If These Trees Could Talk

by Brian W. Smith

  “Mama, last night…”

  “What about last night?” she asked.

  “Last night…”

  Dutch interrupted. “Last night he got busted being sneaky! Now he’s gonna give you some hard luck story. I can’t believe you’re gonna sit here and believe this little lying ass boy!”

  “Shut up Dutch!” Charity shouted again.

  Charity grabbed Josh’s chin and forced him to look at her. She was about to say something to him, but paused and then looked at Dutch. “Wait a minute. If he was smoking a cigarette, where did he get it from? You keep your cigarettes with you.”

  “It wasn’t my cigarette he was smoking,” said Dutch. “You know I smoke menthols. This is one of your cigarettes.” Dutch stepped away from the door and then went into the kitchen. He removed a carton of cigarettes from the cabinet, and returned to Josh’s bedroom. “I was wondering the same thing ‘til I saw it was the brand you smoke. I knew you had your cigarettes with you so I looked in the cabinet to see if he’d opened the carton you bought the other day. Sure enough, the box had been opened, and one of the packs was open. He didn’t even have enough sense to hide the damn cigarettes. I found the pack of cigarettes in here on his dresser.

  “And as far as his little house guest…they must have been in here pigging out because I found a whole loaf of bread damn near gone. And the damn peanut butter and jelly was in here on his bed. That’s why I tore his ass up. He gotta learn to obey the rules and stop being so damn sneaky.”

  Josh knew it was time to defend himself. But he’d waited a little too late. The circumstantial evidence was overwhelming. Dutch was displaying the difference between an animal predator and a human predator. He’d covered his tracks. He’d planted doubt in Charity’s mind. Josh didn’t stand a chance.

  Without waiting to hear her son’s explanation, she turned and wacked Josh on the very spot of his leg that was bruised. She followed that first blow with two more and then a stiff smack to the back of his head. “You know you shouldn’t be touching my damn cigarettes! And I told you not to bring anyone into my house…especially when I’m not here!”

  Her blows and words were synchronized. Josh was hoping she’d shut up, figuring that the sooner she quit talking, the sooner she’d stop hitting him. One of her strikes managed to clip his chin. Since running wasn’t an option, he coiled up and tried to protect his face. The defensive position worked for the most part. Her hands were no longer coming near his face; they mainly bounced off of his knees and elbows.

  Josh did manage to get a glimpse at Dutch—who just stood in the doorway smirking. All he could do during his mother’s tirade was wonder why all of this was happening to him. What had he done to make Dutch hate him so? Why didn’t his mother believe him? Why was God allowing this to happen?

  “Now get yo ass up and get dressed so I can take you to school!” Charity stared at her whimpering child and then walked out of the room, shoving Dutch to the side as she walked out. “And since you want to break down doors, you need to fix it!”

  Dutch looked at Josh and winked. His penis hanging out of the slit in his boxer shorts. “I’ll fix the door later,” the cigarette in his mouth bounced up and down; the ash from the cigarette cascaded down his chest. “By the time you leave to go to work tonight it will look brand new.”

  The ride to school was quiet that morning. No radio. No small talk. Charity was so eager to get Josh out of her sight she ran two red lights in her rush to get him to school. On the two occasions when she did bother to stop at a red light, it was still so quiet in the vehicle that they could hear the conversations of pedestrians standing at the bus stop. As far as Charity was concerned, Josh had let her down. Up until that point, she trusted him being a “latch key” kid. Now she’d have to rethink things.

  Josh attempted to make eye contact with her but to no avail. Never before had he felt so alone. Even though his mother had done a poor job of protecting him up until that point, he always felt like she was someone whom he could turn to for help should he choose. Now, even that option was gone. Charity didn’t even bother saying good-bye to the boy when he exited the vehicle. She started driving off before the door had completely closed.

  Elizabeth was standing on the school steps monitoring all the students as they funneled in, and noticed the hasty way Charity drove away. She also noticed the dejected look on Josh’s face as he approached.

  “Good morning Josh.”

  Josh didn’t reply. In fact, he didn’t even look at her. It was like the boy was in a trance. His wrinkled pants were one size too short, exposing the two different color socks he wore. Why would she allow that child to leave the house looking like that?

  She stood with her arms folded, and surveyed the school’s grounds one last time before she closed the massive front doors. She followed a few paces behind Josh and watched him as he walked gingerly up the small flight of stairs that led to the first floor where all of the classes were. Her emotions ranged from anger to pity as she shook her head. There is something going on in that child’s life, and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it if it’s the last thing I do.

  Josh passed Mr. Benjamin, the school’s first African-American Principal—the same man who’d suspended Mrs. Tharp a few years earlier. He was a tall man—over six feet tall—with a booming voice that echoed in the slender hallways. When he spoke it sounded like Zeus shouting from Mt. Olympus. An avid runner, he was rather svelte and meticulous in his style of dress. The only thing that made him look older than his forty two years was his hair line—which protruded so far back that she wondered why he didn’t just quit perpetrating and go bald.

  “Mrs. Tharp, we still need to talk about the lunch monitoring schedule and some other things before the end of the week.”

