Her heart was beyond heavy. It was crushing. It was a stone
heart; impeding the negative expansive pressure of her lungs. With each inhale
it bared down a little harder. It was tearing her asunder. Ripping through
ribs, intestines and arteries it wanted to fall out of her. It wanted to leave
her. Instead it settled in her left foot. Unable to leave her fully, her statue
of a heart resided as far away as possible. It made her walk with a limp,
almost dragging her left foot behind her.
Three months had passed since she lost everything,
everything you could imagine. Her parents, sister, brother, dog, goldfish, car,
bicycle, clothes all burned in front of her eyes. It was a spark and then
nothing. Her parents didn’t have a will or money or life insurance.
“What’s up with the limp?” asked her one friend. A 18-year-old semi-goth, emo, confused boy
named Hunter.
“It just happened,” Georgia said.
“Can you walk on it?” He asked.
“No.”
She really couldn’t it felt like it wasn’t a part of her
anymore like it belonged to her stone heart and she was not privy to use it
anymore. She imagined the heart was still red. Maybe it wasn’t stone maybe it
was a ruby, maybe it was still something precious as opposed to something you
kick when you’re bored and walking or you curse at when it hits your windshield
on the highway.
Georgia sighed deeply and looked at her left leg and
contemplated the usefulness of rock. Besides the biblical use to kill people it was a powerful, yet ever changing anomaly. Water over time could
etch it a face. It formed mountains and canyons. It could destroy everything in
its path. It was solid, reliable and strong but only for so long. It was
intriguing to Georgia, who still worked her job at Dairy Queen because she
still felt tied to the town her parents made their home. She worked at the
Dairy Queen since she was 16 and 5 years later she viewed it the same. It was a
job that afforded her very little but she never had grand dreams, in fact, she
had no dreams. She never has. Not even whimsical dreams that made no sense.
When she slept, she slept. When she was awake, she was awake. Her days were
solid and reliable.
Since the fire, mornings had started to become different.
She’d wake startled, she’d wake exhausted. She still wasn’t dreaming but her
left leg started to become stiffer. She decided to go to the doctor. Months
passed and the doctors could find no reason why her leg wouldn’t work.
They said it was mental, passed her along to a shrink. Out of sight out of
mind. Georgia knew it was her heart. It was infecting her leg. She’d let her
heart run wild and it wasn’t for love, it was for loss. At nights, before bed,
after she’d brushed her teeth, she would grieve for her family. Hoping her
grief would release her heart back to her. Hoping emotions could turn stone to
flesh.
Waves crashing on rocks have been known to create. The ocean,
daily, pushing back can change the course of rock formations. A year had passed
and Georgia could use her leg again. She went
to a community college to start on becoming a nurse. She got a job at a hospice. She was a bright light in some people’s dark, dark seas. She smiled a
lot more and even had a dream or two. Deep within her though she felt bits of rock still floated around her heart, waiting in her pericardium. She followed a slow path, became an EMT
instead of a Nurse and from there became a fire fighter. She was even a engine driver. She took a lot of slack from the men but she gave it back. She proved
herself and over time she even met a man. It was the only man who had been
there for her when her house burned down. It was Hunter. It was a new Hunter.
Gone was the long, dyed black hair and metal tees with long sleeve fishnets.
Gone were the leather spiked wrist cuffs and giant boots. When she ran into him
at the grocery store, she didn’t recognize him. He went off to college. He came
home in a suit and tie. She had no idea he was a blonde with eyes as green as
emeralds.
They caught up over coffee and then dinner and then in the
bedroom. He went back to his job in the city. He was an advertising guy.
Pitching and creating. It was a good fit for him. They chatted on the phone
every day. He wanted her to move to the city. She could fight fires there. It
didn’t feel right to Georgia. They visited each other often but the relationship
became frayed. Georgia found a loose thread and pulled it until there was
nothing left. They loved each other deeply but distance became mountains and
there was not enough of an ocean in Georgia to move it.
