The Root Doctor

This is a true story, almost word for word.

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It was 1975. I was 21, and my first marriage had just collapsed.

We had married when I was 19, she was 18 and had already been married once, a fact she forgot to share with me. I loved her completely, her , not so much. I was slender, not unattractive, good for my age with money, and she thought I was a good prospect. I also had a very good job, working for one of the top three employers in the county.

The only draw back to the job was that we had to work a rotating shift. One week we worked first. the next second, then third. It was hard to get used to, I would wake up at odd times and wonder if I was supposed to be at work. Just when we became serious they cut out third, so it was 7 until 3 one week, 3 until 11 the next. I actually enjoyed it. We had time to socialize one week, and I could get projects done the next. She knew it going in and seemed o k with it.

About eight months in she got bored, and when one of her old 'party girl' friends called she let herself get talked into going out, just for a drink, maybe a little dancing. She made sure she was home before me at first. I didn't even know she was doing it, I was pretty clueless. She then brought up how she was lonely without me, would I mind if she went with her girlfriends for just a beer or two. Back then it was legal in our state to drink beer at 18. I was trusting enough to believe her so I had no problem with it.

She came home later and later. She missed work because she was hungover. We lived in a pretty small town, it wasn't long before I began to hear things. I confronted her. She denied it. I took off early one night and caught her. She denied they had done anything wrong. She loved me, she would never betray me. I believed her, until I caught her again. We separated. She talked her way back home. I caught her again. It took longer for her to work her way back to me. The third time was the charm, I divorced her.

So here I was, single, footloose, open for anything. I worked with a black guy about the same age as I, we would talk during break.

One day I saw him walking down the road. I stopped and picked him up. He had blown the engine in his firebird, it would be about three weeks before it was ready. I gave him a ride to work, it was on my way.

We became friends. One Friday, we had just finished our shift and was off until 3 the next Monday. We did the normal Friday stuff. Cashed out checks, bought the groceries [translation, all the beer and liquor we needed for the weekend], and got ready for the weekend. He seemed nervous.

"Hey man, we pretty good friends, right?"

I wondered what he wanted.

"Yeah, man, I guess."

It came out.

He needed a ride to see someone. He had no one else to take him. He would pay me. It was important.

"Relax man, I was just gonna hang at the bar anyway. Where you wanna go?"

The relief was obvious on his face.

"I need to go see somebody in York county. It's about 25 miles. Man, I'll pay the gas, this is important to me."

York County was across the state line. But, I had nothing better to do and I wanted to see what was making Mark so nervous. Just after we crossed the state line we turned on a small two lane blacktop.

After about five miles it turned to dirt, and after about three miles it turned from a state maintained road into a goat path. I was glad we were in my old four wheel drive truck.

I was starting to get nervous.

"Where the hell are we?"

Mark was getting more and more keyed up.

"Be cool, man. We're almost there."

He turned and looked me in the face. "Be polite, man. And DO NOT piss her off. That could be real bad."

I was getting a real bad feeling.

"Her? Her who? What kind of shit have you got me into?"

"She's a root doctor, and I really need her help."

He wouldn't look at me.

"What the hell is a root doctor? Are you sick?"

He still wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Yeah man, I got something broke in me she can fix it. And a root doctor is what she prefers to be called. It's something like voodoo."

I couldn't believe it.

"We're going to see a witch doctor? Fuck me, I don't know about this."

It was too late, we were already there. We rounded a curve and reached the end of the road. I don't know how much you know about the rural South, but if you go down some of the back roads even today and look across the fields you can see small houses, many just one room shacks that housed the sharecroppers. Many had no power, a hand drawn well, and an outhouse. They didn't usually have a foundation, just sitting on flat rocks about a foot off the ground. They usually had a small porch that would run the lenght of the house.

That's what I was looking at. Also, it was almost dark and she had three kerosene lanterns lit and hanging across the porch. Chickens were chasing twilight insects, and a few were tied to stakes by short strings. This also wasn't unusual in our area.

That meant they were 'fightin' chickens, bred for cockfight pits. You couldn't let them run loose, but you didn't want them too far apart. If you kept them in sight and just out of reach of each other it kept them agitated and on edge, making them more eager to fight. Also it was all kinds of illegal where we lived. But as any country sheriff can tell you, it's hard to keep a good ol' boy from having a good time.

"Blow the horn, man. Let her know we're here."

Well, hell, we were already here. I made my mind up to sit in the truck and tapped the horn a couple times.

It was like something out of a B zombie movie.

She came out of the house. She had a big muu-muu

type bright print dress on, and a red bandana wrapped around errant, kinky hair. About five feet tall in any direction. Despite her diminutive height she must have weighed three hundred pounds. She looked like Aunt Jemima on crack.

She waved to us.

"Ya'll get out de truck. You is welcome, welcome."

Mark got out but I just sat there. He leaned back in.

"Better get out, you don't want her thinkin' you don't want to visit..

I eased out and sat on the edge of the porch.

"How ya'll" I said, trying to be social.

