Here on a dirt road with tumorous mud mounds, a young maiden walks from fields to Town. A town that could be closer is not too far. She goes there by day and returns to her estate at night; a lonely home, once filled with life, now matches the other dusty panes lost in the mirage of stalks like a sunsetting sea. These four estates, pinpointed like stars, create a semicircle as wide as a plantation. So, she—Nevaeh Orcus—is headed to Town. Today is Wednesday which is why Nevaeh is wearing a long skirt. The stale sweat stains underneath her ass and lint balls crocheting at the bottom of her skirt make certain Valerie will give her another one, a decent one for the house of the Lord.

Town built a wooden arch for an official entrance but the contrast of the black road and metal buildings made it obvious something wasn’t created for the other. And any new shop clashed with the remaining city; Town took loans from The New Church Coalition which intentionally created buildings from wood to separate themselves from states that rejoined the Government. These people never got around to naming the town so now lean into the simplicity of its name when roamers pass through—it has homey feeling. Nevaeh must admit it has come a long way since she was a child; they used to build everyone a teacup home on the entering path—Miss Mary Maud’s owns one and she’s there watering her frail garden in her collared gown with her reading glasses stamped on her breast—but now they have complexes deep in the Town, near the forest outskirts.  

“How you doing, Orcus?” She asks hollowly, “Are you going to church?”

“Yes, Miss Mary Maud and I hope to see you there.” Nevaeh hurried pass, digging in her satchel to avoid the woman’s eyes burdened with crow’s feet. And she continued to dig while passing the orange observatory. It was supposed to be a tourist attraction and local artists were going to paint murals all around it. She didn’t look up until she was in the shade of the skyscraper. Town’s only skyscraper was built before the bombing and reinforced after; it’s ombre because of the smut at the top, and some lady who avoids conversation cleans the bottom. She makes it shine like a silver mirror so girls primp themselves there and boys casually stand nearby. Nevaeh even slows down to fluff her hair and wipe her oily skin. It seems to be the real entrance to Town. After passing the artifact, there are schools and shops and people and standards. There are Giselle’s and Annah’s.

In a dip of cleared out oaks, Valerie and Victor’s house stands. It’s a beauty; white house with blue windowpanes. Victor built the entire thing as well as the white fence and tire swing. There was always a fresh coat of paint on the it that melted in the rain and chipped when humid. He gave Valerie a porch and rocking chairs but there was never anyone out there. Nevaeh opened the gate gently and slid through to preserve its appearance.

“It’s open,” Valerie buzzed a sweet tone on top of her low voice. Nevaeh swayed into the home, perused the kitchen to see the meal before heading to the bathroom to find Valerie kneeling at the tub.

“How is she?” Nevaeh asked despite watching the little girl make gentle waves.

“It has been a good day, we’re at the end stages of the terrible twos.” Valerie sighed and pushed her relentless brown hair out of her face again. “She’s eating again. How are you and the house?”

“Good and good for now. I wish I didn’t have to come into Town as frequently as I do.”

“If you’d like to take a break from the shop, I’ll be okay. We aren’t selling that many cakes.”

“It’s not the bakery,” Nevaeh sighed and gently smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you doing this?”

“It’s good. We need more time together,” Valerie claimed then groaned while lifting Debbie into the sky and landing in a towel. Immediately, the girl shook around in the towel like a wild flounder until dried. “Ever since we finished school, I hardly see y’all. Things were hectic before, but now we’re eighteen and everyone’s life has slowed down a bit.”

“I guess.” Nevaeh murmured. “I wish you wouldn’t have invited the whole town, that’s all.”

“I didn’t.” Valerie placed the child on her hip and proceeded, “We’re all we got Nevaeh… Nevaeh how’d you get paint on your behind?”

“Goddamn it!” roared down the stairs, introducing Victor. He stomped down and around the corner to be his intolerable self. “I swear to God, Nev, if you touch that gate one more time, you’re going to be out there painting it with me.”

“Oh hush, it was an accident and needed another coat anyway.” She clipped her husband’s chin and patted his butt, so he’d march in a different direction. “Come on, let’s get you a new skirt.”

“He seems excited about this too.”

“About as much as you are,” Valerie sniped on their way to her room. Nevaeh watched Debbie snuggle into her parents’ bed as Valerie picked through her closet; she wrangled the girl’s foot through the quilt, pulling her by those stubby toes.

“I heard he’s dating that whore now.” Nevaeh quickly mentioned into the air.

“No? No!” Valerie gasped and rolled her eyes, “that lady probably started the rumor in the first place. You know better than to listen to gossip.”

“What can I say? Even the gossips are right from time to time.”

The stairs sound like the descender is killing a cat even when Nevaeh creeps down them on the ball of her foot. The sea of laughter ceased from the living room as they waited for her, instead they whispered. Nevaeh stood behind the wall to knot the ends of the skirt; Valerie was beauty queen tall. She gently twisted the fabric and rewrapped it higher then lower.

