Poisoned Petals

“I think I should go home now before my brain explodes from this music,” she said, ready to give up. “This is ridiculous.”

It seemed like they’d wandered aimlessly through the club for hours, but when Peggy looked at her watch, it was only a little after midnight. She should’ve turned the whole thing over to Al instead of being out there half the night looking for Darmus. What the two brothers did was wrong. She could only do so much to help a friend.

Then she saw him. She couldn’t believe it was Darmus Appleby, but she’d know his dear old face anywhere. He was sitting at the bar wearing a dirty, ripped, orange T-shirt and jeans, a Panthers cap slung low on his head. It half covered his forehead, but she knew it was him. He was sneaking furtive looks around the room, probably looking for whoever called him on the cell phone.

“There he is!” She hurried through the crowd, losing her father somewhere along the way. She turned around to look for him, but he was gone. When she looked back, Darmus had moved from his place by the bar. It took a few moments to locate him again. She couldn’t call out to him, couldn’t risk someone else recognizing him.

Determined not to lose Darmus, she rushed after him, keeping her eye on his orange T-shirt. Would he be embarrassed when he saw her? Would he pretend it wasn’t him?

The club had to be exceeding every noise ordinance in the city. People were spilling into the street outside the club. Cars raced, their engines revving, like they did at the speedway. There were plenty of NASCAR fans there, judging from the jackets and caps proclaiming undying love for Dale Jr., Jimmie, and Number 3.

When she found herself out in the alley behind the building, she glanced around and saw couples kissing in the dimly lit recesses. Spilled trash cans made the whole place smell like garbage.

“Darmus!” she called out finally, taking her chances when she saw the orange T-shirt rapidly disappearing. “Wait!”

Peggy skirted the worst of the trash and the couples fondling each other. She jumped over a stream that ran down the alley. She didn’t want to know what that was. Old furniture, wooden crates, and beer bottles littered the space between buildings. The scurry of rats in a corner made her shiver.

“Darmus!” she yelled, catching her purple pleated skirt on the ragged side of a brick building. It tore across when she jerked at it. The orange T-shirt moved on just ahead of her. She pushed her white/red hair out of her eyes and sprinted toward it.

She reached out to grab hold of him. The cotton T-shirt was warm and damp in her hand, but she didn’t see the box in front of her and tripped over it. She went down with her face in the disgusting stench in the alley, skinning the palms of her hands and her knees on the pavement. She didn’t care about any of that, but she swore as she realized she’d let go of the orange T-shirt. She was so close.

But then his crippled hands that would barely open reached down to help her to her feet. She brushed off her face and wet clothes, trying not to think about what was on them.

“Peggy, what are you doing here?” Darmus’s wonderful, familiar voice came from the shadows. She couldn’t see his face. “For God’s sake, can’t you ever leave well enough alone?”

“I came to find you. What are you doing here? Why did you want everyone to think you were dead?”

“I’m here because I am dead. At least to the man I used to be. I fought so hard to be something I wasn’t. I’m tired, Peggy. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

She took a deep breath and almost choked on the stench. “I understand.”

“No. No you don’t. You can’t understand! All of your life you’ve been sure about everything. You had a big family. Parents who loved you and cared for you. You knew you wanted to be a botanist before you went to school. You married John and had the whole storybook family life. You’ve never had to struggle or ask questions that ate at you inside. I’m still struggling, still asking questions. But the one thing I know is my old life isn’t right for me. Not anymore.”

“Okay,” she corrected herself. “I may not understand what that’s like. But you didn’t even give me a chance. You never told me.”

He grunted. “Just as well. This way, Feed America lives on. Luther will take good care of it.”

“What are you saying? Haven’t you read the newspapers or watched TV? Luther is dead! They found him in the Community Garden. They think his body just gave out.” She didn’t bother telling him it might be more than that.

“What do you mean? He can’t be dead!”

“He’s dead, Darmus. Holles and I were at the hospital. I’m sorry.”

“Not Luther, too.” Darmus sobbed brokenly. “Not him, too. How could this happen? He was doing better. We thought he was going to get well again. Why didn’t Holles tell me?”

Holles! Peggy paused. Was he involved? “It was probably what the two of you did to that poor man, Darmus! You both knew it was wrong. Luther left me a letter explaining the whole crazy thing. You have to come back to explain it to the police. Maybe they’ll go easier on you.”

“No one knows.” There was an odd, scary tone in his voice that bordered on eerie. “Except for you, I suppose. But you wouldn’t tell. You wouldn’t let them take me.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t know. But you can’t let that man be buried without his real name. You say it’s terrible to live your life without being able to tell the world who you really are, without knowing. Isn’t that what you’re doing to him?”

Peggy felt his warm hands on her shoulders but still couldn’t see his face. For a moment, she was frightened. How desperate was he? He didn’t know other people knew the truth, too. He might think she was the only one. She couldn’t believe Darmus would hurt her. But last week, she wouldn’t have believed she’d be having this conversation with him, either.

“You’re right. It was stupid. Desperate. When Luther called me, it seemed like a Godsend. I needed to get away. Luther said he would help.”

“It was a good way for him to take your place as head of Feed America.”