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Six Years Old
“You need to pack your bag.” Jesse’s mom crouched in front of him and grabbed hold of his shoulders. From the glow of the nightlight, he could see a red mark on her face. Sort of like how his skin would look when he had fallen from a tree and landed hard on the ground.
His mom smelled weird, a strange combination of salt and sweat, and the foul stench made him want to vomit. If fear had a smell, this was it, and it rolled off of her in waves.
Before she had shaken him awake, he had been sleeping in Mom’s big bed. The one she shared with the guy she kissed. This guy wasn’t the same one from last year. She said this man was different, but Jesse didn’t think so. Like the last man, he never smiled.
Jesse hugged the blanket his gran had crocheted for him to his chest. The bedroom had a strange, dreamlike quality to it, too many shadows, and it made him think of his older cousin Glory. She was in her twenties and talked too much about ghosts. “Why am I leaving?”
Mom had promised him he could visit longer than his normal few days, and his head hurt as he tried to understand what he did wrong to be sent away so soon.
She smiled even though her eyes were filled with tears. “Don’t you miss Gran?”
Jesse swayed on his feet from exhaustion. He’d only been here a few days, but he did miss Gran and home. He missed how there was breakfast in the morning, dinner at night and how she would laugh with him as they made oatmeal cookies together. He missed his swing in the backyard, walking the land with Glory and catching fireflies with his best friend, Scarlett. He missed a full stomach, sheets that didn’t smell and people who didn’t yell.
Mom hugged him, and he felt her tremble. She pulled away, grabbed a duffle bag and threw clothes into it from the open drawer. “Hurry, Jesse. Gran wants to see you.”
In his Spiderman PJs and no socks, he stumbled across the room. His feet were cold against the wooden floor of the second-floor apartment. It was an old house, and it had too many people in it. Most of them angry, staggering as if their feet didn’t work, or they were passed out on the stairway.
Jesse knelt on the floor and felt for his shoes under the bed. As his hand came in contact with a shoelace, there was a shout and a door slammed. “Ophelia!”
“Let’s go.” Mom snatched Jesse’s hand, yanked him to his feet, and he ran to keep up.
The man who his mother said was going to take care of her, maybe both of them someday, came roaring toward them from the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
“No, you’re not.” The man grew louder as he got closer. Jesse’s heart convulsed, and he clung tighter to his blanket and his mother’s hand. Then pain shot down Jesse’s arm, his blanket fell from his grasp and he yelped as the man attempted to tear him away from his mom.
His mother released him, and fear ripped through Jesse. She was going to leave him. Nausea clawed at his stomach, but his mother didn’t bolt for the door. She turned, and the sound of her slapping the man reverberated across the room. “Don’t touch my son. No one ever touches my son!”
The man drew back and threw his fist into her face, blood squirted from her nose, and Jesse screamed. His mom stumbled forward, into the man, and then the man fell, his hands covering his privates. In seconds, Jesse was in the air, his mom tossing him onto her hip.
Jesse looped his arms around her neck and squeezed. Tears streamed along his cheeks and onto her skin. She sprinted down the stairs, and once outside, yanked her car door open. She shoved him across the seat to the passenger side, but he didn’t let go. She pried his fingers from her neck, secured him with the seatbelt, then started the car.
His fingers closed into a fist, and he felt nothing. Jesse’s sob cut past the roaring engine. “My blanket! We forgot my blanket!”
The house grew farther away, and Jesse cried louder, yet they went faster until his mom slammed on the brakes. Tires squealing, the car lurched.
“Stop it!” Mom shouted. “We aren’t going back. We’re never going back. Never!”
Jesse’s chest split open, and his entire body writhed as he cried harder. That was his blanket. The one Gran had made for him. The one she said he could take anywhere and would mean he was never alone. Now, he would be alone, and he hated alone more than anything.
His mom slammed her hands against the steering wheel, and the slapping sound made him jump. “Stupid! I’m so stupid!”
