Good-bye Astrid Lawson

Astrid pushed the creaky screen door into the dark, cool house and called to her grandfather. “He’s probably sleeping.” She thought when she heard no answer. It was a hot day, you could tell because the white paint on the shingled plantation house had begun to splinter and crack. The ground was packed like concrete and little pieces of half-dead cotton could be seen poking out of the fractured soil. But inside the large white house, it was nice and cool.
The old wood floor boards groaned as Astrid ambled through the huge cave-like rooms to the kitchen. She opened the old refrigerator, expecting there to be a variety of things to eat, but the dingy refrigerated, interior just stared back emptily. She sighed loudly and stared out the blue-paned window at the dry, parched land. In the windows she could see her reflection, her pale white skin, her rosy cheeks, and the little patches of sunburn on the tips of her ears. Her bleach blonde, almost white hair, showed in the window too. She prided herself on her hair, washing it daily in the best shampoo Winn Dixie had to offer. People told her she was beautiful, but she never liked to hear it much. Her light, ice colored eyes would usually dart away from awe filled stares.
She walked around the kitchen jadedly, gliding her hands across the white tile counters. She heard squeaking floor boards above her head and mechanically got a can of chicken noodle soup from the cupboard, put it in a pan and turned on the gas stove.
“Astrid?...Astrid?!” a rough voice called to her from upstairs.
“Your lunch is cookn’ already!” she yelled back up.
“Oh, ok dear, I’ll be down theare soon!”
Astrid smiled to herself as she stirred the pale yellow soup. She poured in into a cracked porcelain bowl and set a plate of stale crackers next to it. She pushed her hair out of her face and smiled as her grandpa crept in the door. He was hunched over a bit and had a bad cough, but still looked surprisingly like the old black and white picture of the WWII naval pilot that sat on the mantle above the fireplace.
“Hello dear, how arya todey?” his rough voice inquired.
Astrid said her usual response, “Fine Papa, do you want anything to drink?”
“No honey I’m fine.” he grunted as he lowered himself slowly into the chair.
“I’m gonna go outside for a bit.” Astrid said. Her grandfather nodded as she walked through the house to the aged screen door. She stepped onto the splintering deck and leaned against the porch post. She picked paint off the deck railing and looked out on the 105 acres her grandfather owned.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she thought as the Southern breeze swished her hair around her face. She wiped her paint stained fingers on her denim shorts and stood on the concrete dirt. She didn’t mind the wind today or the fluffs of cotton that flew about.
She walked to the irrigation ditch that ran along the boundary of their land and Mr. Sanderson’s land just north of them. She saw a tractor approaching the ditch and stood tall to see who it was; it was Tyler Sanderson, Mr. Sanderson’s son. He’d asked her to The Annual Cotton Grower’s Ball a few times and over to their house for dinner some, and she enjoyed his company.
“Well hello, Astrid, what’s going on?” he yelled over the roar of the tractor.
“Nothing much!” she yelled back with a smile as she put her hand over her eyes to block the afternoon sun. They small-talked for a while before he asked her to dinner over at his house on Thursday. She smiled shyly at him for a bit before accepting, and she was happy for the first time in a while. She waved bye when he tipped his tattered cowboy hat with a grin. Astrid watched him go until he was just a little speck on the dusty Georgia horizon.
She walked slowly back home a little before sunset; she stopped to watch as the sun started to show orange and red through the old plantation trees that stood motionless in the exhausted air. She stopped in front of the large house and looked it up and down as though inspecting it. Heat waves rose up from the old Chrysler pick-up, and the fireflies were beginning to dance in them. She trotted up the four steps of the house and listened before she opened the door. From upstairs she could hear rib-shaking coughs that made her shudder so bad she had to wait a spell before going inside.
He came down around eight, smelling the steaks that the girl had made. Astrid asked if he was okay when he coughed all through dinner. She nodded with a hint of skepticism when her grandfather said he felt fine. She kept it in the back of her mind as she finished the dishes. He fell asleep watching the Southern Georgia Meyer County News on channel 55. He snored loudly as the big haired lady talked about lowered crop prices and the head on collision that happened in Payson. The blue, iridescent light escaped the living room and spilled out into the other dark rooms, while the monotone sound echoed through the silent house. After she woke him and walked him upstairs to his room. She went back downstairs and turned off all the lights downstairs then tip-toed up to her room. She crawled into the large feather bed and left her bedside light on before she drifted off to sleep.
She woke with a start, to the sound of slicing coughs. She rose quickly and paced to the door and looked down the hall; her grandfather’s light seeped into the vestibule.
“Grandpa?” she called to the door, her hand gently knocking on the aged wood. The air was filled with a heavy silence and there was no answer, nor coughs.
“Grandpa?” she called again, a worried undertone to her voice. She knocked lightly again, then slid open the door and flicked on the light. She stumbled backwards as hysterical cries started coming from her tangled lips. She ran to his bedside and checked his pulse; not a single faint beat could be heard.

Sheriff Gleison responded quickly, as did the coroner. As she stood outside in the grey southern dawn, a feeling of despair started to creep into her bones. She ached and felt heavy. She tried to sigh tears back as Tyler walked up the steps towards her, his tattered hat in his left hand. He looked into her eyes, held her tear filled gaze in his and they stood like that for a while, no words spoken. After they’d put her grandfather in the coroner’s car, he left, the sheriff left, and so did the ambulance. Again she leaned against the parched porch post and picked the paint off the wood. The tears fell silently now; her body shook softly each time new tears came. Tyler stayed with her all day; he cooked her lunch and didn’t say much to her, which was exactly what Astrid wanted. Later in the afternoon, a white blazer pulled up, a cloud of dust trailing behind. Astrid was sitting outside on the old porch swing when sheriff Gleison approached her. His bald head shone brightly in the afternoon sun. He took his handkerchief out of his black shirt pocket and dabbed his forehead while he thought of something to say as he approached the girl on the porch swing.
