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When we get to Seth's front porch, the door automatically opens and he steps out, shoulders slumped forward, his eyes cast to the ground. Before his door closes I see his mother’s face in the darkened interior. Her eyes are wide with fright, but she scurries away, further int
o the house. He knows what's going to happen too. It's unavoidable now.
The three of us walk down the widest path to the center of the compound, an oblong clearing with a covered platform in the center. Typically this platform is used for casual, simple occasions, something where everybody needs to gather and mill around, maybe have a picnic or something. It's hardly ever used for this purpose. There's usually no need.
Word must have spread quickly, because people are starting together around us. They squint hard against the remaining sunlight, hands shading their eyes, noses already wrinkled in disgust.
We lead Seth to the platform. He stands in the middle, silently watching the clearing fill with Family members. After another dozen or so make their way into the dusty, open space, I finally figure out exactly what I need to tell them.
“Brother Seth was witnessed in an act of attempted theft,” I announce, casting my voice high over everyone's heads. As soon as I say it, people begin to chant, to whisper at first. They stand with their feet planted as they rock back and forth in unison.
“Shame, shame, shame.”
“He was not successful!” I call out, making sure this crime lands solely at his feet without sullying Angel in any way. “But he was so willing to steal what rightly belongs to another man, that he must be punished!”
“Shame, shame, shame.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Brother Owen pull the small hatchet from a loop in his belt. He tests it against his palm, feeling the weight there. Seth moves to one end of the platform and jams his hands against the railing. Tears have already started streaking his dusty cheeks, and a glob of snot trembles wetly along his upper lip.
“We know the price to be paid for this crime!” I call out, addressing everyone at once. “Before all of you, he is to be punished! Before us all, he is offered redemption through transformation!”
“Shame! Shame! Shame!”
They all rock back and forth, raising their voices in unison. But it's a chant, not an angry mob. It's dutiful. It's determined.
Owen meets my eyes, his lips pressed into a hard, grim line. Silent agreement passes between us. He knows exactly what to do.
As he raises the hatchet, I turn away and walk back out of the clearing, threading my way through my Family. They don’t even see me. Everyone’s eyes are pinned to Seth and Owen.
I don't need to watch it. I hear it when it happens. That definitive thud, when Seth loses the tip of a finger.
When I see Melissa out of the corner of my eye, I pivot slightly to my left and almost run directly into Angel. She looks up at me, startled, breathing shallowly through her mouth. Her cheeks are pink, her fingers tugging thoughtfully at the sides of her cotton shift.
I’m not sure precisely what to say to her but I hear Owen’s voice behind me and turn around just in time.
“Go to your mother,” he tells her, over my shoulder. I turn to look at him. He waits a moment, presumably for Angel to walk away, before lowering his chin to speak confidentially to me.
“The aunties want it done tonight,” he says.
“Tonight? With everything else that happened today?”
He shrugs. “They feel that Seth made the situation more urgent, I guess. Mary said the aunties all want it tonight.”
I stretch back, rolling my shoulders look it up at the blue, cloudless sky. I remember suddenly that there has not been any rain in quite a while. Everything is so dusty and parched right now.
Owen is still staring intently at me when I relax.
“Well, I thought we weren't entirely decided on what to do with her, were we?”
He shifts his eyes to the left and right. He's uneasy talking about this in a public space. I agree with a curt nod and turn to walk to a more secluded spot. Once out of earshot, he begins again.
“The aunties want it done right away. If we don't want to negotiate the issue with them, we have to do it. Tonight.”
I nod. He's got a point. They'll definitely want to have some input on this decision if we let them. It’s best to not even get them involved.
“But I don’t want to rush into this, and find out we needed her sold. I don’t want it to come to that, but to be perfectly frank…”
“We’re in trouble,” he finishes the thought for me.