Her voice broke, and her lower lip quivered. One tear fell, then another. An emotional cold slap in the face, and he shook. He’d made his mom cry, and she already cried too much.
Slipping through the seatbelt, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t need my blanket. I don’t. I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
She sobbed harder, spit coming from her mouth as it opened. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, and Jesse held her, shushed her, then she stopped holding the steering wheel and held on to him. His mom smelled of flowers, sweat and smoke. This time, the smell didn’t bother him nearly as much.
He closed his eyes and wished they were at Gran’s. Gran could make it better. She always did.
With a shuddering breath, Mom encouraged him to sit on her lap. The darkness of the parking lot didn’t seem so bad then, and the rain pattering against the roof didn’t seem so loud.
Jesse placed his head against her chest, listened to her heartbeat and focused on her inhales and exhales. Why couldn’t he be enough to make her happy?
“Can I tell you something?” she asked, and he nodded. His heart hurt with how much he loved his mom, and he wondered why love had to be so painful. “Our family is cursed.”
Late at night, after Gran had tucked him in, he had overheard Mom talk about this with Glory and Gran.
“A long time ago, our family was rich. The richest family in the county, but we hurt people to make that money. We stole land by force, beat them. We even killed. Your grandpa said the money was cursed so we became cursed. A real-life southern gothic tragedy.”
She gave a hollow laugh, but Jesse didn’t think it was funny. He snuggled closer to her as the shadows thrown by the streetlight moved, drawing nearer, as if they were ready to reach out and grab him.
“We’re cursed, baby. There’s no way to deny it, but I think I figured out how to break it.” Mom gently eased him back so she could look him in the eye. She combed her fingers through his hair, and he wished for the millionth time she would stop trying to make them a “family” with some weird guy, and instead let their family be her, him, Glory and Gran.
“People say our curse is that when we fall in love with someone, something horrible will happen to them, and we’re left to grieve forever.”
He nodded again, because that’s what the people in town said.
“But we aren’t cursed because we love or because of something somebody did a long time ago, we’re cursed if we leave the farm. The land is what protects us, gives us our strength. As long as we stay on it, as long as we let it nourish us, as long as we respect that the land is alive and is a part of us, we’ll be safe. Do you understand?”
He did, and he didn’t.
“As long as you never leave the land, you’ll be safe, and you’ll be happy. If we leave, the land will reject us and we lose the protection. That’s when our life falls apart. That’s when we hurt the people we love. Once we leave, the curse sets in and there’s no cure. Returning doesn’t help. To stay protected, you can never leave. You have to live there, forever.”
Jesse shook. This had to be wrong. He loved the rolling hills, the rows of corn, the cattle in the fields and the trees he and Scarlett climbed. His land could never hurt him or his mom. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not. My life fell apart after I left, and now the people I love are in pain over me.” His mother winced as if saying the words hurt her. “You’re in pain over me, and every time I return home, I hurt you more and more. You’re better off on the farm with your gran and without me.”
“I’m okay.” He just needed her to be okay. Jesse patted her arm, but she didn’t seem to notice his touch. “I’m better with you.”
“Don’t be me, Jesse. Don’t go chasing after shiny paths. Stay on the land.” She tilted her head and tried for a smile that quickly failed. “After me and Gran, you’re the last living Lachlin and the land will be yours.”
“I don’t want it.” Not if it hurts people. “Glory can have it.”
“She’s a third cousin. She can’t own the land. But the land isn’t cursed, we are. The land will keep you safe. That’s what I need you to understand.”
He frowned, and she cupped his face. “When you get old enough, the land will belong to you so promise me that when you’re older you’ll never leave the farm. Do you understand? Never, ever leave. Promise me, Jesse. Promise to never leave the land.”
Jesse looked into his mother’s sad, green eyes and gave her his most solemn promise he’d ever given anyone. Even to Scarlett. Even to his gran. “I promise I’ll never leave the land.”
Copyright © 2019 by Katie McGarry