A Pound of Cure
Grigori, dressed in Star Wars pajamas, is too absorbed in a game on his handheld Nintendo to react to Zandra's presence. That spares him a look at the shock on Zandra's face.
"Is that...?" Zandra says.
"Yes," Ivy says.
While blankets cover most of Grigori's body, his bare right foot dangles off the side of the bed. It less resembles a foot than a swollen grape of flesh with five toes sprouting from one end.
Damn. I've never seen stretch marks on a foot before.
"Is the other one like that, too?" Zandra says over the hum of essential oil diffusers.
"No. Just the one. Been like that for 10 days. Came out of nowhere," Ivy says. She sits down on the bed and runs her hand through her son's hair. Grigori stays focused on his game. "Grigori, this person is here to help you. Can you tell her about this?"
Grigori doesn't respond.
Ivy pulls his head close and kisses his temple. "That's OK," she says.
I don't know if this kid needs a podiatrist, a surgeon, or a bone saw. Sure as hell doesn't need me, though.
"Can I talk to you in the hallway?" Zandra says to Ivy. They leave, and Zandra makes sure to latch the door behind them.
"Don't tell me you can't help him," Ivy says. That gets Jade to join them from the kitchen.
"You can't help him?" Jade says as she approaches, beer in hand.
I should've stayed at that bus stop. There are better ways to make money than amateur pediatrics.
"He needs a doctor," Zandra says.
"But the spirits said you could help," Jade says.
Yeah, but the spirits aren't doctors, either.
"Me telling you he needs a doctor is the spirits helping," Zandra says.
Ivy looks at the door to Grigori's room. "Let's not do this here. Not where he can hear."
They switch to the kitchen instead, where Zandra puts herself between the couple and the knife block by the sink.
Old habit.
"A doctor is out of the question," Ivy says.
"You were just at the hospital," Zandra says.
"Paperwork. It never ends. It doesn't matter what the law says. If someone doesn't like you, they can keep you in limbo forever with the paperwork," Ivy says. "We are who we are, and Grigori is adopted. Plus, we only moved to Stevens Point six months ago."
Zero trust for institutions, and with good reason. Sounds familiar.
"Only six months ago?" Zandra says.
"We moved for work, at the big insurance company out here. It was a good job, good benefits. Then, out of nowhere, everything changed. Layoffs. Restructuring. I got notice I'm done in 30 days. Now the health insurance is all screwed up, on top of everything else," Ivy says.
Also familiar.
Zandra fakes a cough into her sleeve.
"So you're trying to treat whatever this is yourself," Zandra says.
"Ivy always tries to make it sound nice," Jade says. She tips the beer bottle toward Zandra. "Fuck doctors. Doctors are bought and paid for by the pharmaceutical companies. Healthy people don't make them any money. Same with the health insurance companies. Fuck them, too. There are cures all around us, in nature, that they try to suppress. You just have to know where to look."
While you're at it, look at how much money the companies selling those natural cures make. They're not charities, either.
Ivy rubs the back of her neck. "Jade would prefer I not sort the paperwork out, either."
Jade wrinkles her nose. She sets the beer down and cracks open the plastic clamshell of a four-pack of gigantic blueberry muffins.
Zandra stiffens.
Blueberry muffins.
"You want one? I saw you looking," Jade says to Zandra.
Zandra clears her throat. "No, thank you."
"You sure? The recipe is really good," Jade says. She takes a big bite of a muffin to underline her point.
OK, Herman. I get it, I get it.
"When did this all start? What sort of natural treatments did you try?" Zandra says. She sniffles. "Other than the obvious."
Jade is too occupied with chewing, so Ivy answers. "A week ago. Started with congestion and sore throat. We gave him this special kind of tea. What was it called again?"
"Rooibos," Jade says through a mouthful of muffin.
What? Maybe try again after you swallow.
"Oh, yeah, rooibos tea," Ivy says.
I guess I heard that right after all.
Zandra rubs a knuckle between her eyebrows. This time, it's not for dramatic effect. The pressure of treating a child gives her a headache.
It's easier to perform when you're ripping someone off, or you're going after some shithead like Gene. Harder to control the conversation when I don't have a mark to land. The destination is unknown.
"So this tea, it's good for cold symptoms?" Zandra says.
"Good for lots of things. It's from South Africa. I'll send some home with you to try. To be honest, I'm almost sick of the smell of it now. I've been making it for Grigori every day," Jade says, now having swallowed her bite.
