Before I have time to be afraid, Truly tells me to grab my mat, and then we’re both outside, running across the large yard behind Denney to the chain-link fence. It reaches up above our heads a good ten feet.
We rush to take off our Velcro shoes and our socks and begin to climb. But barefoot and lugging the rolled-up mat, scaling that fence proves even harder than I imagined. My toes and fingers scream in pain, and I have to keep switching the mat from one arm to the other, trying all the time not to drop it.
The steady drizzle doesn’t help. Neither does the cold.
Truly is lighter than I am, and she reaches the top first. I hear her swearing as she struggles to drape her rubber mat over the strands of rusty barbed wire. Then I see her crawl over fast as a crab. And then she’s inching her way down. In seconds, I hear a grunt as she lands in the grass on the other side, safe.
But I’m still going up. When I finally get near the top, I manage to fling the mat over, but it keeps sliding around. How am I going to get myself over?
“Get your feet way up close by your hands,” Truly calls from below. I try to take her advice, positioning my feet nearer to my hands, but every time I get close, the mat threatens to slide away.
I get one foot over the top and then manage to heave myself up far enough so that I can straddle the mat. I hug it and the fence for dear life, relieved and euphoric—until I realize my hair is completely tangled in the barbed wire.
“My hair is caught!” I scream to Truly. “I’m stuck!”
I don’t have a free hand to work on the mess. I battle with my hair, yanking my head and trying to twist free. But nothing works. I hear myself saying fuck over and over, conscious of the fact that I’ve actually never used this word aloud before. In private, Jackie and I said shit, but fuck was for the bad kids.
I shout for Truly to come up and help me from the other side. But no one answers. I look under my armpit and there she goes, running toward the lights of the boulevard.
My heart sinks, but I don’t really blame her.
I notice I’m shaking in exhaustion and pain. And then I start sobbing like an idiot. But it’s my next thought that fills me with horror: How long can a barefoot girl cling to a cyclone fence before her toes and fingers give out and she’s scalped by the weight of her own body?
Then I remember that staff will find me missing at bed check. And I can already picture how it will all play out. How the guards will come running across the yard, yelling at me to come down, until they realize I can’t. Then they’ll have to call the fire department or something. And they’ll probably cut off all my hair, which will feel like the worst punishment of all.
I imagine years from now a small chunk of my hair still stuck atop this fence, flying in the wind like a black flag. I wonder if the girls who see it will be inspired by my attempt or if they’ll view it as proof that you can’t escape your fate.
Soon the rain lets up, but I’m still shivering from the cold. Then I realize that if I crane my head to look under my arm, I can see a small patch of clear sky over by the Boys & Girls Club. I’m able to pick out Venus pretty quick, but it’s the wrong time of year for Leo. Then a bright light flashes on in the yard, and I hear voices calling out to one another. I am rescued! I am caught.
Moments later, the fence starts to shake and a voice I recognize as a bony, mean older guard named Lucinda screams at me to come down. Then another voice yells, “Are you stuck? Oh my God, I think she’s stuck!”
I don’t bother confirming the obvious. As the commotion beneath me grows, I try to block it out. Eventually, I hear the distinct wail of a fire truck in the distance—and I remember the sound of Leo’s wailing that night.
I curse myself. I curse my life. I take back every wish I ever made on Venus.
It’s a Sunday night in February and Tinker Miller is sitting on his friend Jerry’s front porch, smoking a cigarette. When a wood-paneled truck pulls up across the street, he watches as a lady with curlers grabs a small suitcase from the cab and then takes a small boy from the backseat into the house. The kid has a blond buzz cut, a strange tilt to his head, and Tinker immediately recognizes him as his brother Ray’s boy, who everyone knows is a little off.
He’s seen Inez at this house before. She and the lady must be friends. Tinker always makes sure to stay out of view, since he had a falling-out with both Inez and Raymond some time ago. After he got out of Monroe prison, he showed up at their house and apologized for burglarizing them, explaining that it wasn’t personal, since theirs wasn’t the only house he hit.
