They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

“Where are you going?” she screamed.

  She was standing just above me on the stairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen at all. I turned in mid-step and scurried down the stairs. I ran through the dining room into the kitchen. I sat at the table, my heart pounding. She came in. I cowered in the chair, covering my ears. She brushed past me, heading for her work counter. She didn’t hit me.

  She switched on a radio next to her. A man with a very deep voice said, “Duz does everything.”

  She changed stations.

  Another man with an even deeper voice said, “The Guiding Light.” A whole bunch of high-pitched voices began singing a jingle as Mrs. Carpenter began speaking to me from over her shoulder.

  “You better get used to the rules around here, or I’ll beat the daylights out of you.”

  I tried listening to her and the singers.

  “The bedroom is for sleeping. The rest of the house is off limits to you. You’re to sit at that table, and that table only. If you don’t, you’ll get it. Understand?”

  I nodded my head, but she didn’t see me.

  “Do you understand?” she screeched.

  I jolted to attention in the chair. “Yes,” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am!” she added.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I repeated.

  “And…if you break anything around here, God help you.” She mumbled, “I make little enough money off you as it is.”

  She turned from the counter and rushed at me. I ducked my head below my hands. She plopped a bowl down in front of me.

  “Eat!” she commanded. She went back to her counter.

  It was a grayish blob of icy stuff. I think it was oatmeal, but I really couldn’t be sure. It was thick and gluey, and it smelled funny. I tasted it.

  “Eck! I don’t like this stuff!”

  Again she rushed at me and I ducked. She snatched up the bowl.

  As I waited for her to bring me something else, I looked around for my picture of Doggie.

  “Did you see my picture anywhere? Ma’am.”

  “I threw it out! I don’t want a whole lot of junk cluttering up my kitchen.”

  I felt badly. It hurt me to think of Doggie in the garbage. I decided if I ever drew something I wanted, I’d never leave it lying around.

  Mrs. Carpenter finished her work at the counter, switched off the radio, and left the room. She didn’t fix me anything else. I guess I wasn’t surprised. Hungry, maybe, but not surprised.

  I sat looking up at the wall next to the table. There was a lot more on the wall than I realized. There were tiny dots and little lines. There were bumps and cracks.

  At about one o’clock I stuck my head out the door and called, “Mrs. Carpenter, ma’am.”

  “What do you want?”

  She startled me. She was sitting not five feet from the door.

  “Uh…I’m hungry. I was wondering…”

  “We eat breakfast and dinner around here and that’s all,” she snarled. “I can’t afford to be feeding you anytime you feel like eating. Besides, you’re not worth it, you dirty little bastard. Now, get back to your table.”

  I pulled my head into the kitchen. I returned to the table and buried my head in my arms. I didn’t want her to hear me crying.

  The day gave way to night, and the room darkened. I sat looking at the thin strip of light working its way in under the door from the dining room.

  I was falling off to sleep when Mrs. Carpenter came in. I covered my eyes to readjust to the room light. She went to work at her counter.

  She was making hamburgers for dinner. I was starving. When they started to cook, they smelled and sounded wonderful. I couldn’t imagine how she could ruin them, but I decided I’d better wait until I tasted them.

  Mr. Carpenter came in at 7:15. He sat at the big table and unfolded his paper. He read a few things to her, but she didn’t seem interested. He didn’t speak to me at all.

  “I sure would like to get a television set,” he said.

  “A what?”

  “A television set.”

  “How could we afford one of those?” she asked.

  “They’re really improving them, you know. Look how many programs are on the air now.” He held up part of the paper for her to look. She didn’t.

  “What’s wrong with radio?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I like radio. But I thought a television would be nice. Texaco Star Theatre. The Life of Riley. Toast of—”

  “Frank! Forget about television sets and eat.”

  She served each of them a hamburger. She placed the same bowl of gray gook I had rejected that morning in front of me. I was disappointed. I decided to try it again. I tasted it. It was cold and sticky and awful. I could barely get the mouthful down before gagging. I pushed it away.

