Matt Durante

The Portnoy Miracle

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2026: VOL. 41.

Jones Portnoy trudged along the ridgeline, his family in tow. His wife, Cheryl, looked irritated in the heat, swatting at a horse fly that kept barreling toward her forehead. It wasn’t a particularly warm day, but Jones and his family weren’t exactly small and all that extra weight made a lot of extra heat compared to smaller folk. A sunny fall day in Appalachia could feel like a real blazer under that weight. The seasons were more like guidelines then hard rules. The foliage said that it was the fall, but the sun said that it was the end of summer.

Jones watched Cheryl. He observed her face—so beautiful despite her discomfort. He hadn’t acknowledged it enough over the years. Hadn’t taken the time to consider all the things about her that he appreciated. And now he knew she was planning to leave him. He’d overheard the conversation with her sister. He knew about David. Part of him believed he could still save it. They just needed to be together as a family. But so much of who he was and what he was feeling was buried in his head and he did not know how to communicate it. What was once a loveable frustration at how he was wired became the thing he believed sowed resentment in her eyes. It was mostly his fault, despite how he was. He could have done something sooner. Alas here he was, with his family, flailing at the inevitability of his failure.

Jones looked over his shoulder to see Geraldine and Walter marching up behind Cheryl, looking equally miserable. Walter poked at his sister with a stick, an action that got him knocked on his butt after an ignored warning.

“Quit it creep!” she yelled.

Walter tumbled backwards and emitted a sound that was somewhere between “hnnnngggg” and a large breathy exhale as he hit the ground and continued to roll back a ways down the hill. When he stopped his mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. The shock of having the wind knocked out of him stayed his cry for only a moment before it uncorked on the hill.

“Owwwwwwwwweeeeeeee!” he wailed. His mother came back down to his side and helped him up. She looked him over and clutched him to her chest.

“Geraldine, carnsarnit!” Cheryl yelled. “What did you do? He could have tumbled all the way down the trail. You could have seriously hurt him, girl. You need to think before you act.”
“He kept pokin me with that stick, mama. What was I supposed to do?” she pleaded.

“Geraldine, he is eight and you are fifteen. You can be the bigger person.”

Geraldine crossed her arms and harumfed. “Little baby Walter. So precious.”

Jones shook his head and wiped his brow with his forearm. “Kids, can we just have a good time out here? It’s nice getting outside. I feel like all you kids do is sit inside and stare at your screens.”

“But daddy, it’s so hot…” Geraldine said.

“It ain’t even,” he lied. “It’s a beautiful West Virginia day and there is nature all around us. The birds are chirping, you feel the earth vibrating beneath your big feet, and the leaves are turning colors and all is wonderful. Maybe you’re just hot because you’re not used to moving your bones around. When I was your age…”

“When you were our age you’d walk through the forest by yourself for miles and miles on end, uphill in all directions, speak to the animals, howl at the moon, count all the stars in the sky, and be home in time for supper from Gramma…”

Jones chuckled and turned to his wife. “That’s what I sound like?”

Cheryl smirked and shrugged.

“You’re a real funny-guy, huh Geraldine?”

Jones sat on an overturned cedar nearby. He took a green pine needle and chewed on it. He took a deep breath and released it. This is what his therapist had been talking about. Being present, being with it. All of it. Good and bad.

“It can be uncomfortable. I get it. Look around you though.” He waved his hand to the mountainous countryside, the twisting brook in the gulch below. “It’s all a miracle.”

Geraldine rolled her eyes, “well a few of these miracles have bit me and it’s going to itch later.”

“Do you think that the trees are pretty?” Jones ignored her sass.

Cheryl sighed. “They are lovely. I love this time of year when the leaves start to change color.”

Jones stood up with his index finger pointing in the air to signal a ‘eureka’.

“Interesting. Did you know that the leaves are more or less returning to the color that they were already?”