“Come have a seat,” Valerie yelled to her. “We’re waiting on everyone else then we can eat!” Nevaeh tampered with her hair while maneuvering to the couch. You would have thought she didn’t see Mr. Anniston sitting upright in the recliner next to Victor.

“We were just talking about the time, Ford went outside in his boxers to get the mail and nearly caught Miss Mary Maud sinning.” Victor could barely speak nor contain himself at the thought of it.

“But Miss Nevaeh doesn’t want to talk about that.” He—Malachi Anniston—nipped it in the bud; the atmosphere shifted with the both of them there. He stared at her with his head slightly tilted down to make his black eyes cut through his pale skin. He liked to do that. “Valerie, how’s your shop doing?”

“Pretty well, maybe Victor has told you, my profits are close to his at ManMade,”

“Yep, turns out these people are fat as hell and lazy.”

“Language!” But Victor shrugged into his recliner despite Valerie’s scolding.

“Let’s go ahead and start eating before it gets too late. Everyone else should be on the way.”

Malachi was on Victor’s left and Valerie was on his right. Nevaeh was between Valerie and Teresa when she arrived.

“I think they’re going to have to change the slogan that, “those who can’t cook, bake.”

“Thank you, Malachi. You don’t have to compliment me every time you come over. You’re getting food, regardless.” Valerie smirked, but so did he. “Can you put that thing out already, people are trying to eat?” She whispered to Victor. He inhaled it once more and blew it to the light of the chandelier then slowly rubbed it into the tray.

“Real men smoke, you should be honored.” Malachi slapped Victor’s back with all five fingers pressing the shirt. It was like slapping a wall, and he attempted shrugging him—like wobbling a dresser. Everyone continued to eat while they embraced their romance. The table was finally quiet, till Teresa decided to stir up a bit of gossip herself.

“I heard that Sarah was leaving town. Some say she wants to get away. I don’t believe it.” She spoke with her last words blowing her tea before she sipped it.

“It is her decision though,” Valerie stated, “and lots of our generation has moved out of the state. The morality of Town is barbaric anyway.”

“It isn’t that bad, they address all of y’alls needs.”

“As if you know anything about what women need or even think, Malachi. They try to treat us like damsels as if my mother doesn’t remember life before the bombing.” Everyone hushed because they probably remembered it too.

“I’m just saying that this state is apparent to women.” Malachi subsided the conversation which was appreciated. However, he picked another one, “Unless your mother was a whore.” He snickered as the rest of the table grunted at the coming lecture.

Teresa exploded like a bomb on a timer, “We do not have the right to choose our family, but it was His will, so if you have any concern with it ask Him. She made me, but I am not confined to be that person. Jacob may have been someone detestable at one time, but God changed him. So why am I still compared to another person? I think you can’t get past the fact I have a new life which includes someone willing to marry me, and you can’t buy that!”

“Teresa watch your mouth at my table, this ain’t the place for your ideas. You ain’t God.” You could say Victor caught her tongue. Malachi grinded his teeth underneath his suave demeanor and the knock at the door wasn’t really a relief. Valerie went to greet Victor’s second invite. It was Mr. Ford. He gave Valerie and Victor a loan for their shop, sometimes referred to as their wedding gift. He came in and blushed immediately.

“I hope my casual attire won’t draw too many eyes at church.” Valerie and Nevaeh giggled while the rest of them shook their heads. He sat beside Malachi and bowed before his greeting, “Nevaeh, is there possibly any good cooking left?” Valerie offered him a biscuit of hers which he politely refused. “If I eat any more of your biscuits, y’all would have to cut me out of this chair.” Teresa couldn’t help chuckling with the girls this time.

“Were you out beyond the town again, Mr. Ford? Exploring?” Malachi asked.

“Yes I was, an hour over to Tennessee. You should visit there sometime. There are lots of refurbished landmarks; their aquarium has the most aquatic animals in the nation and is expected to get the newly discovered starfish in a few months. I might attend their annual fair.”

“I find it interesting you chose to visit the land of prostitution.” He mentioned and made the table aware. “Chasing tail, Mr. Ford?”

“I don’t refer to a land by its sin, Mr. Anniston. I hope to experience the good left in the world before you cast it out.”

“We’re not at church, Mr. Ford. You can save the thee and thou.” Malachi realigned his chair to look at the man in his eyes. “I know you’re now a good man, but I can’t believe you aren’t an experienced man.” The table blushed. Victor looked up for once. Mr. Ford’s eyes danced with Malachi’s.

“As experienced as any man. I’ve travelled many places, some where a cross is nothing more than a shape. I am aware that I am blessed to be in a state of religious people, and I know the responsibility I hold to be among them.” His demeanor changed, despite being rigid, he was comfortable like rigidity was home.

“Stop me if I’m wrong, but why hasn’t an older fellow like yourself settled down and had a few Fords running around? Is no woman good enough for you?”

“I’m not concerned about it. I know it’ll happen when it’s time and when it does I’ll tell you.”