  Mr. Carpenter finished his hamburger and left. I covered my head with my arms until she finished cleaning up. She took the bowl from the table but said nothing. When I was sure she wasn’t going to hit me, I uncovered my head. She turned off the ceiling light and left the room.

  I sat at the little table and wondered if I’d ever eat again. I started to think about the first days at the Home of the Angels, when I didn’t eat for a long time. I wished I had some of that stew now. Even a piece of bread or a roll would be great. I wished I was back at the home with Mark and Doggie. I drew another picture of Doggie. This time he was standing in the middle of all these trees, with a great pile of hamburgers next to him. After I kissed him I folded him up and stuck him in my pocket.

  The next morning, I sat at the little table in front of the same bowl of sticky stuff. I didn’t bother to smell it or taste it or anything. I just pushed it to the edge of the table and closed my eyes. The next little tap sent it crashing to the floor. Mrs. Carpenter went into a rage. She grabbed me by the hair and yanked me from the chair. She punched me in the side of the head and threw me to the floor. I drew in my arms and legs to make myself a smaller target, but it didn’t help. She smashed me across the back with a stick or something. On the second hit, she caught me across the back of my legs. I crawled under the big table. Her third shot hit the table legs and the chairs.

  “Come out!” she screamed.

  I wouldn’t move. She again hit the sides of the table legs with her stick. I crawled in deeper. She mumbled to herself while she cleaned up the pieces of the broken bowl. She slammed things around and took one more shot at the table legs before she gave up and left the room.

  I lay piled up on the floor. I began to feel the pain in my back and legs. I thought I might die under this table and maybe it would be soon. I was hurting and hungry. I reached down into my pocket and pulled out Doggie’s picture. I kissed him and pressed him close to my face. “I don’t think Mom’s ever going to come for us,” I told him. “I don’t think we’re ever going to leave this place.” I closed my eyes. “Doggie, I’m going to stay under here forever.” I clenched Doggie tightly in my hand. The floor was hard and cold. Each time I thought I heard her coming, I held my breath. The table and chair legs were like the bars of a cage around me. This time they weren’t keeping me in, they were keeping her out.

  The hours passed slowly. The morning sun turned to afternoon shadows, then the shadows to night. I lay on the floor watching the thin strip of light under the kitchen door.

  I was awakened by Mrs. Carpenter moving around the kitchen. I could see only her legs and her feet. I knew she was fixing dinner; I could smell it.

  “Where’s Jenkins?” Mr. Carpenter asked as he entered the room. He didn’t wipe his feet very well. The edges of his shoes were still wet from the snow.

  “He’s under the table.”

  “Under the table? What’s he doing under there?” He poked his head under to see me.

  “He’s playing or something. What the hell do I know about these damn kids? Half of them are crazy,” she said.

  “Hey, son. What are you doing down there?”

  I crawled in deeper. I stuffed Doggie in my pocket for fear they might take
him and throw him in the garbage again.

  “What’s the matter, Jenkins?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on out of there.” He offered me his hand.

  He had always been nice to me. He wasn’t very friendly or anything like that, but he’d never hurt me. I gave him my hand and crawled out. As I stood up, he touched my back and I winced.

  “Did you hit him?” he asked sternly.

  “No,” she lied.

  He lifted my shirt and saw the welt mark. “You hit him, dammit!”

  “I did not. He fell.”

  “That’s it, Edna. Hit him one more time and he goes back. You hear me? Money or no money, he goes back. I’m not going to have you beating up all these kids. You listening to me, Edna?”

  “He fell! Goddammit! I didn’t hit him,” she screamed.

  He held my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Now, don’t be afraid, Jenkins. Did she hit you?”

  I didn’t have to answer him. My tears came easily.

  “I’m warning you, Edna…”

  She slammed things around the counter. “He breaks my good bowl and that’s okay. Don’t punish him. Oh, no! Just mollycoddle the son of a bitch.”

