Amygdala: Rabble

**Needs work, which seemed as good a reason for posting as anything. Very open to suggestions on this one, and I will be going back over it later.

Thanks in advance, for those that decide to muddle through it.

Uley**

The Matriarch rose with the southern sun from her place at the end of town, which had been set apart from the rest of the world for at least a century

From what had once been, up until now, she had only began to notice how

...Portraits raised in succession, from first to last, and to each another descendant path, with so many tributaries and winnowing streams of names, other places and other times that might too quickly overwhelm the memorae of a little girl, tracing along the blood pathways, back to her own heart...

The St. Clair name had dwindled down, until it had become, nearly
insignificant to the place where she had been born and raised.

...Her father's name was Montgomery, which was one of the few places within these local histories that had preceded her family, and its name speckling in throughout the histories, until it seemed as if they had become too intertwined for either to become separated from the other and survive...

Oh how this world had changed. She could remember when this street was nothing more than a private drive, which had led her family back home.

... To only these few, that like Halwart County itself, was suffering from these most recent state of affairs. It seemed incredible to her that her family mightn't survive, though this county would likely be reborn. It could never be the same place again, as the economic disparities that had once been stable and established, like two different polarities, that were at once both attractive and repellent to one another, seemed to have become smaller and smaller as she grew older, and more indistinct...

There were days when she would long to let it all go, as they had with most of the servants in lieu of more distant services, owned and operated apart from her family's hand. While they had always tried to be good to "their people," some of which had been with the family for years, and yet never really a part of them.

... Like a wild rose, Esther came into bloom in her life as a child. She was the child of the man who maintained the grounds. She could have certainly hired on some one of those new landscapers to come by once a week, but gardening was a labor that she did not mind to keep to herself. Aside from the fact that it was good for the soul, it also seemed to maintain that vital connection that had, near at once been made, for the good and ill of it all...

She knelled down amid the annuals,discouraged that something wild had come through in the night and destroyed a once beautiful scene. She could not figure out, for the life of her, what in the world might have acquired a taste for her Japanese maple.

... Her gaze cast down the road, and for a moment, all of the homes disappeared. While there was some that she might more readily give up, opposed to a few that she would prefer to keep; as what had once been more likened to her world had become a small neighborhood. They had once owned all that she could see, as a child. It was no longer their decision who or what belonged here...

Yet her sins remained her own, a winnowing collect of what the Catholics might deem as venal. As a girl, she had given little concern to her ascension. It seemed too incredibly unlikely to her that what she had always known would ever truly disappear.

... "She is unruly," her mother's scoldings of Esther were often directed upon her, as if she had some cause or any more control over the wild young girl. "She curses, and she is reckless with herself." She had to suppress what humor she had taken from that, which was meant to be anything but humorous. Such as that wild rose, while it imperfections were made obvious; those became more alike her distinctions. You could have dozens of roses, which all looked the same, in their perfections, to the naked eye. Or one that would remain forever, in its own shadings and natural design, to a beauty predisposed toward its own inclinations...

"She is wicked," the old woman smiled as she watched it growing there, her own willful and stubborn child sat at the heart of this arrangement. Wild roses had a tendency to try to take over.

It required more of her to keep it, and it hardly settled in among the other, more cultured blooms. Yet it was that sense of willfulness that made her want to keep it. She had  to call out a professional, more than once.

"I realize it can be purdy Ma'am, but when you break it all down, a rose is just a tare of brush weed that can get all out of control-- if'n ya let it get that way. This one here is a bit too healthy fer its own good."

... She had found Esther before, though those early, initial meetings were distant, and that distance maintained for the sake of her mother's own guidance. To each had their own proper place, which was never so much about bad or good so much as one will inevitably succumb to the other. "Her manners are atrocious," her mother had made the comment after they had become more familiar to each other. It had all truly started at the county fair...

The house was still there, set far down the blacktopped lane, and away from what had once been the main house. It was not anything like most of the newer homes, which had gradually went up after her husband, Edgar, had sold off the land to developers. It was actually kind of the community eye sore.

There was a young woman that lived there now, alone. She was not really certain what to think  of her, as she had seen the police there, at  Esther's old house, more than once. She dressed rather dismally, often in jeans and several layers of shirts.

