<\/span><\/p>\nIt was a perfect Sunday, mid-January; the kind of bright sunny day when people praised Jesus for the privilege of living in the Great State of Florida. The wind was calm and the temperature was perfect for jeans and a T-shirt. <\/p>\n
The Guthrie brothers had loaded up the pickup truck, stocked the cooler full of Budweiser, and attached the fishin\u2019 boat to the trailer hitch for their usual Sunday afternoon on Lake Okeechobee. The only thing different from their routine was that this time they had invited a guest. Lorenzo.<\/p>\n
The boys laughed and joked with Lorenzo, slappin\u2019 him on the back and offering him beer after beer. They spent a fine day out on the lake, catching quite a few crappies and even a nice-sized bass in between their beer guzzlin\u2019 and dirty joke tellin\u2019.<\/p>\n
Poor Lorenzo must have thought that their behavior didn\u2019t quite square with his previous experiences, but being lovesick as he was, probably chose to ignore his suspicions. <\/p>\n
Upon returning to shore, Roger and Rory made themselves busy by settin\u2019 the boat back on the trailer while Stanley and Lorenzo stared out at the red sunset slowly melting into the giant lake.<\/p>\n
Chugging down the last of his beer, Stanley belched loudly then excused himself to go take a piss behind a tree.<\/p>\n
Lorenzo stayed put, his thoughts drifting toward Liz, knowing that she was probably waiting for him back at his apartment. Maybe she\u2019d be under the covers already, reading one of her fancy books until he arrived.<\/p>\n
Then Lorenzo heard a sound behind him; a twig snapping or maybe the cock of a rifle. He wasn\u2019t sure, but didn\u2019t turn around, instead letting his gaze wander up to the darkening horizon as he traced a flock of heron gliding low over the sawgrass. He must\u2019ve thought how graceful they looked as they dipped and turned and flapped their wings in perfect unison.<\/p>\n
A loud crack echoed across the lake. The last thing Lorenzo felt was the wet, mossy ground against his cheek.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
Liz paced the tiny office trailer, ignored some phone calls and cut the others short. She strolled over to the Coke machine several times, drinking more soda than she was used to, just to pass by Lorenzo\u2019s apartment. When the sugar and caffeine buzz crashed, Liz folded her arms across her desk and laid her head down, waiting.<\/p>\n
She perked up when she heard a truck roll up in the driveway and park next to her trailer. When the door of the vehicle closed, she heard her brother Rory call out to Stanley, who must have been in the warehouse nearby.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey Stan, what time you figure \u2018Zo be gettin\u2019 back from Miami? He needs to get that tractor fixed ASAP.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo idea, brother. Should\u2019ve been back by now. Maybe he got himself a nice little se\u00f1orita down there keepin\u2019 him busy. Heh, heh.\u201d<\/p>\n
Liz leapt up from her desk and popped outside to where her two brothers were, just as Roger strolled up making it an official family reunion.<\/p>\n
Liz asked Rory, \u201cWhat\u2019s this about Lorenzo going to Miami?\u201d<\/p>\n
Roger jumped in, \u201cNone of your goddamn business. What the hell you care, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was just wondering, that\u2019s all,\u201d she replied, then quickly added, \u201cI was gonna ask him to have a look at the A\/C unit in the trailer. It\u2019s been acting up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that right?\u201d Roger asked. \u201cWell, you let me worry \u2018bout that, and you worry \u2018bout your work. I\u2019ve had a few customers complaining \u2018bout your attitude lately. No more damn questions about Lorenzo, is that clear?\u201d He didn\u2019t wait for an answer, he just turned and walked away.<\/p>\n
Liz looked at her other two brothers, perhaps hoping for an explanation. All she got from them were the same stupid expressions that they always had on their faces.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
A week went by, one day blurring into another. Liz went to work every morning, but spoke to nobody. Her anxiety swelled, twisted her every thought, distorted every random emotion; first sorrow, then anger, grief, and despair by turns.<\/p>\n
Why had Lorenzo left and where had he gone? Sleep came in fits; nights of insomnia, and then she\u2019d fall asleep at her desk in the afternoon. By Friday evening her body had at last given up completely. She laid down on her bed and descended into a deep, dark oblivion, paralyzed by fatigue.<\/p>\n
It was then that Lorenzo finally came back to her, standing in her doorway, a bright yellow glow outlining his silhouette.<\/p>\n
She bolted toward him, and then stopped short, taken back by the vacancy in his eyes. His clothes torn and ragged, his hair caked with dried mud, his skin dull and gray. But his smile\u2014that beautiful smile\u2014was exactly the same.<\/p>\n
His gaze met hers as he began to speak, \u201cLizzie, listen, please\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Liz overcame her initial shock and ran toward him again. But the faster she ran, the further he drifted away. Eventually she stopped, out of breath. She tried to call out to him, but her mouth wouldn\u2019t move, no sounds came out.<\/p>\n
