THE STRAWBERRY by Joseph Harms
“Aaron,” Aunt June called from the screened in back porch, “come here! We’re going to play a game before you terrorize the neighborhood!”
Aaron finished tying up his sneakers, zipped a five dollar bill into the pocket on his right shoe, put his cereal bowl in the sink making sure to rinse it well so his dad didn’t have a conniption when he got off work and went to his Aunt June who’d been paying more and more attention to him this past week, which was fine with him because there was no woman more beautiful. He barely remembered his mom’s warnings when Aunt June had arrived with a single suitcase a month back.
The monarchs had returned. They fluttered about the tulips and daisies and morning glories in the raised gutter around the porch, too delicate to land yet somehow nourished. The sun in Aunt June’s Goldilocks hair made Aaron think of poetry. So did her near colorless blue eyes, off-putting, inhuman to a stranger, but jewels to Aaron.
“Sit down, love.” Aunt June tapped the cushioned seat of the porch swing next to where she sat, unhampered teardrop breasts jiggling in her red wifebeater. “I promise not to waste too much of your time.”
“Morning, Aunt June.”
Aunt June stubbed out her Virginia Slim 120 in the blood red heart shaped ashtray she kept balanced on the arm rest and sipped black coffee from a pint glass. She ruffled Aaron’s blonde curly hair, hugged him with one arm. Wind ruffled the weeping willows and birches in the back yard, combed through the young green cornstalks in the field caged by a thick green forest, home to Aaron and his friends, that surrounded the neighborhood as well.
“What are your plans today, love?”
“Meet up with the guys and work on the fort way out in The Vines.”
“The Vines? Where’s that?”
“See way out in that corner of the field?” Aunt June nodded, lit another smoke. “Well there’s a path that leads all the way through the woods to where they’re building the new subdivisions. And right where the reeds and cattails are, if you go through the swamp, you get to The Vines.”
“So it’s just a bunch of vines?”
“Basically, but it’s great because there are so many that go all the way to the tops of the trees it’s like a waterfall that you can climb right up, and they make rooms too, and that’s what we’re working on, just clearing out the rooms.”
“Wow, a regular castle, huh?”
“Well, it’s something.”
“You ready?” To not get it all over Aaron, she blew the smoke out the screen, scattering a few monarchs. He saw her squint at the butterflies with suspicion and for a moment wondered if she’d done it on purpose. “I’m just going to ask you some questions and you tell me the first thing you think of, ok?”
“Ok.”
“How do you get a giraffe into a refrigerator?”
Aaron watched all the small green stalks moving as one to help his thoughts. Over the baby monitor by the potted cactus in the sunniest corner of the porch Susan began crying. Aaron looked to Aunt June. After some time he said, “Susie’s crying.”
“Ugh.” She left the porch swing violently, marched over to the monitor and turned it off. “Not anymore. What’s your answer, love?” But Aaron had his eyes on the monitor. “She’ll be fine. So what do you think?”
“Well, it’s pretty gross, but you’d have to grind it up into hamburger meat, and even then I don’t know.”
Aunt June gave such a smile he knew he’d gotten it right.
“No. You open the door and let it in.”
“So they’re trick questions?” Aaron frowned.
“I’m not allowed to say. That’s part of the game. You ready for the next?”
“Sure. Ok.”
“How do you fit an elephant into a refrigerator?”
Aaron sighed dramatically.
“Well, it’s probably wrong, so I don’t want to say it.”
“It’s ok. I liked your last answer even though it was wrong.”
“Well, this one’s bad too. You know what they did to grandma to make her dust?”
“They cremated her,” Aunt June said, smile gone but then back and wider, too many little yellow teeth packed crooked together. “Wrong again, buckaroo. You let out the giraffe and put the elephant in.”
“God! I’m sorry, Aunt June, but this is stupid.”
“I know, but bear with me, love, we’re almost done.”
“Why do you like these games?”
Aunt June stubbed out her smoke and finished her coffee, set the pint on the Astroturf floor.
“They say a lot about a person. They’re interesting. To me, at least. Ok. Who didn’t come to the Lion King’s jungle meeting?”
“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugged, “his son or his brother?”
“Why?”
“Because they hate him and are jealous and want to be king?”
