Return to Prosperity

Return to Prosperity

Part 1: The Tale

“You sure you wanna hear all this?” Alicia asked her husband for what was probably the fourth time.
         “Are you kidding me? We’ve got a three hour drive ahead of us. I think finally hearing the unabridged version of your life story is just the thing,” Nick replied, stuffing the last of their luggage into the trunk of their car. Alicia’s smile curdled and she looked away.
         “I’m sorry, babe,” Nick gathered his wife into his arms and squeezed her tight. “but Doc Murphy really thinks this is the best thing for you.”
         “I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
They kissed. Nick wiped Alicia’s tears away with his thumb.
         “Let’s hit the highway,” he said, slamming the trunk lid firmly.

         “Prosperity. Prosperity Pennsylvania,” Alicia began simply. “Settled in 1794 by the visionary Abraham Jebediah Monroe. He figured that naming the town Prosperity would bring good luck and positive, hard working people.
         “Sounds like a Buddhist. Good karma and all that,” Nick laughed.
         “Well, it worked, whatever it was,” Alicia continued. “The town grew from a population of about ten to over one hundred in just over a year. Families came, stores popped up, farms did well. That was mostly what the town lived on- farms. Produce, chicken. Prosperity puts out some good chicken. All free range, too. They like to keep things the way they were back in the old days, you know? Time passed. The town topped out at about five hundred or so.”
         “Five hundred? People?” Nick asked. Having spent his entire life in Philadelphia, he could hardly imagine five hundred people on one block much less an entire town.
         “Yes, five hundred whole people,” Alicia laughed, “Now quit interrupting. Once the industrial revolution hit, people stopped moving to small, isolated towns like Prosperity and flocked to the factories. Good jobs, good money and all that. But life continued in the town pretty much as it always had. My,” she stopped and cleared her throat, “my family had a farm. Porters lived on the same land, in the same house for generations.
         Alicia looked out at the passing terrain. Nick glanced at his suddenly silent wife and reached out to take her hand. She turned to him and managed a small smile. She squeezed his hand and the turned back to the window. Taking a deep breath, she continued.
         “On March 24th 1972, Adam Porter married Lena Wilkinson. The bride wore white, her mother’s dress, the groom resplendent in a natty tweed suit,” the first notes of bitterness were creeping into Alicia’s voice. “Lena moved into the Porter farmhouse and began her new life as a farm wife. And in 1977, I was born in that very house. One of about ten children born in the town that year. A regular baby boom!
         “Momma taught me how to walk, how to talk, how to read. When I was old enough to climb a stool, she let me help her make biscuits. She took me out in the garden and showed me how to plant and weed and harvest the vegetables.
         “Daddy,” Alicia’s voice broke. Nick glanced over, wanting to see if she was crying but concerned about averting his attention from the semi tractor trailer he was about to pass.
         “Honey,” he began after she continued to remain silent.
         “No,” she insisted, “I can do this. I need to tell you all of it. Tell you once and for all what really happened.”
         “Just take your time, okay?”
         Alicia nodded. She opened the glove box and pawed through registration papers, old receipts, and other assorted junk until she came across a wadded up napkin that looked clean if not wrinkly. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
         “Maybe we could stop for a few minutes to get a Coke or something?” she suggested.
         “Sure,” Nick said quietly, “Anything you want,” he patted her shoulder and noticed a passing road sign. “Next exit is only four miles ahead.”

