They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “Good morning, little Midnight,” I said. I kissed his fur.

  I turned him in my hand so that I could see his little face. His eyes were closed and his body was limp. He was dead.

  “Oh, God, no!” I cried. I kissed him a whole bunch of times. “Please don’t be dead. Oh, please don’t be dead.”

  “What’s the matter?” Larry asked.

  “Midnight’s dead,” I cried.

  The whole house was in disorder. Larry and Gene and I were crying. Mom got up from her bed even though she was sick, to settle everyone down. She fixed a small box by lining it with a handkerchief. She told us to bury Midnight in the front yard.

  Larry and I made a cross for the top of Midnight’s grave. We got Gene’s shovel from his pail-and-shovel set and we went into the yard. I let Gene hold Doggie.

  We dug the grave and put Midnight in. We covered him over and set the cross in the ground. I couldn’t believe my love for him didn’t keep him alive. I would have taken good care of him. The tears on my face were mixed with the heavily falling rain, but it didn’t matter. I don’t think it mattered to Larry or Gene, either. We were all very upset.

  Inside, I lay down with Doggie in my arms. He was dripping wet, but I didn’t care. I fell asleep feeling very helpless.

  “You look like you lost your best friend,” Sal said to me the next morning.

  “I did,” I mumbled.

  “Why, son? What happened?”

  I sat behind Sal and told him all about Midnight.

  “You know, son, just loving something or someone, like Midnight, isn’t enough. He was neglected and mistreated long before you found him. By then it was too late.”

  “But I really loved him, Sal.” My eyes filled.

  “I know you did. But it was too late. All the love in the world wouldn’t have saved him.”

  I sat in silence as the bus rumbled down Main Street.

  “Before he died, he knew you were his friend.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Of course he did. And isn’t that all that really matters now? The fact that he knew you loved him, and he knew you were his friend?”

  Sal made me feel a little better. Before I left his bus, he gave me a big hug.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “And cheer up.” He smiled.

  I got off the bus and thanked him for talking to me. He winked and closed the door. He drove off.

  I walked up the hill thinking about all the things Sal had said to me. When I reached school, I went straight to class. I didn’t feel much like standing around in the school yard. Sister Gerard was at her desk.

  “Well, you’re here early,” she said.

  “Yes, Sister.”

  “Don’t you feel well?”

  “Yes, Sister,” I sighed. “I feel all right. I mean, I’m not sick or anything like that. I just feel a little sad because my cat died.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” she said. She stood up and put her arms around me. I cried into her.

  She didn’t call on me all morning or afternoon. I think she knew my mind was wandering from time to time, and she didn’t want to embarrass me. Sister Gerard was like that; she was kind.

  Late in the afternoon a boy came into the room from one of the other classes. He handed Sister Gerard a note.

  “Continue to read to yourselves,” she told everyone in the class. “Michael,” she called.

  I looked up to see if she wanted me. She did.

  “Will you take this note down to Sister Regina for me, please?” She handed me a folded piece of paper.

  “Sure, Sister. Should I wait for an answer?”

  “Yes, please.” She smiled.

  I left the room and went down to the principal’s office. Sister Regina was in her office talking to a gray-haired man in a dark overcoat. I waited outside.

  “Jennings,” she called from her office.

  “Yes, Sister! I have a note for you,” I said as I walked in.

  I was a little surprised she remembered my real name. But then, she was the principal and always seemed to know everything.

  “Sit down, will you, Jennings. This is Mr. Frazier.”

  “Hello, sir,” I said. I sat down.

  “Jennings,” she said, “your mother was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia.”

  “Oh, no.” I didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Mr. Frazier said.

  “Mr. Frazier has agreed to let you stay with him until your mother is better. Is that all right?”

  I didn’t answer her. I was thinking about Mom and going away again. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten up to help us with Midnight. Oh, gosh.

  “Jennings,” she said.

  I raised my head just a little. I didn’t want the tears I was fighting off to fall.

  “If you stay with Mr. Frazier,” she said, “you won’t have to disrupt your schooling. You can continue with us without any interruptions.”

  “Uh…oh, yes, Sister. All right.” I couldn’t believe I was going away again. For some reason I just sort of put going away out of my mind and forgot about it. That was a mistake. I should never do that again, I thought. Oh, gosh. I don’t even have Doggie with me. What am I going to do? I lost the battle with my tears; they fell all over the back of my hand. I buried my face in my hands. Sister Regina put her arms around me and hugged me. Oh, gosh, first little Midnight, and now Mom. Why?

  9

  Mr. Frazier turned off the main road and pulled up to a tiny little white house. A man in a brown uniform stuck his head out the door and waved to us. We waved back.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s Fred,” Mr. Frazier said. “The security guard.”

  We passed through a set of tall iron gates. The gravel from the roadway made a steady sound against the bottom of the car.

  “Are we at some kind of a home or something?” I asked.

  “No, son. Why?”

  “Well, the iron gates and Fred.”

  “No.” He patted my leg. “We’re in Briar Manor. I live here. Fred is there to see that no one comes in who doesn’t live here.”

  “Will he let me in?”