“Good answer, really, but the elephant doesn’t come because he’s in the fridge.” Aaron didn’t say anything, thought his Aunt was getting a kick out of making him look stupid. She didn’t seem so pretty with her red crocodile smile. “One more and the game’s over, I promise. And I really do like your answers, love, and I have a surprise for you when we’re all done.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. Last one. How do you cross the crocodile river?”
Aaron thought of a river full of Aunt June and laughed.
“You throw a bigger animal in so you can cross while they’re eating it.”
Aunt June let out a mock sigh. “Aaron,” she tapped his head, “they’re all at the Lion King’s meeting.”
Across the cornfield two tiny figures kicked up dust in a run down the rows of stalks, his best friends Mark and Ben.
“Aunt June, I have to go now.”
“Wait.” She put her hand on his knee. “Don’t you want to know what the surprise is?” Aaron looked at her suspiciously. “No more tricks. It’s a really good surprise, even for me.”
“How?”
“Just one more question.”
“Ugh.”
“But there’re no animals in this one, not really. Ready? It’s the same. I’ll tell you something, then you just have to tell me what you think.”
“I’m going to get it wrong, Aunt June.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Ready?”
“Sure.” Mark and Ben were halfway through the field, their dust cloud growing upwards behind them, the sun throwing crystals into it.
“Ok. A woman’s dad dies. At the funeral she and her brothers are really sad. But she meets a nice handsome older man who comforts her and even makes her laugh. The funeral ends. For weeks she and her brothers grieve and she has no way to contact the older man she likes so much. A month later she gets to see him again. What happens?”
Aaron slapped his leg hard. “I got it! I know this one for sure!”
“Great, love. Tell me.”
“She killed one of her brothers so she could see the man at another funeral.”
“Aaron!” Aunt June took him into a large-breasted hug, the smell of smoke and tanning oil. “I’m so proud of you! That’s right exactly.” She leaned forward and took a piece of paper from the back pocket of her cut off jean shorts. “Read it.”
Aaron read it then just looked at Aunt June.
“Are these your answers?” She nodded, smiled to show each thin yellow tooth. “But they’re the same as mine. You even got the last one perfect.”
“Your friends are almost here.” She took the paper back from him and smacked his bottom as he stood to go. “Look at your beautiful blonde curls, love.”
“I hate them. I want a buzz cut.”
“Oh no, no, no. You know, Aaron, I have a great big secret I’m going to tell you one of these days.”
“Soon?”
“Soon. Give me a kiss.”
Aaron hesitated. He hadn’t done this yet. She put out a cheek for him. When he went to peck it she snapped her head, putting her wet stinking mouth on his for a second only.
Toward dusk, as they hacked the foliage beneath the canopies of vines, an inexplicable dread shadowed Mark’s face and he dropped his chopping stick. Aaron and Ben turned to look where Mark was transfixed and saw nothing. What? Ben asked. What’d you see? Mark looked at them both, picked up his stick, laughed and said, Nothing. I thought for a second I saw your Aunt June, Aaron. Way out in the swamp. Mark chopped a tangle of poison ivy. Only her face was black.
“What if you did something really bad?” Aunt June asked and lit her after-dinner smoke, another pint of coffee on the porch swing armrest, the clank and tinkle of his mom doing the dishes, his dad drinking Buds with some friends in the garage. When he only frowned, she asked, “Wasn’t your mother’s meatloaf just wonderful? I could never make meatloaf like that, could I? That’s why she makes it all the night before so all I have to do is put it in the oven and turn the little knobs. Isn’t that right?”
“You could make meatloaf. It’s easy. I could make meatloaf.” Aaron looked at the red lipstick on her left fang.
“Sure, but never as delicious and healthy.”
“What’s the secret you promised to tell me, Aunt June?”
The little stalks pitched monstrous shadows and the crows had settled to squawking denouncements in the dead trees huddled in the field’s center. It was Friday and Aaron could play outside as long as his dad and his friends’ dads were out drinking and smoking in one garage or another. He wanted to leave.
“I don’t recall making any promises, Aaron. What about my question? What if you did something really bad?”
His mom stuck her head out the kitchen window just off the porch to smile and wave at both of them. They smiled and waved back.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what would happen?”
