Becoming James Black

by Skye Turner

  Rose

  Fort Worth, Texas

  1991

  “I hate them, Maw Maw! They’re so mean.” I slap the table and pull my long red hair on top of my head in a messy bun. “I swear, they get meaner by the day!”

  She chuckles. “Ma belle fleur, they are jealous. You are a beautiful girl and you don’t look like them. You are pale and they are not, you have beautiful red hair and they have dark. You are different than they are. They don’t hate you. I think they might be envious of your natural beauty, though. You are just different than they are. Some people don’t know how to handle that. Especially as a teenager. You’re all growing and changing and have all of these hormones that are out of whack.

  “They don’t hate you, Rose.”

  I cross my arms and stare at the table. They are so mean to me. They call me “vampire” and “a ginger.” Everything they say is meant to insult me. Yes, I’m different from them, but that’s not my fault! I’m not from here. I didn’t ask to move here. It sucks and I’m tired of it.

  “Maw Maw, they pulled my hair in the cafeteria and made me drop my tray! The spaghetti sauce went all over my new pants. It was so humiliating!”

  She shakes her head and looks at me with love. “Rose, you are a delicate flower and they are like prickly desert plants. You are very different, but both are beautiful.

  “There is beauty in everything, ma belle fleur. Sometimes you just have to look for it. Amongst every pile of ash, there is new growth.

  “Is there no one that you can call friend?”

  I think about it. Yes, I guess there’s someone. He’s nice to me and he’s cute, too. But he’s very popular and I am not. He always smiles at me though and the other day when they knocked my books out of my hands, he helped me pick them up.

  I nod. “Yes, there’s a boy. He’s very nice.”

  She chuckles. “A boy, eh? What is this boy’s name?”

  I laugh. “I don’t really know. I think his name is Hector. He’s older than me, I think. We’ve never actually talked, Maw Maw. He just smiles at me when everyone else frowns.” I groan. “I’ve lived here for almost two years, Maw Maw. Why do they still treat me so badly? I’ve never done anything to them.”

  She tries to scoot to the edge of our worn sofa, but it’s quite a feat for her now. Losing Momma and Da really took a toll on her. She wasn’t a young woman before that and the grief really aged her. Then, she had to take on my care. At her age raising a teenager isn’t that easy. Though I try to be as agreeable and helpful as I can.

  We don’t have a lot, but we get by. Momma and Da had some debt when they died and we had to sell the house and land to cover it. We don’t live lavishly by any means but we make do. I might not have designer clothes and I’m far from spoiled with material things, as there’s just no money, but we have love and we have everything we need.

  Reaching out, I help her stand and pass her the walker she keeps close at hand. She can’t really get around without it anymore. She doesn’t really drive anymore either, but luckily we live within walking distance to the school. Town and the market are not that far away either.

  She pats my cheek and smiles at me. “Thank you, ma belle fleur.” She shuffles to the kitchen and calls back, “Come on. Help me get dinner ready.”

  I follow and head to the stove to stir the black beans. Beans and rice are staples for us and we eat a lot of them. They’re cheap, but hearty. I wish for variety sometimes, but since we have food when some do not, I don’t complain.

  As I cut the crusty bread and ladle the beans into bowls, I look over at the table. Maw Maw has dozed off in the chair. I smile, but a part of me is worried. She’s doing that more and more lately. Her energy is waning and everything she does takes a lot out of her. I’m worried, but every time I ask, she says she’s fine, just old.

  Sighing, I carry the food to the table before gently shaking her. “Maw Maw, wake up. It’s time to eat. Eat and then you can go rest while I clean up.”

  She mumbles and stirs. She smiles at me. “Ma belle fleur, such a sweet girl. I love you.”

  I smile. “I know. I love you, too. Now, eat.”

  Later, I curl up in my small bed with worn sheets and do my homework. After my bath, I lie back on my sheets and grab the photo off of my nightstand. My fingers trace the faces of my parents as I find myself daydreaming about the day that I will have anything I want… the day I’ll have the world at my fingers… a day I pray is not that far off.

