Petrichor

Pop had a large smile. He was a large man after all with thick arms and callous hands. The other electricians called him “Big Tex.” He wasn’t from Texas though, but that didn’t matter. He was big, and that was enough. His eyes were not smiling now. They were staring through me—waiting impatiently. 

Pop cleared his voice after a moment. “Look at her when you are talking.”

He pressed his callous fingers into the crevice of my neck, forcing me to look at the cabin. The roof was covered in moss. The wood looked rotten; dark patches covered most of the logs. If Pop had leaned against it, I was sure it would crumble under his weight. A small sign above a service window read Check-In. It was the only thing that looked new. Behind the service window was a small woman in green. Her sun-spotted hands were covering her eyes from the light that was peeking in.

I could feel Pop hovering over me. He was waiting for me to respond, but what was I supposed to say to “no”? I know what Pop would say. “We paid for a cabin, so give us a cabin!” He would add a “goddammit” for good measure. It was the cherry on top of his it’s my way or the highway attitude. I was not like Pop though. I wasn’t big like him; My hands couldn’t palm a lineman’s plier; I couldn’t make people belly laugh at the drop of a dime; I was quiet—Pop was loud.

It had been too long. I had to say something now—I blurted out, “w-w-what?”

I heard Pop’s deep sigh. It was one of those sounds that meant “you’re doing this again.” He thought it was something I’d grow out of, but when I didn’t, he decided it was because of a lack of confidence. Pop would say, “education is good and all, but these…” he would raise his hands for me to see, “will make you confident, and even doctors and pilots don’t know how to wire a house.”

I felt Pop move me aside. I knew I should have said something better than “what?” It was my job to check us in. Pop would tell me it was the only way for me to get better. He made me pay the cashiers every day at lunch, I also had to call the supply house for each job, and he even had me talk to the clients once in a while. But when I stumbled, and I always seemed to stumble, Pop would step in.

“Look, I rented a cabin at Eagle Point—see here?” Pop pulled out a folded piece of paper from his Carhart jacket and carefully unfolded it. He pointed at the line that read paid in full.

She wasn’t looking at the paper though. She was looking right at me. I could see her eyes. They were grey with specs of yellow. The pupils were dilated wide. I felt my neck stiffen, and my blood pumping. Something deep inside me was telling me this was not right. I needed to run. I needed to get as far away from this place as I could, but what would I tell Pop? That the woman in green looked at me. She made me feel weird. No, I couldn’t do that. So, I stood there transfixed, unable to move, like a man on a wire.

The woman leaned forward. I could smell her breath oozing out of her open mouth. It was nauseating.

“You can’t be going up that mountain.” There was something in her words. The way she enunciated “moun-tain.” It was like she was chewing on something bitter.

I heard Pop pushing his finger repeatedly into the paper. It was crumpling into itself.

“Look,” he demanded.

I wanted to tell Pop, “who cares about your piece of paper? Did you not hear her? We can’t go!” but my voice was lost. The moisture was gone, and my tongue lay lifeless at the back of my throat.

“I paid for a cabin, and I’m going to get a cabin,” Pop continued.

The little green woman wasn’t little anymore. She was almost at eye level with me. It felt like she could see me—all of me. I desperately wanted to look away. I wanted to look at my boots, the way the laces wrap around each other, but my eyes would not obey.

“Goddammit!” Pop slammed the piece of paper down so hard I felt the cabin shake.

She blinked, and that was it. There was nothing strange about her anymore. There were no yellow specks in her eyes. The pupils were not dilated. She was just an old little woman in a cabin.

“Yes… Eagles Peak,” she said slowly and then waddled out of view.

I had to tell Pop about the woman’s eyes. How they were too big for her head. That there was something very wrong with this place, but what could I say that didn't make me sound crazy—Maybe I was?

“P-Pop?” I asked when I knew she was out of earshot.

Pop grunted at me. I knew that meant he was mad. He only grunted when he wanted to say something but didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Before I could figure out what to say to Pop, the woman in green was back and holding out a small brass key.

“Take the key and thank the woman,” Pop told me.

It didn't matter if I took the key. I told myself. We could still leave, so I reached forward and grabbed it. The woman smiled at me; it was a strange smile.

“T-T-Thank you,” I managed to say.

“Please, don’t thank me,” her voice was low and sad. She wasn’t smiling. I could see that now. It looked more like invisible wires were attached to her face pulling her mouth up. It was a miserable sight.

I lurched back and felt Pop grab me by the shoulders.

“Whoa, steady now.” Pop forced a half laugh.

I wanted to run, to hop in the truck, and drive and keep driving until the mountain was a speck in the rearview mirror, but Pop had me, and there was nowhere for me to go.

He took a deep breath and then crouched down to look at me.

“Look,” his voice was soft. “I know this stuff can be hard for you, but you have to do it even when it's hard. People don't care if it's hard. They just don't.”

He paused for some time. His skin was damp from sweat. There was a slight breeze coming through the pine trees, and the sun was beginning to set.

He stood up and said in his matter-of-fact way, “it will get better. It will.”