“I don’t know. I’d get in a lot of trouble, I guess. I gotta go, Aunt June.”
“Wait.” She put her hand on his knee, nails so dark purple they looked black. “What if you didn’t?”
“Get in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Well . . .” Aaron twisted a blonde lock to think and Aunt June took one, twisted it around her pinky. “Don’t make fun of me, Aunt June.”
“I’m not! Honest. I just love your hair and all the cute things you do with it. Now what would happen?”
“I’d feel bad, I guess.”
“What if you didn’t? What if you felt good? Wait.” She squeezed his knee to keep him quiet. “Tell you what you and me will do; we’ll each make a list of all the bad things we could do and then pick the best one.”
“Like pranks?”
“Exactly.”
“When should we have them done by? This feels like homework, Aunt June.”
“Then you’re not using your imagination. This should be a blast, and there’s no hurry.”
“Ok.”
“Now go run wild with your crazy pals, but first give me a kiss goodbye.”
“Ok, but no tricks this time.” Aaron stood to peck her cheek, but paused. “Do you ever walk in the woods, Aunt June?”
The corner of her mouth twitched as it often did and the boy, for a flash, saw her near colorless blue eyes as a stranger would.
“You know I’m allergic to almost everything, even trees. Now come here.”
Aaron went in and right as his lips touched her cheek, she snapped her head, only he was prepared and lunged back.
“Ok, ok,” Aunt June said, “no tricks this time.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
Again, Aaron went in and she snapped her mouth onto his and bit his lower lip and with it in her teeth said, “I only lie when I’m in love, love.”
Aunt June was already talking faster than any person he’d ever heard when he brought the ham sandwich his mom had made the night before to the back porch with an RC Cola.
“Are you even listening?” she ended. “Ugh. Aaron. Wait. Wait. Finish your little sammy. I’ll be right back and then I’ll tell it all over, I suppose.”
“Tell what, Aunt June? You’re acting crazy.”
She hadn’t turned from where she stood facing the field, weight on her right leg, that butt cheek fold just visible past her cut off shorts. Aaron needed the cola to swallow his first bite. She turned and gave him a hard look.
“It’s really important, love. It’s my secret. If I sound crazy it’s because it’s been eating at me for seven years.” And she left the back porch.
He heard her bang around in the kitchen. Then he heard the upstairs toilet flush twice. Then she returned and sat next to him on the porch swing saying nothing till he finished his sandwich.
“Don’t watch me eat, Aunt June.”
“Sorry, Aaron. It’s just amazing to me how hungry you always are. I guess all little boys are ravenous.”
“AARON!”
Both Aaron and Aunt June sprung from the swing, spun around to see Mark on the other side of the screen cracking up for having scared them both so thoroughly.
“You little shit,” his Aunt hissed, but only Aaron heard; Mark’s laughter was too loud and too deep.
Aaron watched Aunt June glare at Mark and said, “I’ll meet you in The Vines in a half hour, man.”
“Cool. I’ll round up Ben and Michael.” Mark winked at Aunt June. “Beautiful as always, Ms. Lovecrest.” And ran off.
Aunt June sat down. Aaron remained standing before her.
“Come here, love. I know you’re too old for this, but I want you to sit on my lap so you really can listen hard to my secret.” Aaron didn’t move. “Please, Aaron. Just this once.”
“No tricks?”
“Really, I won’t kiss you or anything gross like that.”
Aaron sat lightly on her knee, both feet still on the floor to support most of his weight. Oh, no, not like that, Aunt June said and pulled him into her, wrapped both arms around him and tucked his head into her neck, all their blonde curls mingled, so he could see right down her shirt. He got his first memorable and painful hard‑on. He didn’t move.
