Where the Sunflowers Grow
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman

-8-

Fight or Flight

I took a deep breath and peered across the table at my cousin. Who seemed more focused on her plate of fried catfish and okra than looking at me. Finally she noticed me and then without thinking she eased her piece of fried fish down and looked at me.

“Something on your mind?” Mary Grace said as she peered at me.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of research and a lot of soul searching and well I need answers that books can't give me.” I said looking down at my plate. “I need answers only somebody who's known me for my whole life can give me.”

Mary Grace blinked and then leaned back and then fixed her eyes upon me.

“Okay.” She said as she pushed her plate to the side and folded her hands in front of me. “I can tell by your tone of voice that something is really bothering you. Like, you've been off for the whole shift. Listen, I'm not a therapist or a psychologist. If something is really bothering you, you need to see one of the two down at the Madison-Yazoo Clinic on main street or go to the Yazoo-Warren Mental Health Hospital down in Yazoo City.”

“I'm not going to a goddamn shrink. I'll tie a noose around my neck and jump off a stool in the backroom before I go see one of those. All those people do is give you some pills to take and charge you an arm and a leg.” I muttered.

“James..” Mary Grace said. “That's not funny..”

“Do you see me laughing or smiling?” I paused as I peered toward Mary Grace.

“No..” She said swallowing hard. “But listen, you don't need to joke about that kind of stuff. I mean it, joking about suicide is just wrong.”

“Listen..” I said, taking a deep breath. “If I was going to fucking kill myself. Nobody would know a goddamn thing about it. I would just walk into the stock room after closing, tie a cord of rope around the rafters and tie a noose at the end and then slip the noose over my neck, and then climb up the old wooden stool we keep to reach things from the top shelve and then knock myself off. Or I would just walk out to the old iron bridge that spans the Big Black River, climb over the railing and jump into the foaming waters below. Or get dad's old shotgun, load it with buckshot, tell him I'm going hunting and then go out into the woods. Put the barrel in my mouth and squeeze the trigger.”

“...” Mary Grace paled a little. “This is not a normal conversation..”

“No, and we've gotten off topic.” I said pausing.

“Agreed.” Mary Grace looked at me again. “So what did you want to ask me?”

“We've been friends for basically forever right?” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Well, we're cousins, and we only live a few blocks from each other. We've been going to the same school since kindergarten. We've been working here since we were both old enough to carry a plate. So I guess you could count that as being friends.” Mary Grace said, forcing a laugh.

I paused. I could sense a subtle change in her tone of voice. As if she was unsure where this conversation was headed. I guess I did kind of derail the conversation a few moments ago with my causal mention of suicide had really shaken her to her core.

“When I was little. Did I ever give off any suggestions that I might have been transgender?” I asked.

Mary Grace, who had picked up a piece of okra to eat, dropped it. Her eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of her head.

“.. James..” She said, taking a deep breath. “Honestly, you did some weird things.. like how you always seemed to want to play that dumb game of 'House' like you were always willing to be the 'daughter' when we did.. which was weird because most boys your age like to play 'Solider' or something. And then you always wanted to have tea with my little plastic tea playset.. and you really liked it when we played dress-up..”

“I figured.” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Hey!” Mary Grace said, taking a deep breath. “Don't sweat that stuff. Okay?”

I stood up and took a deep breath.

“What else do you remember?” I said as I peered toward her.

“Just bits and pieces, like how you liked to play with my barbie dolls.. how one time my dad caught me and dressed you in one of my skirts because you wanted to see how it felt to wear a skirt... I think he gave you a few good licks with his leather belt for that and said after that we were not allowed to play together..” Mary Grace paused.

I took a deep breath and pushed my chair under the table.

“Hey!” She paused. “Hey! James..what's wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said walking away from the table.

“DON'T SAY THAT!” She hollered across the now mostly empty dining room.

“I SAID NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME.” I hollered back, I then paused when I saw the hurt in her eyes and saw how her lip quivered and her eyes seemed to shimmer with unshed tears. “Sorry I did not mean to snap at you.”

“YOU'RE A BASTARD YOU KNOW THAT!” She outed back at me.
The insult stung and I flinched.

“Sorry..” She whispered a little as she moved toward me. “It's just you’re scaring me..” She paused and reached out to touch my arm. “You're the only cousin I'm close to. And you just casually mentioned killing yourself like we were talking about sports or if the fish are biting.. and now you're just getting up and walking away like nothing is wrong. Something is wrong James Alexander Potter..”

“Don't call me that..” I said, taking a deep breath. For some reason that name bothered me right now. It was like Mary Grace had taken the salt shaker from the table and picked it up, unscrewed the top and poured all the salt right into the open wound she had created by calling me a “Bastard” earlier in the conversation.

“... You're not making any sense.. you're just not!” Mary Grace called out. “THAT YOUR NAME YOU DUMB ASS!” She hollered back. “IT'S WHAT YOUR MOM AND DAD NAMED YOU!” Her voice echoed across the dining room. She even slapped the table with her open palm.

“IT IS NOT MY NAME!” I yelled back. I could not explain why my temper seemed to be rising right now. But right now the only thing I wanted to do was get away from everything and every one. I wanted to escape right now. To leave, to break away, to run away. However you put it, I wanted to leave this life behind me. To go somewhere I could start over. And with that I started toward the door.

“Just where do you think you're going?” Called out Sarah Elizabeth as she entered the dining room.

“SOMEWHERE BESIDE HERE.” I shouted my vocal cords were getting raw from all the shouting I was doing. “Also I want my wages..” I said.

“Pardon me?” Sarah Elizabeth said as she leaned in.

“I said, 'I want my wages' are you hard of hearing or just dumb?” I snapped back.

Sarah Elizabeth turned a bright red. She then marched over to the cash register, pushed a button and then yanked out a handful of bills. She then marched well, more like stomping toward me and then pushed the collection of bills toward me.

“Take it and get the fuck out.” She said as she pointed toward the door. “And don't you ever come back! I don't need somebody like you on staff. And I don't need somebody like you as my cousin.”

“...” I paused.

“What? I said you're fired. Fired and disowned, now get out before I call the police to have you removed.. Nobody talks to my little sister like that. I don't know what got into you James Alexander Potter. But until you drop the fucking attitude and apologies to my little sister I don't want anything to do with you.”

“Fine I started toward the door and I was just about to hit it when I noticed out of the corner of my eye May Grace rushing toward me.

“No.” Sarah Elizabeth said in a firm tone of voice as she wrapped her arms around her sister.

“No!” She said again. “Let him go Mary Grace, let him go, he's not worth our time.. he nothing but a fucking bastard anyway. A disgrace to the Potter name. Well, go on, get out, and don't let the door hit you where the dog should have bitten you!”

“With family like y'all.” I said “Who needs enemies?”

And with that stepped into the night. I quickly walked behind the building, pulled out an old bike, the tire on the bike was still good and it still had training wheels on it, which was good because I never really learned how to ride a bike. Quickly I pushed the bike onto the road and I started to peddle toward home. I knew there would be hell to pay when I got home.

End of Chapter Eight