A Rainstorm in November

I kept my footsteps below the mumble of the apple wasps. Mulch crawled up my bare legs as I passed another row in the orchard. After dodging a tree branch I suddenly became aware of steps behind me. “Brother Thames?”

“Oh! Emerson!” I said as I turned to meet his face. A stubby, freckled man looked back.

“What are you doing here? This isn’t your day.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re off,” Emerson said as he wrung his hands over his basket’s strap. It caused him to stupor, and yet his posture seemed suited for him. “You need to heal your leg.”

“Listen, don’t tell anyone about this.” A sharp taste pressed to my teeth as he got closer. Apples. I became aware of my own hunger.

“I can’t just catch you sneaking around and not tell anyone,” Emerson sighed and set down his basket. “And what the hell were you going to do with that lead?” I held up the leather lead in my hand, as if I’d forgotten it was there. 

“Please don’t tell anyone." Emerson cocked a brow. “Come on. I’ve been to Penitence twice this week.” The man drew his boots over the dirt in thought, turning up weeds and worms as he did. “I’ll help you with your chore!” To this, Emerson nodded slowly and picked up his basket. Silently I limped after him.

As we weighted the basket down, I observed Emerson. Every few paces he’d open his mouth to speak, then suddenly fold back his lips and make a ‘hmpf.’ The tilting of his head caused my heart to lurch. Then finally he spoke: “Thames, I know you’ve been talking about this.”

“About what?”

“You know! Leaving!”

“Emerson I’ve never said that!”

“You’re always pulling this! I remember I went to town just a week ago, and you were-“ I stood in my tracks. Emerson continued to break the red fruit off their stems, batting at fruit flies as he did. “It’s good we use sulfur now,” he continued as if the previous conversation hadn't happened. “Back when we used mercury we’d still get codling moths.”

“Yeah, but now we have to grow the trees so close together,” my mouth moved without my mind. My eyes dragged on, past the canopy, down along the edge of the river. Our commune sat under a few stalks of smoke. “I don’t like them so close.”

“But when we grow them close, they’re safe. We can keep off all those pests. Mites, curculio, codling moths.”

“They don’t grow right. Look how short these trees are. Plus, their fruit isn’t as good. They’re not reaching their full potential.”

“But they’re safe. That’s what matters.” Emerson peeled off an apple’s blemish. Then, without any counsel, he marched off towards the barn house which sat several rows away. It scarcely looked like a barn house, save for the red paint. The doorway shot straight through to the exit on the other side. A quartet of horses pulled against the walls on rope. 

“I think we’ve got enough, what do you say Brother?” Emerson didn’t wait for my response. He lifted the basket over his shoulder and emptied it into a metal canister in the corner of the barn. Once he finished he threw the basket down, which startled a chestnut mare. The energy she had sparked my interest, so much so that I moved towards her slowly. “How is your leg, anyways? I remember Sister Clemens telling me when you woke up. It was news. ‘Brother Thames woke up! He’s fine!’ She was in hysterics.”

While Emerson moved something around, I placed the lead around the mare’s neck. She held it taut, eyeing me with suspicion. I offered her a hand. She took to it slightly, still doubting what my intentions could be at the brink of sunset. 

“We’ll have a good harvest this season,” Emerson said as he came back around the canister. “Even if the storm tonight knocks down half the trees we’ll have too many apples to know what to do with.” I dropped my hands and shifted from the horse. 

“That’s good news Emerson.”

“Brother,” he added as he pressed a hand to his forehead, “No wonder you’re stuck going to Penitence.”

“Yeah, no wonder.” My eyes followed him to the edge of the barn, where he put a hand to the doorframe. The sun made haste to the horizon, as she does in fall. With her went any heat of the day. The warm tongue of a storm washed over our skin, so that when rain actually started to fall I scarcely noticed it. By the time it started, Emerson almost squatted. My leg started to throb.

