Robyn Sullivan realized that she was lying in the ground at the farm. She pulled herself up and looked at the broken purple glass by the dove house. The sun had set and twilight was closing in. Why was she here at this time of day?Isabel was gone! She’d taken the car and left her here! When she got her hands on that girl, she’d wish she’d never been born. There was an area further down the road that appeared confusing to her. The black silhouettes of the trees had flecks of a deeper shade and were moving. Was it wind? She closed in on the flecks of darkness and realized it was centered over a mobile home. She could see a television and it was turned on, but she couldn’t understand the language. Someone was certainly speaking English in the bedroom.
” I never wanted you! That old bastard that you called Daddy was a drunk and a loser and I got stuck with you.”
On the unmade narrow bed in the mobile home, Theresa’s face was blurred with tears. She had been born with many birth defects and some retardation. On top of that, her mother had added an overlay of bruises and tears.
“You’ll let that man screw you and I don’t want to hear any more about it! We need the money and I don’t care if he scares you. I’ll be in the next room! Go wash yourself and stop that blubbering! I’m exhausted and I need a beer.”
Robyn Sullivan followed the slattern into the kitchen in search of her beer. As she did, she noticed more dark flecks down the road and sped to them. Two men were beating a smaller man in the middle of the road. High above them, moving in the light of the street lamp, were a pair of old high top sneakers, strung across an electric line. Across the way, an old black man was yelling something from an open doorway, but again, it was in a language she did not know. The thugs she could hear perfectly.
“You gonna die tonight!” they laughed. The small man on the ground spoke weakly, but she couldn’t understand him.
Robyn could not remember if her daughter Isabel had mentioned there were so many non -English speaking people near the farm. She thought she would remember if Isabel had spoken about a large immigrant population. The dark flecks sparkled in the distance and again, Robyn sped toward them. This time, a father was taking this opportunity to tell every single member of his family what was wrong with them. He hadn’t had a drink in 8 months and was very proud of that. If he could change his ways, then by Heaven, everyone else was going to. His 3- year old was terrified.
“You’re lazy! You’re all lazy good for nothings! Why do you even come home? Yeah I know! There’s food here. You don’t deserve the food I put on the table!”
And so it was, by following the darker than black moving flecks, that Robyn Sullivan slowly moved across the currents of anger hanging like a hot fog over the countryside. She lost count of the people and places. The only thing that was familiar was the bitter hatred that sparkled in the blackness.
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