Heat Lightning

Grandma and I sat on the deck, watching the birds fly around the pear trees. The birds darted between the trees, cawing. Grandma laughed as she watched the birds, a smile on her face.

The sun began to set. I noticed flashes of red light as the sky darkened. Grandma didn't look like she noticed. I waited to hear the thunder and rain, but nothing happened. The birds kept flying.

"Did you see that light, Grandma?" I asked.

"It's just heat lightning," she answered. "It's not coming to us any time soon."

Mom walked on the deck, carrying a plate of donuts and cider. Grandma poured a cup of cider and handed me a glass. After I took some sips, Grandma gave me a donut.

It's something she always did. Whenever we were around food and drinks, she had me take the first bite before she had any. I always had to take a sip of her drinks before she'd start drinking them. She'd always said I get first dibs because I'm a growing girl.

I'm almost eighteen, and she still has me take the first bite and first sip. Until that night on the deck, I figured it's a sentimental gesture for her.

"A storm is coming," Grandma said, gazing into the sky.

"You said it was just heat lightning," I told her.

"Sometimes heat lightning shows you the coming storm," Grandma replied, "We won't know until it's here."

Mom came back outside and sat next to Grandma on the deck. The way the two of them looked, you'd never believe they're mother and daughter. The only thing about them that's the same is the nose. Everything else is different. Grandma is light-haired and blue-eyed, while my mom is dark-hair and dark-eyed. Grandma was short while Mom towered over everyone. I wished I'd be taller than her, but it never happened.

"Are you joining us to watch the storm, Gwen?" Grandma asked.

"Unfortunately, I'm meeting with a client tonight," Mom answered. I glanced at her. Her long, black hair was tied up. She wore a slinky red dress, leaving little to the imagination.

"That's too bad," Grandma replied. "Make sure he gets his."

"Oh, I will," Mom said. "Maybe it's time you started training Rosaline." Grandma gave me a look before nodding at Mom. Then Mom said her goodbyes and left.

"I think your mother's right," Grandma said after Mom left. "It is time to teach you the family business."

Grandma stood up and gestured for me to follow her. Together, we walked into the pear orchard. The pears hung above us. Some of them were so ripe they looked like they'd fall. I took one off a tree and took a bite. It was a sweet as I remembered.

"Our family business is rehabilitating men, in a sense," Grandma explained as she walked. "We help women who men have hurt. We take those men and make them experience the pain they put these women through. By the time they're finished, they do what they need to so they can atone."

We stopped in front of a tree I'd never noticed before. There was a statue of a girl beside it. I couldn't see the girl's face, but I could see the hands reaching up to the pears like they'd save her somehow.

"When a man hurts a woman," Grandma explained. "Society lets him get away with it. He never has to take responsibility for his actions. He's called a player for messing with multiple women. He's a nice guy, so he can't be as bad as one woman says. Maybe if the woman were nicer, he wouldn't have to be the way he is."

"So we go after jerks?" I asked.

"Jerks, yes," Grandma said. "Jerks, and cheaters, and abusers, and rapists. Tell me, Rosaline, do you know the difference between a conservative cheater and a liberal cheater?"

"No," I answered.

"A conservative is what you think of when you think of a cheating man," Grandma said. "They're the ones being secretive with their phones and claiming to work late when they're with their new affair. A liberal? A liberal man will openly cheat in front of a woman and tell her she's too judgemental if she doesn't let him sleep with who he wants. An open relationship only works if both parties agree to it."

"So we're helping women heal?" I asked.

"Yes," Grandma said, "by giving her the kind of justice society and the law denied her. Tell me, what do you think happens when a woman is raped? Do you think her rapist goes to jail?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Very few men get caught and put in jail," Grandma explained. "In most cases, the police and the people around the woman tell her it's her fault. It's her fault because she chose to drink. It's her fault because of what she wore. It's her fault for choosing to be alone somewhere. It's her fault because her makeup made her look older than she is. And that's where we come in. If the police don't punish them, we will."

"What do we do?" I asked. Heat lightning flashed again, lighting up the statue of the girl. I thought she was made of wood, but she looked like ceramic in the light.

"We have our ways," Grandma said. "You'll learn in time what we do. We've never had a dissatisfied customer."

"But there are some women who lie," I told her. "What happens if you punish someone who doesn't deserve it?"

"There is something special about these pears," Grandma answered. "These pears can make anyone who consumes them speak only the truth. Whether we bake them, turn them into wines, or eat them off the tree. You're incapable of lying after having one of these pears. That statue you see in front of us? That's the last woman who tried to lie to us. That was fifty years ago, now."

"And no one went looking for her?" I asked, shocked.

"Not when they found out what she did to the poor man she tried to have us punish," Grandma said, shrugging. "Though we do get the occasional disgruntled customer seeking revenge."

"That's why you always have me taste-test," I said.

"No, that's just because some of my children want me to die already so they can take over the business," Grandma laughed. "Now, let's go inside. Your training will begin there."

As we walked back to the house, the heat lightning flashed above us. This time, I heard the thunder. Grandma was right. The storm was coming.