by R C Barnes
Instead of pointing out the charming changes in the neighborhood, my mother would complain about the people who let their properties fall into disrepair and the folks who were renting or selling to the wrong kinds of people. Just so we are clear, my mother’s definition of the “wrong kind of people” are people who don’t appreciate the eclectic nature of the city and instead want to make Berkeley another Palo Alto.
Good mood or bad mood, Echo didn’t mind the walks with mom at all. She never asked me to walk her instead. I think it was because it was the one portion of the day, that you knew you had Terry’s undivided attention - even if it was only for fifteen minutes.
“ECHO!” my mother hollered from down the hall. “I’ll be ready to take you in five minutes.”
“She’s finishing her breakfast,” I hollered back. I looked over at Todd. “You taking off soon?” I said it like a question, but we both knew it was a statement.
It was at that point Terry entered the kitchen to load her traveler mug with coffee. She stopped when she saw Todd sitting at the table with her six-year-old.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“Thought I’d savor my orange juice and enjoy the morning rays of the rising sun.”
“I told you to leave.”
“Oh, you meant that?”
“Get out of here, Todd. I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”
Before replying to Terry, Todd looked over at Echo, who was staring out the window, uninterested, and then myself, who was staring at him very interested. I folded my arms across my chest like I was the muscle of the operation and posing for a badass militia photograph.
“You were angry this morning. You still are.” His face contorted into concern. “Why don’t we take some time…the entire day, maybe, and rethink the words we said to each other.”
“I don’t need to take an entire day to rethink anything. You’re an asshole, and I don’t need you around my kids. Don’t make me throw something at you.”
Yes, my mother swears around us and yells at other people about their evil influences. However, I did clear my throat, and Terry glanced over and noted Echo sitting there.
“Echo, go get your bookbag.” She then glanced at me. “Can you give us some space?”
I threw up my hands. “Happily.” Inwardly, I was back to feeling like I was doing an end-zone dance, and angels were singing my favorite funkadelic song. But I put up a good show of being annoyed and inconvenienced and slipped back into my bedroom. I wasn’t ready to go just yet.
I rooted around for the flannel shirt I was going to throw over my T-shirt. I could hear them bickering in the kitchen. I was able to understand quickly the argument had something to do with a woman.
“Why is she calling you?”
“You know how exes are. She was lonely.”
“My lonely exes don’t call me at two in the morning.”
“Terry, I told her not to call me. What do you want me to say?”
“You told her not to call you at two in the morning. Seems to me you’re saying she can call you at other times.”
Todd raised his voice. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going to argue about it.”
“Then don’t. I won’t tolerate cheating. I don’t need my girls to see that kind of treatment.”
“I’m leaving.” I could hear the kitchen stool being pushed back. He stomped over to the back door near my bedroom and opened the screen. “I’ll call you later. Give you some time to calm down.”
“Don’t bother,” my mother yelled, but by then, the screen door had slammed closed, and Todd’s feet were pounding the sidewalk down the street.
I waited for my mother to leave out the front door with Echo before emerging from my room. Seven months before the explosion. Seven months, but it had finally happened.
If there was one thing my mother wouldn’t tolerate in her relationships, it was infidelity. Terry Wynters had to be the top chicken in any man’s hen house. Todd was a good-looking guy who most assuredly caught the eye of many a girl. It didn’t surprise me he would communicate with other women.
This breakup had been easy with little bloodshed. I didn’t have to bring in my suspicions about the drugs or continue with my snooping. A cloud lifted. I could visualize a new and happy life ahead of me. My good mood carried me through school. I even smiled at that idiot, Felicia Norris, in US History when she waved at me. Twice, Joanie asked me what was up. I just laughed.
I hope you noticed Jehovah, but I only had three hot sauce packs today.
WOLFIE
My jubilation did not last long. Jehovah didn’t even give me a full twenty-four hours of happiness. Unaware of what lay ahead, I biked home, imagining the pleasure of seeing Todd’s belongings tossed out into the street. This glorious image made me salivate. Hell, I’d even place my red mug on top of his stuff, if it meant that he was truly gone.
However, when I reached the house, there was no sign of my mother’s fury or even that she was home from getting Echo from school. No opera music or smells from the kitchen. The place was quiet. A rare occurrence. I had the house to myself.
I made myself a cup of tea and moved into the living room. With no one else in the house, I didn’t have to hide in my bedroom. I stretched out on the couch, sipped my tea, and relaxed with images of Todd’s clothes lumped out on the sidewalk (my mother never bothered with boxes) and dogs walking by and peeing on the piles.
A hard thud brought me out of my relaxed state. Another one caused me to place my tea down and sit straight up. I looked around me, trying to discern the direction of the noise. BAM. Then a silence followed by smaller thuds. The commotion was coming from my mother’s bedroom.
I quietly got up and moved down the hallway towards the room. In addition to the pounding noises, I was hearing grunts and the sounds of someone straining themselves. I knew my mother wasn’t home, so I wasn’t too worried about walking in any sexual activity. The door was slightly open, and I pushed it wider so I could peer inside.