  * * *

  I look in dismay at the contents of my backpack that are now spread all over the hallway. Another day and more torment. I sigh in acceptance and bend down to start to pick up the mess. My hands reach for my book, but before I can grasp it, another hand picks up my copy of The Babysitter’s Club. I look up and see brown eyes and a kind smile. He hands me my book and leans down to help gather the remainder of my possessions. He smiles at me and the kindness in his eyes makes my breath catch. He says, “Hi. I’m Hector, but my friends call me Hugo. I’m sorry this keeps happening to you. Some people need to grow up.”

  I smile back. I can’t help it. He’s like a ray of sunshine bursting through dark clouds. “Thank you. I’m Rose. I don’t really have any friends… but you can call me Rose.”

  He laughs. “Well, how about having one friend?”

  My chest starts beating. He’s very cute. Is he really being nice to me and asking to be my friend?! I don’t have any friends and I could really use one, so I nod. “I’d like that.”

  He picks up the last of my papers and stands up before offering me his hand to help me off the ground. I place mine into it and can’t help but notice my skin against his. He’s not like me. He’s like the “mean girls.” Is this a trick?!

  Once I stand, he lets go of my hand and hands me my stuff. Grasping the straps of his backpack, he leans back on his heels. He just looks at me. I feel my cheeks flush. He chuckles. “What’s your next class, Rose?”

  I blush again. “Geometry.”

  He nods. “Ok, well, I have Chemistry. We’re in the same hall. I’ll walk you to class.”

  I nod and walk beside him. He asks me where I’m from and we chit chat before he stops at the door to my class. I don’t realize we’ve walked the whole way until he points at the door. Not only is Hugo cute, but he’s really nice. “Your class.” He points down the hall. “I’m just down there. Do you have A or B lunch?”

  I squirm. “Um, I have A.”

  He smiles and his teeth flash against his skin. “Cool, me too. I’ll meet you here when the bell rings and we can eat together. That is, if you want to.”

  I get a warm feeling in my stomach, but not like attraction, though he’s really attractive. Just like a feeling of belonging. It’s a welcome change. I smile shyly and nod. “I’d like that.”

  He says, “See you in an hour,” and strolls down the hall. I’m left in shock in the doorway. As I turn, I see the mean girls glaring at me from their desks. I smile at them and for the first time in a long time, they don’t get to me. I have a friend!

  Class flies by. Before I know it, the bell rings and it’s time for lunch. As I gather my things and pack my bag, I feel a presence at my side. I look up. The leader of the mean girls is there and she’s smiling cruelly. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable with Hugo. You’re not like him. He’s sexy and popular and you’re not. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  I’m taken aback. Any ideas? What ideas? He’s nice. We can be friends. I’ll be damned if this witch is going to tell me I can’t have a friend. He’s the first person to be nice to me in over a year… she’s not taking that from me.

  Standing up and brushing past her, I call over my shoulder, “Pretty sure you don’t have the ability to say who can and can’t be friends. Back off.”

  It’s so unlike me, but it feels so good.

  As I reach the door, I turn. She’s standing there with her mouth hanging open. Good, bitch better back off!

  Hugo is waiting for me and we hea
d to lunch.

  * * *

  Half a year passes and things are great. Hugo and I become friends despite the two year age gap between us. At first people thought we were dating but now people realize we’re just really good friends. I don’t have any ideas about dating him and he doesn’t have any about dating me. In fact, we laugh about it when we talk about people thinking that now.

  We hang out and I watch him play football. After the games we sometimes walk to town and hang out at the pizza parlor. He helps me study because he’s a whiz in math and I help him with his English. He’s older, but I’m so mature for my age after all I’ve been through, we’re on the same level. It’s so nice to finally have a friend.

  The mean girls have finally backed off and I’m no longer picked on and bullied in the hallways. The only downside is that Maw Maw is not doing well. She sleeps ninety percent of the time now and I’m getting more and more worried about her.