“What do you mean?” Walter asked. He’d nearly stopped his sniffling.

“The underlying color of the leaf is just masked by all the chlorophyll. Then when it starts getting cold out, and the days get shorter, the chlorophyll transfers as fuel to the trunk of the tree, draining the green out of the leaves. What’s left are the yellows and the oranges you see.” Jones smiled. “The forest knows when to start getting ready for winter. Like animals preparing to hibernate because food will be scarce, the tree knows too, as light is its food.”

“Those ones are red,” Walter pointed to a maple tree.

Jones pointed at Walter and shook his finger, “interesting thing about the red ones. You’ve made a liar of me. You see, the leaves turn red because of a chemical called anthocyanin. Anthocyanin absorbs light with a blue-green wavelength and emits red. The production of anthocyanin is triggered by sugars trapped in the leaf, when the chlorophyll begins breaking down. The red ones are the only ones that actually ‘turn’”—he made quotes with his fingers at the word turn—“a different color whereas the others are revealing what’s already there.”

“Hm.” Walter taking a closer look at a leaf he’d picked up.

“Hm is right. Pretty neat huh?” Jones patted him on the shoulder.

“The trees are really big,” Walter said.

“That was your takeaway, Walter?” Geraldine laughed. “What a genius contribution.”

“Geraldine! Be nice.” Cheryl said. “That’s right sweetie, the trees are big.”

“They can get much bigger than this. This is relatively new forest. But it’s thriving,” Jones said. “But yes, they are big. The interesting thing about that is that the trees talk to each other, help each other out.”

“Huh?” Geraldine said.

“Oh yeah.” Jones replied to the affirmative. “It’s a whole big network under the ground. Some types of trees are really just one tree sharing a root, too. Did you know that as big as that there tree is, that there’s probably just as long a root stretching under the ground out as far as the tree is high?”

Jones watched Geraldine look down at her feet and follow the roots with her eyes.

“And they talk?” she asked.

“There’s a whole ecosystem at each layer of the forest. The ceiling, up by the leaves, the high branches, the low branches, the trunks, the shrubs and small trees, the ground cover, the ground. They all depend on one another. And under the ground, with the trees at least, all the roots are interconnected and transfer nutrients to one another.”

“Honey…” Cheryl tried to interrupt. She took a step further down the trail and motioned for Jones to follow before he started in again.

“Pretty much as soon as a tree sprouts roots, these little hair-like follicles end up on them. They’re actually fungus, that help with the nutrient transfer and communication.”

“Why does that matter?” asked Walter.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and sat down again next to Walter, waving to Jones, “Mr. Science. Can’t help it. Go on.”

“Well. You see how dense the forest is over there?” Jones pointed off the trail to a thickly wooded area.

“Yeah.”

“Well, what do trees need to survive?” Jones asked. “Geraldine?”

“Emotional support,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

Jones smiled. “Besides emotional support?”

“Water?” Walter asked.

“And…?” Jones prodded.

“Light,” Cheryl said.

“Right! Water and light.” He spun around. “And here we are in the shade. And say I’m a new little sapling freshly sprouted from the ground over in those trees. I wouldn’t get much light until I got tall enough.”

“So how do they get the light then?” Geraldine asked.

“They don’t.” Jones shook his head.

“So how do they grow?” Geraldine asked.

“I’m so glad you asked, Geraldine!” He grinned, “The fungus supplements them with their own nutrients until such a time as the tree can produce enough on its own…sometimes for years! It’s a lot like taking care of bratty children.”

“But why?” Walter said.

“Because one day the tree will take care of the fungus.”

“That’s pretty…” Geraldine started saying.

“Nuts? Insane? Wild?” Jones interrupted eagerly.

“Interesting. I was going to say interesting. But I guess it’s pretty wild. I never would have thought of it.”

“Cool,” Walter said.

“You’re really hot on all this nature stuff right now, huh?” Gerladine said.

