Karly

It is rumored that Native Americans were the first people to reject Benton, Vermont. Indian tribes established settlements all over southern Vermont, upstate New York, and western Massachusetts, but there was no sign of settlement of any kind on the land that comprises modern day Benton. Local anthropologists studying the matter declared that the reasons for this varied— the rivers flowed uphill; the winds blew from the wrong direction; the grasses smelled sour. Whatever the specifics, it all came down to one thing: unlucky ground.

Not only did that information make perfect sense to Karly Hughes, she found tremendous comfort in the way it deflected personal responsibility. Her life was more than the sum of bad genes, bad luck, and bad choices. The ground beneath her feet was actually cursed.

She rolled over in bed and studied the ceiling. The old Victorian in which she and her mother lived might have once have claimed a quirky sort of charm, but as the neighborhood steadily deteriorated it had been left to fall into a state of dilapidated neglect. Their current landlord had bought the place in the late eighties and, with the sole intent of maximizing rent, divided the house into thirds using the architectural equivalent of an egg slicer. The resulting triplex was made up of tiny kitchens, dim hallways, narrow bedrooms, and drafty ceilings.

On the plus side, the paper thin walls eliminated any need Karly might have had for an alarm clock. The couple next door could always be relied upon to greet the day noisily. Sometimes it was the sound of their metal bed frame squeaking and knocking rhythmically against her wall that woke her. On those mornings, she’d dive under her pillow in embarrassment to block out the mental images that accompanied the sounds— she had to wave hello to these people for Godsakes.

Usually, however, what woke her were the sounds that carried over today: the sounds of fighting. Not physical fighting, fortunately. No need to get the cops involved. Just the ordinary arguments that resulted from waking late and rushing off to miserable jobs, having too little money, too many bills, and too little time. The sound of being squeezed so tight that fights weren’t really fights at all, but operated more like steam letting air out of a pressure valve before it exploded.