But Inez is a vengeful bitch and would never forgive him.
The following evening, Tinker is at a tavern with a few buddies, and the TV news is on in the background. When he hears his brother’s name, it grabs his attention. The reporter is saying the victim, identified as Raymond Miller, was killed in his home the previous evening.
It takes a second for Tinker’s brain to catch up to and believe what he is hearing. “Holy shit!” he exclaims, lowering his beer to the counter. “That’s my brother!” Then they show a picture of Ray’s house on Rockefeller Avenue and he knows for sure. “Jesus Christ!” he yells, frantically motioning to his buddies to come look at the small TV near the register. “It’s my brother who got killed.”
By then the story is almost over, but they say a juvenile girl has been taken into custody. Some people in the bar already saw the story on the morning news. They ask about Ray’s family and then they suggest it has to be Ray’s stepdaughter who was arrested.
Tinker doesn’t know what to do, how to act. People keep telling him how sorry they are and buying him drinks. It dawns on him that having your brother murdered is a pretty big deal.
Truth is, Tinker always resented Ray. It was like Ray got everything Tinker deserved. Tinker had been the one who was so good at tinkering on cars in the garage that his dad dubbed him Tinker—his real name is Thomas—but who got the loan to go to school and become a mechanic? Ray. Who ends up as a short-order cook? Tinker. Who gets to be a dad? Ray.
But Tinker doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead. The one to be mad at now is Venus. Last time he visited his brother, he could tell just by looking at her that Venus was a little bitch. Raymond called her “a brat on steroids.” In the bar, when Tinker starts calling Venus a murdering bitch, his friends get all riled up. They say stuff like, “Oh man. That’s so fucked up, bro.”
One person shows Tinker the paper from that morning, but it doesn’t add much. As the night wears on and the free drinks flow, Tinker finds himself explaining that Ray was a good man, a great mechanic, and he didn’t deserve to die. By closing time, he gets all choked up thinking how close they’d been.
The next morning, Tinker lifts a Herald from one of Jerry’s neighbors. The story about his brother is on the front page again, this time with Ray’s picture. Seeing his brother’s face there makes him wonder if he should go down to the 7-Eleven and buy extra copies for souvenirs.
He eagerly reads the story, but they don’t mention Ray having a brother. It’s mostly just about how the neighbors are all shocked. “They seemed like a nice family,” said one lady. “The daughter seemed like a good girl. She was always babysitting her little brother. Sometimes she would walk him around the block.”
Tinker thinks about actually calling Inez to get some juicy details, but she’s always hated him for no good reason. She’d probably hang up on him. No one at the bar knows that he did a stint in Monroe, and Tinker doesn’t think it should matter.
When Tinker returns to the bar the next evening, everyone still wants to talk about the crime. But since he doesn’t have any new information to add, he’s embarrassed, like he’s letting them down. He gripes loudly about being left out of the loop by Ray’s horrible wife, Inez. When not a single person buys him a beer, he feels robbed.
The next day, Tinker is flipping burgers at work when he re
members seeing Leo across the street from Jerry’s. And he had a suitcase. It makes sense that he’d be staying with a friend of the family. Inez was probably a basket case, and being such a selfish bitch, she must have just pawned him off.
The more Tinker thinks about Leo, the more surprised he is to realize he’s his own flesh-and-blood nephew. It hadn’t ever occurred to him to think of Leo that way. So, shit, as an uncle, Tinker should have some kind of rights, shouldn’t he?
Leo should be with family. And not family like Inez, who obviously has to be a horrible mother since she raised a vicious, murdering bitch like Venus. And since his and Ray’s parents are dead, and he’s pretty sure that Inez’s estranged parents still live back in Greece, this poor kid doesn’t even have grandparents to take him.
