by Lisa De Jong
****
I first noticed Leroy and Les a month ago. I was downtown with Miss Greener, picking out seeds to plant in our gardens. She has taken me flower shopping the last two springs, after we realized our mutual passion for flowers. I was softly touching the wisteria blooms and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the commotion by the cashier.
Two guys that looked a little older than me were laughing and weaving in and out through the plants. The taller one, Leroy, had grabbed a shovel and was chasing the shorter guy, Les, around the store. I was laughing until Mr. Clayton, the owner, came around the counter and grabbed the guy holding the shovel.
“Boy, give me that right now and get outta here,” Mr. Clayton was not quite as tall as Les and Leroy seemed to know it.
He put the shovel up to Mr. Clayton’s neck and said, “Ask nice.”
“I don’t have to ask nicely, it’s my shovel,” Mr. Clayton growled.
Leroy dug the shovel into Mr. Clayton’s neck just enough to make his face turn all red. The other boy stood, laughing, egging on Leroy.
“Please put down the shovel,” Mr. Clayton said.
Leroy, taking his slow, sweet time, gradually let the shovel inch down.
When the shovel was leaning against the counter, Mr. Clayton said, “Now, I said to get out of here, boy.”
They turned on him so fast, it was a blur. Leroy smashed Mr. Clayton in the nose and knocked him down. Les took over then, his fists flying, as blood poured out on the floor. Leroy grabbed the shovel again and I don’t know what he would have done next if someone in the back hadn’t called the police.
Kenny, a good-sized farmer grabbed Leroy before he used the shovel on anyone. That gave Ben and Samuel the nerve to pull Les off of Mr. Clayton. Several people had tried to step in, but just got hurt in the process. Sheriff Sanders threw a handcuffed Leroy and Les in the back of the squad car and Mr. Clayton was taken in an ambulance to the hospital two towns over, since he was in such bad shape.
Miss Greener and I hightailed it out of there, grateful to get away. My parents came home talking about it; word had gotten out around town that Mr. Clayton had been beaten up by two black boys. It sparked a whole week of conversations about how bad this area is getting, how black people are just taking over and what are we going to do if they can just pick up a shovel and beat someone up in the local flower market?
Isaiah and I talked about it on the phone that night.
“Leroy and Les are angry. About everything and everyone.”
“Why do you think it got worse when Mr. Clayton called Leroy “boy”?
“It’s a matter of respect. They shouldn’t have done all that they did, but he shouldn’t have called him “boy” either.”
I didn’t understand what was so wrong about that, but vowed since it bothered Isaiah so much that I would never do it either.
****
It has been more than a little unsettling since Leroy and Les have gotten out of jail. They only spent two weeks in there and it doesn’t seem to have fazed them. This past week it seems as if I see them everywhere. The first time I saw them, I was waiting for Nellie outside the Piggly Wiggly. I was lost in thought, as usual, daydreaming.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Leroy asked, as they circled me. He reached out and touched my collar, “You’re lookin’ mighty fancy.”
I stood still and did not breathe, willing my face to not turn red. Up close, Leroy and Les look older than I thought, maybe sixteen or even seventeen.
“The cat got your tongue? You think you’re all high and mighty? You too good for us?” Les sneered his ugly old gold tooth in my face.
“No, I don’t think I’m too good,” I whispered.
“Oh, she speaks!” Leroy said. “Ain’t you something…” He had his hand on my sleeve when Nellie came out.
She marched over to us and said, “Come on, Caroline, let’s get home.”
“Caroline, her name’s Caroline, did you hear that, Les?” Leroy mocked. He looked me over again and came near me one more time. It wasn’t intentional, but just as he came closer to me, I took a nervous step and his shoe caught on mine. He went flying. He was stunned for only a moment and then he jumped up and brushed the dirt off his pants.
“I didn’t mean to do that!” I cried.
He kept his distance, but then spit, and the spittle came just short of landing on my right shoe.
Then I wished I had done it on purpose.
