Poor Reflections

ALLISON

The long drive from Rebecca’s house to the farm was uneventful, affording Allison some time to reflect on the the day. The Stones caterwauled away, lending their voices in validation to her mood: “Hey, you, get off of my cloud!”

School had been as tedious as she remembered it being, while also reminding her how much she hated dealing with other people. Her encounter with Penny brought up questions her mind idled on, but didn’t feel compelled to answer; instead, she found herself mulling over the conundrum of Twilight. Her earnestness was endearing, but her persistence was irritating – Allison had spent the majority of the day pointedly saying as little as possible to her, yet she still kept yammering. That girl couldn’t take a hint if you gift-wrapped it on her birthday an’ dropped it in her lap.

Still, the image of Twilight standing sad and alone in the middle of a crowded hallway kept surfacing. In spite of herself, Allison felt her attitude towards her soften. She seems awful lonesome; Ah bet it’s a scary thing, bein’ a fish out o’ water, far away from home an’ everythin’ that’s familiar. She idly wondered how well she would fair if she was sent abroad to attend a school in… wherever it was Mrs. O’Brien had said Twilight was from.

Still, it ain’t like Ah can do anythin’ about it. She shoved any lingering thoughts of the new girl out of her head as she turned up the long gravel driveway to her home.

Allison felt a creeping sense of unease as she rounded the bend in front of the barn and saw all of the farm’s heavy machinery was still inside – Mackenzie wasn’t out tending the orchard. Her unease increased tenfold when she pulled up in front of the house to see her brother sitting on the front step, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

She jumped out of her truck and jogged up to him. “Mackie?” He looked up at her, and she was shocked to see his face was wet with tears. “Mackenzie, hey, what happened?”

He simply stood up and quietly said, “Talk to Granny.” He started to head off towards the orchard.

Allison, not much one for being ignored, stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. “Hey! Tell me what’s goin’ on!”

Mackenzie’s eyes bored into Allison’s as his hands fell on her shoulders. He squeezed them so tightly she could feel her collarbone creak. His rumbling voice was little more than a growl when he spoke. “Talk. To. Granny.”

With that, he let her go, and proceeded to stalk off into the orchard. Allison made no move to get in his way again. She simply watched him go as she lifted a hand to rub her aching shoulders.

He’s never hurt me like that before. Not once. Not ever.

Allison’s heart begin to pound in her chest, but she fought to bring herself back to a stoic composure. She sniffed away any tears before they found safe passage to her eyes and took a deep breath, then headed through the front door.

Her grandmother looked up from the kitchen table, a pile of manila folders and spreadsheets in front of her. “Oh, hey there, AJ. C’mere, we need to talk some.”

Allison felt the blood drain from her face as she slowly walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of sweet tea, and sat down across from her grandmother. They simply stared at each other in silence for a long time, neither of them wanting to start the conversation.

Allison, ever impatient, broke the silence first. “Ah saw Mackenzie on the front step. He seemed pretty shook up about somethin’.”

“Ah reckon he is. Whur’d he git hisself to?”

“Last Ah saw he was headed into the orchard.” She rotated her iced tea between her hands, fidgeting. “Ah take it you already talked to him.”

Her grandmother sighed. “That Ah did, AJ. Lordy, Ah wish this ain’t the case, but…” She drew a deep breath. “We’re losin’ the farm.”

Allison was too shocked to respond with anything more coherent than, “What?”

“It’s so, Ah’m afraid. Ah been runnin’ numbers awl day. E’en if th’ harvest this year is th’ best we e’er had, we still ain’t gonna have enough to pay the operatin' loan.” She took another deep breath to steady herself, to little effect. “We’ve gawt another year, an’ then we’re gonna have t’ sell.”

A familiar fire spread from Allison’s heart throughout her body and soaked into her mind. It took a concentrated effort on her part to not immediately fly into a rage, but she had the willpower to hold herself in check in front of her grandmother; this wasn’t the first time Allison had been dealt horrifying news, after all. She waited for her grandmother to pull herself together somewhat, then asked, “How can things have gotten so bad, Granny? Ah thought we were doin’ pretty well these past couple o’ years.”

“Oh, we were, darlin’, but that one bad spell we had a few years back – it forced us t’ take out a second mortgage on the farm. We’ve been able to make do for a few years since, but it was yer parents’ lahf insurance that was helpin’ keep us afloat. Now that yer about t’ turn eighteen, though, well…” the old woman trailed off, unable to continue.

Allison was able to connect the dots for her. “The life insurance policy is only payin' out for Alexis now.” So my growin’ up is what’s sinkin’ the ship. Amazin’. Her heart began to pound in her chest.

Her grandmother nodded. “That’s one of the reasons thangs went so far south wit’ that one bad harvest, since Mackie turned eighteen that year.”

The sheer unfairness of the situation started to crack Allison's calm exterior. She desperately searched her mind for ways they could stave off foreclosure. “Wait, didn’t you say once you were settin’ aside some money from the life insurance payout for us kids’ college fund? What if we rolled all that back into the farm?”

The family matriarch gave her the saddest look she’d ever seen. “Fer whut, youngin’? At best, that’d buy us two years, mebbe two an’ a half. Whut then? We’d still need to either sell or foreclose at the end o’ that time, ‘cept then you an’ yer siblins wouldn’t have nothin’ t’ help you find sumthin’ else.” Her grandmother shook her head. “No, AJ, Ah won’t have it. You an’ Alexis an’ Mackenzie are gonna have a future, even if it’s gonna hafta be somewh–”. She choked on the words, and was forced to finish the sentence in a quavering whisper. “– somewhur else.”

A note of finality hung in the air. The two women sat at the table in silence, staring at one-another. Allison had always thought of her grandmother as a force to be reckoned with, holding their family together through grit and spit.

Now, for the first time, she simply looked frail.

Allison could bear it no longer. She stood and announced, “Ah’ve gotta find a more permanent fix for the sprayer. Ah’m gonna grab some things from the barn, then Ah’ll be in the basement if’n you need me.”

Her grandmother reached out as though to stop her. “AJ–”

Allison flinched out of her reach. “Y’said it yerself, Granny – farm’s gotta run fer another year yet. Ah’ve still got work to do.” She turned and walked away as she said, “Best get to it.”

Once outside, Allison felt the armor around her heart crumble. Her gaze darted around the farmyard, now irrevocably colored with a tinge of impermanence, as though everything could be whisked away from her with her next heartbeat, nothing to be done.

She ran to the barn and slammed the door shut behind her, so that she might have some measure of privacy as she finally gave voice to her frustration. Wordless screams clawed their way out of her as she hurled her tools around the barn. Once the first drawer of her tool chest was empty, she punched it hard enough to dent the side – and hard enough to bust open her knuckles. The searing pain was enough to bring Allison a measure of control over herself.

Pointless.

She fought to get her breathing back to normal. Can't cry. Gotta stay strong. Gotta stay focused. She narrowed her worldview down to a single task – obtain the malfunctioning parts from the crop sprayer’s engine and take them down into the basement workshop.

Presently she found her breath easier to come by, and with a determined step she set about her self-assigned tasks.