Ritchie County Mall
When a mother loses her child every other weekend to the man who abused her
Caleb and I are driving from Morgantown to Parkersburg in West Virginia to see his parents. “Can we stop for a bathroom break?” I ask.
He pulls into a 7–Eleven. “Welcome to the Ritchie County Mall,” he says.
“The what?” I asked.
“The Ritchie County Mall. We call it that because there’s nothing else in Ritchie County,” he says. I laugh. No one can make me laugh like Caleb.
I look back at Reed in his car seat. He smiles, his Curious George stuffed toy gripped in his arms. Reed has always been a happy travel companion — rarely fussy or difficult on long drives. He was born on the full moon and is the only child I’ll ever have. My moon baby.
“I’ll be back,” I say to Caleb, as I open the door.
“I know you will,” Caleb says, smiling.
Breathe deeply in a West Virginia forest, and the thick air has a distinctive taste. Just like it looks. Rich and fertile. Ritchie County is no different. The hardwood forests tight and luscious. Large swaths of dirt roads slice through the greenery and lead to cavernous holes with tall gray injection wells jutting out of them. Light changes around the injection wells — becomes a…
