{"id":969,"date":"2012-12-24T10:00:00","date_gmt":"2012-12-24T15:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/?p=969"},"modified":"2022-08-03T13:16:36","modified_gmt":"2022-08-03T17:16:36","slug":"pollen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/pollen\/","title":{"rendered":"Pollen"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

The owl whos and Lee\u2019s body opens. We name him Elihu after Lee\u2019s dad. One month later we\u2019re on the back porch under the dogwood, drinking flutes of champagne in the spring afternoon. The yard\u2019s a splash of watery greens from the rain and azaleas skirt the fence, coloring the air bright pink and white and yellow. \u201cI told you I had some Cherokee,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

Lee downs the last of her champe.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a good-looking clam,\u201d I say, and we eye him snug in the baby swing, squashy and ruddy with all that burry hair. As far as I know, the Cherokee people always had long flowing beautiful hair. The hair of babies, I\u2019ve been told, can be weird. \u201cIt\u2019ll straighten out,\u201d I say. \u201cIt\u2019ll be like yours. Nobody\u2019s hair is like yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not complaining,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would you complain?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s beautiful,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. Just look at him.\u201d<\/p>\n

We are looking at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish he didn\u2019t sleep so much though,\u201d Lee says.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only been a month.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t babies cry? Why doesn\u2019t he cry?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s well behaved,\u201d I say, and I say, \u201cLet\u2019s make a new toast.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lee squares her shoulders, and specks of blueberry from the pancakes I made are between her teeth. It\u2019s just blueberry, I think, and I love blueberries. Blueberries are a good thing. I say, \u201cHere\u2019s to our little fuzz buster,\u201d and clink her glass across the table.<\/p>\n

Lee sips, and her head, as it has done ever since we came out here to celebrate, turns on its own to look at Elihu. We are both looking at Elihu. Her shoulders start to jerk.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it, Lee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d she says, and wipes her eyes with her palms.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes I think you are intentionally cruel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for ruining my birthday. Is that what you\u2019re trying to do, ruin my birthday?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLee,\u201d I say, and put my hand on her hand. I say, \u201cLook at the beauty out there,\u201d and with my arm present our glowing backyard that bristles with life and color and promise. \u201cDoesn\u2019t the sight of it make you happy? Think how lucky we are to have all this in the world today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lee looks at it all, but looks back to Elihu. \u201cWhat if it is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou brought us there. You were there too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was an adventure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I regret it,\u201d Lee says.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you don\u2019t, but you should.\u201d<\/p>\n

I look at him. \u201cWhen I look at him,\u201d I say, \u201call I see is a beautiful child.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Lee says, and her eyes spill over.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the pollen,\u201d I say. \u201cWhen it\u2019s everywhere like this it clogs up the air, you can see it. It clogs up our emotions too, then releases them in little spurts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust shut up,\u201d Lee says.<\/p>\n

I do.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a fine boy,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say he wasn\u2019t, goddammit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook how cute he is,\u201d I say. \u201cHe looks like your dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lee starts up sobbing, not caring, it is what it is and I see that her nipples have begun to seep, as if responding to her eyes, all of her a sad chorus of weeping. Her tank-top soaks through with milk and just now Elihu bawls out. She reaches for him. Her hands wrap around his body, and my heart lurches forth as if to stop her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“Our glowing backyard bristles with life and color and promise. ‘Doesn\u2019t the sight of it make you happy? Think how lucky we are to have all this in the world today<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":5270,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[61,62],"class_list":["post-969","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-nature","tag-sons","writer-john-oliver-hodges"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=969"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17634,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/969\/revisions\/17634"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5270"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=969"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=969"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=969"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}