“It’s beautiful from afar.” I couldn’t see the commune, but I already knew how it stood out against the black and green like a score of white scales on a snake’s back. In the swelling rain the fires must’ve retreated indoors. “That’s what makes you so damn hard to understand.”

“Emerson, it’s not like I don’t like it here, it’s just-“

“What? You want to go and see what’s going on? So you get to live a few years doing God knows what for God knows why. Then you die and because you didn’t stick with us your soul’s in eternal purgatory.” Emerson turned, snagging his skin against the splinters as he did. “Thames, I want you here for your own good.”

“I don’t want that.” Even I wasn’t exactly sure what I didn’t want.

“Of course you don’t. I don’t want that either,” his voice strained so that for a moment I thought he would cry. Instead he wiped below his red nose and stood away from the door. “Maybe you stay close to the commune on your days off. Talk to the Parent.”

He approached me like I was an estranged lamb. Arms extended, palms faced forward. A calm curled around me, and I nearly accepted his embrace. Then an epiphany jolted me awake. All at once I found my pride wounded and I stood up to my full height. “No! Don’t talk to me like that!” My voice strained to say more but I was barely able to say what I did. My chest filled with energy. I seized the lead of the mare and at once she sprung to life. 

“What’re you doing, Brother?!”

As much as I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t articulate it. Nerves stole the command of my tongue. I swung onto the back of the mare, to which she started forward. My leg screamed in complaint, as if I’d broken it all over. “I don’t hate you Emerson, but I’m sick of this.” The beast moved unnaturally under my weight, and with little warning she rushed towards the door. As she crashed against the rain she stuttered and lurched back. Bareback, her bones jabbed into mine. 

“Get back here! I’ll have to tell them! Get back here!”

Even if I wanted to go back, I couldn’t. The mare made sure of that. She crashed down into the mud and took off into a gallop. For once in my life I was grateful for the monotonous rows of trees as it gave us a straight shot away from the barn. The low branches still whipped at me as I passed. I urged the mare on, weaving aimlessly through the trees, making towards an open field.

In the rain the orchard held a putrid smell. Mud, dead moths, and rotting apples all mixed in the freezing air to press against my lungs. I almost made out the flavor of grass, but the rain stifled it. I dared a look backwards. Against the sheet of water, the barn was a fiery blurb. 

Somewhere a bell rang. 

The field before us fell flatly under the sky. As the tiled earth gave way to wild peat, the reeds lapped up against my thighs and encouraged me on. Underneath the blue grass, indentions of creek beds threatened to tear me from my horse. The bell kept ringing, past the rain and wind. A dog’s bark might’ve followed it.

I didn’t have control over her. I realized that as I tried moving against the lead. I seized her mane, which she paid little attention to, and let her run. The further we got the deeper the field sank, until the growth reached my belly. Wind took the place of the rain so that the air became a hard-blown fog.

She stumbled over a line of barbed wire and descended into a trot. It could’ve been five minutes or fifty. I looked around in the rolls of grass and found no indicator of direction. Only, very distantly, did I hear a dog’s bark. 

We came to the foot of a hill. Along the edge of the horizon, a forest started. We paused and I dismounted. Rolled, rather. My leg throbbed from the soles of my feet up into the marrow of my bone. Every few steps I stopped to take pressure off of it. 

At some point I let the mare’s lead drag along. She barely moved a foot ahead of me. We both stopped at the forehead of the hill- she took to the fresh grass and I collapsed into the mud. My leg yowled like someone was twisting its ends. I gave a good punch to my upper leg and surrendered to stare at the sky.

No sun lit up the storm clouds. My eyes trailed back, past the field, to the orchard. I could almost make it out as the edge of the horizon. The commune, too, became a strip of color. I settled myself and gripped the turf. Dew weighed down grass blades and dormant insects awoke. The fog began to dissipate into the young night. A frog bellow sounded from below me and the mare started to trail away. I let her.

I rested my head back onto the ground and shut my eyes. Somewhere, a dog’s bark got louder.