  “Of course! Aren’t you going to live here?”

  “Uh…no, sir.”

  “No!”

  “No. I’m just gonna stay here.”

  “Well, it’s the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not! My brother Jerome said staying somewhere and living somewhere was different.”

  “He’s right, son. You’re just going to stay here till your mom is better. I’ll tell Fred to make an exception in your case and let you in.”

  We passed many large and beautiful houses. Some of them had long white columns in front, others had bunches of tall trees and neatly trimmed bushes. All of them were pretty. I looked over at Mr. Frazier. His clothes were nice and neat. He was wearing a watch and a ring. He must be rich, I thought. I looked at my own raggy clothes, then did my best to shrink into the seat. I remembered all the rich kids at St. Benedict’s and how mean they were to me. I began to get a little nervous. Mr. Frazier seemed kind enough. Maybe all rich people aren’t mean. Maybe they’re like the nuns at the homes, some are mean and some are nice.

  He pulled the car into a driveway and stopped.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  His house was beautiful. It was all gray stone with blue and white trim. There was a birdbath on the front lawn. There was a large boat off to one side of the driveway.

  “Is that your boat?” I asked. My eyes were wide open at the sight of it. I had never seen a boat before, except in the movies or in magazine pictures.

  “No, son,” he said. “That one belongs to my daughter Nancy. She’s away at college right now. My boat is kept at the marina.”

  “How did she sail it into the driveway?”

  “She didn’t sail it there,” he laughed. “We brought it in by trailer.”

  We got out of the car.

 
; “What’s a marina?”

  “That’s a place where they keep boats when you’re not using them.”

  “Oh, I see. Then this is not a driveway, it’s a marina.”

  He laughed again. “I had forgotten what it was like to talk to a nine-year-old,” he said. “We’ll straighten it all out later. Right now, Martha is waiting for us, and I have to get back to work.”

  He held my hand as we walked up to the front door. The door opened and a short, heavyset lady stepped out. She had gray hair that was all pulled back and tied in a knot. Her cheeks were round and rosy. On the bridge of her pug little nose sat a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a green-and-white flowery dress, and a white apron with two big red roses on it. She reminded me of a large bouquet of flowers.

  “Hello, Martha,” he said. “This is Jennings.”

  She smiled a wonderful smile and pinched my cheek. “Well, now, Master Jennings,” she said, “you sure are the cutest little boy I ever did see.” She laughed.

  My face flushed. “Hello, Mrs. Frazier.”

  “Land sakes, no,” she laughed. “I’m Martha. I keeps the house ’round here. You’ll see Mrs. Frazier at dinnertime.”

  “Oh. I thought you were Mrs. Frazier.”

  “Mrs. Frazier is shopping,” Mr. Frazier said. “You go along with Martha. She’ll show you to your room and get you settled. I’ll see you later.”

  Mr. Frazier walked back to his car, while Martha and I went into the house.

  The front room was like walking into one of Mom’s magazines. A great stone fireplace set between two windows had a roaring fire blazing away.

  “Come along, now,” Martha said.

  As we crossed the room, Martha started to take off my coat. I let her.

  “Are you sleepwalking, boy?” she laughed.

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “I just never saw anything like this room before.”

  She laughed again.

  Aside from all the couches, chairs, and tables, there was a beautiful white piano in front of a whole wall of glass doors.

  In the dining room, there was a shiny table with all the chairs set neatly around it. A ceiling lamp made of a thousand tiny pieces of glass hung just above the table.

  “Does anybody eat in here?” I asked.

  “Land sakes!” she laughed. “Of course they do. Every night.”

  “Gosh!”

  She took me through a hallway into a bedroom. The room was all blue and green. The curtains were the same as the bed, all flowery and fluffy.

  “This is your room,” she said.

  “My room!” I thought she was just showing me around the house.

  “Over here’s your bathroom.” She pushed open a small door and switched on a light.

  It really was a bathroom. Who would’ve believed it.

  “I never saw a bathroom in the bedroom before,” I said.

  “I never did either, till I started workin’ here.” She winked and laughed.

  I liked Martha. She was a jolly lady. She reminded me a little of Sal and a little of Sister Ann Catherine at St. Teresa’s. I liked the way she laughed.

  She slid open what I thought was a frosted-glass wall. It was a bathtub.

  “Wow! Would you look at that!” I said.

  “Do you take showers or baths?” she asked.

  “Uh…baths. I never took a shower except in homes or at a swimming pool. You know, before you go in the water you gotta take a shower.”

  “Well, you can take a shower here if you like.”

  “Oh, I’d like that.” I smiled. “When can I take a shower?”

  “Anytime you want to.”

  “Well, when does Mr. Frazier use the bathroom?”

  “Land sakes.” She laughed. “This is your bathroom. Mr. Frazier has his own bathroom.”

  “Really?”

  She laughed again as she made her way to the door. “Well, I gots a lot of work to do in the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll let you freshen up.” She closed the door as she left.

  After I looked all around the bathroom and bedroom, I sat at the edge of the bed and watched the sun completely set. As it did, the room darkened with it.