“Hot on?” He canted his head. “Hm, I don’t know. It’s all just interesting as you say.”

He looked at his family one by one quickly, “The trees, the roots, the whole thing. They’re better together, they do things for each other that can’t be explained or easily be put into words. We only know a little bit about it. It’s like...”

Jones paused for a moment, unable to think of more ways to articulate what he was thinking of. He shook his head, shaking past the pause.

“See…” he waved his hand all around again. “It’s all a miracle. Now let’s keep walking. Only a little bit more and then we’re back to the beginning of the trail head. It’s a big loop we’ve done. Then we can go home and you guys can do whatever you’re gonna do. Thank you for indulging me.”

Cheryl gave Jones a kiss on the cheek.

They all got moving down the trail again. Jones snuck a peek over his shoulder. The children were visibly more engaged with the walk. Walter rubbed his hands on tree trunks as they passed by. Geraldine scanned up and down different trees. Jones watched her do so and it made him happy. He recognized the look as reverence. It was appropriate in this cathedral of trees.

As they rounded the bend and got lower in to the ravine, they passed one portion that had been washed out in a recent flash flood. He tested the gravelly silty deposits under his feet.

“Be careful here. It’s easy to trip. A lot of loose stuff.” He pointed downward.

Jones stepped down from a large rock to the trail where a gap had formed and turned around. One by one he held the hands of his family and helped them down. First Walter, who picked up a new stick and darted down the trail.

“Be careful, son! Watch your feet and stick to the trail!” Jones yelled over his shoulder while reaching up to help Geraldine down, followed by Cheryl. They dusted themselves off and Jones continued down the trail. Walter was out of sight.

They were now at the bottom of the ravine. The whole of it followed the path of the creek and recent flood. Normally signs of water would not have shown this high, but the area had been ravaged as if a large garden ho, dragged behind a giant had ripped a scar in the ravine.

Geraldine looked at the upturned trees. “Kind of sad after that whole speech you gave.”

“This is a part of it. So are fires, despite all the new ones that are our fault. It’s a part of the natural cycle of the ecosystem,” Jones said. “But still. Yes. I understand. Some of these trees were over a hundred years old.”

“I wonder if they have memories,” Geraldine said.

“Maybe.” Jones said. “Impossible to say.”

“Well what do you think?” Cheryl asked, smiling.

Jones thought for a moment, “I think we all return to something at the end. I think when we get there, we know what it’s like to be the tree, the tree knows what it’s like to be us and everything in between. You are the tree. You are me. I am you. You are the bird. I am the squirrel. The fish. I am the tree. So on and so on.”

A cool breeze gusted through gently cooling Jones’s forehead. He breathed it in. It carried the loamy smell of the moist overturned top soil. He opened his eyes and sniffed again. There was something else too.

“Jones are you…” Cheryl started to ask.

He held his hand up. “Shh!” Jones sniffed the air and followed it. It was familiar, and rotten.

“Walter!” he yelled. He darted up the trail at breakneck speed.

Jones rounded the bend. Walter stood over a body about his own size.

“Walter, honey, come here. Stay away from it.”Jones grabbed Walter and embraced him.

Cheryl and Geraldine raced up behind.

“Don’t touch it,” Jones warned, and he pushed Walter toward his mother.

“What the heck is it?” Geraldine asked, waving the smell away from her nose.

Jones grabbed a larger stick and prodded at the thing. It was plastered against a large granite outcropping, tangled in large drying roots from one of the overturned trees. Its arms and legs were strewn limply in unnatural directions. It had excreted its waste and had begun the rotting process and the sun’s heat was starting to ripen the deteriorating matter.

“The flood must have got it and carried it down here,” Jones said. He poked the center of it, and then the head. But it did not appear to be moving or breathing. “By the smell of it…it’s been here a few days. I'm surprised something hasn’t started eating it by now.”