There was talk, there was always talk.

It was plain to see that she was not originally from around here. It was George that had told her that the young woman was crazy, and she really had little else to go by, except for her behavior
and the strange company that she chose to keep.

... Kyle Bennett was the riff-raff of her day. A young boy who thought nothing more getting in trouble than what little trouble he took with his appearance. Plain and simple, he was a bully; and she had absolutely no idea what had caused him to turn his attentions towards her. By the time of the county fair, she had already been pushed beyond the limits of what she may have originally intended to take. One of the problems with being a St. Clair was that there was no one really like you in the public schools. She had never really thought of herself as a snob, yet there was still the matter that they shared so little in common with the rest of this community. In short, until Esther, she really had no true friends...

She had come to the opinion that the young woman was something of a lay-about. She rarely came outside, did not take any care of her yard, that silly little car she kept in the drive, nor even dis she seem capable of doing herself much good.

When she did come out, it was only late at night.

Seldom was there anyone else there, but she could expect that the young woman really didn't know anyone else in town. Aside from that horrid little  European car, it was impossible to tell whether she was home or not.

... Kyle was upset with her, because she had gotten him into trouble with the teacher. Truth be told, she had really done nothing more than that she wished to be let alone, to do as she pleased. It had seemed that, no matter what she tried to do to stop him, only seemed to goad him on further. He had not done anything really, aside from follow her around. It was only as evening sat in full, toward an Alabama summer night, that Kyle had thought to corner her by the concessions stand. She had no idea what his intentions were, but that she was cut off from where anyone else might see them... might stop him... caused her heart to hammer inside of her chest, and she felt the urge to cry growing more impatient against her resistance to do just that...

The girl that lived in Esther's house was a strange one.

She could have been a very pretty  girl, but seemed to go out of her way not to show it.

Perhaps she was a student at the University, though it seemed a bit long to travel back and forth everyday. Some people did not care for the metropolitan air of a college town; with its museums, coffee houses and art salons. She could certainly appreciate that, and yet...

She rarely ever saw the young woman leave. And when she did, it was never for very long.

... Kyle kept gradually coming closer, as if he were deriving some glee from this graduating rise in this terror element. She felt most certain that, whatever his intentions might be, that they would almost certainly be violent. And there she was, caught like a doe in a pair of oncoming headlights when-- WHAM! From out of nowhere came Esther. She was not even certain of how she had hit Kyle anymore, so much as she rode him down like a vicious wildcat, and just kept pounding on him. She had never been in such a predicament of violence, yet there was something inside, such as an urge, that wished that Esther would just continue to keep beating on him... that she would hurt him, until he was afraid for himself...

As she made a mental list of what she would need to replace, and what she might use to dissuade the wild element from invading her little patch of heaven; her eye was continually taken back to the small little house at the opposite end of the lane. She wondered that the young woman might be in some kind of trouble.

... "Boy, I'll tear a damn hunk out of you next time," Esther said, kicking out her booted foot, as if trying to put it to his backside and help along on his way. Esther wasn't very big. In fact, she was smaller than her. Her jean overalls and little blue top were hardly even ruffled, as she stood up. She was wearing a pair of sneakers of the like that you could find at the farm and feed store. There was a spill of freckles that passed over the bridge of her nose, before they faded out altogether along her darkly tanned cheeks. She wore her dark hair in two long braids that extended down from both sides of her head. Dark eyes considered her for a moment before either one of them spoke...

She went inside and grabbed a plate, pulling down the old cookie jar and then arranging some of those  which seemed to be perpetually inside, and yet she rarely ever ate cookies herself.

It hardly made any sense to bake them, save for perhaps those unexpected guests, which seemed to become less frequent with each passing day. She often ended up giving them away to some of the children in the neighborhood.

That girl that lived in Esther's house had been there for near a month, and she had never even considered going down there to introduce herself. She wondered, as she wrapped the plate of cookies in clear cellophane, if anyone else had thought to welcome the young woman into the neighborhood.

If talk could be trusted, she doubted that anyone had.

