The Blotting

Tammy's blank, featureless gaze perfectly matched the slip of paper before her. She stared at the whiteness and held the stubby number two pencil loosely as she considered a name to write down, a name that could be blotted from the town forever.

Behind her, a long line of murmuring, gossiping townsfolk shifted around uneasily. The small voting booth, with its thick cotton curtain, felt stifling and cramped. She had spent several weeks pondering who she would vote for, and a few times she had even felt good about her selection, but this was her first time voting for the Blotting, which meant it was also the first time she would be an eligible candidate.

She heard someone in a neighboring booth set down their pencil and slide back the curtain. She was taking too long. She weighed the candidates in her mind, but found that one name kept returning like a buzzing fly. Winifred Mendez. Winifred was old and homeless. Or, at least, Tammy assumed Winifred was old. The wrinkles on her weathered face were always caked with grime. Her matted hair was so full of car exhaust it was impossible to tell what color the woman's locks were supposed to be.

Someone else set down a pencil and exited their booth. Quickly, Tammy scribbled down Winifred's name, dropped the slip in the ballot box, set down her pencil, and clumsily walked through the thick curtain. Barbara, one of Tammy's long-time neighbors and her old grade school teacher, smiled and danced around her to enter the newly vacated booth. Barbara was always proud to see her old students growing up, getting jobs, and drifting around the inescapable black hole of their community.

Tammy's heart was thumping in overdrive as she left, spilling out into the bright springtime sun, freshly cut grass, and clumps of chattering housewives.

"I don't care who they pick as long as I can get some good deals at the estate sale afterwards," one of the women quipped.

Tammy was appalled at her flippant, selfish tone and found herself staring at her as though seeing a stranger for the first time.

A shrill voice piped up. "Oh! Tammy! This is your first year voting, right? How was it?"

Tammy searched the small circle for the new speaker and found her former high school teacher, Mrs. Farris. Tammy grinned through pursed lips. "Stressful," she said.

The women clucked and laughed. "It's a big responsibility. The Blotting is a serious community tradition." Mrs. Farris, for her part, seemed to be handling herself with an appropriate level of respect and solemnity.

Tammy let a small sigh of relief escape and her chest deflated a little.

The dismissive woman scoffed and Tammy realized she recognized her as one of the clerks at the grocery store. "You're just scared we'll all vote for you," she jeered.

Tammy winced, then shrugged. "Yeah, well I'm pretty happy with my life."

The women chuckled politely, though some more nervously than others.

Mr. Farris came out of the community center, squinting as he put on a pair of sunglasses. "Alright honey, let's go."

"Who'd you vote for?" Mrs. Farris asked, prancing quickly after her husband in her high heels and tight pencil skirt.

"I'm not saying," he replied, ducking into their car and slamming the door shut.

"You voted for me again, didn't you!" Her door slammed even harder than his and Tammy grimaced at the thought of riding along for the drive home.

Like most children in her town, Tammy had always felt a certain amount of morbid curiosity about the Blotting. Most of the ritual had been maddeningly transparent to her. All the adults in town voted and someone was chosen. The individual who got the most votes became "the nameless one" for a time, and on Blotting day the adults would attend a ceremony, then never speak of it or the nameless one again.

Only once, Tammy had known the man selected for blotting. He was the former mayor and a well known drunkard. After he was selected for blotting, Tammy never saw him again, never heard adults complaining about his drunken antics, and when she asked about him people got serious or angry with her. So she learned not to ask.

Now that she had cast her vote she desperately wanted to ask questions, but the taboo nature of the town's tradition was powerful. As she walked home, Tammy wondered if she had made a mistake. She wondered if perhaps Winifred Mendez would be missed after all. Surely she had a family somewhere. There had to be someone who loved her, someone who would mourn her.

Tammy skipped dinner, saying she wasn't hungry. She ignored her father knocking on her door and fell asleep on a wet pillow soaked in quiet tears.