Walter stepped beside his father. “Is it…”

“Yes son. I think it’s dead.”

“What happened to all its fur?” Walter asked. He looked at the creature. It was covered in colorful materials. “And what’s all that stuff on it?”

“It looks like us but like naked with a bunch of shit all over it. It smells awful.” Geraldine said.

“Language,” Cheryl said.

“Sorry,” Geraldine responded.

Jones looked at Cheryl. She nodded.

“It doesn’t have fur because it isn’t one of us. And have a care. It’s a living thing that died.”

“Well what is on it?” Geraldine asked.

“If you didn’t have your fur, what would you do?” Cheryl asked.

“Ew,” Geraldine said. She caught her mother’s stern glare before continuing. “Cover myself I guess.”

“Especially if it got cold,” Jones said. “And it definitely would be cold without your fur. And see how it has things over its feet? This one is full grown and is still smaller than your brother. They’re just not built for being out like us.”

“Wow, their feet are so small…” Walter said.

“Indeed,” Jones said.

“Your feet are the biggest dad,” he said.

Jones puffed up a little bit at this. Cheryl saw this and winked at him. “They are pretty big, honey.”

“Well what can I say? Good genes, I suppose. Make sure to thank Gramma. Looks like you’re on track to have some even bigger feet than me, Walter.”

Walter grinned ear to ear.

Geraldine’s motioned back and forth between Walter and Jones’ feet. “Okay, if you’re done with your foot measuring contest. What the heck is it dad? It kind of looks like us?”

Jones took a deep breath, “Well honey, it’s a, whatchacallit? It’s a human. You must have heard stories about it. The occasional blurry picture out there.”

“I mean, yeah sure. I’ve also heard stories about unicorns and fairies and stuff.”

“Get out of here.” Geraldine said. “They treat this stuff like it’s a bunch of baloney in school.”

“And of course we left our phones at home. We should totally take a picture of this thing. No one will ever believe us.” Geraldine perked up. “Should we um…should we go get help or something or tell someone?”

“Well,” Jones put his hands on his hips. “I don’t think um… I don’t think that we’re supposed to see them. Speaking logically.”

“Logically?” Cheryl asked. “Is there something logical about this?”

Jones stroked his chin, “Well here it is in all its glory, dead and whatnot and I think it’s a mistake that we’ve seen it. Obviously, all the stuff dressing it up shows some signs of intelligence. Some sign of a larger civilization somewhere. At least the capacity to invent tools. Where the heck are the rest of them? One doesn’t do this all on their own...” He drifted off in his thought.

“Ah…Earth to Dad. Do we tell anyone?” Geraldine was getting impatient.

Jones shook his head, snapping out of it, “No. It’s just a dead animal, off to the side of the trail. Nature will take its course. It’s not hurting anything. The buzzards will get it soon and it will return to the ground.”

Cheryl sighed. “It’s a little sad. Do you think it had a family?”

“No way of knowin,” he replied.

“Why don’t we see more of them?” Walter asked.

“No one knows that,” Cheryl said.

“I think we just kind of fold over each other,” Jones scratched his chin.

“Hm?” Geraldine looked perplexed, scratching her brow.

Jones reached into the satchel that he had around his shoulder and pulled out a map of the park and a mechanical pencil.

He folded the pages several times over.

“Each layer is just like another version of here,” Jones took the pencil. “And sometimes…” he poked the pencil through the folds, “something pokes through more than one.”

“You’re crazy,” Geraldine said.

“Maybe so. But…” He pointed to the body. “There it is. Plain as day. I don’t have anything better.”

“We do know that everything is a miracle though,” Walter said.

“That’s right honey.” Cheryl held Walter.

The Portnoys stood and looked at the body a little longer. Geraldine looked sad and a little defeated.

Jones placed his hand on her upper back and pulled her in for a hug.

“No one is gonna believe us,” Geraldine complained. She hugged Jones back.

