by C.T. Millis
Chapter 10
James pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. He made his way to a place he knew about. In his neighborhood, there was a dark brown two story house that had a patch of woods behind it. In that patch of woods, there was an old tree house that was not used anymore. He thought he kids who used to play in it must have grown up and their parents never got around to tearing it down. James looked at the windows to make sure the old man who lived there could not see him sneak past the left side of the house and into the cover of the woods.
From time to time, James could see the man shuffle his feet down his driveway and throw away a white kitchen garbage bag, or pay a neighborhood teenager to mow his lawn when the irritatingly rebellious weeds began to peek through the earth in front of his house. He had white hair, wore glasses, and almost always dressed like he was on his way to work in an office. James knew he was a retiree of some sort. He seemed shorter than he was because he was a little rounder than most people would like to be. Not even once did James see the old man wearing a bathrobe, or jeans. It was always neatly pressed khakis and some shade of oxford. Most of the time, the old man would stay inside. Rarely would the neighbors gaze upon him squinting at the sun on while carefully sculpting his lawn or sitting on his front porch.
Today was no different. The man was tucked somewhere inside his house. There were only a few neighbors who James knew. There was a widow who always planted more and more tulips in her yard each year. Last spring, her yard looked like a festival. James wondered how long it would take before the whole yard was conquered by the troops of tulips she so meticulously set in rows. Also, there was a young couple who had their first kid together right after moving in. There were a few houses with kids in his grade, but he usually played in his backyard or in the house to avoid them. James did not think that he would like the kids much, so he never talked to them. Sophie and her family moved in a year before to a house just a few doors down from James’. He only started talking to Sophie when they began working in Vocabulary Unit Groups together. Before talking to her, he thought there was something wrong with her because of how quiet she was. After the day he just had, seeing her reaction in the slide made him wonder if he would understand how his mom acted, he thought that maybe she would. James wanted to see her outside of school. He tried not to think about the way her long blonde hair moved smoothly with her. It made him think about the way silk dresses moved on classy women when they danced.
James did not really know the owner of the yard he was walking in. He knew it was an old man who lived alone, he knew the man had not given his house another coat of brown paint since James could remember, he knew the old man bought nice candy for Halloween but left it out in a basket on the front porch with a sign affixed:
‘Take only one, please,’ in achingly strict block print. The basket of candy was empty whenever James got to it. He thought the adults should know there would never be enough candy to trickle down for everyone if they let the kids choose how much they wanted.
James pulled his coat tighter when he went to a good spot to enter the woods. He could tell no one was back there in a long time, because there was no trail or any sort of clearing. He found the spot that had saplings instead of thick evergreens and started walking into the woods. He pulled a branch to the side with his right arm and looked behind him at the house again. He still did not see anyone in the windows. James was always so over-cautious about things he should not have done so he would never get caught and in trouble. As soon as he stepped into the arms of the trees, they caught all the snow and he stopped to pull the hood of his coat off of his head so he could hear the small spot of wilderness better. The wind was low, and he could almost hear the snowflakes slipping off the pine needles.
Stepping further into the woods, James could feel the fallen brown pine needles matted on top of one another. He could feel the different layers, the top one was dry. Beneath that, it got soggy from last week’s rain. Under that set of pine needles, there was a layer slowly decomposing from last year. Between the halfway decomposed pine needles and the dirt, he knew there were snails, worms, and other living things, each day growing less and less in strength and number as winter approached. Some could freeze over the winter and come to life with the thaw.
At one time, there was a clearing around the tree house, but the area was now so overgrown that other trees sprung up close to the tree that cradled the tree house. James never went into the tree house before, but a few times a week he would go into the woods to think. It was about fifteen feet off of the ground and the way to get up was a plastic and rope ladder that was currently swinging slightly back and forth with the winter wind. It was forgotten.
James shivered and touched a cold white plastic bar near his head. He gave the ladder a tug; he gave the ladder another tug. A few old leaves floated down and settled at his feet. He put his left foot on the lowest bar, nothing happened. He moved a bit and started jumping on the bar a few times, it creaked, and a few more leaves fell down. James ascended toward the crooked-cut wood opening to the tree house.