“Hey there , Astrid. How you been doing here today girl?” he asked, a slight apology in his voice. Astrid looked out on the horizon and avoided his glance. She wiped her eyes and inspected her fingernails as tears fell heavily again. Tyler came out on the porch and stood beside Astrid. He put his hand on her shoulder and demanded, “Hey Sheriff, what are you doing here now?”
“Well I came heah to… to ask Astrid what it is she’ll do now.” He looked at Astrid again, “Let’s not beat around tha bush heah. We all know that her papa was all her family. Astrid, you can’t live heah by yourself. You know that. Mrs. Cooper from social services will be by here in an hour, an’ you’ll be leavin with her. I just-came by to tell you that.” He took a final gaze at the girl and at the boy before walking off the deck. “Good-bye Astrid Lawson…” he trailed off as he jumped in the oversized Bronco and drove away leaving a trail of dust on the old lane.
“What can I do? What can I do?” she asked Tyler. He shrugged and looked at her.
“I don’t really know what to say here, Astrid. I wish I had somethin…” he looked at the ground, “You weren’t meant to live here anyways. Its better that you leave; you don’t need this place. It’s dead here.” And with that he turned away and went back inside. There’s something funny about Georgia, she thought, it’s never the same. It can always be hot and dry, but in other parts its cool and the big plantation trees can blow in the Northern breezes. The hot, dry climate will do something to you to; it may be beautiful but it can also kill you. At that moment she felt herself cracking. She got up and went off the deck, pretending everything was fine. She lay down on the small patch of lawn her papa had kept. She watched flies buzz around in the heat; she sat up only when she heard the screen door open.
“What are ya doing down there?” she heard Tyler ask her.
“Nothing, sitting in the dead grass…” she said, and she heard the reply of the screen door shutting.
The light blue Cadillac pulled slowly into the driveway and parked dangerously close to the porch.
“Goddamn it!” Astrid heard the blonde woman say as she lost her hot pink pump while crossing the dry earth towards the plot of grass. She was carrying a black notebook and had a stack of jumbled papers in her other hand. Her peroxide blonde hair showed black roots on her head and she looked at Astrid with light blue eyes and electric blue eye shadow.
“Hello, dahlin. Fust off I jus’ wanna say that I em so sorry bout’ your papa.” She said this quietly, peeking at Astrid over her black sunglasses, “I’m Mrs. Cooper, but you can call me Angie.” She extended her manicured hand to Astrid, but took it away slowly when a hostile look was given. She stood in a pose and twirled her cheap wedding ring around her bony finger while Astrid stared at her. Astrid didn’t not like her, she just wished they could’ve met under different circumstances. Tyler came out and stood against the porch post. He said nothing, just glared at Angie and glanced at Astrid as if to ask if she was okay. Astrid stood up and looked at Angie. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could…
“I know that you don’t wanna come with me, dahlin but yer gonna have ta. There’s an open bed at Rostor’s in Atlanta, and I have ta have ya theah tonight. Please don’t make this harda than it allreda is dahlin…” her voice trailed off as her eyes pleaded with Astrid’s.
“Harder? Harder for who? You want me to leave to go to an orphanage on the day my grandfather died?!” Astrid yelled back at her. Angie stood silently and briskly followed Astrid to the deck of the large house.
“If ya not reada in an hour, dahlin, I’ll have ta get the law involved. I don’t wanna do it, dahlin, but its ma job.” said Angie quietly.
The girl walked up on the deck and told Tyler that he should leave.
“But Astrid, don’t you want me to he-” He started.
“No, I don’t need anything else. Thank you Tyler.” She glanced down at the ground and stared at her feet as she listened to his boots hit each step then the dirt below.
“Good-bye, Astrid Lawson…” Tyler said as he started walking towards the fence.
She ran upstairs, tears streaming down her pale face. She ran first to her grandfather’s room and grabbed the photo album and one of his handkerchiefs from his top dresser drawer. She went next to her room and grabbed a few shirts and jeans; she saved most of the room in the one box of belongings she was allowed to take for pictures and books. She opened the one box of belongings her mother had had before she died, she took her diaries and her favorite dress. The dim light from above helped to camouflage the tears that persistently spilled as Angie lightly tapped on the door.
“Ya reada? I got the cah started down theare. We should head out; we’ll alreada be at Rostor’s by two this mornin’.” Astrid taped up the collapsing cardboard box, took one last look at her room, flicked off the light and shut the door.
The Cadillac was nice inside, there were white and light blue vinyl seat coverings and it smelled like rosewood. It was already pretty dark outside when they pulled slowly out of the drive way.
“Take one last look hunny, that’s your roots, you ain’t nevah gonna see it again,” Angie stated.
Astrid stared out the window and looked at the old plantation trees and the aged plantation house. She could see the fire flies floating in the heat waves from the Chrysler still and she watched the old house until she could no longer see it.
She didn’t even notice that they were entering Atlanta when Angie said in her thick accent, “We are heare dahlin’, not too bad huh?” The red, yellow and white lights went swiftly beside them as Astrid tried to lose herself in thought. The tears came again when she realized the seriousness of the situation. She closed her eyes and thought of the hot southern winds, the Georgia cotton and her grandfather.
“Good-bye, Astrid Lawson…” she said to herself as the light blue Cadillac pulled into Rostor’s Home For Children.