"Tolerable child, tolerable. And thirsty. Got anything to sip on?"

I had a cooler full of bud, and a fifth of Canadian liquor. It was a fairly good brand.

Mark had Schlitz malt liquor and a bottle of rum.

We both offered to share. She took three buds and drank them down one after the other without pause, the took the cap off my bottle and threw it away. She must have chugged eight ounces before she turned it down and offering it to me. I politely declined, saying I had to drive back. Mark was making faces behind her back so I said I wouldn't mind just a sip. I was just going to hold it to my lips and pretend, but she was watching me like a hawk so I took a swallow, hoping the alcohol would kill the disease cocktail I had just swallowed. She grinned in approval and slapped me on the back, damn near knocking me off the porch. I guess it wasn't all fat.

"You all right!" she laughed.

She turned to Mark.

"You bring what I told you to last week?"

"Yes ma'am."

He handed a few papers to her. They were actually photos. The truth came out. His girlfriend had left him for another guy and he wanted her back.

One set was him and his old girlfriend with one or two of just her mixed in. The others, he never told me how he got them, was picture of her with her new boyfriend.

"All right. For this, you got to do just what I tell you. If you do, in three weeks she'll be done with him, and two weeks later back with you. You ready?"

He nodded.

She was sitting on the little porch. She took the best picture of his old girlfriend and her new love and started rocking back and forth, mumbling in a language I couldn't understand.

She let out a shriek that made the hair on my neck stand up, reached down, grabbed one of the chickens, pulled it to the end of the string, and snapped its' head off. This freaked me out so bad I jumped off the end of the porch.

Rocking and mumbling feverishly, she let blood from the chicken head drip down on the photo, spit on it, and ripped it in two.

She let out a sigh, started crooning softly, and pulled a small vial of white powder out of a pocket on her dress. She sprinkled it gently on the photo of Mark and his girl, kissed it, and slumped down in what looked like a faint.

I don't think I took a breath the whole time.

I thought she might have had a heart attack and reached for her to see if I could feel a pulse.

Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive,

I prayed. I really did not want to do mouth to mouth. But she stirred, and patted my hand.

"I be all right chile."

She turned around to Mark, picking up the photos.

Giving him the bloody, torn picture, she told him to burn it two days time and bury it during the dark of the moon. Placing the other picture gently in his hand, she told him to put it his wallet for at least a month. She gave him the rest of the powder and told him if possible, sprinkle a little on her without her knowing it. It would make her love him again faster.

He thanked her and gave her fifty dollars. Great, I thought, now we can leave.

She looked over at me and said in a gentle voice,

"Anything I can do for you, hon?"

I wanted out of there in the worst way.

"No ma'am, but thanks for asking."

Not to be deterred she said "Are you sure? I like you, you're respectful."

I guess looking respectful and scared to death are about the same.

I was about to refuse again when Mark spoke up.

"Leroy ain't got no love life either, missus. He had a bad woman before and not one at all now."

Fuck you very much Mark. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss my love life with a voodoo queen.

That was all the excuse she needed. "Come, come here to the light. Let me look at your palm."

Literally dragging me under a lantern [by then it was dark] she held my palm up to the light.

"Oh, honey, honey, you are unlucky in love. You gonna be married four times. You gonna have one child, probably a son. But, one of your loves will last a long time and give you great joy. I would tell you to be careful who you love, but you won't listen. But, you gonna have a full life and aside from love the rest will go well for you."

She let go of my hand and went inside her little shack. We could hear her rummaging around for awhile. She came back and gave me a vial of the same stuff she gave Mark.

"When you find the one you really, really want, spread a little of this on her skin. Good luck to you boys."

I took this to mean we were dismissed. Before we left I thanked her for her advice and asked if I owed her anything. She said she didn't, she did it because she liked me. Mark was behind me whispering that I should give her some money, so I gave her forty dollars and we got into the truck.

.................................................

Mark got his girl back in two weeks. I always wondered if it was the potion or the fact that he got his shiny hot rod back on the street.

Two years later I met and married a little Yankee gal from Ohio. She was a baby doll, but her heart was just as black as my first wife. We lasted two years before she went on a visit home and ended up fucking her cousin. I guess that shit happens everywhere, not just the South. She never came back.

Three years after that I married my dream girl. She was my best friends' sister and I had been halfway in love with her since we were teens.

She wouldn't have anything to do with me because she thought I was ugly and unmotivated and would never amount to much.

I guess buying a house, starting a successful business, and getting a haircut and a shave made a big difference. We married and I never looked back. Its' been thirty years together, and yes we only had one child, a boy.

Ten years age we bought a new house and started sifting through twenty years of accumulated junk.

I opened a box we had stored in the closet for so long we forgot what was in it. It was pictures, odd ends of junk from out first year together, and on the bottom I found my little vial of powder.

I had rubbed some into her hair thirty years ago. Slipping a little in my palm, I made sure to rub her back when she bent over to pick up another box. Consider it a booster shot.

I truly hope I never have to look for number four, but I've still got a little powder left, just in case.