         Twenty minutes later, Nick and Alicia were back on the highway, two Big Gulps, a bag of Cheetos, and copy of the Weekly World News joining them in the front seat. A box of tissues was now at Alicia’s feet.
         “Why did you get that thing?” Nick laughed, indicting the tabloid.
         “It’s funny. It’ll help pass the time. Look at this: Vampire Colony Found in Alaska,” Alicia read a headline aloud. “What a great idea! Don’t they get like 18 hours of darkness up there in the winter or something like that? I mean, a vampire could hold a regular job in a place like that. And look at this: Sleeping with an apple under your pillow can prevent headaches. Sounds to me like it would cause them, having a big lump under your pillow.”
         “Alicia, honey…”
         “And here it says that Al Gore is a robot controlled by aliens. I could almost believe that.”
         “Alicia!” Nick shouted, louder than he’d meant to, “Stop. You’re babbling. Just relax, okay.”
         Alicia let out a small gasp and bit her lower lip. Silence followed for a few moments. Finally she spoke softly.
         “I guess this is harder than I thought it would be. I mean, talking about telling is one thing. Actually doing it…”
         “Take your time,” Nick said again, “Once you have it all out, you’ll feel so much better.”
         “So I’ve heard,” she sneered, “Where was I anyway?”
         “You were talking about all the stuff your mom taught you,” Nick paused, then quietly added, “You were about to mention your father.”
         “Ah, yes. Dear old Dad. Daddy taught me how to ride and take care of the horses, how to clean their stalls. I loved those horses. I would rush home from school every day to brush them and exercise them. We had four horses. Two to plow the fields, one stallion that Daddy had for stud, and one just for me. Excelsior, that was his name. I don’t remember where I got that name from. I just remember loving the sound of that word, Excelsior.
         “Yup, everything was perfect. Perfect Prosperity. The farm did well. Momma and Daddy loved each other. I had Excelsior. The perfect Porter family portrait. Of course, all that changed in just one night.
         “May 17th, 1985. I was eight. Mom was thirty-two. Thirty-two years old,” she whispered harshly.
         Another pause. Nick felt that Alicia was at the point of no return. If she didn’t tell him now, it would be back to Prozac and daily therapy sessions with Dr. Murphy. It had been that way since her birthday last fall, when she had some as yet unexplained psychological break. Though, the fact that it had been her thirty-second birthday certainly took on a whole new signifigance.
Then she spoke. She spoke so quietly that he could barely hear the words. Or perhaps it was that he didn’t want to hear what she had just said.
         “Daddy made me watch,” Alicia whispered, “He killed Momma and he made me watch.”
         Nick was stunned. He almost pulled off the road but was afraid Alicia would stop talking if he did. She didn’t react to his silence. She seemed almost to have forgotten he was there.
         “I was in bed when I heard something weird, like some kind of yelp. It wasn’t loud. It was just so… out of place. I woke up. It was only 9:30 and I had only been asleep for about an hour,” Alicia began talking rapidly, firmly. Once that dark door was open an inch, Alicia had flung it wide and let everything that had been rotting and decaying behind it come spilling into the light, “I remember sitting up in my bed, trying to figure out what it was I’d heard. And then Momma screamed again.
         I jumped out of bed and ran to the top of the stairs. I could see Mamma lying on the floor near the foot of the stairs. Daddy was standing over her. What he was saying didn’t make any sense to me. ‘It’s time. You knew this was the way it had to be. I have to do my duty.’ Crazy shit like that.
         “I must have screamed or yelled at him to stop or something because Daddy looked up at me. ‘Come down here’ he ordered me. And I did. There was something in his hand. As he raised it up I saw that it was a knife, the really big one Momma used to cut up chickens.
         “He told me to watch and learn. That’s just what he said. Watch and learn. I was afraid. I thought that if I did what he said then he wouldn’t hurt Momma anymore.”
         Alicia paused, the worst of things yet to come.
         “I was wrong. Momma looked at me, her eyes locked with mine and held me as sure as if I had been turned to stone. Never once did she take her eyes off mine. Daddy turned back to Momma and sighed. It’s funny how some things stick in your brain. He sighed and then he raised the knife and started stabbing and stabbing,” Alicia grunted harshly through her teeth, clenched fist swinging an imaginary knife up and down.
         “Blood splashed everywhere. But it was so quiet. Daddy and Momma didn’t make a sound. I could hear the knife going in and… and coming out of her body. God! I’ll never forget that sound, like chopping a potato or a watermelon.
         “Finally, I saw a change in Momma’s eyes. They became glassy and unfocused. She was gone. I guess I fainted or something because next thing I knew I was in the hospital and a pretty red-haired nurse was looking down at me.
         “The next time I saw Daddy was at the trial. He pled guilty and off to the state prison he went. The trial, the funeral, moving to my Aunt and Uncle’s house, it was all a blur. I don’t really remember much that happened for about a year after that night. By the time the two year anniversary rolled around, I had forgotten everything. Well, ‘blocked it out’ is what Doc Murphy says. I don’t know what brought it all back but… here we are, going back to close that chapter of my life forever.”
         Alicia took a deep breath, took a long drink from her Big Gulp. She made a strange, hiccupping sound and then burst into tears. Great, heaving sobs. This time, Nick did pull the car into the breakdown lane. He slammed the gearshift into park and reached for her. Alicia snatched at him, clinging to him like a shipwreck victim clutching a scrap of debris. He stroked her hair and held her tight as the anguish and hatred she had held inside her for so long came flooding out.