Nellie dragged my arm all the way to the car. “Oh, Caroline, I’m afraid you’ve started something now. You stay away from them boys.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice.
When I get around to telling Isaiah about this encounter, he sounds scared. “I don’t trust them. I know you take care of your-” he pauses an uncomfortable length, “just—will you tell your parents about this, Caroline? Don’t try to handle them on your own. I wish you weren’t on their radar now. They’re dangerous.” He groans and I wish I could see him instead of just hearing him on the phone right now. It would make me feel a lot better.
I nod and when he says my name to see if I’m still there, I say yes out loud and hope that he will change the subject. There’s no way I’m telling my parents about this.
***
I decide to give Clara Mae the excuse that I can’t come to her house because I didn’t get to ask Mama’s permission. We plan for me to come over next week. I really just want to go home because I miss Isaiah and want to actually see him when we talk today.
At the end of the day, when we have finally said good-bye to the rest of the group, Isaiah says, “I don’t have to go right home today, Mama had to go see her sister this afternoon. So I can walk you home, if you’d like.”
“Really? I’d love it if you could.”
This hasn’t happened before. I’m so glad I didn’t go home with Clara Mae.
We talk and talk and I’m telling him about my daddy not coming home again and Mama also staying out late all the time. He tells me if I ever get scared to call his house and let it ring three times and he’ll find a way to call me back.
“I wish you lived even closer to my house, so I could be right there if you ever need me.” Isaiah looks over at me and holds out a flower for me. I take it and smile. “Close enough that you could just flash a light and I’d come runnin’.”
He takes my hand now that we’re away from town. It never fails to make my stomach drop down to my big toes.
“I still will, you know.” He stops and faces me. “If you’re ever home by yourself and scared, call me and I’ll be here in two seconds flat. My bike has superpowers. And I have it set to come straight to you.”
I laugh and we start walking again.
“Caroline?”
I look at him and we stop again, lost in each other.
“I’m gonna make you laugh every day for as long as you let me,” he vows.
My cheeks get hot and he chuckles. He puts his hand near my face like he’s going to touch it and then snaps it back like it’s been burned. I laugh harder and I’m sure my cheeks are smoking steamstacks by now.
We’re in the fields by my house, taking our time, when Leroy and Les ride by on their bikes. I’ve never seen them out here and don’t want them to know where I live.
“Isaiah, let’s just walk past my house,” I whisper.
They pull up right in front of us, blocking our way. “What’s going on here? Where do you think you’re going?”
Isaiah says, “Leave us alone, Leroy.”
“You don’t live out here,” Leroy says. “Aw, I get it, you want a little one on one.” He snickers and turns to Les. “He likes the white bitch.” He does a singsong voice, “Prissy white bitch.” He loses the laugh and snarls. “I think we’ve interrupted something here. Y’all headed to your lovenest?”
“She’s my friend,” Isaiah says.
“Yeah, she’s your friend,” Leroy laughs. “You think this girl is your fr
iend? I bet she’s not your friend at school. Do you think she’s his friend at school, Les? Cause I bet she don’t even know he’s alive at school.” He shakes his head. “But this don’t look like no ‘friendship’... friends don’t hold hands and talk all lovey-dovey.” Leroy cracks up at himself again. “I have some issues to settle with her though. I need you to let me have her for a little while. She tripped me the other day. You better know, Isaiah, that I don’t take to that.”
“I don’t even know why you’re talking to her,” Les says. “She’s trash.”
“She’s pretty trash, though.” Leroy laughs and turns to Isaiah. “You need to get on out of here, boy, and let me handle this one.” He eyes me up and down.
“Her dad is expecting her home in a few minutes,” Isaiah says, taking my arm and walking around them.
It works. We quickly walk past and they take off on their bikes. Leroy yells, “I know where to find you, Miss Caroline.” Their laughs grate on my skin.
I rush home and lock all the doors. Isaiah calls me when he gets home, but we don’t talk long, the encounter has left us shaken.