... "You alraight?" Esther's unchecked accent was as natural as can be to her ears, and yet she could hear her mother's corrections pop into her head, even as she heard Esther's voice for the first time. Her family frequently traveled, where her mother's scoldings taught and tried to train her that such lazy talk was a mark of ignorance, and ill breeding. "You will never get another chance to make a good first impression," her mother would always say. She had noticed that her own accent, whenever she was away from home, would disappear, as if of its own accord. Yet when she was here, after her mother had passed away, it was almost as if it were a part of being home. Such an argument seemed rather moot, in consideration of the first impression that Esther had made...

She had come a long way, since Esther moved away. Apparently she had not come along quite far enough to mend the breach between herself and her daughter.

She had taken over her family's affairs after Edgar, bless his heart. There was just more to tending after a family's business than merely being a goodly sort of person.

The path to Esther's house seemed much longer, and all the more changed. It wasn't one  of the larger neighborhoods, thank Heavens, but there was still more than there ever were before.

She knew most of them. Some few, like Old George, still had some form of connection to her family.

..."Don't you pick up on any of that girl's ways now," Daddy said, as both of the girls got older. Daddy was never so harsh
on her about Esther, and his concerns were mostly about boys. God! How she had loved that old man, as if no sun could ever rise nor set without seeing him, at least once, during her day. She had always been convinced that if the world were made up of people more like her daddy, this world would be a far better place for it...

She went to ring the doorbell, and then rolled her eyes at herself. There'd never been any kind bell at this house, aside from the one that Esther had filched from stables...

When there was still stables on the St. Clair estate. The township had named the main thoroughfare after her father-- though she suspected that no one else would have known anything about that. It would hardly be  the first thing that someone from Alabama would suspect if they found themselves having to make the bend down Montgomery Street.

It brought her back, as she stood at this door again, as she had a hundred times before, so long ago that  the person that she had been becoming back then,now seemed so far away.

... Like the time that Esther had brought out a jar. She may have known what it was, but there had never been any such thing ever allowed in her house. Daddy could drink at his bourbon, but that surely didn't come in a jar. They had stayed all night out in the stables because she was afraid to go back home. Not only would her Mama be mad, but Daddy would hardly be too keen on seeing his baby-girl come home, barely able to speak. Esther had figured it all out, and brought them out a couple of old blankets to sleep under. She could hardly remember what they talked about, save that they had talked all night...

She knocked again at the old wooden door. It was newer than the one that had been there, but it surely wasn't new at all anymore.

She considered leaving, and then leaving the plate-- though she had nothing to leave a note. As she glanced back toward the car, she could swear that she had heard something from inside, though she could not be certain what it might have been,

... She had went away to the University in Chicago. She would always come back home, when she could, and later it became more about when she wanted to be back home. It was the early sixties the first time that she had ever left home for any significant space of time. It was something like a culture shock, though she had been away from home before with her family. It was not long before some of those changes that had come more gradually upon herself, had began to spark up many small wildfires back home. Such things had been happening since before she left in August of 1962. No more than she would have ever considered herself an elitist, had she ever considered that she might be a bigot...

"Hello?" She called out as she stepped inside of the house.

In the silence, she could hear someone crying.

She hesitated.

... She had come back home for Thanksgiving in 1963, her world still pretty shaken up over the death of the President in Dallas, the mounting change of such an alien place seemed to have flopped while she was away. "Esther done went off an married some nigger boy," she blinked, incredulous that such a thing would ever have come out of her own father's mouth. It wasn't as if she had never heard the word used, but never by him. "Montgomery!" It was first time that she could ever recall actually wanting to hear another one of her mother's corrections. "We do not speak like that at the table, if we simply must speak like that at all." She chided, and she waited for something else to be said-- but nothing ever was said again about that...

"Hello... I'm sorry for just barging in, but are you alright Dear?"

She found her sitting at the table, a cigarette in trembling hands,  red eyes set upon her fast, as if the girl half-expected her to say, or do, something awful to her.

