not sure why I had expected it to. He looked up at me from a four-foot-deep hole in the far back pasture. The property line was clearly marked by afence made from barbed wire; I couldn’t get further from the house if I tried.
It’s funny the things that ran through my mind when I was tipping the bucket to drop a pile of dirt on my dead dad’s body. “What do I need to be able to live here alone? He just had the fuel tank filled, so I should have enough gas for a while.
The guy from the feed mill just delivered a grain supply for the animals that should last until winter. There’s plenty of meat in the freezer and canned vegetables. I’ll tend the garden and pull eggs. But …” The only uncertainty revolved around money. “How will I pay for the house and the electric bill?”
The more dirt I pushed over Dad’s body, the more I realized I should have buried his face first. He watched my every move; I’m sure he had a better way of completing this chore. Always did. A sort of satisfaction blew across me with the warm breeze as I pushed the last of the dirt into the hole, covering his face. A finality.
As an afterthought, I made a short cross out of sticks and placed it at the head of his grave. I knew I should say some last words, pay my respects, so to speak, but nothing nice came to mind. I spoke the only positive words I could come up with.
“You’ll never hurt Mom again. You’ll never hit either one of us again. I’ll never hear your voice again. You’ll never call me a fat-ass or say mean things toMom. For that, I am thankful. Goodbye and good riddance.” I shrugged. The universe won’t miss my dad any more than I would. The time he had on this earth was wasted; he could have made much better choices.
Sun warmed the back of my neck on the ride back to the barn. A numbness replaced the tension in my shoulders as clouds formed. The scent of the coming rain blew in with the wind and I knew I didn’t have much time. I pushed the tractor faster and reached the backyard in record time.
While I had tossed and turned the previous night, I thought about the best place for Mom to stay. We had plenty of areas on the farm where she and I shared special memories. The barn, however, was off-limits for obvious reasons.
The pines beside the pond wouldn’t be a good area, either. I wanted to be able to visit her on a whim and get to her relatively quickly. An area of the land climbed the side of the mountain where Mom and I would go to rest after a summer swim. The overlook offered breathtaking views, but it was too far away.
As I drifted off to sleep, it came to me. There’s a spot under the oak tree on the edge of the backyard. It was her favorite place to rest on a hot summer day. She would lay out an old blanket and we would share a pitcher of iced tea and talk about school or what needed to be done with the farm critters. It was visible from theporch and close enough to the house I could visit often.
After I spit on Dad’s grave, I did my best to avoid the bumps and potholes on the way to the house. When I stopped at the area I had chosen for Mom, I climbed off the tractor, then froze. I couldn’t move. It seemed like an hour before my legs gave out and I sank to the ground.
“I can’t do it. I can’t throw dirt on your face like I just did to … him. Can I?” No, I shook my head. But I had to bury her; she wasn’t alive anymore and I needed to give her a proper farewell. A respectful transition to the afterlife. If there was such a thing.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I should have been man enough to protect you.” I closed my eyes, lowered my chin, and winced at the memory of the gunshot. The first one. The one which took her away from me. “Will you help me? One last time? Give me the strength to do this.”
I manipulated the bucket controls and maneuvered the tractor to pile the dirt on either side of a hole. When I couldn’t dig any deeper, and couldn’t cry any more, I powered down the tractor at the edge of the steps leading to the porch and wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt.
Following my plan, I found everything I could think of to keep my mom comfortable in the afterlife: her favorite quilt made by her momma, a pillow, a locket given to her by her grandmother, the photo album of our life, and her bible. I placed the items in the bucket anddrove the tractor to the barn.