Part II: The Town

         Several adjectives popped into Nick’s mind as they crossed the rusting metal bridge into the heart of Prosperity. Podunk. Sticksville. Mayberry. Pretty much what he’d expected, really. Alicia had told him that there were only about eight hundred people in all of Folcombe County, roughly 80% of which lived in the town proper.
         A cluster of homey, craftsman cottage style houses came first, complete with window boxes and picket fences. Then the town square loomed, a white wooden bandstand at its center. Nick pulled in to one of the parking spaces in front of a row of shops and the couple got out of the car. Everything was clean and well maintained, not like some backwater towns that looked as rundown as the residents.
         “Stevenson’s Grocery. Baker’s Auto Repair. Lawson’s Hardware,” he rattled off the names of the various stores nearby. “Are all these places family owned?”
         Alicia stared for a moment, looking at each sign.
         “Yeah,” she said simply.
         “Help you folks?” came a voice from behind.
         Nick and Alicia turned to see a man straight from Stereotype Heaven. He was about Nick’s height, near six feet. He wore dark brown pants, a tan short-sleeved shirt, and a dark brown hat. His badge glinted gold in the sun, and he had his thumbs hitched into his wide Sam Browne belt. He looked about Alicia’s age, maybe a couple of years older.
         “Sheriff Peterson,” Alicia smiled. “Alicia Porter Alban,” she held out a hand and the Sheriff grasped it warmly, as if they were old friends. “My husband, Nick.”
         “How you doing, Sheriff,” Nick shook the Sheriff’s hand, wondering how Alicia knew his name. He didn’t see a name tag on the badge.
         “Oh, no need for formality here. Call me Roy. Heard you were coming back up this way, Alicia. Can’t tell you how glad everyone is to have you return to Prosperity.”
         “Well, we’re just here for the weekend, really.” Nick pointed out.
         The sheriff looked Nick in the eye.
         “Well, you never know now, do you,” he gripped with his lips, but his eyes told another story.
         Nick suddenly had to fight the urge to jump in the car and get the hell back out of Prosperity. Then the sheriff was looking back at Alicia and the strange sensation was gone.
         At that moment, a young woman came out of the grocery store and approached them.
         “How do, Alicia?”
         “Mary Emerson?”
         “Well, it’s Mary Stevenson now but yeah, it’s me. Nice to have you back, Alicia.”
         “Thanks. The town looks just like I remember it.”
“Oh, you know how folks round here like it. We don’t like things to change.”
         Mary turned her grey eyes on Nick for a moment and looked him up and down.
         “You’re not from around these parts are you?” she asked.
         Nick bit his cheek to keep from laughing.
         “No ma’am. Philadelphia, born and raised.”
         “City fella, eh?”
         “Now, Mary,” Sheriff Peterson interrupted, steering the woman back towards her store, “You know what they say. Got to add a branch to the family tree now and again.”
         Alicia looked up at Nick and mouthed ‘sorry’. He winked and grinned at her, slinging an arm around her shoulder.
         “Well, Roy, we’re going to get some supplies and head out to the house if you don’t mind,” Alicia announced when the sheriff turned back to them.
         “All right. Your cousin Timmy was over there all week cleaning and airing out the place. Should be all ready for you,” he tipped his hat, “have a nice visit now, you two. See you in the morning.”
         Alicia’s smile faded and she watched Roy walk away down the sidewalk.
         “See you in the morning?” Nick asked.
         “Well, it’s a small town after all,” Alicia offered, “Come on. Let’s get our groceries and get out to the house before the whole town turns out to gawk.”
         “I thought those two were the whole town,” Nick teased.
         “Oh, stop!” Alicia giggled.