Tinker always wanted to be a dad, but for some time now, he’s been secretly worried that his sperm’s no good. None of the girls he ever slept with have gotten pregnant, even though he’s never worn protection and he’s screwed a lot of women over the years. When he has sex, he pictures his sperm like shriveled up little tadpoles with twisted and deformed tails, which bothers him a lot.
By the time his shift is over, Tinker feels like his destiny has become clear to him. If Leo is still at the house across from Jerry, Tinker should rescue him. He and the boy can move to sunny California, and the boy will look up to him like a dad. Besides, Tinker’s never been to California, and his welcome on Jerry’s couch is wearing out, anyway.
It all happens just like he’d hoped, and it’s easy to grab Leo—well, not easy, since the kid doesn’t know his uncle, and you can blame Inez for that. After circling round the alley, he spots the boy playing in a sandbox. He quickly slaps duct tape over his mouth and tapes Leo’s hands together at the wrists—just to be on the safe side.
While Tinker drives, Leo makes moaning sounds, and Tinker feels guilty about the tape—he isn’t an actual kidnapper, after all. And so at the first exit, he pulls off I-5 and takes the tapes off. To see what will happen. In case the kid still goes banshee in the car, he straps him into a rusty seatbelt that’s hard to open or close.
“I want my mom,” Leo wails, crying. “Where’s my mom?”
“Your mom is busy,” Tinker explains.
“I want Venus!”
“Trust me, you don’t want her. She’s dangerous,” he says. “Can you be a good boy and just sit tight in the seatbelt? Later we’ll get some ice cream.” Leo doesn’t say anything, and Tinker takes that as a good sign.
Then he remembers the model car in his pocket he stole from Jerry’s vintage collection—probably worth something. He’d thought of it at the last second and picked out the coolest one. When that is all it takes to make Leo stop screaming for his mother and Venus, Tinker feels like a genius.
* * *
—
LEO WAKES UP in a strange bed with a scratchy cover that is not the right blue. He gets out of bed and looks at his yellow watch. The short line points at the nine. He was supposed to get breakfast when it pointed at the eight. But Venus isn’t here. His mother isn’t here.
He hears the sound of someone in the bathroom. He remembers riding in the car, counting the white stitches, and the man with the orange hair.
When the man comes out of the bathroom, Leo goes in. But after he tinkles, there is not the right soap on the counter. This soap is shaped like a circle. And the sink is not the wrong pink like at home. It’s the right white, though. So he washes his hands.
When he comes out, the man is there. He tries to hand Leo a banana. “Want a banana, kid?” Leo loves bananas. But Venus has to peel it. She cuts it in ten pieces.
When the man keeps trying to hand him the banana, Leo gets angry and makes angry noises. He wants his purple blanket. He wants his mother. He knows she isn’t here, because this is not home. It is different from the wrong place that had the sand.
Everything is wrong.
He goes over to the corner of the room and sits on the floor and begins bumping his head on the wall. When he senses the man coming toward him again, he bumps harder, because he can’t help it. Leo sees the man’s brown shoe right next to him. The man touches his shoulder, and Leo screams, “No touching! No touching!”
“Okay! No touching. I won’t touch you.” The man sets a toy car on the floor. It is the same blue car from yesterday. The man says, “You sure you don’t want the banana, kid? You gotta be hungry.”
Leo ignores the man.
“You’re a real whack job, aren’t you?” says the voice. “Your daddy never told me.”
After a while, the man goes away. Leo reaches for the blue car and spins each wheel, one at a time. Just like at home, he stares into the turning.
* * *
—
AFTER ONE NIGHT in a Motel 6, Tinker is pissed that his brother wasn’t up-front about how bad off his kid was. He can’t quite remember, but last time he visited Ray, didn’t Leo eat food and talk? Plus, he can’t get the kid to stop making these weird noises and rocking and shit.
Talk about conspicuous. Tinker feels proud of himself for knowing that word. Leo is conspicuous, and Tinker is worried about being caught with him. A regular kid would blend in. But what if folks are on the lookout for a baldish kid who is six or seven but acts like he’s two?