At the top James latched onto the wood edge, put his feet on a higher bar, and pulled himself into the tree house. Inside, the tree house floor was covered with leaves, some of which had been settled for so long they melted with age and became dirt. He was able to stand at his full height. When he lifted his arms, he could reach the highest beam and the splinter-plagued roof.
There were three plastic milk crates turned upside down, two blue, and one red. There were three windows, and the bark of the tree was part of one of the walls. James used his hands to sweep the leaves and dirt off of the floor. When he was done, he found an old pack of coated playing cards, a small bucket, and a cracked candle. He put each plastic milk crate to each window and looked out.
In the window to the left, he saw the stretch of road that went to the gas station. The snowfall slowed down so when James stuck his hand out of the window, no snowflakes rushed to it. There was some snow stuck to the road. He could see a car go past on that road every few minutes, and he heard the light whistle of the wind through the creaking woods. The wheels of the cars left long curving lines on the road that looked like dark and sure brush strokes on canvas. Each car added to the pattern that came before it. The lines were slightly off for each set of wheels, and more so around corners.
Moving to the middle window, he saw the tips of the school building. Classes must have still been in, because he was not hungry. He tried to remember what they were going to learn about that day. Friday was art day after recess, he thought about the picture he painted last week. The art teacher told the students to practice mixing paint and use their hands to paint something in nature. Each student was only given two colors. James had blue and yellow. First, he took the yellow and painted the sun, and then he took the blue and made the sun setting over a lake. After that, he mixed the two and made bushes grow on either side of the lake. It was cold the week before, too, and it made James uneasy to think about how cold the water was in the winter, and how it could just warm up again in the summer, as if winter never happened. Though James knew how the chill from winter never left the bottom of the lake where the sand gave way to sludge and the light from the brightest and hottest day could not penetrate the water enough for him to see his own hands. James would take a deep breath; kick his way down to the bottom, exhale, and listen to the subtle hiss of his breath rise to the surface of the lake.
His art teacher showed him a great deal of appreciation for listening to her five minute lecture about color mixing. She complimented his ability to tie his colors into one idea which she said captured the ideal result of the assignment. She thought James’ painting of the bushes and the lake was unlike the rest of the class who had merely stamped their multi-colored paper or smeared the hollow frames of houses.
In the window to the right, he could see the beginning of the street that led to his house. James’ house was too far down the road and hidden
by trees and other houses, so he could not see it. A few of the kids in the neighborhood who went to high school were walking home already. There was a teenage couple walking close enough to win a three-legged-race on the sidewalk from where their bus let them off.
Behind them, there was another teenage guy who must have taken his bike home from school. The couple started goofing off by pushing one another around and James could tell that the guy on the bike was trying not to watch them, because the guy jumped the sidewalk with his bike and went to the other side of the street.
Just as the guy was passing the couple on the other side of the street, the girl was pushed onto a yard by her boyfriend. The guy on the bike heard her yelp and lost his balance, and fell sloppily on the curb.
James could not hear what they were saying but it was obvious the couple was just goofing off, and the girl’s boyfriend helped her get up. They did not even see the guy on the bike fall down. He got up and sped away to his house anonymously.
The wind hit James’ face and he could feel the specific spots where it was still sore. He looked down at the ladder and when he stood directly in front of the hole, he could lean over and see how the ladder looked like it was in a pile because of the angle he was at. When James started going back down the ladder, he was looking down and saw a maple leaf that was sticking out among all of the pine needles. He watched it get bigger as he descended, and put it in his pocket when he reached the bottom. For luck, he thought.
James put his hood back on, and while leaving the woods, he heard a creak. He looked over to his right and saw that there was a shed, painted light blue, with a dusting of snow on the roof. He heard the noise again, and saw that the latch was unlocked, and the door swung open two inches with the wind. He looked back at the house again, and scanned all the windows for faces. When James did not see any, he walked to the shed, wedged his hand in the door, and opened it. James stepped in immediately and closed the door behind him.