There were long-stemmed red roses tossed around the floor of the room, and the grunting noise I was hearing was Todd stuck in the window. He appeared to be in the process of climbing in. I walked into the bedroom and stood there looking down at him as he strained and tugged. His head was low, so he didn’t see me. One arm was inside, but the other was caught as his shoulders were too broad. He was a fat Pooh bear stuck in Rabbit’s house. I continued to watch him. He must have sensed my presence because he stopped his movement and lifted his head.
“You’re home,” he commented.
“Yes, I live here,” was my reply.
“I didn’t think anyone was here.”
He paused for a second as if he was thinking something through. “Hey, can you give me a hand?”
I started to move forward, but he stopped me with a quick shaking motion of the hand that was inside. “Wait. Wait. Don’t step on the flowers. I was bringing those in when the stool fell out from under me outside.”
“Would you like me to put them on the bed?” I asked.
“That would be great. That would be great.” His voice was tight. He was breathing hard.
I gathered up the roses and placed them out of the way on the bed. By my estimate, Todd had purchased about fifty stems.
“Do you want me to push you or pull you?”
“What?”
“Pull you in or go outside and push you in. Or I could push you out.”
“I’m stuck,” he said
“I can see that.”
“No, my sweater is caught on the bush. Could you take care of it? I don’t want to lose this sweater.”
I sighed and went out the front door of the house and around the side. From this viewpoint, Todd’s situation looked even more ridiculous. The stool had fallen over, and I righted it so he could rest his feet and stop swinging them around. I saw the problematic branch had snagged the edge of his sweater and unhooked the garment. There were a few snags, but they could be
pulled out to the point where they would be unnoticeable. However, I saw there was a much bigger problem, and I came back into the house.
“Did you fix the sweater?” he asked when I re-entered the bedroom.
“Yes,” I said. “But you are going to have to take it off. I can’t pull or push you through without it getting messed up on the windowsill. If we work it off you, I can keep it from tearing. Then I’ll pull you through.”
You may wonder why I was so helpful. Well, I saw the scenario, and this guy was trying to surprise my mother by leaving flowers in her room. The evidence was there, and I couldn’t keep him from making this romantic gesture. Anything negative I did at this point would only boomerang on me. Besides, my mother would be home soon with Echo, and being helpful could work to my advantage. Or so I thought.
There was a step ladder on the back porch off my bedroom. I went to retrieve it and carried it outside. The ladder gave me enough height to work Todd’s sweater up to his shoulders and then gently work the material over his head and through the small gaps between his body and the window frame. I had gotten most of it safely through when I saw I would have to do the rest from the inside.
“Hold on,” I said. And ran around the house and back into the bedroom. Boy did this guy owe me big. I was assisting him far and beyond what he deserved. I began to wonder if this was something I could barter with. But what? I could see the current wave of events were not going my way. The gesture with flowers would get my mother’s attention. It was soon enough after the morning fight for her to bestow forgiveness. If a week had gone by or even a few days before Todd made a move, she would have blocked him. But his timing was perfect. Dang it. She would take him back. I felt the four walls of frustration, failure, disappointment, and despair shifting into place to form a box to contain me.
The last section of Todd’s sweater that needed to be worked through was the area on his arm inside the house. By holding up the window frame with my shoulder, I was able to use two hands on the task. I got the material past his head and was working the part that was on his shoulder. And that’s when it happened. I touched the tattoo. I touched the tattoo of his dog.
I fell back like I had been zapped by lightning. A small scream lodged in my throat. Todd looked over at me. His eyes showed concern as if he was worried about me, but that was impossible given what I just saw.
“Wolfie,” I said softly. There was a moan in my voice, and I tried to keep my emotion from betraying me. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”
Todd’s eyes held mine. He was trying to figure out why I was suddenly mournful. “You’ve seen this tattoo,” he said. “I lost him years ago.”
Our eyes remained locked. Comprehension was seeping through me as I began to understand what I saw.
“Can you pull me in now?” he asked.
The mood in the air shifted. My sorrow was turning into anger and then fear. But Todd… His eyes stayed on mine because he knew. He knew something had happened, but he wasn’t sure what. I had quickly gone from Miss Helpful to Miss I’m Not Touching You. To emphasize that point, I jumped up and fled the room.
“Bess,” he screamed after me. “Bess, C’mon. I need your help.”
I ran.
I ran out of the front door and almost collided with my mother, who had Echo behind her. Echo was carrying a bag of art supplies, which explained their delay in getting back to the house.
“Bess, where are you going?” She was bewildered.
“I forgot something at school,” Saying anything to keep her from stopping me. I cried over my shoulder. “Todd’s inside.”
“What? What? Where are you going?”
But those last words were caught in the wind. I was running.
