The Reckless Oath We Made
When I went out, my mother remained within, but my father followed after.
“Your mother is very upset,” he said.
“And I am sorry, for I would not distress her, but I swore to serve Lady Zhorzha in all ways.”
“I know, son. I understand an oath like that is important. Just promise me that you’ll be careful.” He put out his hand to me, and I clasped it ere I departed, but I made him no promise, for what knight ever vowed ride under a banner of caution?
I made straightaway for the dragon’s lair, lest I miss my lady. Mayhap the dragon was as wroth as mine own mother, for ’twas very little time I waited ere Lady Zhorzha came forth. She walked not to where I stood, but to her own car, and thence looked at me.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said. “Your mom seemed really mad.”
“She is ill-pleased, but she cedeth ’tis my right to do as I will.”
“Are you sure about this? Because I really don’t want to drag you into something.”
“My lady, when I swore to be thy champion, ’twas ne poesy ne chatter. I stand ready and eager to serve thee. Tho ’tis better we should travel in my truck, for I think it more well-proved.”
“Probably so.” Mayhap her hip pained her, for she leant against her car and lifted her foot from the ground. I waited that she might say what she wished, but she spake no more. I perceived I must lay upon our keep the next stone, tho ’twas heavy.
“If thou wilt not have me as thy champion by cause thou hast no faith I can protect thee, I will say no more. If thou wilt not have me at thy side for mine own protection, thou art unjust. I am no child. I am strong enough to carry thee, and I am not afraid.”
“I know you’re not a child. But I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said. For some moments, she was silent, her gaze upon the sky beyond me. Much akin to me when I am folded within myself.
“Is it thy desire to go alone?”
She looked upon me then, and I looked back, tho ’twas a privity that bared me to her utterly. For the nonce we weren two together. Bonded, as the black knight said.
“No,” she said.
“Come, dear lady, my steed awaiteth.”
She laughed and opened the door of her car to take up her satchel. Then she came to me in all seriousness. When I opened the door and put forth my hand, she took it that I might help her up.
CHAPTER 32
Zee
While Gentry slept, I drove, rehashing my argument with his mother in my head.
“He is not mature enough,” she’d said.
“He doesn’t seem all that immature to me. Except for the part where you still treat him like a kid,” I’d said. I wasn’t proud of that, but I’d been thinking of how she called Gentry and Trang the boys. Trang was a boy, but Gentry was almost as old as me. I’d wanted to ask, What exactly is so immature about Gentry? Before I could, she accused me of being judgmental and told me to leave.
Okay, he lived with his folks and shared a bedroom with his kid brother, but I was twenty-six years old, and had been sleeping on my sister’s couch. He had a better job and a nicer car than me. And he had a mortgage. If he wasn’t an adult, then what was I? I didn’t know, but I still didn’t like causing a fight between him and his parents. I was glad they’d made up before he left.
I’d planned to drive the whole way while he slept, but after we crossed into Missouri, we stopped for lunch, and Gentry drove from there. While he was asleep, I’d driven with the radio off, and we went on like that once he was driving. No music and not talking except to point out which roads to take. It didn’t bother me as much as it had before. It felt okay being quiet together.
I knew we were in the right place when we passed the old amusement park. When I was little, it had seemed like Worlds of Fun, which we couldn’t afford to go to. Now, it looked like something out of a horror movie, where there was a psychotic clown waiting for you in the burned-out fun house. I was going to make a joke about it, but Gentry was focused on driving, and every time I talked to him, he slowed down to pay attention to me.
It was a good thing we weren’t just relying on my childhood memories, because once we left the main highway, there were no landmarks I recognized. When we reached the place where Google Maps said we were supposed to be, there was nothing there except a pile of junk. Old tires, a rusted-out washing machine, and a mountain of old beer and oil cans.
We drove on until a muddy creek crossed the road at the bottom of a ravine. On the other side, there was a cattle gate with a NO TRESPASSING sign. If there hadn’t been tire ruts leading through the gate, we would have turned back.
“I’ll get the gate,” I said.
“Nay, my lady.”
Gentry put the truck in park and got out, looking back the way we had come. Then he unhooked the gate and swung it open, riding it with his foot on the lowest bar. After we pulled through, he got back out and closed the gate. I wondered if we should leave it open in case we needed to make a quick getaway, because I kept thinking about Uncle Alva saying, Don’t call me again. I focused on why I was there. Find LaReigne. Get Marcus back.
Further on, the woods thinned, and we passed a trailer, a metal shed, and a few more piles of junk before I saw the house. Like everything else, time hadn’t done it any favors. I remembered it as a Victorian mansion. A big, white house with lots of candy-colored trim and a long screened-in veranda. Whatever the house had been, it wasn’t a Victorian mansion, and it hadn’t been white in a long time. The porch had sagged and half the screens were torn out. The only thing that jibed with my memory was that under the eaves, I could still see where the shingled siding on the second floor had been purple, green, and pink.
There wasn’t anything to indicate what was driveway and what was yard, except the circle of gravel a dog had scoured with his chain. When Gentry pulled the truck in, the dog ran to the end of his tether and barked at us in a hoarse voice. I thought that might make Gentry hesitate, but he reached for his door handle. I tried to stop him, because I figured my uncle probably wouldn’t shoot me for trespassing, but Gentry wasn’t about to let me go alone. We walked up to the house side by side, with the dog barking, Gentry clenching his hand, and me testing out different versions of reintroducing myself.
Before we could set foot on the porch, the door opened and Uncle Alva stepped out. As he came down the stairs, I saw he had one of those .410 revolvers on his belt.
“Well, goddamn, girl. If you ain’t a sight for sore eyes,” he said. Instead of getting run off the place, I got a hug that smelled like old-man sweat, bourbon, and cigarettes. He pulled back and held me by the shoulders to look at me. “I didn’t have no idea how much you turned out looking like your grandpappy.”