... She had stayed up most of the night, considering her life again. She had found out where Esther lived the next day, but still hesitated about going over to see her. There was so much violence and upheaval, that the world she had always known had seemed to become a much less predicable place. There were always things, which she had not really considered racists so much as what seemed natural. That the "colored people" had their own place, and the whites theirs, just didn't seem to stir up so much mischief between the two. Even the folk in town were unsettled and restless, and she found that they had all sort of set Esther aside from their talk. When pressed, it was not as if they always spoke well of her so much as there was usually some sort of chuckle behind it or another. She was the town wild-child, after all. She could drink, smoke and curse like a man, as well as wasn't none to shy about drawing back a fist. Almost everyone she knew before had an Esther story to tell. Either of how she had chewed someone up and spit them back out, or some poor fella that thought he might like to get a little too close. Her legend had seemingly been set, before the world began to change. And everyone that she knew had become someone different... including Esther...

"Who are you?"  The girl just sat there, as if she didn't really know how to do anything else but breathe.

"I'm your neighbor from down the way. I was going to bring these down for you, and maybe get a chance for us to meet. It looks as if I may have come at a bad time."

... Booger-Town was not a name for a place that you were ever going to find on a map. Not everyone in Halwart County still called it that, but they all damn sure knew where it was. It may have seemed naive, but she had never really considered that there was any racial connotations to the name, aside from that it was  a poor black community. That she had never been there was of no call, so much as she never really knew anyone that had lived there before Esther. That wasn't entirely true, as she did know most of the people that lived there by name. And that was pretty much all that she knew about them, aside from what they did when they were not at home. She had never been to the Backwater, anymore than she'd have cared to hang out at Glen Harvey's Place. Neither were the proper sort of place for a young girl to be, black or white would not have really mattered. She found Esther living down by Fenton's Mill Pond. Technically not a part of Booger-Town, it was still closer to it than it was to any place else...

"It's alright," the girl said, drawing her hand back through her wet hair, and forcing a smile. "You brought me chocolate chip cookies?

"What?" She asked, and then rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course. Do you like them?"

"Yeeeesss." The younger woman said comically, and then
rose away from the table. "Do you like sun-tea?"

"Yeeeesss," she aped her expression, and the girl smiled as she pulled down two glasses.

"Please, have a"...

..."seat," Esther nodded, after she had stepped inside the small, one room shack. She tried not to look around too much, as everything seemed uncomfortably intimate. She found a seat at the small metal kitchenette table, her eyes moving over toward the couch, and then an old crate that they were using as an end table. Her eye caught hold of a small picture in a cheap frame, which immediately drew her to it. "Is this your husband?" she asked, and Esther half turned from getting them both a glass of tea from the ice-box. It was impossible to read her reaction, almost as if she had been caught unaware that she might even be asked about him...

"My name is Georgia St. Clair," she offered her hand out to the young woman, whose smile seemed a bit more of an honest one. "I live at the house at the end of the street. There's pretty much been one of us there since the turn of he century... the previous one I mean. Isn't much to say that we've only been around for thirteen years," Georgia flushed a little before raising her glass.

... "How long do intend to be around here Georgia?" Esther asked, as they stood at her front door, her gaze taken more than once down the street. "Pro'lly shouldn't come by here again, with things all stirred up as they are. If Charlie was here, I'd have him drive you home." They had managed, most gracefully, to avoid mentioning the elephant in the room. "And so, what about you?" Georgia asked, as she had not really considered walking home in the dark, and was not quite ready to consider it yet. It would only be getting darker...

"My name is Rachel McSweeny," the girl said, as if it bothered her to mention her name. "I'm originally from Ohio."

... The worst she had suffered on the way back home, despite her own imagination, was for some of the denizens of Old Booger-Town to stop and stare, obviously wondering what she was doing there at this time of night. "You'll scuse me for bothering at ya Ma'am, but are you with the movement?" A young black man had stopped her later and asked. She honestly had no idea what he meant. "I jus' had seen ya at Miss Esther's house last night, and well... Sorry if I bothered you Ma'am."...

"Oh no, I go to school online," Rachel said as she picked up one of the cookies.

"I try not to let them set around too long, but since my daughter  has grown... and well, I guess I just got in the habit of having them around." Georgia explained, though Rachel did not seem bothered by the fact that they were not freshly made."I can make some more up, if you'd like?"

"Lord no, I'll get fat," Rachel said, and then puffed out her cheeks.

"Not much chance of that," Georgia smiled. "Is there a Mr. McSweeny?"

"Not since my father," she said and then stopped, as if she had originally intended to say more, but had suddenly cut herself off. "I'm not married."