Chapter 3
Truth & Consequences
I’m really beginning to wonder if Daddy is coming back when another two weeks have gone by without any word from him. Two teachers have held me after class to see if I’m all right. I’m distracted and can’t stop wondering where he is and if he’s okay.
Isaiah asks his uncles if they had heard anything about Daddy. They work construction on the other side of town. They thought he’d taken work in Memphis.
I am determined to find out what in the world is going on when my mom comes home tonight. My dad cannot possibly have left town without telling me. He’s left me to fend for myself a lot, but he’d never leave town this long without giving me warning. He knows my mother has it out for me.
I’m thinking about all of it as I sit in class trying to dissect a frog. I didn’t think I would like this at all, but it truly is fascinating to see any kind of creature’s insides. The knife is a struggle, though—it seems too big for this little frog. As I’m trying to open the stomach and figure out where my dad really is, the knife slips. Blood goes shooting everywhere.
I’m hurriedly sent to the nurses’ office and Cindy tries to stop the bleeding, but it just keeps gushing. She begins calling my parents; first their work numbers, then the house, then my grandparents. No one answers anywhere and I can tell she doesn’t know what to do next.
“Is there anyone else we can call?”
Miss Greener answers on the first ring and is there within twelve minutes. She says she’ll take me to the doctor to get stitches. We rush to the car with Miss Greener practically lifting me off the ground. She buckles me in and then proceeds to drive like I’m on the verge of dying.
“Whoa, Miss Greener, it’s only my hand!”
The blood has filled a towel, though, and I don’t know if it’s her driving or the cut, but I’m feeling greener than a toad. Guess that’s what I get for dissecting its kin.
Just when I think the ride will never ever end, we reach the clinic.
The doctor sees me right away and gives me nine stitches between the thumb and first finger of my left hand. Dissecting casualties.
On the way home, Miss Greener looks over at me. “Caroline, are you all right, honey?”
I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. I’m afraid if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.
“It’s okay to cry, you know. You’ve been through a lot today. I know your finger must really be hurtin’ and you haven’t even made a peep.”
I look out the window and focus on swallowing down the huge lump that has taken over my throat.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and leaves it there for the rest of the drive.
When we reach my house, there’s a grey car in the driveway. I’ve never seen it before. Maybe Daddy’s back and he bought a new car. This makes sense. He’s been talking about needing a car and there’s nothing nice to buy around here. He probably did go to Memphis just to get a good deal. I’m so ready to see him. So much has happened since he has been gone. I run in and he’s not in the living room. I hear a sound in the back bedroom, so I run back there.
It isn’t Daddy.
I stumble as I try to quickly back out of the room. Miss Greener is in the living room now and I run straight to her. Suddenly, I’m desperate to get her out of my house. I wipe my face and try to smile at her. The words start pouring out of me. Frantically.
“Thank you, Miss Greener. I’ll be fine now. I’m just going to rest for a while. Thank you so much. You were really so kind to take such good care of me today. I really appreciate it. I’m just gonna...I’ll just go lay down now.”
I take her hand and walk her to the door, just as my mom and Mr. Anderson come out of the bedroom. My mom is talking to me, but I can’t hear her. I just want Miss Greener to go home.
My mother is still buttoning her shirt when she sees our company. “Why, hello. Caroline, why are you home? Miss Greener, what brings you to my home in the middle of the day?”
Neither of us answers and my mom is thankfully silent for a moment. “Well, this is…” she trails off, smoothing her hair.
Miss Greener is flustered and red, but she calmly says, “Caroline got a pretty bad cut today. She had to have stitches. Nine. Of. Them.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Caroline, why didn’t you let me know?” My mom is at my side, holding up my hand, not noticing me wince.
“The school tried every number they have for you, as well as your husband’s numbers.” Miss Greener glances at Mr. Anderson as she says this. “Cindy also tried Mr. Carson’s parents but wasn’t able to reach anyone. We had to act quickly.”