Her heart was heavy, crushingly so. She felt it changing
back to stone as though her life was borrowed, on reprieve, out on bail and it
was time to return, to pay her dues to not avoid the inevitable. Her belly
swelled and she wondered if a good person would tell Hunter. Her stone heart
rested in place. Her belly kept it still, for now. It labored her to feel its
weight and each breath shocked her. She told Hunter. He rushed to see her. They
argued. He demanded she move. She demanded he stay. He accused her of trapping
him. She accused him of lying to her during heated moments. He blushed. She
sighed. He left. She thought it was for the best.
When the baby came everything shifted. Her face had changed,
her heart remained stone, but she felt stronger. Hunter came to the hospital.
They named him Forest. Georgia hurt. There were complications and she had to
stay in the hospital two weeks. When she got out Hunter and Georgia had their
final battle.
“You take him,” she said.
“What?”
“You live in the city, you have a better job. I work long
shifts and even worse schedules. I’m risking my life. He’s better with you,”
her heart wasn’t in these words. It had settled in her left foot. It was rock,
not even red this time. She felt there was no bringing it back.
“Come with us,” he pleaded. His eyes were begging,
desperately but Georgia’s eyes were inconclusive.
“No.”
Georgia left. With her stitches, her broken body, her stone façade
she ran with gusto. She ran until she bled, until she screamed, until everything caught up
with her. When she fell, when she stumbled, when she no longer had the
strength, she looked up at a full moon, at familiar trees, at the remains of a
house. She ran home. How could she not have realized everywhere she lived
was within 2 miles of home. They never did tear it down it just served as a warning to the other houses, to the neighborhood. She was in her backyard.
Children had done horrible things, weird rock formations graffiti, bible
quotes. Something that resembled voodoo. Georgia used the last of her strength
to stand up and reach towards her home but her legs went stiff her heart went
cold.
“Don’t be a chicken Billy.”
“I’m not a chicken I just don’t know why we’re doing this!”
“Bock bock bock bock bock.”
“Sammie, c’mon this is dumb. We’ve already been through the
creepy burnt down Miller house.”
“Yeah and you cried and covered your eyes the whole time,
Billy, like a little baby.”
“So?”
“So, you didn’t see what we saw.”
“Oh yeah? And what was that?”
“Go see for yourself.”
Billy ventured into the decayed home. Plant life had started
to reclaim it. Stairs lead to a half roof where birds and spiders had gathered.
He placed one foot on the stairs and it broke, trapping his foot. He screamed.
“What is it Billy? Too scared?” They yelled from outside
while laughing like jackals.
“I’m stuck assholes. If you don’t help me, our parents will
ask where I am!”
“Whatever, serves you right disturbing that house.” Billy’s
face went blank.
“What?”
“We never went in the house Billy. We just walked you around
the porch last time. Our parents taught us not to disrespect the dead.”
“Are you kidding me? What the heck is wrong with you? Why
would you force me to do this then?”
“To see if you would. Bye Billy, we’ll tell your mom where to
find you. You’re going to be in trouble.”
“You sons of bitches,” a phrase he heard his father use. “Get
in here and help me!”
The silence grew eerie.
“Guys… GUYS! SAMMIE.”
Panic rose up into Billy’s throat like vomit. He struggled
and squirmed and fought and the gashes on his left foot grew bigger. He pried
and scratched at the stairs until they gave way and he was free. He limped out
the back determined he could cut through the woods and avoid getting in trouble.
Sammie was going to pay for this. He’d get him in trouble at school. Just you
wait.
He never saw a statue in the yard before. They messed around
in the yard a lot because of the woods behind it but there was never a statue.
It was of a naked woman, taunt but round with hair flowing back, away from her
face and shoulders. She was reaching for the house and in her left hand was
what looked like a burnt match. Billy limped over, caressed the statue. He ran
his fingers over thighs and arms and when he touched the match he realized it
was a real match and it ignited. His eyes grew wide, his finger burned; he
looked the statue in the face for the first time. The eyes were real but gray,
they blinked and Billy grew stiff, his heart grew cold.
