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cc&d magazine (v212)
(the September 2010 Issue)

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The Knot

Skibo LeBlanc

    She left her house at a little past three, with shoes on her feet and a knot in her stomach, the knot of all knots, with a purse over her shoulder and indecision on her mind. Summer was on the way, that time of the year when the morning’s cold but the afternoon ain’t, when what you wore to school was much too heavy by the time the bell sang its glorious song. It was the time of year when the pools were starting to open, play for the children, escape for their mothers. She’d just gotten out of school for the day, actually, to change out of the sweater she had put on when the weather permitted.
    Oakenna High School, a mere 100 or so yards from Dana Nolan’s modest home, was not large enough to contain the amount of apathy towards academics that existed during those last few weeks, with more checkouts than the Outer Banks after beach week. The thoughts of her friends and peers were filled with plans, plans of parties and trips, with the worries of obtaining jobs and heading off to big bad college hidden away, stored for a later date.
    She too had worries, as evidenced by her shaking hands as she tried to lock the door behind her, missing the key hole not once, not twice, but three times. She had to lock up, as her mother wouldn’t be home until later that night, and her father, well, he hadn’t shown up for dinner in 14 years, an unstable criminal on the lamb. Her mother had discarded all pictures of the man, and any other reminders of his existence, aside from Dana of course, and the child had no recollection of him. He came back every once in awhile they thought, left clues around the house, missing statements, or broken doors, windows, different signs of forced entry. They’d never seen him there, but thought he may not be too far away. The man she would have called father was not even near the borders of her thoughts right now, though, as she had bigger fish to fry.
    She stopped on the sidewalk, fuddled through her purse, and fished out a pack of Virginia Slims, bringing one to her trembling lips. God, get a hold of yourself, she thought, you got yourself into this and you can get yourself out.
    She felt better once the cool smoke cascaded down her throat and the appealingly greasy aroma reached her nose. The shaking decreased substantially, and she got to walking again. She turned left from her house, down Apple Drive, where no apples grow, and, after a few hundred feet, a left onto Chain Bridge Road, more commonly known as Route 123.
    Her destination lay on the opposite end of this street, a mile and a half away. Chain Bridge Road ran straight down the middle of Oakenna, cutting the town in half. She’d made this walk plenty of times, as she had a friend who lived that way, and had never had a consistent mode of transportation. She’d never made this journey, however. This would be different.
    There was a sizable amount of traffic running down 123 at this time, through Oakenna, but never to it. They were either headed north to the city or south to the county seat, the town just a blip on the map to the drivers, unseen, not paid attention to.
    The exhaust and horns from the cars made her head swim and her stomach curl, so she stepped into the nearest establishment, which happened to be Marty’s Bagels. She had no intention of eating, felt as if she’d never be hungry again.
    The first thing she noticed upon entering the restaurant was Fleetwood Mac’s “Sara” playing softly in the background, setting the mood of the place, though it had to compete with the noise from the customers and ovens. Stevie Nick’s voice rose above them all like an angel, and Dana wondered what made her write this song, wanted to know everything about it.
    “Wait a minute baby, stay with me awhile
    Said you’d give me light but you never told me about the fire”

