Poison Penny Returns

For three nights, I’ve watched my husband, Terry, stare out the window with a mournful look. It is spring, and Poison Penny has returned and picked my husband to add to her growing list of suitors. He’s done nothing but stare out windows. He’s not heard a word the kids or I have said to him. He looks dreamy at dinner like he’s still half asleep.

I’ve prayed for guidance on what to do, talked to other women, and even talked to all the preachers in the town. They’ve all had the same answer for me. They just didn’t know what to do. No one had ever been able to stop Poison Penny from taking that which she had claimed as hers. Poison Penny took with no compunction.

So I’ve watched with trepidation, wondering when Poison Penny would claim what she wanted. I’ve considered tying Terry down to a chair, but I know in my heart of hearts that he will just try to get free and hurt himself in the process. So I wait and watch—the only two things I can do.

By the fourth night, he was getting agitated. He started pacing the floors. He repeatedly asked if we could smell something that only he could smell. I know his time is near, like a female dog soon to give birth. He doesn’t sleep that night, and neither do I. I fear for him, and I am afraid he will disappear if I close my eyes for even a second.

On the fifth night, he walked to the front door and stepped out into the thickest fog I had ever seen. I was unable to follow him or stop him. I was lucky I found my house again, where I had left my children.

I do not know what I will tell my children. They do not understand Poison Penny yet. They are still too young. I suppose I will tell them what my mother told me: that their father went out to buy a loaf of bread and never returned.

Now, a complete understanding of what had happened to my father hit me, and I stood in the fog and bawled for the men that I loved and lost to Poison Penny. The one who tucked me in at night and the one who used to sleep beside me at night were both gone.