Sadly, my visitations petered out and then ceased. I’m not sure why. I felt no less miserable. Seemed that Root was sensitive to and repelled by even the smallest traces of hope, though any upticks in my optimism were imperceptible to me. Hints of Root still came to me in dreams, to remind me it was there, waiting.
Mom was forced to take a job. That put an end to my home schooling, thank God. I was already eighteen. I could read and write well enough to teach myself anything, or so I believed.
So I went out to Indian River State College and tested for my GED. I was shocked by how simple the questions were. I could have passed it when I was twelve.
Mom found a position in our local satellite branch of the Ft. Pierce public library. But her pay was poor and our finances were shaky enough that I needed to find a way to make some money, too.
I tried the fast food route first, but nobody was hiring. With the economy the way it was, the Burger King was staffed pretty much with all middle-aged folks. One guy flipping burgers even had a PhD.
Plan B was to try my hand at freelance yard work. So I took a Sharpie and made up a bunch of posters with ‘Moody Landscaping’ in big letters and my phone number pre-torn in strips along the bottom. I plastered them across any surface that would accept scotch tape or staples within a ten mile radius of the house. I offered lawn mowing, tree removal, bulb planting—anything involving dirt and plants. I wondered if Uncle Ed got his start this way.
And it worked. I started getting calls, dribs and drabs at first, but I was a hard and careful worker—and cheap—so word of mouth spread. Mom even let me take the ‘shrine’—dad’s pickup—to jobs, though she wouldn’t let me drive it anywhere else. I kept the bed loaded up with every garden tool that we owned, a gas can and a case of SAE 30 oil.
I ran into problems right away with one of the so-called ‘professional’ services because my rates severely undercut them. Their laborers couldn’t care less, but one of the managers got his hackles raised when he saw me operating on his turf. One guy came up to me and told me it was illegal to be operating without insurance.
I told him, I didn’t give a damn, to go ahead and sic the insurance police on me. But nothing ever happened. I’m sure he bad-mouthed me to my customers. Sometimes I wouldn’t get repeat business, but often I did.
I have to say that despite my lack of experience or training. I got pretty good at this gardening/landscaping thing. I had good instincts for what a hibiscus bush needed to stay green and bloom. Mom found it ironic because our own yard was the seediest looking one on the block.
I ran into Ft. Pierce high-schoolers now and then, particularly in the late afternoons when they were coming back from school. I tended to duck the ones who knew me, even Burke. I was serious about wanting to retreat from the human race.
The stickiest encounter happened in a yard belonging to the family of Marianne Barker—Jenny’s best friend. And it was too bad. They were one of my best customers. They gave me all kind of work and tipped above my asking price.
Marianne cornered me when I was digging a deep hole for a juniper. She was one of those girls who were like supermodels trapped in a fat girl’s flesh. She could be drop dead gorgeous if she could only lose twenty pounds. Even as she was, she was pretty intriguing, to those who remained capable of being intrigued, anyhow.
So … we chatted. And it was awkward. She would talk and I would grunt. She had me in a hole—a captive audience. And that’s how I learned about Jenny’s short-lived ‘romance’ with Jared, and the whole vengeance and retribution angle behind it.
But by that time, it didn’t matter to me anymore. My social pathology had advanced too far. I had become a sociopath, a misanthrope, a misogynist and a miserable excuse for a human being. I wanted nothing to do with people. I was no threat to society, only to myself. I didn’t want to hurt anybody; I just wanted to be left alone.
I pined for Root. But the ironic thing was, my pining was probably the thing that kept Root away. The little shred of hope that Root provided me was its own deterrent.
Being around plants was the only thing that kept me semi-sane. The nice thing about plants was that their desires were consistent and predictable. All they wanted was a little fertilizer and water and light, and some protection from bugs. Their needs never wavered. They never changed their minds. And they showed you immediately what was wrong in the tone and color of their leaves, and in the rate of their growth. And they were good listeners to boot.
It took more than a single brush-off to shake Marianne. She cornered me again when I came to do her yard and the dang lawnmower wouldn’t start. She caught me in the shade of the driveway, parts scattered across the concrete as I tried to clean a gunked up air filter.
She hovered in the shade of her garage, needling me with this half-smirk, half-smile that was hard to ignore.
“She still mentions you, you know.”
“Well, tell her to get a life. We hardly knew each other.”
I felt behind me for a bolt I had dropped. She squatted down and handed it to me.
“Oh come on, James. Everyone knows you still like her.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “I don’t like anybody. Not even myself.”
“I don’t believe that one bit.”
“Why do you care? I mean, really. I’m just the kid who mows your lawn.”
“I’m a fixer,” she says. “I see broken things … people … I want to fix them. I used to rescue worms stranded on sidewalks after a rain. Still do.”
“I ain’t broke. Don’t need any fixing.”
A smirk overpowered her smile. “You looking at colleges?”
I huffed. “Why should I?”
“You’re smart, James. Smarter than most of the kids at school.”
“Mom can’t afford to pay for college. We can’t even manage our water bill.”
“So? You don’t need to worry about money. I’m sure you would qualify for financial aid.”
“Yeah, right. Like they’re just gonna give me money to go to school.”
“Well, yeah. That’s how it works.”
I peeled a layer of dried grass bits from the spongy filter.
“I don’t believe in organized education. The University of Florida isn’t gonna teach anything I can’t learn on my own.”
“Maybe not. But Duke might, or Princeton or Yale. You’re too smart to be digging ditches.”
“What do you care what I do, Marianne? I mean, really?”
And she just blinked and looked at me as if the answer should be obvious. I had become so obtuse and internalized that I had no idea some other girl could possibly like me.
“Now fuck off and leave me alone.” I stuck the air filter back in place and screwed the cover back on.
She went back inside her house, and I went back inside my head.