But Lorenzo could hear the voice inside her head, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and so he replied to her silent pleas, and answered all her unspoken questions. He told her everything that had happened since the last time they had kissed goodbye.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
Liz drove out to the place Lorenzo had described to her in the dream. A floating patch of swamp on the edge of Lake Okeechobee, thick with black mosquitoes, ten miles from the nearest paved road. When she turned off the engine, the grunting of unseen reptiles broke the stillness. Stepping down from the pickup truck, the humidity attached itself to her skin like a wet blanket. The air tasted like mildew.<\/p>\n
Although she\u2019d never been anywhere near that particular location in her life, so deep into the \u2018Glades, she recognized it right away as if it were her own backyard. She walked directly to a spot of freshly turned earth, fell down to her knees, and clawed at the dirt with her bare hands.<\/p>\n
She dug for a time\u2014two minutes or perhaps two hours\u2014until her fingers pressed gently against the smooth flesh of her slain lover. <\/p>\n
She brushed away the dirt with care, being especially tender around his face, until at last Lorenzo was looking up at her with his warm brown eyes, as beautiful in death as in life. <\/p>\n
She began to cry and didn\u2019t stop until her tears soaked the ground around his corpse, and then the darkness of a moonless night concealed him once again.<\/p>\n
Returning to the pickup, she retrieved a few items to help her complete the task: a brand-new camping lantern; her genuine Chinese silk bathrobe (a gift from her daddy); a large Talavera pot painted in bright hues; and an 18-inch machete sharpened to a razor\u2019s edge.<\/p>\n
With loving care, she cradled Lorenzo\u2019s head in the crook of her left arm and then, caressing his throat with the machete, she tenderly severed his head from his body, being careful to make the cut as clean as possible. It required a bit of effort, especially when the blade got caught between two vertebrae, but she was pleased with the final result.<\/p>\n
Wiping away the last of the dirt from his face, she kissed him on the mouth and stared into his eyes one last time before wrapping his head in the silk robe and placing it inside the Mexican pot. She took some of the loose soil from where she\u2019d been digging and packed it on top to cover his head, then filled up the shallow grave around his headless body.<\/p>\n
Collecting all of her things, she loaded up the truck and secured the pot into the passenger\u2019s seat with the seatbelt firmly tightened for the bumpy ride back to town.<\/p>\n
Once she arrived at her apartment above her brother\u2019s garage, she hefted the pot upstairs and brought it into her bedroom. She retrieved a fresh, budding sprig from one of the lemon trees in the yard and pressed it firmly down into the damp soil. <\/p>\n
Then she sat on the floor holding the pot between her legs, weeping all through the night, her tears completely drenching the dirt around Lorenzo\u2019s head.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
A few weeks went on and Liz spent every night embracing the cold ceramic pot, softly calling out for Lorenzo between sobs until she passed out from exhaustion. <\/p>\n
Meanwhile, inside the pot, the lemon sprig had taken root, watered by her brackish tears.<\/p>\n
One night she was awakened by a cold wind sneaking in between the cracked walls of the old apartment. In the course of just a few hours, the temperature outside had fallen almost twenty degrees.<\/p>\n
She got up to fetch a flannel blanket from the closet by the front door. Upon returning to the bedroom, she saw Lorenzo sitting on the hardwood floor next to the pot where the little lemon tree had suddenly grown to over a foot high. <\/p>\n
As she approached, she was struck by the strong smell of the newly budding citrus blossoms, filling the room with their clean fragrance.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
The chill that evening had only been a preview of the vicious cold snap that was descending on South Florida. Every weatherman on the TV had warned of a hard freeze the following night\u2014the bane of every citrus farmer. Only the grittiest would be able to protect their crops by tending fires in the groves all night, struggling to keep the frost off the leaves while taming the flames from getting too wild.<\/p>\n
Normally, this would have been Lorenzo\u2019s job. He\u2019d organize the other field hands, taking shifts throughout the day and night for as long as the cold, damp air hung over their valuable trees. <\/p>\n
However, since Lorenzo had disappeared, the job now fell back onto the Guthrie brothers themselves. Each one of them was softer and lazier than the next, but goddammit if they were gonna let a fortune in citrus crop rot on the branches right before their eyes.<\/p>\n
Bitchin\u2019 and moanin\u2019 the whole time, they eventually got their asses in gear and managed to sort out a rotation system among the workers to keep the fires burning all night long.<\/p>\n