“Your mother’s told you about how I’d been sick for a really long time, right? She used the word sick I bet. Well, that’s very true, Aaron. I was as bad off as a person could be when I got pregnant and had a baby. And because I loved that baby so much I knew I had to give him away because I couldn’t even take care of myself. Do you understand? Good. I knew I’d never be a good mother till I wasn’t sick anymore. You’re no little boy anymore, love, so I’ll tell you – I was addicted to a drug called cocaine, except it was often too expensive so I’d use an even worse drug just like it called crack and when I couldn’t get that I’d use just about any and everything, and I did bad things to get the drugs when I didn’t have any money and I lost my home and everything, and that’s when you were born and I gave you to my sister who is such a good, beautiful person I knew she’d raise you right and love you as if you were her child, though you weren’t, are not, because she’s just so, so good and loving, and I knew that I’d only ever get you back if I never did drugs again, not even beer like your father. I went through seven years of hell to get to you, Aaron, and I’m not fucking up ever again. I know that’s a bad word, but sometimes you have to use them when things are as important as this. Now, wait. Wait. Now before you say anything, I want to tell you exactly what your mom will say should you decide to tell her all this, which will get me kicked out of this wonderful, beautiful, heavenly house and ruin my life and destroy all my hope; she’ll say that when I was sick I used to tell people this lie about a child I had and gave up to my sister because I knew I couldn’t take care of him, and she’ll tell you I’d say this to get more drugs or a place to sleep or money, and this is the most important part; your mom will tell you that I came to believe in my own lie. Aaron, look at me now. None of that is true. Understand? Understand? None of it.”
“You’re not my mom, Aunt June. Mom’s my mom.”
Aunt June had tears in her eyes.
“I’m not angry or heartbroken to hear you say that, though I have every right to be. Get up.” Aaron looked at her. “Up! We’re going to the bathroom.”
Aaron stood and quickly adjusted his hard-on, but Aunt June saw and smiled to show all her teeth.
“You’ll have to figure that out on your own,” she said, winked at him down in front. “What we’re going to do is take a long look in the mirror.”
In the bathroom she lifted him by the armpits so he could kneel on the sink to be on her level. They put their heads together. They could have been twins, but so could he and his mother and he said as much.
“Your eyes, love. She could never have given you those.” He saw his eyes as a stranger. He recoiled at what he saw, light blue as a thin wispy cloud against a perfect sky. She twisted his blonde locks. “And these? My sister and her husband are brunettes. They couldn’t have created such beautiful hair.” Aaron took her hand away. He couldn’t take his eyes away from their reflections. “We’re going to run away together, love,” she whispered and he felt the moisture off her tongue, “to a place just like Disneyland but so much better, ten times the size and in the middle of a huge desert where it’s always hot and never snows, and you’ll be my only man.”
“But you’re not my mom, Aunt June.”
She set him down. “You’ll come to see, Aaron. I know it’s hard.”
“But even if it’s all true, it doesn’t matter.”
Aunt June went to claw Aaron’s eyes, Aaron felt sure, but instead ripped open the mirror to the medicine cabinet from the wrong end. It came off in her hands. She gave it a confused frown, set it on the toilet lid, snatched a bottle of Tylenol, popped the lid with her thumb and said, “You’ll come to see how much we need each other, love. Have a Tylenol. You have a headache.”
In hammocks of vines in the treetops just beneath the sun Aaron and his best friends speculated on the nature of life in a lazy and safe way they’d lose entirely in a few years. They agreed this was to be the best moment of the summer. Aaron rolled to his side, adjusting the vines beneath him as he did so, and a hundred yards off in the blonde reeds a black face floated, two white eyes opened and on him. The face and eyes didn’t move. They stayed focused on Aaron as if they didn’t mind being discovered, wanted it. Move, Aaron thought, disappear so it seems not real. Aaron began to choke. He hadn’t been breathing, black dusty murky wings of fear, an ancient terror, engulfing him, beating him. He sat up to catch his breath and get a hold of himself, his friends asking if he was ok. He knew when he looked back the face would be gone. He looked back. The face was still there, fixed on him, with teeth now.
“Aunt June, have you been in the woods?”
Aunt June put two scoops of vanilla ice cream into his cup of coffee, put the ice cream back in the freezer and said, “Ta da! A cappuccino! Let’s go out back. I need a smoke.”
“Did you give Susie her earache medicine? Mom told me to remind you.”
“Of course she did. Why would I ever remember something so simple?” She tapped her head as if it were hollow. “Yes, Aaron, I gave her her medicine.”
“I’m serious about the woods. If you’re playing a trick on me it’s not funny, Aunt June.”