***

Two weeks later, on Blotting day, Tammy and her parents dressed in their best clothes. Tammy donned the dress she'd worn to her cousin's wedding, and her mother fussed over every stray strand of hair while father struggled with his tie.

The late spring air was heavy with moisture and heat, so they drove the two blocks to the community center and joined a steady stream of citizens funneling in through the doors. To Tammy, the atmosphere inside the vast community hall was just like a funeral. Instead of brilliant bouquets, the women wore colorful dresses. Instead of tears, faces were adorned with guilt and clenched jaws. Instead of sobbing, a hushed rumor mill churned and rumbled.

"Did you hear who it was?"

"I heard it was that homeless woman. I'll be glad to be rid of her stench!"

"She was a bloody eyesore, a blight on our beautiful town. Serves her right to be blotted out."

"Good riddance."

"She certainly won't be missed."

Tammy's heart sank. She felt her hands shaking and grabbed her ribcage, clutching her torso in a shameful attempt to relieve and soothe herself. The din of the crowd with all of their darting eyes and flapping tongues closed in around her until she focused on her father's shiny black shoes and followed him blindly as he wove and ducked through the masses.

Eventually she found herself sidestepping into a row of seats. Before sitting, she glanced up at the front of the room where a small podium stood alone on a short stage. She sat, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

Soon speakers popped and clacked and someone tapped the microphone at the podium. All the air in Tammy's lungs evacuated at once and she felt dizzy. The mayor, who she knew only by his first name, Michael, cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the hundred and thirty second annual Blotting ceremony." His voice was somber.

Tammy felt sick.

The mayor looked over his shoulder. "Send out the nameless one," he said.

Tammy's stomach knotted and churned. It made a noise that caused her father to glance down at her. She winced and patted it, hoping he wouldn't say anything.

Up on the stage, a woman in a plain brown robe wandered over to the mayor's side, taking short, shuffling steps. Her head hung low, with long blond hair flowing over her shoulders like molten gold. Tammy leaned to the side, peering between two bald heads to get a better look. The woman was clean and beautiful, her face fresh and alive with rosy color and bright eyes. Though she looked down at her feet, Tammy could tell the woman's countenance was stunning. Winifred, now nameless, hadn't been an old woman at all. This lovely girl had to be in her mid to late twenties.

"As you all know," the mayor continued, "today the nameless one will die."

A violent pang stabbed through Tammy's heart, a lightning bolt of guilt and shock with prickly tendrils of horror spreading out through the rest of her body.

A morose murmur rippled through the rows of townsfolk, a collective sigh of condemnation.

The mayor looked around expectantly. "Will someone dim the lights?"

There was a quiet scuffle in the back of the room and the lights softened until Tammy could barely make out the mayor's silhouette.

"On your knees," the mayor said gravely.

The hollow stage thumped twice as the nameless woman complied. Tammy couldn't bear to watch. Even in the dim light, she was terrified that she'd see something. She wanted to shut her ears. Her legs were screaming to run, twitching and trembling to escape.

Nobody was breathing. Every muscle was tight. Tammy wrapped her arms around herself again and bowed her head, tears dripping onto her silky dress.

"Depart from your former life, nameless one," the mayor chanted. Tammy heard a jangling sound, like pocket change or keys. "Rise with a new name, Isabella Peters."

Tammy gasped and opened her eyes just as the lights came back on. The blonde on stage struggled to her feet. The mayor leaned over and took her by the elbow, helping her up. He looked out at the crowd and smiled.

Holding out a set of keys, the mayor said, "here is your new life. Keys to a new home and a car, donated from community funds. An employment specialist will help you get a job, and the town clerk will cover your bills in the meantime."

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Isabella Peters looked up at the mayor and smiled through trembling lips. She threw her arms around his neck and held him. Her sobs filled the speakers and immediately the dam holding Tammy together cracked and crumbled. She collapsed into her father's surprised embrace and cried until the ceremony was over.