  Mr. Carpenter sat me at the little table. He sat at his usual place and picked up his newspaper. I stared at the spots on the wall and planned my escape. I had to get out of here before he left for work in the morning. She served the dinner. I didn’t bother to look at what they were having. It didn’t matter.

  “Aren’t you going to feed him?” he asked.

  “After he breaks my good china? Not on your life.”

  Mr. Carpenter was now his usual self: he said nothing.

  With dinner now over and the Carpenters gone from the room. I sat and watched the thin strip of light. I was ready. I went over to the back door and tugged. It was locked. I opened one of the two bolts. The other one I couldn’t reach without a chair. As quietly as I could, I got a chair from the big table. I pushed as hard as I could, but the bolt wouldn’t open. I searched around the kitchen for something I might use to hit it. In one of the bottom cabinets I found two things. The hammer I needed for the bolt, and a box of Jell-O powder.

  I tore open the box and tasted it. “Wow! That’s sour!” I said quietly. I took another taste. I was so hungry, it didn’t matter how sour it was, I was going to eat it. My eyes were almost closed completely from the sourness of the Jell-O. I ate the whole box before I could get my eyes open again. I crushed up the empty box and stuck it in my pocket. I returned to the door. I tapped lightly at the bolt on the door, but nothing happened. I knew I would have to give it one good whack. “What if I can’t get the chair out of the way before she gets in here?” I thought out loud. “Ah, what difference does it make, she’s going to kill me anyway.” I closed my eyes and swung as hard as I could. I missed. The hammer went crashing through one of the panes of glass in the door. Mrs. Carpenter was there in a flash. Before I could even think about getting down from the chair, the room was ablaze with light and she was on me. She punched me in the stomach and knocked me to the floor. She began kicking me.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Mr. Carpenter screamed as he rushed into the room.

  “I’m going to kill him!” she screeched.

  I believed her. Her eyes were red with fire. She leaned down and clenched my shirt with her hand. She lifted me straight off the floor a few feet, then dropped me. He grabbed her arm and swung her around. I thought he was going to hit her, but he didn’t. He just held her off.

  “That’s it, Edna! Tomorrow he goes back!”

  4

  Sister Frances grabbed my ear and led me from the office. “Now see what you’ve done?” she scolded. “Those nice people won’t take any more kids, thanks to you. It’s hard enough to find places to house you kids without…Ah, what’s the use?”

  She pushed me through the dayroom door and left me. I once again stood in the middle of what seemed to be a thousand staring eyes. This time I smiled.

  “Jennings!” Mark shouted. He was just coming in from the yard and he was covered with snow.

  As I made my way through the kids, one or two of them patted me on the back. In a strange sort of way, I was home.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Mark said.

  “Long enough. I’m starving. When do we eat?”

  “Soon. Pretty soon. Either you’re getting like me or they didn’t feed you.”

  “They didn’t feed me.” I sat down at one of the checkerboard tables. I held my aching stomach.

  Some of the kids gathered around to hear the tale of the Carpenters.

  “Mrs. Carpenter is crazy!” I said. “She cursed all the time, yelled and screamed at me, and made me sit at this little tiny table. The whole time I was there.”

  Some of the kids made faces, others just stared at me.

  “It was awful,” I said. “She gave me this gluey stuff that smelled like dirty feet. I couldn’t eat it. Then she beat me up.” I lifted my shirt to show them my welt marks.

  After a time, the group of kids drifted off. I stayed talking to Mark.

  “Oh, wait!” I said. “I got something to show you.” I took out the picture of Doggie. “What do you think?”

  He looked long and hard at the picture. “Don’t show this to Doggie.”

  We laughed.

  “Jennings!” someone called out.

  I looked up and saw Stacy in the doorway. Her two hands were touching her lips, like the way you hold your hands in church. Tears were in her eyes. I stood up when she reached me. I took her outstretched hand and she kissed my cheek.

