Blackberry Magic
dictate every aspect of their lives, a privilege they withheld on every other day of the year? How dare he shatter the only day of bliss she could ever expect?
Madeline Thomas, Third Place Runa’s father placed a steady hand on her knee as a final reminder to stop fidgeting. The strangers that wandered through her grandmothers’ living room likely mistook his intention as condolence, a gentle touch to his child on the day his wife’s grandmother intended to pass. None could guess at the storm brewing behind the eight-year-old’s narrowed eyes. When she squirmed again, Nelson finally turned an eye in her direction and shook his head with microscopic precision. She recognized that look: Not now, Runa. She inferred through his subtlety: Don’t make a scene, Runa. She guessed the final conclusion, his favorite admonishment: Not everything is about you, Runa. The unspoken words echoed through her chest with unusual sting; while she normally pretended to accept his attempts to reform her behavior, on this particular day everything was absolutely and irrevocably meant to be about her. His audacity rendered her speechless. Did he imply that something held greater importance than she did, on her birthday? The only time she would ever pass from seven to eight? The one day her parents allowed Runa to [ 72 ]
But even at eight, Runa understood that the stubbornness that grew like vines up her spine belonged to her father first, and she settled back into the rose covered couch with crossed arms. He granted his attention back to tiny Mari, who colored in jagged lines with crayons Grandma Kathy kept stored in a wicker basket. And Runa knew that the villain who ruined her birthday wore a much different face than her tired father. She knew that face to be covered in wrinkles, bruises, and the matte pink lipstick she reserved for guests in her shared trailer home. Before the litany of community members appeared in the long gravel driveway to say their goodbyes and peer into the witches’ hovel for the first and final time, Great-grandma Amelia gathered her large family in her small bedroom to announce her plans for the day. She made four requests: a threehour open house that had been announced on flyers and social media weeks before, a final meal consisting of waffles and fresh blackberries from the bushes out back, that Kathy open her window so the ravens could bear witness to the processions, and that the family return to the bedroom at 3pm to receive her final words.