“We’ll know honey,” Cheryl reassured.

“But like…” Geraldine put both hands on her head. “Ugh!”

“Look, we’re nearly at the trailhead.” Jones sighed. “If you want to grab my phone in the car and bring it back out here. We can snap a picture. It should just be a half mile if we come back this way instead of going all the way around. It’s just a big circle.”

She perked up. They walked the majority of the trip back to the lot at the trailhead in relative silence digesting what they’d seen. Jones smirked seeing the change in attitude. There was no complaint left in them. Before he’d been dragging them out to do something they didn’t want to do. Now they were on a mission.

When they got to the parking lot, Geraldine yipped, running to the station wagon and yelling at her dad, "unlock it!”

Jones shuffled around in his satchel and grabbed the keys. He hit the unlock button. The family waited at the edge of the lot while she grabbed the phone. Jones relocked the car as she trotted back up.

“Got it,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The kids ran ahead. Jones walked behind with Cheryl. Jones looked at her and then looked away. He wanted to say something. He didn’t know how to start. It was so easy to talk about metaphysics and science. How could he talk about this though?

“What’s wrong Jones?” Cheryl asked.

“I uh…” Jones looked at her. “You look pretty.”

She smiled. “Thankyou honey, but that ain’t what’s wrong.”

“You, uh. I heard you um… and I’m sorry I um… I wasn’t trying to listen to you and your sister. But uh you’ve been so unhappy lately and um, you were… um. You’re going to leave me for David.”

Cheryl stopped walking. “I have been unhappy, Jones.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.”

She faced him directly and placed her hands on his cheeks forcing him to make eye contact with her. “You are impossible sometimes Jones. But I love you.”

“But David…”

“Not my ex, David. David Lancaster over at the university admissions.

Jones stayed silent waiting for more input. It was one of the things that drove her crazy. The gap in his response from when she spoke frustrated her so.

“I want to go back to school, Jones. I know money is tight. But I want to finish what I started all those years ago. I want to get back to my art, and we’re right there near Morgantown. I was dreading telling you because it’s not logical at all. It doesn’t do anything for me. We’d have to take out a loan and it would be a whole thing. I wouldn’t be able to take care of things around the house as much and…ugh it’s just a lot.”

Jones was silent and looked away. Cheryl pursed her lips and gave a short exasperated sigh. Cheryl started to turn away. Jones grabbed her by the shoulders and held her. He moved his gaze back to her.

“I think you should…” he paused. “I want you to. Don’t worry about the money, we’ll figure that out. I want you to be happy.”

She leaned on him and hugged him before they kissed. She lingered a bit longer looking up at him.

“We’d better catch up with the kids, lest Geraldine murder Walter.”

Jones smiled as they walked hand in hand up the trail. They caught up with the kids who were standing on the trail waiting. Geraldine looked perplexed.

“This was the place,” she exclaimed. “Am I going nuts?”

Jones nodded, “This is the place. That was the rock. Those were the roots. That’s the stick I used to inspect it.”

They looked around. There was no sign of the body. Even the smell had vanished. Walter ran up and around the bend to the place where Jones had lowered his family down earlier and then ran back to them.

“This is definitely the spot. I don’t get it. What the heck?” he said.

“That’s a bummer,” Geraldine said.

“I think it’s neat,” Cheryl said. She looked at her husband. “It’s a miracle.”

He nodded. “Folds.”

They made their way back to the car. On Monday after school, a distraught Geraldine reported to Jones that no one believed the story.

❧❧❧

Matt Durante lives in Williamsburg, VA, and is a father of three (four, counting the dog). He writes full-time and has spent over a decade ghostwriting. In fiction, he primarily writes psychological thrillers, horror, and speculative. He is a member of the James River Writer's Association and AWP, currently earning an MFA in Creative Writing at Drexel University (graduating June 26). He is also an illustrator and painter.