  “Oh, gosh,” I said. I slid back down into my seat. My face grew very red.

  She sat down. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said.

  “I didn’t think so either.”

  “Some of the kids in the yard told me a boy had just returned from an awful home. I didn’t know they were talking about you. I’m sorry they treated you so badly.”

  “Oh, gosh.”

  Click!

  I shot straight out of my chair, then panicked. I couldn’t find twenty-six’s funny ears. The second click sounded and the kids lined up. I stayed where I was and covered my ears as a nun I hadn’t seen before approached me.

  “Well?” she said.

  “I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, Sister. I just got here.” My heart pounded. I didn’t want to be punished just now, I was too hungry for that.

  “Come along,” she said. She took my hand.

  She placed me at Mark’s table. My new number was twelve, just three places away from Mark. We managed to smile at each other. I watched the sisters serving meatloaf. My mouth watered and my stomach ached. I gobbled down everything in minutes, including some bread and butter. I began to feel sick. My head started spinning and my stomach ached even more.

  “Sister! I’m going to be sick!” I called out.

  Sister Frances was there in a flash to race me from the room. I just barely made it to a sink in the kitchen before it all came up. Sister Frances held my head and my shoulders.

  “Get the nurse,” she told someone.

  She sat me down on a chair. When the nurse came in, she felt my forehead and asked me how I felt and what was wrong.

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “Well, what did you eat this morning?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And last night?”

  “Nothing. Oh, wait! I did eat a box of Jell-O powder.”

  “Jell-O powder! No wonder you’re sick.”

  “Why did you eat Jell-O powder?” Sister Frances asked.

  “I was hungry, Sister. I had to eat something.”

  “Didn’t they feed you?”

  The tears came to my eyes. I shook my head no.

  “Not at all?” the nurse asked.

  Again I shook my head no.

  Sister Frances sat me down at a table in the kitchen. She ordered one of the kitchen sisters to
bring me some soup. “No bread,” she said, “just the soup.”

  She brushed back the hair on my head and left. For a moment she seemed different. A little like Sister Clair.

  I finished the soup. Sister Frances came back and took me through the now empty dining room to the outside hall. We entered the stern nun’s office, and she sat me down.

  “Now, Jennings, I want you to tell Sister Margaret and me about your stay with the Carpenters.”

  At first I hesitated because I was nervous, but then I told them everything. They listened in silence. I said I was sorry for breaking the bowl and the window. I thought they would be angry with me, but they weren’t. I told them about the curse words Mrs. Carpenter used all the time. I wouldn’t say the words, but I did use the first letter of each of them. I showed them my welt marks, and then I showed them my picture of Doggie.

  “What are these things beside him?” Sister Margaret asked.

  “Hamburgers.”

  She laughed.

  Sister Frances took me to the dayroom.

  I sat near the glass doors and watched some of the part-timers playing in the yard. Stacy was helping with a snowman. Mark and the other lifers were at school.

  At bedtime Sister Frances handed me Doggie. I hugged him. He felt so soft and good. I carried him to bed number twelve and made a place for him. I showed him his picture. He thought it was a good likeness. I waved to Mark and he waved back. I slid beneath the covers and brought Doggie close to me.

  “I love you, Doggie,” I whispered.

  I closed my eyes to sleep. I was very tired.

  After breakfast the next morning, we were clicked into the playroom. Some of the kids got their coats and went into the yard. Mark and I as well as some other kids stayed in. It was too cold.

  Click!

  We sat at attention. Sister Frances called Stacy. Mark and I looked at one another as Stacy cautiously approached Sister Frances. They left the playroom.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Mark shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe she’s being lent out.”

  “Oh, gosh.” I shuddered.

  “But…maybe she’s going home,” he added.

  “Yeah!” I smiled. “Maybe she’s going home.” The sudden happy thought faded. It was replaced by a feeling I hadn’t felt before.