  “I know,” she replied, giving his comment very little thought. She had far more important things on her mind. “Mr. Benjamin do you have a moment?”

  “Actually I don’t. I have a conference call in a few minutes. Can you walk and talk?”

  Elizabeth watched Josh go into her classroom. “Umm, this is too important to skim over in the hallway. I will discuss the matter this evening when we discuss those other issues.”

  “That’s fine. Come to my office around 3:30 p.m.”

  Elizabeth pondered her words. Experience taught her that approaching Mr. Benjamin with any topic that was “non-education” related was a risky proposition. The man was the most uptight black man she’d ever encountered. His anal retentive personality reached even higher heights when the “non-education” topic involved a white student. He’d waited years for his shot at the top position, and any issue that even remotely appeared to have the potential to cause tension between he and a white parent was usually swept under the rug or dismissed outright. She’d always felt that was the primary reason he’d suspended her the last time she questioned a child’s safety.

  He was on the phone when she stuck her head in his office at the end of the school day. A wave of his hand let her know it was okay for her to enter. She sat in the leather seat in front of his massive desk and waited for him to finish his phone conversation. Elizabeth had no idea whom he was talking to, but whomever it was clearly had him kissing ass.

  “Yes sir. I’ll get right on it.”

  It took Elizabeth every ounce of restraint she could muster to keep from shaking her head in disgust as she watched him grovel. Instead, she kept her disdainful thoughts to herself. Damn he is a big ass Uncle Tom. Even if you are getting an ass chewing you can still show some dignity while dealing with it. All those damn ‘Yes sirs’ will only make them respect you even less. Damn brotha, didn’t your father teach you anything?

  “Yes. Yes. Yes sir. I’ll make sure that’s taken care of and get back to you as soon as possible.” He looked at her and rolled his eyes in an attempt to downplay his interest in the caller’s concerns.

  Don’t roll your eyes on my account. Keep sucking up to him the way you always do. At some point you’re gonna
learn that all that ass kissing ain’t gonna do you a bit of good. When they are ready to get rid of your black ass it’s gonna happen quicker than you can say your own name. And then they’ll probably use the excuse that you didn’t display the leadership and gumption they expect in a Principal.

  Mr. Benjamin hung up the phone and let out a loud sigh. He looked exasperated as he ran his hand over his fading hair, and leaned back in his chair. “Sorry about that. That was the Superintendant. He’s on the war path.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, pretending to be concerned.

  “Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll get him what he needs tomorrow and he’ll quit fussing.” He opened the folder on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Now, about this schedule. Mrs. Hawthorne is going on vacation and Mrs. Bunn is going on maternity leave next week. I’m gonna need a few of you to take up the slack until things get back to normal.”

  “That’s fine. Just let me know what you need.”

  “Great. I’ll get the adjusted schedule to you by Friday.” He put that sheet back in the folder and then pulled out another piece of paper. “The school’s Christmas Fund Raising Committee. I know you have been spearheading this thing the past two years and I told you you’d get a break this year, but I’m gonna need you to…”

  “That’s fine,” she interrupted, eager to get through the trivial matters and on to the real reason she wanted to speak to him. “Just put my name down—I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks Mrs. Tharp.” They’d worked together in some capacity for six years and he still called her by her last name. He took out his ink pen, and wrote her name down on the sheet of paper. Without looking up he asked her about the issue that was bothering her. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  “I never noticed that photo,” she said and pointed at the picture on his desk.

  “Yeah, it’s relatively new.” His reply was short, bordering on curt.

  “Is that your wife and son?”

  “Stepson.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s my stepson.”

  Excuse the hell out of me. He said that like he can’t stand the boy. “Oh. Well, stepson or not, he’s a handsome child. You have a lovely family.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Does he attend this school?”

  “No he doesn’t. He attends…you know what, that’s not important.” Mr. Benjamin had spent his entire tenure as a Principal avoiding getting too close to his teachers, and he wasn’t about to venture down that road now. His management philosophy didn’t allow for intimate conversations. He figured that the more emotional distance he put between himself and the teachers he supervised, the easier it would be to make tough decisions regarding their careers. “I don’t mean to sound rude Mrs. Tharp, but I got a lot going on and I know you didn’t come here to ask about my family. So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Well, it’s kind of complicated. Do you recall passing a little boy in the hallway this morning just before I stopped you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t. When I’m in a hurry all these kids look alike.”

  “Well, his name is Josh Caldwell. He is a sweet child. Not the best student, but he tries hard.”

  “What about him?”

  “There is something wrong with him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m almost positive that there is some form of abuse going on in his house.”

  Mr. Benjamin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Since folded arms are typically translated as closed or guarded, this was the first sign that he didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading. “And how do you know this?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but my instincts are telling me that something ain’t right.”

  “Really? Your instincts are you telling you this? Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it your instincts that got you into trouble a few years ago?”

  His questions were dripping with condescension. Four rows of frown lines emerged on his massive forehead. Elizabeth knew she had only a few more seconds before he blew off her concern and asked her to leave his office.

  “I realize you didn’t agree with the way I handled things the last time; which is why I’m coming to you in advance this time. I want your permission to question the child. Or maybe we can have a representative from the Department of Social Services come and talk to him since we had to get rid of the school’s counselor.”