It seemed like my feet couldn’t move fast enough. I wanted my bike, but there was no way I was going back. I first I thought I was running just to get away, to put distance between myself and the loathsome man stuck in my mother’s bedroom window.
But I wasn’t running away I was running towards something; to someone. Twenty minutes later, I was at Luther’s apartment building. I collapsed on the steps outside and pulled myself up into a ball. Rocking back and forth with my head buried in my knees - that’s how Luther found me when he got home.
With no words, he took me inside.
I slept.
When I awoke, I was lying on the couch in the living room. A cedar colored knitted afghan was covering me. It was one Luther’s grandmother had made for him years ago. My nose picked up the smell of a sandwich in front of me - ham and cheese with mustard on wheat. Sitting in the chair across from me was Luther. He uncrossed his legs and put down the little glass of whiskey he was sipping.
“Good, you’re awake,” he said.
He went into the kitchen, and I could hear him puttering with the kettle. Seconds later, he came back in and set a cup of chai tea in front of me.
“Eat,” he said. “I’m out of hot sauce. You cleaned me out the last time you were here.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s late. Past nine o’clock.”
“Oh, my God.” I sat up and threw back the blanket.
“Holdup. You’re not going anywhere. You’re spending the night here.”
“I can’t,” I protested.
Luther moved back to his chair and picked up his whiskey.
“I took the liberty of using your phone and calling that friend of yours, Rueben,” he said. “Told him to contact your mom and say you were studying and going to spend the night at his place.”
I nodded. Terry would buy that. Especially since she would go in the house and see the roses and Todd in her window and think I was upset about him being there. After the fuss with the flowers and the requests for forgiveness, she would forget all about me.
“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
I looked down at the flannel shirt I was wearing over my Tshirt and shorts.
“Yes,” I responded.
“I wondered where that one went to. How many of my shirts do you have?”
“Three.”
“Did you know you cry when you are sleeping? Not out loud, but tears. They fall down your cheeks, but you don’t utter a sound.” Luther pointed at the sandwich. “Eat,” he said again. “And then you are going to tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t.”
Luther motioned to the sandwich. “Eat.” Then after I started taking a few bites. He added, “You have to.”
Luther watched me finish the sandwich. He waited as I sipped the spiced tea. He took a few sips of whiskey and then put the glass down on the table next to him.
“Bess, you have to tell me.”
“She won’t believe me.”
He nodded his head as if that could be true. “Try me. Tell me.”
“It’s awful.”
“I know, baby girl.”
And I talked.
***
Lucy had raised Wolfie since he was a puppy. When Lucy and Todd decided they would move in together, Lucy brought her beloved dog with her. In those days, Todd worked as a bartender in Hayward. He gravitated towards jobs that gave him daily access to people. “Service jobs,” he would say. “I love to be of service.” Most of the story Todd shared about what happened with him, and Lucy was the truth. Except he left out a crucial part.
When Lucy broke up with Todd, she left a note. She was away on a trip, and in the letter, she said she would be moving out when she returned. She would be picking up her things and her dog. For three days, Todd stared at that dog. He was stunned Lucy was leaving him, and all she wanted was her dog back. Hatred built up inside of him as he reread the note again and again. Then, the night before Lucy was due to return, and the animal was sleeping with his head in Todd’s lap, Todd reached down and snapped Wolfie’s neck.
***
“He killed the dog,” I said to Luther. “With his bare hands, he killed the dog.”
“Why would he tell you this?” Luther asked.
I had to fud
ge here, because Luther didn’t know what I could do, and that Todd hadn’t told me directly. “He wants me to know what he’s capable of,” I said in a whisper.
Luther shot out of the chair like a rocket. His hands were clenched into solid rocks. “That motherfucker,” he roared. “He threatened you?”
I started to cry. I couldn’t let Luther interfere. If he did, he would be in violation of the restraining order and thrown in jail. Luther was the only way Echo and I could escape from this mess. He had to remain an option. He could be a safe haven.
“I’ll be okay,” I said to Luther. However, now, I didn’t know how that was possible.
“What are you talking about, Bess? That man has threatened you. And your little sister is in the house. This is crazy! What is your mother thinking?”
“She doesn’t know,” I responded. And if I tell her, she won’t believe me. She’ll think I’m lying. She says she loves him.” I was sobbing now.
Those words deflated Luther. I could see sorrow wash over him, and the fury he had been displaying earlier melted inside. He still loved my mother and hearing that she loved another man was heartbreaking. Luther stood still for a second and then approached me, taking me slowly into one of his giant bear hugs. “What can I do? What do you need me to do?” he asked.
I took some deep breaths, engulfing myself in the security of his scent and the aftershave he wore. I answered him as honestly as I could. “I need you to stay out of jail. I need you to be our strength and our secret.”
NANCY DREW & HER CREW
In the next few days, I was fueled by an anger I didn’t realize resided within me. I raged, and every moment awake, and every breath I took was centered around bringing Todd down. I sucked back hot sauce to maintain my focus and fire.