The shed was completely dark when the door was closed. When the wind blew it open, the sliver of light revealed a swinging cord in front of James’ face. James pulled it and winced from the sudden burst of light from the dusty light bulb.
When he pulled his arm from his face, James saw white. There were white sheets over whatever was against the walls and on the tables in the shed. There were white sheets on the floor, too. James moved to the back corner of the shed, minding the parts of the sheets that bunched up so he did not trip. There was a spot on the counter that had a pile of tools placed haphazardly on top of one of the glimmering white sheets.
James picked up a hammer with his left hand; he picked up a mallet with his right. He held both to his face and then put them down. He turned around, pulled the cord to shut off the light, and ran out of his neighbor’s yard toward his house.
When he got close to his house, he cut around back to the garage. All of the toilet paper was gone from the yard, but he could see a few tufts of it sticking out from the green city-issued trash bins at the end of his driveway. He got his bike from the garage and rode back to his neighbor’s shed. This time he passed through the woods in the back to make sure his neighbor did not see him when he slipped into the unlocked shed.
James pulled the light on, put the bike down on its side, and walked towards the tools. He grabbed the hammer, the mallet, and some pliers. He went to the bike and knelt down at the front of it. James put the tools down to the side and ran his hands over the handlebars of the bike. He felt the way a cowboy must when it came time to say good bye to a good horse. James picked up the pliers and drove the dull point into the tire. James took it out and pushed the pliers in again, harder.
When he heard a pffft come from the front tire, he used the pliers to pull the hole bigger. After that, James took the hammer and broke some of the spokes near the hole on the front tire. Three or four spokes let go of the rim with only one solid hit. James took the mallet and broke the plastic casing off of the front right handle bar. He put the tools down and put his cold hand to his right eye where the bruise was. James put the tools back in the exact way he picked them up, so the neighbor would not suspect anything.
After he turned off the light and peeked outside to make sure nobody was looking, James went back into the woods and threw the handle bar casing under some bushes before sitting down on the sidewalk to tie his shoe.
James’ stomach started rumbling, so he began walking slowly towards his house. When he got there, he left his bike on the front porch and walked inside the warm foyer.
When he was inside, James saw his mother looking at a photo album in the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and noticed she was sitting at the counter in her bathrobe, one slipper dangling from her crossed legs. James could smell cookies in the oven,
“Your snack is almost done,” she said while swiveling around in the stool to see him. James knew the exact second when she saw his black eye because she dropped her hands and her jaw.
“Did you get into a fight?” she said while standing up and walking towards him. Her hand already was nearly touching his face.
“You should see the other guy,” James smiled,
“I told you not to fi-”
“The bike, Mom,” James paused her, “It snowed today and I was taking that curve way too fast by the school on the way home and I slipped,”
She was hugging him when she said “I didn’t know you took your bike in today.” She wanted to believe him. She continued, “You really have to be careful with this weather,” Karen said as she pulled back, still holding him in her arms, and looked at him in the face, “I told you not to wear your red coat today.”
“You told me not to wear my red coat yesterday, you didn’t say anything about today,” James said turning the right side of his face away from his mother and looking out of the window so she would not see his black eye again.
“We’ll have to get you a new one, that coat is no good” The timer for the oven chimed, and she let him go to put his coat in the closet while she pulled the cookies out and poured her and James a glass of milk.
When James sat down on the stool next to his mother, she closed the photo album and told him, “Well, this weekend, you can just heal up- no body at school can make fun of you for being clumsy if you’re at home all weekend having a good time in the snow, and they won’t even see your eye!”
James’ mother picked up one of the hot oatmeal cookies, took a bite of it, and chewed it slowly in the back of her mouth.
“I practically flew!”James said kicking his legs back and forth on the stool while Karen looked out the window and slowed her chewing. She swallowed and said,
“I’m going to go lay down now,” she looked down at the floor and then at James, “can you clean this up for me?”
“Yeah, Mom, aren’t you going to finish your cookie?” She put it back down on the plate, took a sip of milk and smiled at him before leaving the kitchen. She looked the way a plastic bag from the grocery store looked when it only held one can of soup.