“And I told you, I’ve never been in those woods or any woods since I swelled up to twice my size when I was a little girl. You see that birch right there? It could kill me if I hugged it.”
They sat on the porch swing.
“But I’ve seen you,” he said and looked up at her till she looked down at him.
“Not me, love. What about that Old Man Crazy you’ve told me about? With his shack and all his pitbulls and the chainsaw?” Aaron didn’t say anything. “What about him? He’s not real, is he? Just like you seeing me out there isn’t real.”
“He’s real. We see him sometimes way out in the pines running his dogs.”
“And the dog fights? In the big arena made out of garage doors and junked cars way out in the woods and that old school bus that he ran off the road and fed the kids to the dogs? It’s ok, even a good thing, that you have an overactive imagination. It means you’re smart. But sometimes you have to understand that that’s all it is. Your imagination.”
They sat quietly, Aaron wondering how much she was right.
Aunt June tried to stay a sneeze, a dog about to snarl, failed and sneezed into a hanky she’d taken from a pocket.
“Why do you have one of my dad’s hankies?”
“Did you make your list?” Aunt June asked, chipper, dabbing her nose with the hanky.
“What?”
“You don’t remember? All the pranks you could get away with?”
“Oh.” Aaron finished his cappuccino and bent over to set it on the Astroturf. Aunt June grabbed his underwear from behind and gave him a wedgy. “Jesus Christ!”
“Sorry,” she said, giggling like mad. “I couldn’t help myself. Sorry. Really, love. I’m sorry.” Aaron stood, faced away from her, tugged his underwear down and right. “Come on. Sit back down. No more tricks.” Aaron sat back down, wouldn’t look at her. “So, did you make your list?”
“Well, I got some in my head.”
“Tell me.”
“They’re stupid, really, most of them.”
“I bet they’re all very clever.”
“No, not really.”
“Well, tell me the best one.”
With a big grin Aaron finally looked at her. “We could put a dog turd in the casserole!”
“I like it,” Aunt June laughed. “Really, that’s a good one. But it’s not bad enough. What if they eat it and never know?”
“But that’s why it’s perfect. I’d never get caught.”
“No. Really, it’s a good one, but it’s not quite right.”
“Well, what’re your ideas?”
“I had a bunch but they were all really stupid. None of them would work quite right, even though a few were really good like yours.”
“Oh well. We can keep thinking I guess.”
“But I finally came up with the perfect prank.” Aunt June winked at him.
“What?”
“It’s a secret.”
“You have too many secrets and tricks, Aunt June.”
“Where’d be the fun without them?”
“I don’t like secrets or tricks or surprises.”
“Oh yes you do.”
“No I don’t. I just said I didn’t.”
“Then why are you always so eager to find out?”
“So when are you going to tell me this great prank you’re going to pull?”
Aunt June frowned, put a hand on his shoulder in mock concern.
“Why, Aaron, it’s not for me to pull; it’s for you. I’ll tell you tomorrow, but right now we got some hunting to do.”
“What do you mean? Did you lose something in the house?”
“I mean hunting.”
“For what?”
“I believe it’s squirrel season.”
“But you can’t go in the woods.”
“I’ll just put on long pants and long sleeves and not touch anything. Sometimes you gotta take risks, love.” Before Aaron could twist a curl and think, she said, “Right?”
“Right. But my bow and arrow’s not a real bow and arrow.”
Aunt June plucked her purse from the floor and plopped it between them. She raised her eyebrows at him and said, “Open it.” His heart beat almost as it had in the woods. With two fingers he pulled out a gun by the very tip of the handle. It did not look like guns on TV. It weighed as much as a big rock, so he gripped it better.
“What do you say?” she asked.
“Jesus Christ! Is it loaded?”
“Oh yeah, and no safety, so if you were to pull the trigger right now, you’d get me in my pretty little leg.” Aaron quickly pointed the gun downward at something that could not be killed. “You hang on to that – I trust you, love – while I get changed so I don’t swell up into a big fat lady and die.” Aaron nodded, his eyes on the silver barrel. “Oh, there’s only one rule in squirrel hunting, love, and I know you’ll be uncomfortable with it, and I know you may not mean it, but it’s the only rule and I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
“What is it?”
“You have to call me Mom and I’ll call you my precious dark angel.”