"Yeah..." Georgia was not sure what to make of that, and likely wouldn't have if not for the awkward silence that followed. "My Edgar passed away in 2003. I doubt that you'll have much trouble finding some company in town, if that is what you are looking to do."

"Well, I do sorta have a boyfriend. We talk online every night."

"I didn't necessarily mean that sort of company Dear," Georgia patted her hand, and the girl smiled uncomfortably.

... She had only met up with Esther again one more time. It was the small barbecue diner on the west side of town. It was March, 1964. It was then that she told her about her involvement with civil rights. "You sure you want to get yourself all wound up in that mess Esther?" Georgia asked, and Esther guffawed (one of her less than lady-like traits). "Sweetheart, I've been "in it" pretty much since the day I said I do. The only way I can figure my way out of it is in a box. At least if I intend to stay around here. Ain't anybody don't know about me. If they know me, they know, damn well, that I am married to Charlie Knox"...

"Well, it is nice to meet you Rachel," Georgia said, and then stood up to leave.

"Nice to meet you too Georgia," she said, as she got up to follow her to the door.

"You ever get a taste for more chocolate chip cookies, you can stop by if you'd like," Georgia said as they shook hands at the door.

"I will do that," the young woman said, pretty much as if she had said that she wouldn't.

Georgia had ignored the urge to pry, especially in as Rachel didn't seem to care to discuss much. The awkwardness had never really left, though there were moments that felt near like a connection. There just were not too many who stopped by anymore, now that she had gotten older. All of those old family friends were lost not long after the day her Mama died. They had acquired a few more during Edgar's lifetime, but they were starting to thin out as well. Whether due to moving away, or Georgia having to go to another funeral... there had never been anyone quite like Esther.

... "Don't you go getting yourself involved with none of that rabble." her mother's expression as if she suspected that Georgia had lost her mind for merely considering it. "Those people just like to stir things up, and get everybody fighting with each other. There just isn't any call for that sort of nonsense, and there certainly is nothing for you there."...

It was Denny Brown that had told her what had happened. About how ol' Charlie Knox had not come home one night, and how they found him the next day. Everyone had said that Esther had just went and packed herself up, and moved away, without telling anybody where she was going.

Not even Georgia St. Clair.

She had met Edgar Williams at the university in Chicago. They really had not been seeing one another very long, and after Edgar had left college to go off to Vietnam. He came back seeming a little older. Georgia was kind of surprised to see him at all. Not because she thought he might die over there, but because she really didn't think he was a serious sort of man. He liked to play around too much, and he really didn't seem to have much trouble finding those more interested in his sorts of games. When he showed up at her dorm that day, he was a very different sort of man.

"I'll take you any place that you want to go," he said.

Georgia was a little flustered by that, but it didn't take her long to figure out where she wanted to go.

"Really?" It was Edgar's turn to be flustered.

"Well, if you don't want to take me there, then I suppose..."

No-no, that's just fine." He said, scratching at his head. "I just never thought that you would have ever wanted to go to something like that."

Their first real date, at least the first that Georgia actually took held in some account, was August 5, 1966. She was not sure if Edgar was more nervous about the date, or about the throng of the crowd that had gathered in Gage Park that day. They had had some trouble getting in, and she could tell, even then that Edgar was very nervous about being there. But when it actually came down to it, he had taken her to see the Reverend King speak. They really couldn't hear all of it, as there was outside agitators, and even the people around them created quite a din of noise.

Maybe she had half expected to see Esther Knox there, but the trouble came too early. Edgar had shielded her out and away from the crowd. It took them a long while to make their way back to his car.

He didn't really have long before he had to go back, but they had  seen one another every one of them after that. It seemed an almost shameful time of turbulence around them to even be considering falling in love.

And she did love him, right up until the day that he had passed away. She still loved him now. It was kind of silly for her to challenge him like that, and even that her original intentions may have been spoiled-- she had heard that speech again much later. She might have considered becoming more involved, if she thought it was for the right reasons. Georgia could never recall hating anyone, not even the bully Kyle Bennett. It was even less possible for Edgar, though he did come back from that war a little more hardened.