  “Based on what?” he asked, clearly annoyed by her assertion. “Did you see marks or bruises on the child?”

  “No.”

  “How is his attendance?”

  “He has perfect attendance, but he’s very withdrawn. He looks very sad everyday.”

  “So let me get this straight. You want me to open an investigation based on the fact that a child in your class is always sad and he has trouble socializing with the other kids?”

  You big head bastard! You know damn well I wouldn’t be coming to you if it was that simple. You were once in the classroom; you know when a child is acting strange. “I know you may not have agreed with my approach the last time this issue came up, but I still believe that child was being abused. I’ll admit that I have less evidence this time around, but I feel strongly about this. You can come and sit in my class to observe the child.”

  Mr. Benjamin used his thumb and index finger to wipe the moisture that had formed on his eye lids. He then ran his hand across his face and then looked at her. He didn’t utter a word—just stared at her. “Mrs. Tharp, you are a good teacher and I appreciate the things you do around here. But, I am very busy. Unless you have actual physical proof that the child is being harmed in some way then I don’t want to discuss this again.” He closed his folder. “And that doesn’t mean I’m giving you permission to do some type of cavity search on the boy. I’m talking about clearly visible signs of abuse. And I mean clearly visible.”

  Josh had reached his tipping point. The abuse he’d suffered at the hands of Dutch had pushed him to the brink of destruction. There were no action heroes around to save him. No Luke Skywalker. No Yoda. Not even his mother. Josh resolved that he’d either kill Dutch or kill himself—and he was determined to go through with his plans with or without Stevie’s help.

  I’m gonna kill him today. But I wonder if Stevie is going to still expect me to kill Bennie. I don’t think I should have to kill both of them. But I told him I’d kill Bennie for him. I don’t want him to get mad at me and stop being my friend.

  He paused in front of his steps. That house was the last place he wanted to be. His body tensed up at the thought of facing Dutch when he entered. The shovel he’d used the day before was still leaning against the side of the house. He thought about grabbing it and heading straight into the woods, but that would mean he’d get home too late. If he wasn’t home from school by four o’clock he’d surely get a beating. His only option was to go inside and show his face, and then sneak out and go finish digging the hole in the woods.

  Remaining undetected was paramount, so he tip-toed up the front steps like a thief; carefully avoiding the center of the second step because it always made a loud creaky sound. He could hear the television blaring, but he didn’t hear Dutch laughing or talking to himself the way he normally did while watching one of his favorite shows. He peered through the front window and saw Dutch stretched out on the sofa snoring. Just the break he needed.

  The screen door made a squeaky sound when opened, but it wasn’t loud enough to alert Dutch that he’d arrived. Josh went into his bedroom, placed his book bag on his bed, and then climbed out of his bedroom window. He grabbed the shovel and then darted towards the woods.

  Once he arrived at their meeting spot he wasted little time before he started digging. He had almost completed digging when he looked up and saw Stevie walking towards him.

  “Man, you’re almost finished.”

  “Yep. I came over right after I got home from school,” Josh replied, wiping sweat from his brow. “You gon’ start digging your hole?”
<
br />   “Yeah, I already started. I should be finish today.” Stevie jumped down inside the hole with Josh. “Man this hole is deep. I think you can stop now.”

  “Are you sure? Is this how the hole looked on television?”

  “Yep. You did a good job.” Stevie gave Josh a congratulatory pat on the back. Josh smiled. He longed for Stevie’s approval. That pat on the back meant the world to him.

  “Thanks.” Josh climbed out of the hole. Stevie followed him. “I want to do it today.”

  “Are you sure? I’m not gonna be able to get Bennie out here until tomorrow. He ain’t home right now.”

  “I don’t care. I wanna get Dutch today.”

  Stevie was surprised at his buddy’s boldness. Josh had never displayed such passion. “Okay. I put the knife over there under that bush. How are you gonna get him to come out here?”

  “I’m gonna take his beer and pour it out in front of him. He’s gonna get mad as a raccoon and come chasing after me. I’m gon’ run out here. Are you gon’ be ready?”

  “Yep,” Stevie replied, looking intensely into Josh’s eyes to see if there were any signs that he might renege on their agreement. “If I do this, you’re gonna still kill Bennie for me right?”

  Josh paused. The weight of Stevie’s question hit him like a ton of bricks. There was no turning back now—the wheels were in motion. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  Stevie wasn’t totally sold on Josh’s answer, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well, you better get going. When I hear y’all comin’ I’ma jump out on him. I’ma be standin’ right over there. I’ma cover that hole up with some bushes so he won’t see it. Just make sure you run over that way. I don’t want you to fall in the hole. Just leave the shovel with me so I can finish digging the other hole.”

  Josh shook his head in agreement and walked back to his house. He left their spot pondering whether or not this murder plan would be the worst decision of his life. When he arrived at his house and looked in the front window again, Dutch was gone. A chill went up his spine. Had he blown his opportunity? Would he have to wait for another day? If he didn’t return to the woods, Stevie would probably think he’d chickened out.