March 10 - Twisted in Effigy

"Ray, come look."
It was too hot.  The tall grasses stuck to my legs. Each blade left individually, cutting into my skin with their sharp edges.  It was hot enough that I contemplated ripping my shirt off and wearing it around my head like Johnny did when he was pretending to be what he called an Arab and what Jimmy called a Terrorist.  We didn't blame him, he grew up on his parent's political views.  When I asked Mama about it, she said not to listen to him and that his parents were old conservatives.  I didn't know what she meant, but she was usually right; so I paid Jimmy no time.  But even in this sun, my little sister was still my little sister and I felt weird taking anything off in front of her.
"I'm coming Mandy."
She stood stock still, a little blond head floating above the tall grasses.  I never understood how she managed to wear that denim jumper in this heat and not sweat, but she did.  The wind lazily played with her hair, moving a strand here and there, not really doing anything to relieve the weight of the air.
"Ray! Come look.  I found something!"
Her head flashed toward me to make sure I was coming.  She never believed me, which was just as well.  No one should be too trusting.  The grasses rustled, a dry sound.  It hadn't rained.  She looked up at the sky, shielding a dirt scuffed, pale face with an even dirtier hand.  The ground was red here.
"It's an... impressionist sky."
I didn't know what she was talking about.  She said something about the way the sun was too yellow and the sky was too blue and the sun was a bunch of circles of different shades of yellow drawn on too quickly by God.  She said it meant the sky was beautiful.  I don't know anything about that.  I just know the sun was too hot and the sky looked too cool.  I wanted to drink it, it was so blue.
"What is it Mandy?" I asked.  I arrived panting from walking 15 feet.
"Look."  She pointed.
Some of the older kids liked to use this field. I don't know what they do.  I don't know anything about that.  She bent down to pick something metal out of the ground.  I could see it was too hot for her to hold, but she wouldn't let me take it.  It was a twisted bit of something.  It had been warped by the head, certainly, but it also looked like it had been twisted by an impact.  I looked around for the signs of a race, but I didn't see any.  None of the grass was flattened or burned.
"It looks like Mama."
I didn't see it, but I don't know anything about that.  Mandy was an artist.  You could see it in her little kid drawings.  She connected to it or some shit.  I don't know.  She draws a lot anyway, and some of it looks pretty good.  She twisted the thing around, looking from different angles.
"It looks like Mama" she affirmed.
"It looks dirty. Don't cut yourself."
She's my little sister.  I worry.  And Mama couldn't pay for us to go to a clinic.  She couldn't pay for her usual check up.  She had to go somewhere else and came back looking all sick and drained.  She said she felt like something had died inside her.  Or maybe she said something had died in her.  I don't know.  I just know she didn't want to cook any of the meat we'd brought in from the field because one of the rabbits we found had babies.  Mandy said it was just as well and that it was wrong to eat any kind of a baby, but I just thought it was meat which we don't get enough of.
Mandy just kept twisting that thing and saying it looked like Mama. I told her she could keep it if she thought so but that we had to get back to looking for food.  She just nodded and kept twisting.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"It looks like Mama.  I want to keep it."
"So do. But why are you looking at it like that?"
"Because it looks like Mama, but I don't know how."
"I don't know why."
"Why?  Because it's all twisted up and scared looking.  Like Mama.  If you look at the middle it's hollower.  Like it's missing something.  Like Mama.  But it's also in the shape of a heart.  Like Mama."
"That's no heart."
"Yes it is!  Look."
"You look better than I do."
"That's cause you're a boy. Boys don't look."
I don't know about Mandy.  She's got some odd notions.  All I know is that it was too hot and that I had to get back to looking.  Mama looked tireder and draineder and maybe if I brought her something worth while to eat it would make her better.  I had to.  I don't know much about much, but I know when I got to get something done.