 Valerie cleared her throat and Mr. Ford glanced at her then Nevaeh.

“Well I think it’s sweet when gentlemen wait till they’re older.” Teresa laid her head upon her hand and gazed at the man.

“Teresa the only older man you’ll get is the one you dig up. That’s why you stuck with Bow-legged Bobby.” Malachi mentioned while lighting his cigar.

“Bishop Bobby is a great man and he’s accomplished more than you have.”

“I bet he has, see me and Mr. Ford got all that old money. Hopefully one day he’ll be half the man we are.”

“People, I’m only six years older than y’all.” Mr. Ford dove into their bickering, “I’m not old nor close to death, so it’d be nice if y’all called me Michael.” He’d been telling them that for years, to call him Michael but Mr. Ford had a ring to it. “Anyway, Valerie, how has the business been?”

“It’s been well. Sales are really benefitting from catering at the church, but I think we could expand.”

“Expand?” The men said, but their tones were different.

“Yes, actually,” She looked over at Nevaeh for a reassuring nod, “some regional companies have reached out to me about mass production. Like catering worldwide and they’re very sure they could put my pastries in grocery chains.”

“Well your pastries are known in the south, honey.” Victor jerked his head a little further to the table with each idea.

“I know but why stop there. We could make something Victor to pass down to little Deborah up there. Nevaeh and I have been in that bakery whipping up some wicked concoctions. And people like them, I’m not trying to move across the world but I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”

“Valerie we’ll speak about this later.” Victor began putting on his coat as the time ticked away. “I’m going to smoke before we head out.”

“I’ll join you. Ford?” Malachi grumbled with his cigar hanging from his lips. He stood in the doorway until Mr. Ford decided to join the men on the porch.

“I told you this was going to be awkward.” Nevaeh blurted out as they cleared the table.

“I thought it was going to be worse, honestly.” Valerie said with a complacent shrug. She stretched, slapped the doorframe, then went upstairs to freshen up.

Nevaeh continued to clean the table as Teresa strolled towards Ford who had made his way back into the house. She loaded the dishwasher too, but it was with the intention of seeing her friend’s refrigerator magnets. Valerie collected the magnets before she moved to Town. Nevaeh remembered hearing about the San Francisco Bridge as a child and Hollywood.

“Are y’all ready? We’re going to be late.” Victor said. He pulled Nevaeh from the sink, pushing her towards the door. “You look amazing, baby.” He yelled while ascending the stairs to get his wife.

Though no one else seemed to be eager to depart, Nevaeh strolled onto the porch and into their front yard. She slid her foot out of her slippers and let them roll from underneath her skirt to frolic in the grass. Valerie’s house has yellowish green grass.

“A lot of states were able to keep their grass,” spoke out of the dark night. His presence echoed, rounding a column on the porch to stand on the stairs. “Beautiful night.”

“Indeed it is, Malachi.”

“Excited about service?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Come on Miss Nevaeh, a little conversation won’t hurt.” Malachi unhinged the back of his shoes and placed his feet in one section of the grass. “How’s the house been holding up?”

“Fine, still strong as oak.”

“Do you need any more reinforcements on the roof?”

“No and Bobby said he’d help me if I did.”

“Bobby don’t know where to put jack,” Malachi tugged on his sleeves, pulling them to his elbows. “I don’t know why you won’t abandon that old prairie house, move into town.”

“That is my grandmother’s house and I haven’t seen any ‘For Sale’ signs in your grandparent’s estate across the way.”

“I’d rather burn it down. They weren’t as faithful in their time.”

“Yet look at all they’ve gotten you, I don’t see you burning spoils. They had good hearts.” Nevaeh began to speak excitedly and leaned across the railing as she recalled the past, “Remember when we were children and our grandmothers would watch us play tag among both fields. Your grandfather letting us run through the stalks before he chopped them or the night picnics.”

 “I’m getting rid of that house regardless. They had good intentions.” He leaned in as well and whispered, “Your mother still asks about you.”

“Let her know I’m right where she left me.” Nevaeh gritted her teeth and snatched her arm away from the white wood. “That woman can visit me if she’s really concerned. I’ll make a bonfire out of her stuff if she doesn’t collect it from my house.”

“She didn’t have a choice; you were all grown up.”

“I was sixteen, Malachi, and had nowhere to live.”

“You were a grown woman with enough sense to have a good living if you weren’t so damn proud,” He started trailing the porch, then shook his cigar while saying, “she thought you had enough sense to know what was best for you.”

“And what did she think was best for me?”

The screen door swung open as they piled onto the porch and poured down the steps. The Cathedral was on the northern outskirts of Town. People from other Towns attended it too. It was a gift from other fellow states who chose to remain religious after the bombing. When they arrived, the pavement was still wet and a few volunteers were still in the church. Most of the style constructed Catholicism and Louis XVI resemblance. They would clean the stained glass and dust the chandeliers; all the pardons created conversation in the halls.