James swirled in the chair and bounced his legs manically while eating all three cookies on the plate and drinking his milk. He brought the plates to the sink, and rinsed out his mother’s glass of milk. He went back to the stools, and pushed in his mother’s. James saw the photo album. The cover was a reddish-brown mock-leather plastic. The color reminded him of the wrapping of a chocolate candy bar. The album was about four inches high. He sat back down on the stool and slid it towards himself. It had a gold inlay border of two simple lines circling each other. Embossed in large, shining letters it read:
Our Family.
He tapped the edge of it with his fingers before reaching under the cover and pulling it open to the first page. In the middle of the page, there was a picture of his parents when they were dating. They were at a pub with smoke swirling around them. James could only see the side of his father’s face where his mother had her hand resting gently on it. His father was turned towards his mother-
and he could tell they were looking into each other’s eyes because his mom’s face was flushed like it always was when his father looked at her for a long time. She had the strangest curl in her mouth and her blue eyes almost looked watery. Her smiling like that, it made her look so young. James knew that it was about this time when they were dating that his father asked his mother to marry him.
The next picture was also in the middle of the page, opposite of a wedding invitation. His father was dressed like he was when he went to military balls, but his mom was wearing a high-necked white dress and they were both laughing. James picked up a spoon from the counter and looked at his face upside down in the swoop of it. He spun it around and turned his face to the side, tilting the spoon so the black eye was the most prominent thing reflected. He looked at the picture of his father and did not see much of himself like him unless he tilted his head up to make his jaw bigger. No, James thought, my cheeks are so much puffier than his. James put the spoon down and flipped a few pages to where his ultrasound. His mom scrawled on a piece of paper under it:
It’s a boy!
On the next few pages it was a series of pictures of James’ father and his father’s friends building a new edition on the house they used to live in. That was James’ bedroom when he was born. Midway through the group, James found a picture of his father pulling up his left sleeve and flexing his biceps for the camera. James looked closer, and next to his father’s pointer finger there was a dark spot on his skin about the size of a dime. James pulled up his left sleeve and looked at his skin, and saw the same dark spot in the same area. In the summertime, the sun would darken it more than the surrounding skin and it would be as visible as his father’s was in the picture. James never noticed his dad had the same mark.
The next group of the pictures came from when he was born. The one he liked the most was of his mother in the hospital bed holding him, and his parents looking at each other. They both had that look his mom had in the dating picture in their eyes, and they were both smiling. They smiled so much.
James kept looking through the book and saw himself as a baby growing up. He did not recognize himself in any of the pictures of him during Christmases, Easters, Fourth of Julys, Birthdays, or Barbeques until the album was a couple dozen pages in and he was almost the age he was at the time. James flipped a page and then there was nothing. There was nothing else for the rest of the book.
James ran his hands over each of the blank pages and wonder what pictures would have been there if his father was not dead. He went back to the last page that had a picture on it. It was a portrait of his father, a head shot of him in uniform. It was the last picture his family had of him before what happened.
James recognized his father, but he did not recognize the face his father was making. It must have been the face he went into battle with, the face his father had on when he was on patrol. When his father died, James tried not to think of that picture.
James’ father never looked at him like that, his father smiled at him, taught him to ride a bike, tie his shoes, and open the door for his mother whenever he could. That portrait was the picture the newspaper used to announce his death. James wondered about all the people who looked at that picture and wondered if they thought his father was mean.
When James remembered his father, he thought about the time they went fishing and he taught him how to bait a line. He did not think about not about his father’s uniform. James thought about his dad sticking out his tongue, full of ice cream, and the laughter of his mother. The sun was so bright that day they got ice cream it was almost audible. Winter had now set in and the sun was no longer apparent. It was only a ghost of light that bounced off the grey clouds and lit their days.
James must have sat at the table for a long time looking at the picture of his father. He was looking in his father’s eyes and trying to see if any part of him was happy or if any part of him wanted to unclench his jaw and smile for the camera. James wanted to know if his father wanted to take off his hat and let James’ mother run her hands through his hair. James heard his mother’s alarm clock go off upstairs, and he looked outside. The weak winter sun was setting so James closed the album, and put it away under the coffee table.