  “Whatcha doin’ in the dark,” Martha said as she came back into the room. She switched on the lights. “I thought you’d come into the kitchen and keeps me company.”

  “I didn’t know I was allowed to leave the room.”

  “What!” she snapped. There was anger in her voice. “While you is in this house,” she stammered, “you can go anywheres you want. You hears Martha?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now, come along to the kitchen. Land sakes!” she mumbled.

  She led the way from the bedroom into the kitchen. There were counters everywhere, sinks, a stove, an icebox, and lots of tables.

  “This is really a big house, Martha.”

  “It surely is. I’m glad Martha ain’t gots to clean it up.” She laughed. “Would you likes to help me peel some taters?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah!”

  She set me down at a table with some newspaper and a potato peeler, and potatoes.

  “Do you help your mother at home?”

  “Uh-huh. Not peeling potatoes, though. We don’t have potatoes ‘cept for special times.”

  “What do you eats most of the time?”

  “Oh, soup. Sometimes spaghetti or shells. Sometimes frankfurters or hamburgers. Stuff like that.”

  “Well,” she said, “I’d like to makes something you likes sometime.”

  “I like pancakes.”

  “Not for dinner,” she laughed.

  “No?”

  “No. Pancakes is for breakfast. I’ll make ’em for you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t hardly eat breakfast, ma’am.”

  “You don’t eats breakfast? But breakfast is important. It helps you get big and strong. Don’t you wants to get big and strong?”

  “Oh, sure. But we don’t got that much food around our house to eat breakfast.”

  “Land sakes,” she mumbled.

  Martha set the table in the dining room with all sorts of things. Glasses and plates and lots of silverware.

  “Why so many forks and spoons?” I asked.

  “Well, some of the spoons are for soup. Some are for dessert or for coffee. Some of the forks are for salad, and the others for the main course.”

  “How do you know which is which?”

  “Watch Mr. Frazier. Whatever he do, you do.”

  I helped her with the rest of the table, and then sat where she told me to. Mr. Frazier was the first one into the room. He sat at the head of the table in a chair with arms. He set down a stack of mail he had brought in with him.

  “Well, Jennings, are you getting all settled in?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. You sure have a nice house here.”

  “Well, thank you, Jennings. I’m glad we can share it with you.”

  “Hello, dear,” a lady said as she came into the room. She leaned down and kissed Mr. Frazier’s cheek. I was sure this was Mrs. Frazier.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask,” she said. She took a seat at the far end of the table opposite him. She leaned her head back for a moment.

  “Where’s Donald?” she asked.

  “Who knows?” he said. He didn’t look up from his mail.

  She was a very pretty lady. Her hair was black and fell to her shoulders. Her face was thin and all made up with powder and rouge. She wore lots of jewelry. Rings and bracelets and necklaces. She looked like a department store.

  “Martha,” she called out over her shoulder to the door leading to the kitchen.

  Martha pushed open the door with her back. She was carrying a large tray of soup. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where’s Donald?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. I tolds him to be home here by six. I tolds him we was gonna have a guest.”

  “Well, never mind,” she said. “Serve the so
up.”

  Martha went around the table pouring the soup into each of the bowls. Mrs. Frazier spoke to me.

  “You don’t talk very much, do you?”

  Before I could answer her, Mr. Frazier interrupted. “Well, the way you come barreling in here…” He put his mail down. “You probably scared the hell out of him.”

  “I did not!”

  “You did so,” he said. “All that concerns you is that damn kid!”

  “Well, I’d like to know where my son is. Is that so frightening?” she asked. “And I’ll thank you not to refer to Donald as ‘that damn kid.’”

  He huffed at her last remark. “You could have at least said hello to Jennings when you came in.”

  “I was getting to that.” She turned to me. “Hello, Jennings. Do I frighten you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “There, you see.” She sneered. “I didn’t frighten him.”

  “What did you expect him to say?”

  “You’re impossible!”

  She began to eat her soup. I watched which spoon she used and used the same kind.

  I was nearing the bottom of the bowl when Martha brought in another tray. This one had all the things I had helped her with. She placed the tray at the edge of the table and began removing the bowls and plates of meat and vegetables. I never saw so much food at one time, except for Thanksgiving, maybe.

  “Hi, Mom,” a boy said as he burst into the room. He plopped himself down on the chair across from me.

  “Where were you, Donald? You’re late.”

  “Out!” he said. He swiped a piece of meat off the platter and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Donald was about the same age as Walter, fifteen. His face was pimply as well as dirty. His strawlike brown hair jutted out in all directions from under a worn and tattered Yankee baseball cap. His clothes were as raggy as mine. His shirt was wrinkled and tucked in only on one side of his pants. He swiped another piece of meat from the platter with his dirty hands and stuffed it into his mouth.

  “Don’t you ever wash?” Mr. Frazier asked.

  “Sure I do,” he said. “Hey, Mom! I’m going fishing tomorrow.”

  “You have school tomorrow,” his father said.

  “I know. I’m going down to the pier before school.”

  “Why not take Jennings with you?” Mrs. Frazier said. “I’m sure he’d love to go.”