No, thanks.
"Then what?" Zandra says.
"The cold symptoms got better after a few days, thanks to the tea and chromotherapy. I'd send you home with a red light to try, too, but they're expensive," Jade says.
I bet that improvement would've happened all on its own.
"That's when we noticed the foot," Ivy says.
"And that's when I found a blend of essential oils formulated for anti-inflammation. It's the strongest formula you can buy," Jade says.
"But whatever is in Grigori's foot to cause that, it's stronger."
"And I know what you're thinking, Zandra," Jade says.
That I should've sold all this shit back at Sneak Peek?
"Yes, but tell me anyway," Zandra says.
Jade sets the half-eaten muffin back into the clamshell. She opens a cupboard and pulls out a clear, plastic sandwich baggie with a few ounces of white powder inside.
And I really would've made a killing had I been selling that shit.
"The rooibos tea killed the cold germs, and the leftover toxins settled into his foot. I know, I thought the same thing," Jade says.
Jade opens the bag and invites Zandra to take a whiff. Zandra hesitates at first, but obliges. She's not sure what cocaine smells like, but this isn't it. Zandra inhales an earthy aroma with wisps of fresh salad.
"Mung bean powder, an ancient Chinese secret detox. I processed it myself," Jade says, beaming.
What is it about something being from far away and long ago that turns off people's brains and turns on ethnic caricatures?
Zandra backs out her nose from the bag. "And you gave this to your son."
"In a smoothie, yes. Grigori is free from toxins, so that's not it. It's a mystery," Jade says. She licks the tip of her index finger, dips the tip into the bag, and returns the mung-beaned finger to her mouth.
Zandra closes her eyes in thought.
How the hell am I going to play this?
"Are the spirits telling you something?" Jade says.
"Shhh. Let her work," Ivy says.
After a quiet minute, Zandra opens her eyes.
This is going to be a long shot.
"How much time do I have?" Zandra says.
"How much do you need?" Ivy says.
"Three days."
"Three days?" Jade says, exasperated. "What could take you 36 hours to do?"
Half of what it takes me three days to do.
Zandra doesn't correct the number.
"Three days. Isolated, with Grigori, in his room," Zandra says. "You make some space for me in there, and I'll sleep on the floor. Leave water and simple food outside the door."
Ivy seems more open to the idea than Jade.
That's because she likes quick fixes.
Zandra decides to convince her with the lawnmower knife. She pulls it from the sheath up her sleeve. The couple recoils and gasps, but Zandra doesn't show her steel to frighten them. Instead, she sets the knife down on the counter.
"Three days. This knife is the most important thing I own. You keep it, then give it back to me when I'm done, just to show you I'm serious," Zandra says.
Jade picks up the knife by the paracord-wrapped handle and inspects the "27" sigil etched into the steel. "What's your diagnosis?"
Zandra musters the straightest face she can and says, "You've heard of an eye infection? This is a third eye infection. You're good parents, but this is beyond you."
Jade nods and repeats the diagnosis under her breath while turning the knife over and over in her hand. "Third eye infection."
Ivy starts for Grigori's bedroom. Zandra goes over the instructions with Jade.
"Again, water and simple food only. The essential oils conflict with my energy work, so turn the diffusers off," Zandra says. "Check in on us as often as you like, but do maintain a calm environment. Get some sleep, too."
"Really? Turn them off?" Jade says.
Fuck yes. They reek. You're going to smoke out half of Stevens Point.
"Oh, and one other thing. If you check in on us, and it looks like I'm sleeping, that's the energy work. When I enter a trance state, it resembles sleeping," Zandra says.
"Yes, of course, no problem," Jade says like inviting a psychic for a three-day sleepover is an everyday thing.
And maybe it is.
After telling Grigori what's going to happen and prepping the room, Ivy shows Zandra to an inflatable mattress next to the Star Wars-themed bed.
"We'll keep the door open, obviously," Ivy says.
The three days pass as uneventfully as droplets of essential oils settling into the carpet. Grigori relishes the unrestricted video gaming, wholly uninterested in Zandra's "energy work." The free room and board give Zandra's bad ankle a welcome break, too.
At the end of three days, Ivy peels back the blanket from Grigori's foot. She covers her mouth in shock.
"It's a miracle," Ivy says.