  Hugo is at our house and I’m helping him with his English paper at the kitchen table when we hear a crash in the living room. Both of us spring up from the table and race into the living room. Hugo gets there first and he starts cussing. When I reach him, I see him cradling Maw Maw in his arms and trying to lift her to the couch. She’s moaning, but her skin is pale. He sees me and the panic on his face scares the hell out of me. He says, “Call 911, Rose.”

  Racing back into the kitchen, I grab the phone off the wall and dial 9-1-1 on the old rotary phone. It seems like it rings a million times, but I’m sure it was only a couple. “911, what’s your emergency?”

  I tell the woman on the phone that my Maw Maw fell and holler out to Hugo as she asks me questions. Hugo answers me, but I can tell by his voice he’s frightened. I want to get off the phone and go to my Maw Maw but the dispatcher wants me to stay on the phone until the paramedics get here. As we hear sirens approaching the house, Hugo starts screaming that she’s stopped breathing.

  Forgetting the dispatcher, I drop the phone and race into the living room. Hugo is trying to do CPR when the door opens and the paramedics come in. They quickly take over and Hugo and I are pushed to the corner of the room as we watch in horrified fascination as they try to resuscitate my Maw Maw.

  After ten minutes, they stop. I know what’s happening, but I refuse to accept it. Pulling out of Hugo’s strong arms, I race across the room and launch myself at Maw Maw. My small fists beat on her lifeless chest as I scream at her to wake up.

  She doesn’t.

  I’m not sure how long I fight them as they try to pry me off of Maw Maw, but finally I’m wrapped back in Hugo’s arms as he holds my shaking body and tears pour down my face, drenching his shirt. I watch helplessly as they load her into a bag and wheel her out of my house.

  A policewoman stays with us and apologizes over and over for my loss.

  Why is she apologizing? It’s not like it matters. Everyone I love dies. Once again… I’m all alone.

  I have no family. No one is left. Everyone is dead.

  What’s going to happen to me?

  Chapter Six

  Jaye

  1991

  I stretch as I lean over the bed and grab my pants off the floor. Mrs. Furrell smiles at me from where she’s lying, trying to catch her breath against the pillows. I’ve just fucked her… in her house… in the bed she shares with her husband. He’s at work and I dropped some eggs and milk off and ended up in bed with her. Again.

  I don’t care for her. I’m not certain I even like her. But I warm her bed every couple of weeks. It gives me a way to work off some rage and she loves the good pounding. It should make my skin crawl. I’m sleeping with a married woman… with a lot of married women. It doesn’t mean anything and they don’t complain, so I fuck them good and hard and then move on to the next one. They all know that it’s just sex and I can handle the things they don’t get from their husbands.

  After the last half hour spent inside of Mrs. Furrell, I need a shower. I smell like sweat and sex.

  It’s time to get back to the farm anyway. Too much longer and they’ll be wondering where I am.

  I’ve been here for about a year and a half now and I’ve certainly filled out. Working on that god-awful farm has benefited my body. I’m ripped and toned. My arms are big, my waist is small, and my entire body is muscular. The ladies in this town sure seem to like it. At last count, I was screwing twelve of them.

  I don’t care. They’re convenient and I insist on them supplying me with condoms. I’m not sure where they get them and I don’t care. I just don’t want any of the cuckolded husbands coming after me.

  As I pull on my pants, Mrs. Furrell rolls onto her stomach and stares at me. Her light eyes travel my physique and I can’t help but puff out my chest. I’m good looking. I know it. My skin is tanned from all of the hard labor in the Texas sun and my blond hair is sun-streaked. The darkness of my skin and the lightness of my hair makes my crystal blue eyes pop. I know damn well I’m good looking and I use that to my advantage.

  The farm is shit. My foster family is shit and they are disgusting. That’s one woman I will not fuck. The thought alone makes my skin crawl. Her pock-marked skin, greasy hair, and yellowed teeth make me want to hurl. The way she leers at me and openly lusts after me makes me want to gag. It takes everything I have not to physically recoil every time I look at that woman.