“Yes, well, thank you. We’ll take it from here. Thank you, Miss Greener.” My mom dismisses her.
“Caroline, are you all right? Do you need anything else from me?” Miss Greener asks.
I want nothing more than to say, “Take me with you.”
But I don’t.
“Thank you, Miss Greener,” I whisper.
“Anytime, dear. Just let me know if I can do anything else,” she whispers back as she hugs me goodbye.
When she leaves, the room is quiet. The tension is so thick you could get up in it and crawl around. I want to scream and kick and cry and say mean things to my mother. Instead, I sit and wait for her to speak.
When she does speak, it’s to Mr. Anderson. “You should leave, now, Grant,” she says.
Grant?
I guess when she’s been doing what I just saw them doing, she can call him Grant.
Yes, you can leave now, Grant, I mimic in my head. My dad will be home soon.
“Are you sure? Is she all right?” He nods at me.
At this, I jump up, take his arm, and drag him out the door. “She is fine! Now leave!”
Mama grabs me. “Caroline, stop this instant.” Her voice is as sharp as that stupid knife. “That is no way to speak to Mr. Anderson. You apologize right now!”
“I will not. You—get out of my house!” I run to my room and slam the door.
A few minutes later, I hear the car start and he peels out of the driveway. My mother walks back into the house, pauses by my door, and keeps walking to her room.
I sit on the floor by my window, the fields coming in and out of focus. I try to ignore the hate that’s churning.
****
It’s dark when I come out of my room again. The bathroom is calling; otherwise, I would have stayed in my room forever. My mom is sitting in the dark, drinking the alcohol she berates my dad for drinking. When I walk by, she lifts her head. Her words have a slight slur that I’ve rarely heard from her. I’m used to this from my father.
“When you’re my age, you’ll understand this, Caroline. Your father...he has never appreciated me. Ever. Do you hear me, Caroline?”
She takes another swig and looks at me. “You’re a pretty girl. Used to getting plenty of attention. Y
ou just wait. One day, people won’t notice you anymore. You just wait.” She laughs bitterly.
I go over to the coffeepot and begin making strong coffee. She continues to talk, and I pour a cup of coffee when it’s ready. Her head begins to get heavy. I walk over and take the bottle out of her hand, giving her the coffee. She takes a sip and reaches up to smooth back a wavy strand of hair that has gotten loose.
She really is beautiful, I think. If her insides didn’t make me cringe so much, maybe I could appreciate her pale, creamy skin and her Elizabeth Taylor eyes.
“I deserve better than this dump. Do you know that President Kennedy came through one time and noticed me? He did. He flirted with me and made your daddy so jealous. Have I told you that before?”
I nod. I’ve heard it many, many times.
“I was gonna get out of here. Your daddy had big dreams.” She laughs, tears running down her face. “Look at where those big dreams got him. He’s a drunk, Caroline. Nothing but a filthy drunk.”
My heart feels like a hard rock. It beats, but it’s dead. I can’t listen to her. I’ve played out this same story with her one too many times.
I’m not sure if she notices when I leave the room and go to bed. I stay awake all night, unable to even close my eyes. When the sun comes up, I close them and sleep the long sleep of someone who has known grief and recognizes it for what it is.
****
I oversleep the next morning too, and since my hand is screaming at me anyway, I stay home. After Mama leaves for work, I go out to the living room. There’s a row of bottles by the couch. It seems my mother has taken over where my dad left off with the drinking, and by the looks of things, she’s able to keep up with him in that department. I make some promises to myself to stay away from alcohol, since it seems to turn the people I love into idiots.
Then, I’m ashamed of thinking that of my parents.
In the afternoon, I go sit by the pond past the Talbot house. My journal gets the brunt of all my wrath. I write until the lead in my pencil breaks and then I just sit and stare at the water. I hear a rustle in the tree behind me and Isaiah walks through the clearing.
“I thought I might find you here,” he says with a grin.