By nightfall, the boys were completely worn out. They dragged some cots and blankets and a small electric heater into Lorenzo\u2019s apartment in the corner of the warehouse and set up a temporary camp for the night.<\/p>\n
Stanley went out to pick up some pizza and beer, and then the three of them chewed and gulped in relative silence until they\u2019d had their fill. A heavy drowsiness came over each of them simultaneously, the combination of total exhaustion and full bellies. They hadn\u2019t worked that hard since\u2014well, ever, really.<\/p>\n
Just about the time they were about to settle in for a few hours of much-needed sleep, a soft knock came at the door. <\/p>\n
They probably thought it was one of their workers stopping by to give them an update. Or maybe the governor of Florida; or perhaps Mickey Mouse, or a space alien. Anyone but their insignificant little sister. But in fact, that\u2019s exactly who it was.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey boys, how y\u2019all holdin\u2019 up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow the hell you think we\u2019re holdin\u2019 up? It\u2019s colder than a witch\u2019s tit out in them fields,\u201d said Rory.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it seems like you\u2019ll be plenty cozy in here, anyway. In fact, I was wondering if you\u2019d mind if I brought my little lemon tree in for the night. I normally keep it out in the trailer, but like you said, it\u2019s gonna be pretty cold and I don\u2019t want to let the poor little thing freeze to death.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell you talkin\u2019 about? What lemon tree?\u201d asked Roger.<\/p>\n
Liz stepped to the side, picked up the Mexican pot, and with a great heave, swung it into the room and plopped it on the floor. By this time the tree was about three and a half feet high and full of bright yellow fruit, like tiny light bulbs all a-glowin\u2019 at once.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis one,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
Nobody said nothin\u2019 for a moment, the three boys glancing back and forth between the little tree, Liz, and each other.<\/p>\n
Finally Roger spoke, \u201cWhat the hell do I care? I don\u2019t give a shit, leave it here if you want. Just move it outta the way so Stanley don\u2019t trip over the damn thing and break his neck.\u201d<\/p>\n
Liz slid the potted tree into a corner and then turned to look at her brothers. None of them even bothered to glance back at her, actin\u2019 as if she\u2019d already gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, thanks boys. I\u2019ll guess I\u2019ll get going then.\u201d She waited for a reply, but all she got was more silence from Roger and Rory, and a muffled burp from Stanley. She turned to leave, and started to close the door.<\/p>\n
Then she turned back again to say, \u201cSweet dreams, y\u2019all.\u201d<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
So I guess that\u2019s about all there is to tell. Goin\u2019 on two years now and nobody has seen or heard from them Guthrie brothers ever since that night. <\/p>\n
There was an investigation, of course\u2014the Feds even poked around for a while\u2014but they never uncovered a single clue that might even hint at the whereabouts of those poor boys. It\u2019s like they just disappeared into thin air. By now, most people assume the \u2018Glades ate \u2018em up, like they done to so many others.<\/p>\n
As for Guthrie & Sons Citrus Growers Incorporated, it has never done better. Last year the company\u2019s profits increased by almost 35 percent, and this year looks even more promising, thanks to the business savvy of the new C.E.O, Miss Elizabeth Guthrie.<\/p>\n
And that lemon tree? It now stands proudly in front of the corporate headquarters, grown to over 17 feet tall. Folks are always sayin\u2019 how handsome and sturdy it looks: the dark, thick trunk, the strong limbs, and hundreds of bright lemons, like a galaxy of yellow suns, smiling their brilliance upon all those who pass by.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
According to those who track book club statistics, The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio garnered renewed interest in mid-2020. And if you\u2019re familiar with the book, you know exactly why; its topical relevance would be impossible to miss. For those who aren\u2019t familiar with the book, it\u2019s a collection of 100 short tales as told by […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":11961,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[285],"tags":[265,266,140,385],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11963"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11963"}],"version-history":[{"count":34,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11963\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12061,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11963\/revisions\/12061"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/11961"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11963"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11963"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickzullo.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11963"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}