Shantih Journal Issue 2.2 | Page 93

some small houses that made up the neighborhood west of Caruthers known as Little Okie, Fleming Family Homes owned six. Neda turned off the pavement at the second dirt road, which formed an irregular loop with the first. The lots here were as variously shaped as clouds, as if the original surveyor had been lying on his back when he drew up the boundaries. Several salvage businesses operated out of the neighborhood, the peculiar cubbies and knotholes in the lots perfect for storing junked cars, dead appliances, and pallets of rusting scrap, but her father once said that no one who lived in Little Okie could afford to throw things away. He’d grown up in this neighborhood. Now she drove with her foot riding the brake, reading the house numbers as she passed. She stopped in front of the Hillsickers’ rental, the house hardly visible for the junk in the yard. An old fridge, long defrosted, crushed cans spilling from inside. A gutted lawnmower. Concrete blocks and offcuts of plywood made into low workbenches, with greasy parts spread on top. The hulk of a ‘sixties-something Suburban, the big tires flat, the body shades of bondo gray. A trail, trampled into the dead grass, detoured through the mess. She took it. The door stood open, dented and scuffed black, as if people kicked their way inside—she saw a runner of dirt and grease in the carpet, a continuation of the path taken through the wrecked yard, ultimately leading to what, she guessed, would be a landlord’s nightmare: pot plants, vats of cooking meth, a den of every vice. Neda called from the doorway. A woman answered, wailing in a smoker’s voice. Coming down the hallway, she pulled her ropy hair into a ponytail. “I was in back,” she said. “I didn’t hear no bell ring.” “I was just—the door was open.” “Doorbell’s the only way I can hear when I’m in the back.” Fanning herself with an open hand, the Hillsicker woman took in Neda’s loose black jeans, her white tucked blouse, and long, fraying braid. “If you’re here about Jesus, we’re all pretty much Christian in this house already.” 93