She’s sitting alone at the table in the corner. The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. Dirty blonde hair you want to put your fingers in. The way she holds her cigarette is like she’s doing ballet with just her arm and hand. The smoke takes its time drifting away from her.
When you sit down, she turns her head as if she expected you. Her smile says she understands you’re doing what every other guy in the bar wants to, but not for the same reasons, you’re looking for something more. Her laugh makes gold of every stupid joke you end up telling, and already you’re way past the standard stuff. Now you’re saying all the things you want to say but never do: where you hurt and where it feels good, where you’ve been and where you’d still like to go.
She’s got a farm she can’t look after since her husband died, their kid she loves more than anything, and two sisters who help out, ‘cause a family needs more than one grown-up. And you think, how’s this kid going to turn out without a dad, and find yourself wondering if you could contribute, if she let you. That part makes you a little sick to your stomach - it sounds like the husband was really something special.
But before you know it, here you are running across a field with the sisters, the big one who’s faster than you though she’s carrying twice your weight, and the witchy, skinny one whose face looks like she’s spent most of her life frowning at people, only now she’s encouraging you, holding your hand: “We have to run, she’ll see us!”
You don’t know where they’re taking you, only that it’s over this hill and down the next, and you can’t see it from the house, which is good for her - she doesn’t like to look at it. If she comes away from her plants quick enough to see the three of you before you go down the other side, she’ll never forgive them. Nobody’s supposed to go there, that’s the unspoken agreement. If the kid catches you going, he might follow and see it too.
Now you have to work to keep your footing ‘cause it’s really steep, way steeper than you expected, though Tammy the big one is having no problem, she’s finding her way as good as a goat on loose rocks. Astrid the witchy one goes straight down like a silver bullet (that’s how you think of her, she’s prematurely grey and lets it grow long). What they’re headed for makes you look twice. There’s no reason it should be here, not in the middle of a sweaty July with temperatures the hottest in forty years.
“This is where it starts,” says Tammy.
It’s a snowdrift, at least five feet high with no sign of melting.
“We have to get to the middle.”
“What the hell?” you’re saying, and Astrid takes your hand again.
“The Blight,” she tells you. “Two years old and growing. It’s time to kill it.”
You don’t understand what she’s talking about, but you follow her anyway as she rolls up her jean legs and steps right in. Tammy does the same and then you, and you can’t help swearing, the snow is so cold.
Ten steps along, shivering, you turn and look back, first to check and see that Danna can’t see you from the house - but that’s impossible, she’s on the other side of the hill, unless she followed you - and by God if your footprints aren’t…gone.
The one right behind you, even, the one you just made, you’re watching the snow seal it over, hiding the evidence you were there. It’s pristine, sparkling and new again, like nothing ever happened.
You check to see if your own legs are being swallowed.
“Don’t worry.” Astrid gives you some kind of a smile, not exactly reassuring. More, this is par for the course and buck up, buddy - ‘cause from here on out, it gets even weirder.
It does.
