Acre Under a Green Sky

I had nearly reached the traffic circle leading to Route 19 when my father's red Ford pulled off the road and onto the shoulder directly in front of me. He reached across and opened the passenger-side door. Then he sat erect behind the wheel. The message was clear –– I could get in the car or not.

I got into the car, and my father pulled out onto Washington Avenue before my door had swung fully closed. He didn't say a word.

I turned away from my father to look out the open window. I watched the shoulder of Route 19 whiz past imagining myself standing out there bent over a purple wildflower with a bee burying itself into the folds of its petals. I imagined myself being that bee. I imagined myself finding interesting stones there along the way. I imagined myself finding a Gimbel's shopping bag with a baby inside. I imagined myself being that baby.

We were nearing the turnoff into Waterstop when my father said something I could not hear. I turned away from the window and looked at him.

"So you want to live with Luka, do you?" he said.

"No," I said, turning back to the window.

"Oh, so now you're mad at Luka, too?"

"No."

"You're just mad at everyone, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, so am I."

I was hoping that was the end of it, but it wasn't. After a time, he said, "I like your anger. I always have."

I looked back at him. He wasn't looking for a response. I'm not even sure he wanted me to hear what he said, but I'll never forget those words. I was surprised that he liked anything about me.