And if Leo doesn’t start eating soon, what’s Tinker supposed to do?
Last night, Leo refused to eat any of the snack foods Tinker picked up at a gas station. This morning, he offered Leo a banana, in case he is used to healthy shit. Plus, don’t most kids like bananas?
But Leo wouldn’t even touch it.
On the bright side, Tinker has discovered by testing him that Leo won’t try to run or get away if he’s left in the car. He stays when Tinker says, “Stay.” And he comes when Tinker says, “Come.” On this point, he’s like a well-trained dog, which is a huge relief.
Worst-case scenario—Tinker could always just drop the kid near a hospital or church somewhere. It’s not like Leo could identify him. Or draw a picture of him. Tinker laughs at the thought as he drives down I-5 toward California. He’s never even been to the state, which he would never admit to anyone. He reaches over on the seat to grab the banana. “More for me, kid,” he calls out. He peels it using his teeth while steering with one hand.
* * *
—
LEO IS RIDING in the wrong car again. His neck hurts. He uncurls himself and climbs up onto the seat. His stomach is making a funny noise. He looks at his watch. It is almost time for his lunch. But his mother isn’t here.
His eyes are drawn to the shiny mirror in the front of the car. The man’s eyes are there. Leo doesn’t like for other people’s eyes to look at his eyes. But it’s not like that now, because the man is staring ahead.
The eyes are squinting. Three lines come out of each eye on the outside corners. The eyebrows are furry and not the right orange. The eyes glance at Leo and he quickly looks away. But he saw that the man’s eyes are the wrong blue. His dad’s eyes are the right blue, like the toy car.
Leo won’t look at the man again. He looks at the doorknob, which is shiny metal, which is not a color. Leo knows that if he pulls on the handle, the door could open. That has happened before. The loud noise scared him. His mother yelled at him for a long time.
Leo gently presses his thumb on the door handle and then pulls it away. The thumbprint slowly fades. He does this again and again. He discovers a metal pocket, too. It opens and shuts. It smells just like his father.
When the car stops, Leo looks up. He sees the M that is the right color yellow on the right color red. He is excited. He goes here with his mother and Venus.
He is surprised when the man gets out and says, “Stay.” His mother always said, “Come.” He stares at the big yellow M. He feels excited because he smells the right smells.
He startles when the door next to him s
uddenly opens. The man hands him a bag. The bag is familiar. But what’s inside is wrong.
He yells, “No! No!” But the man has gotten back in the front seat.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like McDonald’s,” he says. He doesn’t start the car. He is eating something. “I thought all kids like McDonald’s.”
Then Leo smells something that makes him stop. He looks up and sees that the man has the red box with the yellow M!
“Fries!” Leo yells. “Fries!”
“What the hell!” The man turns around in his seat. Leo’s eyes are on the box in the man’s hand.
“You want my damn fries?” says the man. He reaches over the seat with the box. “Here you go, kid. Knock yourself out.”
Leo takes the fries. He begins to count each one aloud before it goes into his mouth. “One,” he says, and then eats a fry. “Two…” He keeps on counting, pausing in between to chew.
“So you can count!” says the man. “What else can you say besides crying for your mommy and Venus? Hello? Goodbye? How about, Thank you for the fries, Tinker. That would be nice.”
When Leo says twenty-four, the box is empty. He licks his fingers one at a time, starting from his left pinky. The man has been laughing. Leo knows the sound, but he’s never made it. He doesn’t know how.
Tinker had just about been ready to ditch the boy. Who knew that French fries were the key?
Tinker thinks that next he’ll try Pop-Tarts, because he himself loves chocolate Pop-Tarts, but he always feels kind of embarrassed in the checkout line when he’s buying them. Like people can tell he doesn’t have a kid at home.
Tinker takes Leo to the bathroom whenever he can. Thank God the kid is at least potty-trained. No accidents so far.
My Name Is Venus Black Page 5