“Now, my dark angel, we only get one shot. After that all the cute little squirrels will know better and hide.”
They crouched by the hollow tree by the stream that broke the woods in two and stank of sewage, the yawning mouth of the tree big enough to allow Aaron and Mark and Ben to walk right in without ducking, the inside like the inside of a mushroom where they’d share a beer or smoke and look up all the way to the top of the tree where the hollow narrowed to a basketball-sized window of blue sky and passing clouds.
“But what if we miss it?”
“Miss it what, my dark angel?”
“What if we miss it, Mom?”
“We won’t. I’ll help you aim and take the kickback like this.” Aunt June kneeled behind him, pulled his body flush to hers, tightly. Her breasts squished to each side of her ridiculous maroon sweater, hugged his ribs. The scent of her sweat made Aaron weak. She ran her arms along his and wrapped her hands around his, around the gun, so their arms and hands were one. “Doesn’t this feel so nice, love? Doesn’t this feel like such a nice and warm thing, love? Do you like it, my dark angel?” Aaron choked on what to say. “It’s ok. I can see you like it and I like it too.” She raised their arms and leveled the gun at the fattest squirrel they’d seen, Big Boy they called it. “We’re dead on. Now just pull the trigger.” Aaron’s arms shook.
“Maybe we could shoot that old beehive instead, Mom?”
“Why? You know what would happen, don’t you? Tell me what would happen, my dark angel.”
“It’d explode all over, I guess.”
“Yeah, so why bother? You know what’ll happen if you nail Big Boy?”
“It’d die.”
“No, my dark angel,” his Aunt June said, her tongue just touching his ear. “More than that.”
Big Boy vanished so completely, and then the report, that Aaron would always wonder if it had ever been.
“Oh, my boy, my boy,” Aunt June said through her sobs the next afternoon, on her knees holding him as hard as she could, shaking, after she’d slapped him as hard as she could when he’d surprised her on the back porch with a buzz cut courtesy of Mark and his dad’s beard trimmer. “I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me, love. Please. You have to. Please, please. It just broke my heart so bad. Oh shit, oh shit, love, really, I never meant to hit you. Please. It was an accident.”
“It’s ok, Aunt June. I know you didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have snuck up behind you.”
She held him away from her. “Really? You forgive me just like that?”
“I forgive you. I promise.”
She put a hand through his spiky hair and began to sob again. She brought him into her and squeezed till it hurt him but he didn’t say anything.
“How will you do all your brilliant thinking without your blonde curls to twist, my dark angel?”
“Aunt June, that was just for hunting. It makes me feel weird when you call me that and you’re not my mom no matter what and it hurts how hard you’re squeezing.”
“Of course, of course,” she said, letting him go. “Of course hunting season’s all over.” She nodded once quickly and stood up. “Forever. Crazy me!” She lit a smoke and sat on the porch swing. “So! Are you ready to hear my secret prank?”
Aaron looked at her eyes, red and swollen, yet the irises seemed to glow. He didn’t want to hear it, only he felt so bad for her he nodded. For the first time he wondered who she’d been when she was sick, who she’d been before the sickness.
“Did we really shoot Big Boy?” Aaron asked.
Aunt June frowned, cocked her head. “Isn’t that the strangest thing about it, Aaron? Doesn’t it give you a bit of a funny feeling?”
“Did we?”
“That’s what I mean, love.” She rubbed his prickly head and hated the feel of it; there’d be plenty of time to watch it grow anew. “I really don’t know! I forget! So here’s my plan. It’s the best idea ever.” She paused, but Aaron just looked at her. “Ready? Ok! We’ll turn your baby sister red!”
“Red?” Aaron said, genuinely surprised. “How?”
“Later when I make her a bath you just pour this stuff into the water when she’s in it.” She held up the flower waterer, a plastic elephant. “And Voila!”
“What’s in Dumbo? Is it like food dye?”
“Even better! Baby dye.”
“So she’ll be like a big red strawberry for a little bit? At least till mom and dad get home?”
Aunt June looked out to the woods, twisted a curl, thought of all the little seeds that blister strawberries and said flatly, “Bingo, love.”
This is Joseph Harms’ first published short story in a national literary magazine.