They were married on June 12, 1969. It kind of shocked her that her daddy was a little rougher on Edgar than her Mama. He demanded that he complete his education, and prove a means of support before he would give his consent.

Edgar did all of that as well, and became an accountant for Montgomery County. Another one of her daddy's conditions was that he didn't try to take her far away from her home.

They had lived in Montgomery for a while. Georgia got a teaching position at the community college, and Edgar continued to move up in his own.

It was not as if she had ever forgotten about Esther. It was just that, after Mama died back in 1981, this old house was left to Edgar and herself. They really didn't move back right away, as Edgar was still employed in Montgomery County, and Georgia still had a contract with MCCC. They would come out and stay here every so often, and some tough times with their daughter Emily had led to mortgaging away most of the property.

Two acres was plenty enough, and she had not seen her way to tending after even that in a while. She had let the back field grow back up. Edgar had planted a few trees, and kept the house from losing any serious ground.

This was the place that they intended to retire, which is somewhat what they did. There was still the ongoing problems with their Emily, but they mostly became her own once she was of age to make her own decisions.

She had not even seen Emily in ten long years. She would not even know how to get a hold of her anymore. She had been married twice, each time taking her farther away from them. The only time that they would ever see her before that was if she needed some money.

Her daughter hated her.

She was not even sure why that might be anymore, and she was beginning to care even less. Not about Emily, but as to whatever the fight might have been about that had driven such a wedge between them. The time to wonder what she had done wrong was long passed, and she could hardly repair the damage done if she did not even know where Emily had fled.

Georgia considered going back to her gardening, but she felt kind of tired now. The heart was willing, but the body was just going all to shit. It aggravated her a little, until she noticed the wild roses had decided to open up since she had left.

It looked less like a rose when it bloomed out. It was technically called a Rosa Acicularis, a wood rose or a prickly wild rose. While it was not indigenous to the state of Alabama, it sure didn't take much once it had taken root to get it grow.

It was actually Emily that had brought it to her. Another one of those times that she needed money, hopefully not to buy her drugs. She could not understand it, though she had tried so often before to consider what had started her down that long and terrible road.

Georgia glanced one more time down the road, watching as Mrs. Jarvis stepped out of her house and immediately started moving towards her car. She could see her staring toward Esther's old house, with an expression of distaste before she got inside of her SUV.

It was kind of an eyesore. She should have thought to give that young woman Greg Killiam's number. The boy would cut the lawn pretty good for cheap, though Georgia would inevitably have to go back over it again with the weed whacker.

She watched Mrs. Jarvis drive away, formerly Angie Davis' youngest girl. She didn't so much as wave her way. Georgia had heard that she was jealous of her house, which seemed ridiculous to her. She already had the newest house in the neighborhood, and poor Andy Jarvis was continually having to put something new in, or adding to the house itself.

Georgia took her maiden name back after Edgar died. Well, she hyphenated it leastwise. People around here still called her Mrs. St. Clair, as if Edgar had never existed. Edgar didn't mind, until they had started taking to calling him Mr. St. Clair. It was almost humorous, the expression that he would get back after correcting them. For some, he just stopped trying.

"Well, they go the important part anyway." Edgar would say, though he didn't sound as if he was so content to his name change.

"And that is?" Georgia asked, and watched him shrug.

"They at least realize that we are married," he said, and his mood would suddenly change as he reached over and patted her hand. She took it into her own and smiled, bringing it to her face...

Georgia found herself staring at the rose. One of the bleaker blooms, that might just as well not even bothered opening up at all. It was still pretty, it just wasn't beautiful... it had no symmetry, and its colors seemed blotchy. She just shook her head in exasperation, as she figured it might have come out when the rose bush had taken on some disease. Out comes Darrel Meyers again, and he only stared at her for a bit after she had told him that she wanted to save it.

Georgia pushed herself to move along, as standing out in the middle of your lawn was not exactly the sort of portrait she'd care to paint. Not for an old woman leastwise. Folk might think that she was going bonkers...

There was way too much time spent wondering after what other folks thought in her life. She knew she had come by from her mother corrections and frequent instructions about propriety. She had come from another age and time, when young women were expected to behave in a certain way. She wondered to herself, as she stepped inside of her house, just how much like her mother she had allowed herself to become.