Jed Had to Die

Even if Leo is too selfish to spread his comfort and kindness to me, at least I can appreciate him doing it for Emma Jo by ordering everyone off her lawn and telling them they needed to stay out front where he could see them for the time being. It kept the gossipers from hounding us with questions about what was going on or waltzing right into Emma Jo’s backyard to find out for themselves.

“I’ve been sitting here this whole time assuming you’re fine because Jed was an abusive asshole who probably never would have let you go, but he was still your husband. You loved the guy and you spent twelve years of your life with him. I’m sorry, Emma Jo,” I whisper, swallowing back the tears of guilt and sadness for my friend and what she must be feeling right now.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Payton. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m sitting here saying to myself over and over, ‘Jed is dead, Jed is dead, Jed is dead,’ and I saw his body and I know he’s really gone, but I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’ll never be afraid of waiting for him to walk through the front door, worried about what kind of mood he’s in. I can’t believe I’ll never have to lie or make up excuses or hide what he did to me. I can go anywhere, do anything, say anything, and not be scared. I’m not sad, I’m…relieved.”

She finally turns her face toward mine and lowers her voice.

“Does that make me a bad person? I’ve wished that he was dead every day for twelve years, but I never thought it would actually happen.”

Leaning forward, I press my forehead against hers, just like we used to do when we were younger and one of us needed a little extra love or support. Her eyes stare questioningly into mine, and I do my best to make her feel better.

“Jed is dead, baby. Wishing for it is not what made it happen, therefore it does not make you a bad person,” I reassure her. “Baking him a pie laced with bleach, ammonia, and artificial coloring, however…”

Emma Jo laughs at my attempt to make a joke, pulling her head back from mine as we both silently watch Billy Ray come around from the side of the house and make another trip out to his car parked by the curb.

When Buddy finally stopped puking in the rose bushes earlier, Leo sent him out to his car to phone in a report to the station and call Billy Ray, coming inside alone to break the news to us. He had no idea we’d already seen Jed’s body through the laundry room window, and Emma Jo put on a great show of shock and the required sadness when he told her he suspected Jed most likely got to her backyard without Leo seeing him by sneaking through other backyards on the street, and then probably suffered a heart attack. Watching Billy Ray grab another bag of medical equipment from his trunk to go with the one he already took to the backyard when he first got here, doesn’t do anything to help keep me calm about the bumbling lawyer/bagger/feed store operator/coroner.

“What if Billy Ray finds out it wasn’t a heart attack? What if he tests the contents of Jed’s stomach? We’re in big, big trouble, Payton. He’ll know Jed ate a poisoned blueberry pie and my kitchen is a blueberry pie disaster,” Emma Jo speculates quietly.

“Don’t worry about the kitchen, I cleaned everything up as fast as I could after I finished puking and you were still losing your shit in the laundry room. Everything’s in a garbage bag in the coat closet in the hallway until we’re alone and can burn it or something,” I update her quickly out of the corner of my mouth as Billy Ray comes up to the porch steps.

“Hey, Emma Jo, by any chance do you have one of those do-hickey’s that you use on people when they’re sick and have a fever?” he asks.

“Um, do you mean a thermometer?”

Billy Ray snaps his fingers, smiles widely, and points at her. “THAT’S what it’s called! Yeah, I need one of them thermometer things. I just Googled what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this and I guess I need to check the temperature of the body to see when he died. I tried using my thermometer thing, but it’s telling me Jed died at 87.5 degrees. I think mine’s broken.”

It takes a lot of effort for me not to giggle like a little girl and give Emma Jo a fist-bump when she looks down at me with her own barely concealed smile of joy as she pushes up from the swing to get Billy Jo a “thermometer thing.” I’m pretty sure we’re both a little more confident knowing that Billy Jo couldn’t find his own ass, yet alone the cause for someone’s death.

Emma Jo disappears into the house and Billy Ray climbs up the steps to follow her. The front door barely clicks shut behind them when a 1986 silver Buick Regal pulls into Emma Jo’s driveway. I let out a low groan of annoyance seeing the car my parents have owned since the year I was born, and another one to go with it when my mother gets out of the driver’s seat, slams the door closed, and stomps across the yard.

“Payton Marie Lambert, what have you done?” she fires at me, clumping up the steps in a pair of yellow slippers that match the yellow robe she threw on over her yellow and white plaid nightgown. The only thing clashing with her ensemble right now are the five giant blue curlers on top of her head.

She stops right in front of me on the swing with her hands on her hips to glare down at me.

“My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning. First, Starla called to let me know you assaulted Bo Jangles, then she called to tell me you killed a deer in Emma Jo’s backyard, then Teresa Jefferson called to say you tried to corrupt poor Caden again. I had to take my phone off the hook after Roy Pickerson called and said he saw a car from the sheriff’s department here and wanted to know if you had robbed another bar. Honestly, Payton. Forty hours of labor with you, and you’re still making me suffer,” she complains in one breath.