Clown Ivy

​Ansel was an introvert who gave birth to an extrovert. Her son was Teddy Glenn, unquestionably the most popular person in town. He had owned a record store that regularly hosted local musicians. Many untalented groups performed at “Teddy’s Tunes” and even a few talented ones, but no matter the caliber of music, of persons playing, or the size of the crowd, Teddy would heap praise. His door was open for everyone. And he would talk to anyone, would lend a sum of money to a stranger without questions. His mood was constantly bright and infectious- but now he was dead, killed by a rare poor decision.

  What angered Ansel most was the nature of his ending. He was beyond that age, she thought, where one smashed drunkenly into a tree and kills himself. She got to see the car— it was turned into a pitch fork. The pine wasn’t injured beyond a few smashed bark plates. That damn tree, she had to see it everyday, or at least pass it, because Ray Road was her only route to work. She avoided looking directly at it, but it was hard to keep it out of the peripheries due to the circus that was wrapped around the evergreen conifer. It stood right at the bend of Ray Road, and cars were slowing at that bend now to get a look at the display of flowers surrounding the tree.

​Her son’s popularity became a great nuisance for her once he was killed. He had a lot of friends, but they weren’t her friends. For a while it was a daily burden. At the grocery store heads would bow, arms would wrap her in hugs, and tears would wet the eyes of strangers showing their grief for her loss. Perhaps their loss too, but if so, keep it to your damn self, she thought. After almost two months this was still happening, this excessive display of mourning, and she had become prone to barking short, cold replies.

“Alright! Are you going to offer me your apologies for a century?” She said to a group of ratty looking musicians in line at the grocery store. The young clerk, who dressed in leatherpants and a boys t-shirt, said,

“You know, Teddy was down with everybody, that means a ton of people are still hurting...and I think—“ No one saw it coming, because it was a perfect move.  Ansel controlled her purse like a dungeon master does the whip. There was also a can of soda in her purse, which surely supplied the knock-out. To add to the violence, she also followed back with another blow to the other side of his head. The clerk went down in an awkward fashion, his leather pants seemed to delay his fall by a few seconds. There was a great inflexibility around the knees and this caused him to stumble and nick his head on the counter, supplying an extension to his unconsciousness.

​The manager made his way over to the scene. His pace was calm, slow even, considering what he’d been told about the incident, and where things lay. Ansel was by the side of the young man on the floor. The manager said, “It’s always something with this guy,” then he bent down and waived a small pepper stick in front the young man’s nose. “Just head out, Mrs. Glenn. You don’t need to deal with this type of thing right now.”

​“I forgot about the drink in my bag.” 

​“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he wasn’t even looking at his employee on the ground. “Here, lets put those groceries on the house.”

She’d never knocked a man out before, and she herself was in a daze as she floated out of the store to her car. Before she could put the car in gear, the manger came running out, holding a bouquet of flowers.

​“He’s back on his feet, and he wanted you to have these. For the memory of your son.” She thought about charging back inside the store and giving that little punk-rocker the one-two again. Instead she smashed them and then began grinding the bouquet on the dashboard, yellows and pinks were left behind on the rubber. She floored it out of the parking lot. When she got to the bend of Ray Roadshe drifted over the other lane and slammed on the breaks on the gravel shoulder. Ansel got out and furiously tore the flowers from the tree, kicking the ones that surrounded the trunk at the ground. Her palm was sliced open by a piece of windshield still lodged in the bark from the accident. There were vinyl records too, and she started chucking those like frisbees across the street.There was a teddy bear on the lowest branch and she tried to pull its head off. She thought about burning it down, the whole scene, but she settled for picking up a card with a woman’s lipstick kisses all over it and shredding it up. She  scattered the blood stained litter above her head and got back in her car.

​ The sun was almost down as she drove home. There were headlights behind her dimly switching on and off, flagging her, but she didn’t care- didn’t care if her trunk was on fire; she wasn’t in the mood. Finally, the honking started. That didn’t do much. Then the driver pulled up next to her. It was the grocery clerk.

​“Hey! Can I just say…. Fuck you!” He struggled with the wheel and aligned himself again, “and I didn’t send you those flowers lady. I’ll be takin your ass to court.”

​“So you would take Teddy’s mom to court?” Yelled Ansel. She noticed his mouth start to quiver like a hurt child’s, unknowingly she took her foot off the gas and he sped past her. 

​On her way to work the next day, there were cars parked along the bend of Ray Road. People were getting out with both arms full of bouquets, some ribbons, and teddy bears. Ansel wanted to speed by but a young woman was crossing the road and she had no choice but to stop. The young woman recognized her and ran over to the window. 

​ “Don’t worry Mrs. Glenn,” she said, “We are gonna fix this. Some jerk shredded everything to bits. But you know, we got Teddy’s back.”

​ “It was me,” said Ansel. “Enough with the goddamn flowers.” She sped away from the freak show, feeling righteous.

​Spring was in bloom, and she took the brief pleasure of breathing it in through her open window, a tiny intermission from her sorrow. Only when she made the return drive, she saw that there were so many flowers pinned to the bark now, it had become grotesque. It looked like an invasive species. She said aloud “Clown Ivy, brought to you by clowns.” There was a moment when she thought vomit was coming, but she overcame and made it home.

​On her couch was a gift basket wrapped in plastic. She punctured it for the wine bottle. After one glass her mind went to the image of that tree being suffocated with flowers. Those would have to go away at some point, but was there always going to be an emblem there on the trunk reminding her that her son had smashed into something and destroyed himself? Would he forever be a totem? 

​To herself she said, “Nope.” Teddy’s chainsaw was in her garage. She’d almost finished the bottle of wine, and the idea was shinning brighter and brighter.

​The sky was night-blue, the air was cool and comfortable, and the chain-saw started without much of a sweat. Ansel had scraped away a section of clown ivy low on the trunk to make her cut. It went stop-and-go for a while, but she’d made her diagonal slices in the right spots, and the tree finally fell, away from Ray Road

​A cop car came from both sides of the bend, they were answering a complaint of noise pollution. Their sirens washed the jagged stump and the surrounding flowers blue and red. Ansel had just put the chainsaw back in the trunk, the officers were being calm and understanding with her.

“Sorry for your loss,” said one of them. It seemed as if they were tip-toeing around the arrest.

Then the sound of an engine farting in the distance was heard, and quick little chirps of tires on the asphalt. “Get to the gravel,” an officer said. It was a wise command. The car came to the bend and lost the road. It flipped, rolling right over the stump, and landing upright. 

​The driver got out, panting, shaking both hands with rapidity. It was the grocery clerk.

Ansel recognized that skinny frame and could hear his leather pants. She ran to hug him, to make amends, to celebrate his survival!

“Hey,” she said, “Looks like I cut it down just in time. You would have killed yourself!” She started jogging towards the young man, with her arms spread open. “Please, let me check you out, let me give you a hug, please! I’m sorry!”

 The clerk stepped backwards, and tripped over the fallen tree. He got back on his feet and bolted into the darkness. 

​When Ansel got out of jail, she went back to work, untroubled by flowers and memorials.

​