         Heading out to the house, Alicia drove so Nick  could look around. There wasn’t much to see. Farm lands. Lots of chickens. The packing plant was on the other side of town, Alicia explained. Whenever they passed a house or another car, people waved at them as they drove by. Nick smiled. It was nice, if not a bit disarming to a “city fella” like himself.
         Alicia turned off the main road onto a stretch of dirt. They rolled up the windows and turned on the AC. It was cool but dry, and the dust from the road rose in a monstrous cloud.
         “So, how did you know the sheriff’s name?” Nick asked.
         “What? Uh, well, the Peterson’s have always been the law in this town. It’s kind of a legacy  I guess.”
         “Like the stores in town?”
         “Sort of, yeah.”
         “Hmph.”
         A large white farmhouse suddenly came into view. It was two stories high, with a porch stretching across the entire front and down one side. There were cheery blue shutters on the windows and bright green ferns hanging in pots from the porch rafters.
         “Is this is?” Nick asked.
         “This is it.”
         “You okay?”
         “Yeah. I think so,” Alicia said softly.
         She parked on the side of the house, between it and the barn.
         “That’s where the horses lived,” she said, pointing to the somewhat dilapidated barn as they got out of the car, “That big shed out back is where we kept the plowing equipment and that kind of stuff. Would you look at that?” Alicia walked to the front of the car and pointed out across a field of wildflowers growing behind the house and the barn.
         “That used to be all the crops we grew. Guess it’s just gone wild over the years,” she turned back to the house, “Timmy kept the house up good, though. Barn probably needs to be torn down and replaced.
         “Whoa!” Nick laced his arms around Alicia’s waist and kissed her forehead, “You’re turning our weekend of personal exploration into a year’s work! Let’s put the food away and relax for a little while before we invite the town over for a barn raising, hmmm?”
         She laughed and tossed him the car keys.
         “Deal. You start unloading and I’ll unlock the house.”
         
         After grabbing the three grocery bags from the trunk, Nick went in through the open front door to find Alicia standing at the foot of the stairs. She was standing with her arms laced under her breasts, staring at the bottom step. Nick set the bags down on a small table near the door. He looked at the floor where Alicia was staring.
         “Hey,” he said softly, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “are you sure you wanna stay here? I mean, one step at a time and all that.”
         “No, I’m okay,” Alicia said firmly, “Really. Time to move on and do what I came here to do. Once and for all,” she looked up at Nick and smiled.
         
         They chose the spare bedroom on the second floor to sleep in. Alicia’s childhood room had only a small twin bed and she absolutely did not want to sleep in her parent’s room. Nick didn’t either. The iron bed in the spare room creaked and groaned beneath them as they made love, a squeaky accompaniment to their laughter. Afterward, they drank iced tea on the porch and watched the sun go down.
         “This is really a beautiful place,” Nick observed as they glided gently in the porch swing.
         “Hmmm,” Alicia snuggled deeper into his arms, “that it is. Wanna go back to bed?”
         “Well…”
         Nick jumped up and chased Alicia up the stairs to the bedroom.

         Dark. Dark and quiet. There was no sound but the soft buzz of crickets and the gentle stir of the wind in the big elm outside the bedroom window. Peaceful.
         Pain! Nick suddenly felt a tremendous pain in his chest. Heart attack? Oh, God! Alicia! He tried to speak but couldn’t find the breath to form the words. His eyes flew open and he saw only blackness. Then he adjusted to the darkness and, by the light of the moon, he saw her. Alicia was kneeling over him, looking down at him, a look of serenity on her face.
         “Ah…. Ah…” he tried desperately to say her name but his chest was on fire and his lungs didn’t seem to be working properly.
         “Nick. Darling. I know this comes as a bit of a shock to you. But I have to do what I came here to do. I have to fulfill my obligation to my family, to the town. Everyone has their place in Prosperity, Nick. I’m a Porter. I have to do my duty.
         She raised her arms and Nick saw the glint of silver as the knife arced downward into his chest again. He screamed silently as his wife plunged the blade into his body again and again. The blood pattering to the floor was like thunder in his ears.
         “My blood… my blood…” he thought as he began to slip away.

         The next morning, Sheriff Peterson packed Alicia into the back of his black and white cruiser.
         “Like I said, Alicia,” the Sheriff said to her as they pulled away from the house, “good to have you home again.
Alicia smiled. She was home. She stroked her flat stomach. It wouldn’t be flat for long. In about seven short months, there would be another Porter to follow in her footsteps, just as every son and daughter in Prosperity followed in their parent’s footsteps from one generation to the next.