    She grabbed a table next to the large window that looked out upon 123 and ran her hands through her long black hair. She was a pretty, petite girl, with pale skin and freckles, and dark, mischievous eyes. She looked through that window, at the movement on the street, and wondered if she’d be able to go back out there, didn’t know if she had it in her, but alas she must, she told herself. She got up to leave.
    It was at this time that a severe looking woman in a blue suit blouse, matching skirt and high heels, took notice of her. Whether she was a local or passerby Dana could not tell. The woman looked like her mother, as if she were in a perpetual state of stress. Maybe she’s been in my position before, Dana wondered.
    She had just fixed her coffee, closed her cell phone, and too was on her way out the door, when she approached the girl. “Are you alright, honey? You look like you’re having a rough day.” She gave Dana a sincere smile from a mouth that lacked the experience.
    “I’m ok, just got a lot on my mind right now.” She forced a reciprocating smile upon the woman, who, for some reason, seemed to be on the same wavelength as her. Dana was disconcerted by the amount of knowing on the woman’s face, didn’t like it one bit. It was a childish look, as if they were just school girls sharing secrets on the playground. The nonchalance on the woman’s face disgusted her, despite her friendly nature.
    Despite Dana’s best efforts to terminate the conversation, the woman wasn’t finished. She leaned into the nervous girl and with an eyebrow pointed in the direction of the speakers on the ceiling, whispered with that terrible smile, “Do you know what this song’s about?”
    Surprised by the question, she shook her head, “No, I guess I don’t. It’s nice though.”
    The woman just kept on smiling. “It’s telling you to do what you want to do, live for yourself. It’s up to you, to have fun! Live. Your. Life.” She dragged out that last command, her smile spreading as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. She grabbed Dana’s arm, looked in her eyes, and said, “‘I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Just think about that honey, ok, go forth and do what you have to do.”
    Terrified, Dana shook free from her grip, and bolted through the door, the bell ringing wildly. She took off back from whence she came, mind set on what she was now going to do, which was nothing, to just deal with it. She did not want to become that.
    The knot in her stomach eased slightly during her jaunt. She slowed to a walk, feeling somewhat better despite the tarry taste in her mouth. Not wanting to have that cigarette smell on her breath, she decided it would be a good idea to pick up a packet of gum at the Shell station at the corner of Apple and Chain Bridge, right close to her house.
    The good feelings of the return home began to subside as she crossed the street and pulled open the door to the Shell, the terror and the knot entering with her.
    As well as gum, candy, drinks, magazines, newspapers, etc, the store also sold baseball caps, including University of Virginia baseball caps, the place of higher learning Dana had applied and been accepted to. She stared at those hats, their orange and blue fabric, the colors she would wear to football and basketball and lacrosse games, to parties, to the best four years of her life. These colors encompassed all her senses, drowning out the loud sounds and mechanical smells coming from the accompanying auto body shop.
    The man behind the counter brought her back to reality. “May I help you honey? Do you need anything? You don’t look right.”
    Well, you don’t look right yourself, was her initial thought. He was a stocky, yet muscular middle-aged man, with graying beard and hair, and glassed over eyes. He looked to be in a trance, with his vacant stare and slow manner of speaking. His red collared shirt, with its yellow logo, said his name was Sam in white thread over his right breast.
    Flustered, she rifled through the candy shelf and picket out the first breath freshener she could find, which happened to be Wrigley’s spearmint. “Yeah, I’m fine – this is all.” She handed him the packet but he did not take it from her for an uncomfortable period of time. He was staring at her, she thought, but couldn’t know for sure with her eyes glued to the floor. She couldn’t look at his eyes, eyes that looked like they were in a perpetual dreamland.
    He finally took it from her and rang up the purchase with a smirk on his face. He handed her change and the gum, but did not let go when she grabbed it. He looked at her again. “You look like you’ve had some tough decisions to make, and from the look on your face, I can tell you made the hard one. But I’ll tell ya, the hardest one is usually the right one, in my experience.”
    He kept on smiling, and still she could not pry it from his cold hands. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve really got to get going, I have to –”
    “‘Go forth and multiply my dear, for ‘God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son’.”
    She continued to pull on the gum, never occurring to her to let go of the green packet herself, as the man became more passionate and deranged. His smile, like his hands, turned cold, as he looked her in the eyes with his of equal darkness. “Upon the wicked He will rain snares; Fire and brimstone and burning wind will be the portion of their cup.”
    She finally ripped that Wrigley’s from him, and once again bolted out the door, as Everlast’s “What It’s Like” played her a departing serenade from the speakers in the auto body.
    “He said don’t worry about a thing baby doll I’m the man you’ve been dreamin’ of”
    She distantly, as if from another universe, heard the man shout “I’m proud of you” right before the Bud Light ad covered door slammed shut.
    Tears poured down her cheeks as she ran, running, movement, being the only activity to keep the knot at bay. She ran aimlessly for the longest of times, unaware that her mindless legs were carrying her in the direction of her original destination. She slipped onto Windover, a smaller back road that ran parallel to 123, one block to the west. She found a park bench next to this heavily wooded, heavily potholed road, as well as a semblance of peace. The knot was still there, very much so, but she felt in control of herself, away from the spinning sounds and smells of the town. This road was quiet and the only scent was that of the trees and their colorful blossoms. She’d be able to make most of the remainder of the journey on this road, and she felt as if she could go through with it this time. Crazy-assed Sam had shown her the way.
    Just as she was about to get off the bench and go her own way, a familiar ratty green pickup truck came cruising down the road, in the opposite direction as she, with Tim McGraw’s “Red Ragtop” blaring from the radio on 98.7 WMZQ. The boy inside noticed her and pulled over to the side of the road. Dana’s recently estranged boyfriend Ronnie got out with hands in Levi’s and a look of shame on his face. “What’re you doing over here?” was all he asked.
    “Oh you know, just on my way to take care of some business. Don’t worry about it. I was just about to get on my way.” Despite the sarcasm, she hoped that he’d give her a ride, shorten the journey, help her out. He was better than nobody.
    The song continued to play softly in the background:
    “We took one more trip around the sun
    But it was all make believe in the end
    And no I can’t say where she is today
    I can’t remember who I was that day”

    He looked at her for a long hard minute, the look of a scared boy, or a dog with its tail beneath its legs, and spoke his last words to her. “Of this blood I’m innocent, hun, the responsibility’s yours.”
    With that he turned away from her, hopped in the cab, and drove off just as the song ended.
    “Fuck you,” was all she could think to say, but he was long gone by the time she found the right words.
    She was now on a mission, driven by abandonment and hatred. She no longer noticed anything on this residential road; not the vibrant colors of the trees, nor the children playing in the yards. They were blurs as she made her way. The faster she moved, the less she felt the knot, and that was good, the way it was going to be.
    She eventually came to the intersection of Windover and Glebe, turned right and walked the one block east to 123, which had turned into Maple Avenue somewhere along the way.
    The building stood right across the street, next to Meadowlark Gardens, with its sprawling greenery. It was a plain building, nothing remarkable about it, nothing noticeable, except maybe the signs placed in the dirt of the front yard. The building was white, with windows revealing a lobby area. Normal enough, she thought, though upon actually seeing her place of reckoning, the knot returned.
    When the walking man at the cross walk beckoned her forward, she hesitated, doubt replacing her prior determination. As the man began to blink and his timer neared zero, she made her decision, and sprinted across the street.
    The building seemed dead, no movement, no color, nothing. Nobody was going in and nobody was going out – a slow day, she thought, maybe she’d be quick and make it home before her mother. She’d ask how school and the rest of her day had been, what she’d been up to. She would lie of course, would forever lie, but after awhile it would be as if this day had never happened. She’d be able to erase it from her memory. She’d get through this, in spite of everyone, or to spite everyone.
    She took a step towards the door – then another, and another. The blast knocked Dana on her back before she could take a fourth. Now there was sound and color, as screams rang through the air, and fire and brimstone fell through the burning wind.



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