Death Among Trees by C. L. Hodge (ereader for textbooks txt) 📕

Eduardo and Catarina sat on the bleachers with William in between them. Carolyn could not make the ceremony as she was attending her own graduation at Tennessee Valley Technical College a week later. William and Rocco would ride along with the Flores’ to join in their family’s success on the nine-hour SUV trip to the Volunteer State.

Doris blew William a kiss from the twenty-yard line. She no longer made change from hundred dollar bills at the Piggly Wiggly, for William had taught her how to take pictures. When William worked himself into the job as Editor in Chief at the local newspaper, he decided to hire his apprentice. He would also be marrying her in September, a week before Rocco would be moving into a mobile home with Alicia Albright.

William held the commencement program in his hands in reluctance as he read the numerous accolades his son had accomplished leading up to this day. Among them was that Rocco had been president of the Future Farmers of America during his senior year. His fellow comrades held him in high esteem as he rose to the rank of Cadet Colonel in the ROTC. He held top honors in his Automobile Mechanic class and worked part time at R&R Engine Works after Stephen Bawer left the motel when he inherited his father’s garage business.

Alicia withdrew from tenth grade when the pediatrician explained to her how she had gotten pregnant while on birth control pills. After graduation, Rocco would prepare to spend most of his time at the garage to support his courthouse bride and incoming daughter. The trailer they would move into had been Alicia’s stepfather’s. He and Rocco had already spent a lump of time together getting it ready for the September housewarming when his baby girl was to be expected. Rocco altered the structure so the interior walls could hold his head collection of deer he had procured from the hobby at which he proved to be an expert marksman. The only thing left to craft was a conversion of a shed that would be added onto the mobile home as a nursery.

After the blue caps had been thrown toward the stars and the gowns had been cast aside, Rocco walked over to his father. “Hey, dad.” His glazed eyes and swaying posture told William what his son had been up to before the ceremony. “I, um, hey. Don’t wait up tonight, okay. It’s gonna be a late one.”

“I planned for it, buddy. It’s pizza and Di Nero night down at the abode.” William feigned interest.

“Cool. Uh, tell Doris I said thanks for tonight.”

“Thanks?” William shuffled in curiosity then glanced at the shine of the cap on the flask inside Rocco’s overnight bag.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see her photos.” Rocco tapped his father’s shoulder then turned to join the other farmers of the future in the camouflaged Dodge Ram.

William paced inside Rocco’s bedroom after the somber drive home. It was the first time he had been inside those four walls in over a month. Packed boxes were stacked along a wall with words marked on them. Their contents had been designated for their future habitations. Inside the one Rocco had written off as dumpster contained all of his son’s manuscripts, the last of which had been written two years before he decided to trade his pens for guns when he was twelve. Rocco had pawned his record player not too long after that to help fund his first deer for the taxidermist. After hearing about what Rocco had done, William bought it back from the shop and kept it for himself, hoping that Rocco would one day regret his decision, and he would be able to give it back to his son in surprise. Inside the box marked dad entombed Rocco’s collection of Wagner and Rachmaninoff albums and Joni Mitchell, holding a cigarette, glowered at William from the top of the heap.

William sunk into Rocco’s bed with his head surrounded by flattened and exhausted pillows. Joni helped him hold back his tears as “Both Sides Now” skipped underneath the dust caked needle while he closed his eyes and drifted toward the miracle-boulder just yards from the beaver dam.

Rocco colored on his canvas until the easel dissolved into the depths of the swamp below it.

“And it was good.”

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Text: C. L. Hodge
Publication Date: 07-25-2016

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