  Shaking off those gross thoughts, I chuckle as I meet Mrs. Furrell’s gaze in her mirror and wink. She’s a lot younger than some of the others and she’s dreadfully unhappy in this shithole town. I’d guess she’s in her mid-twenties. Her body is still firm. Her tits are perfect for sucking on. And her ass is delicious.

  As soon as she pops out a kid, that will all go away, but for now, I enjoy the beauty of her body as often as I can and she calls for me regularly, so I’m doing something right. Of course her husband is an older Texas oil man, so I don’t think he even cares what she does as long as she looks pretty on his arm when he needs her to.

  I laugh out loud as a picture of his wrinkled old sack slapping against her tight ass pops into my head. If only he knew I was making his young wife scream a few times a month.

  I wink at her in the mirror again as I chuckle. I guess he doesn’t get her juices flowing.

  She chuckles along with me and plays with her nipples as I watch. My crotch stirs again as I run my fingers through my hair to attempt to straighten it from her hands. She laughs in delight as she sees my reaction to her blatant seduction. She calls out, “Want another taste, lover, before you have to rush off?”

  I grin again and grab my shoes from the floor as I shake my head. “No can do. I need to be getting back. I have a lot to do today and I’ve been here longer than I should have.”

  She sighs and flops against the bed sheets as I finish dressing. As she stares at the ceiling, her hand travels down her stomach to the dark patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. As she starts to play with herself, my dick hardens in my jeans. I watch her fingers disappear into her pussy as her head lolls to the side. “Fine then. Your loss, J.” She winks. “Take the money on the counter on your way out. One of the bills is for the eggs and milk. The other is for you.”

  She moans as her fingers dance over her mound. The fact that I’m aroused by what’s occurring on the bed both disgusts and fascinates me.

  Leaving her on the bed in the throes of her own passion, I head out of the house, swiping the money on the way out. I count it and separate the bills before stowing my own portion in my back pocket.

  Another day, another satisfied housewife and more money for my stash. I’m saving it all. Every cent I get, gets stowed away. As soon as I’m old enough and able, I’m blowing this shithole and leaving behind every piece of shit in it without another thought.

  I’m sixteen years old and I fuck married women. I work like a slave on the farm and all I get in return is a bed and what they like to call food. Thankfully, I’m smart as hell, so I’ll have no trouble getting my GED. When I blow this cesspit, at
least I’ll have an education to get myself a job!

  I whistle as I hop into the rusty truck to head back out toward the farm. I’ve taken the truck to make the week’s deliveries, but I have some fence to lay as soon as I get back, so the supplies are already in the back.

  As I head out of town and am about to turn onto the worn, dusty road back to the farm, I wave as I pass another of my bedmates. She shields her eyes as she stands from her garden and inclines her head to let me know she wants me to stop by.

  But I shake mine in refusal and shrug. I’m not in the mood and I do have a shit ton of work left to do today.

  As I glance in the rearview mirror, I see her frowning at the truck and then looking behind her.

  Oh well, when I have time, I’ll take care of her needs, but if she gets an attitude, I’ll just cross her off the list. I have more than enough beds to fill to occupy me. I don’t want some married, older woman getting clingy and thinking I’m her property or that we have something more than fun in the sack.

  Fuck that.

  Turning up the radio, I turn onto the packed dirt road that leads away from town and back out to hell… otherwise known as the foster farm straight out of a horror movie.

  Half an hour later, I’m turning through the sagging gate of the farm. It’s in such bad shape it’s digging into the ground and it doesn’t even close anymore. Not that it matters. The constant flow of cars in and out of this shithole would make a working gate a burden anyway.

  Ignoring my foster family as they glare at me from the porch, I drive past them and into the fields. I have lots of fence to lay and the longer I can stay out here, the longer I can avoid the people I can’t wait to get away from.

  *

  My back and arms are screaming from the hard labor of the day, but as the sun sets and I lean on the line of fence I’ve laid today, I stare into the distance. It’s quiet out here other than the country playing through the crackly speakers of the truck. Swiping a drink from the cooler in the back of the truck, I lie back and prop my arms behind my head as I stare into the muted colors of nature’s canvas as day fades into night.