by Remy Wilkins
“Dad!” Rodney looked back at the kitchen door to see if his mom or Ray had entered behind him. No one stirred. They must have known who was calling.
“Hey, buddy. How ya been?”
“M’okay. School’s out.”
“Yeah, I heard Mom’s dumping you at Uncle Ray’s for the next month or so.”
“Yeah. Until she gets things settled.”
“Sorry about that.” There was a slight pause, Rodney held his breath again. Finally his father spoke, “He still crazy?”
Rodney checked for Ray again. He gave a whispered laugh. “Yeah, he is.”
“Crazy with a capital R-A-Y.” This was an old joke. Rodney laughed softly again. His dad continued, “Sorry I couldn’t take you with me. You understand, right? Sometime, when I’m more settled, you can come out.” After another pause he added, “To visit. Would you like that?”
“Sure.”
“Alright, buddy. Just wanted to check in. Hate that mom left you there. Don’t go cra-ray-zee.”
“Okay.”
“See ya, bud.”
“Love—” Rodney heard the click on the line as his dad hung up.
The last day of school followed by the drive had sapped his energy. The shadows moved, and Rodney shook his head to keep his eyes from playing tricks. He returned to the library to sit in the last of the sunlight.
The thought of being here all summer settled heavily on his shoulders. The house was musty, and creaked and groaned when the wind blew. He didn’t want to be abandoned in a house like this. Maybe if there was a television to dull time and shrink it to nothing. Or if there were other kids to distract him with talk of their father’s jokes and their mother’s cooking. The last thing he wanted was to stay with a man who talked to himself and wore too much tie-dyed clothing.
His mother entered and read his mood. “You’ll have a good time, Rodney. You’ll see.”
Rodney angled his back to her. “You’re abandoning me.”
She stood silent. Rodney put his hand on the books in front of him. He read the title of the volume his hand rested on: The Jawbone of Heaven. He knew his mom was fighting back tears, something that happened a lot in their recent exchanges. They were both so full of wounds that every hard word was like salt to them.
He pulled his hand away and the book toppled off the shelf and crashed on his foot. The book’s pages were splayed open, making a tent over his shoe. He was angry at himself and felt anger and sorrow for his mother.
She moved closer and put her arms around him. He felt her breath in his hair.
Without turning his head he said, “Please take me with you.”
She whispered back, “You need to be here.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Rodney kicked the book off his shoe and turned to put his arms around her.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Her voice entered softly. He pulled out of her arms and left the room. He went straight through the stair room into the foyer and out the front door.
Leaping off the porch and into the thick grass of the front yard, he felt tears welling up, so he took off in a sprint to keep his eyes fierce and alert. He ran straight for the woods before him.
Rodney stumbled up the slope and entered the trees, pushing past the undergrowth. He was already beginning to slow, his lungs burned and his eyes itched with sweat. The last dregs of the day were swallowed, and a darkness settled around him.
His mom would be leaving first thing in the morning to travel to Nashville. She was taking a nursing job at some hospital. A new start for them both, but it would be starting without him. It was only fair that their old life would end without him too.
He trudged and tripped through the brush. As he walked, he realized why the driveway looped. There was a steep incline that dropped to a ravine where the river ran. There was a twelve-foot waterfall upstream, spattering as it sloshed against the rocks.
The water seemed slower at the bridge and more shallow. Here, however, the water boiled and sloshed. Rodney sat to slide down the embankment to the water below. He started slipping so he fell back, sprawling against the turf to slow down.
“Jeez!” He scrambled for a foothold. A root like a jutted lip stopped him short of the water. A coolness moved across him. “Jesus,” he said more carefully. He felt the absence of his father again, who would say that name at any slip or stubbing. His mother would hiss and make mean eyes at his dad, but if she heard Rodney say it, he’d be in a heap of trouble. He stood and placed his foot on the nearest rock peeking out of the stream. Soon he was drenched in the waterfall’s spray. In the dim light he couldn’t see the mist, but could feel it pulsing over him.
The cool of the water was soothing and seemed to cut through the grime he had gathered in his run through the woods. He felt refreshed, and the heat of the night had been swept back.
It took three leaps, stone to stone, before he made it across and clambered up the other side. From this point, he could hear the whooshing of cars speeding down the road. He continued his walk and soon stepped out of the woods. Ahead of him was Ray’s mailbox. He walked up to look into its dark mouth, but it was empty. Not quite ready to follow the road back to the house, he crouched down in the gravel. The thrum and siren of the cicadas awoke in his ears, a chorus he’d blocked out till then.
Down the road, the lights of a small car appeared. Rodney watched as it slowed and turned off the road in front of him. The car kept running as the door opened and a wiry man stood up.
“Who are you? What are you doing?” He sounded afraid.
Rodney stood. “I’m Rodney.”
“Oh,” his tone changed. “Do you know Raymond?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“Staying with him, are you?”
Rodney nodded. “For the summer.”
The man reached into the car and withdrew a stack of letters, magazines, and fliers wrapped in a rubberband. “I’m Otis, the mailman.” He took a few steps toward Rodney and handed him the mail.
“It’s late. Did you have a lot to deliver today?”
“No, but I live up the road a bit. I drop Raymond’s stuff off last. He don’t mind.”
Rodney nodded again.
Otis put his foot back in the car. “You don’t seem too happy about being here for the summer?”
Rodney shook his head no.
Otis looked up the winding gravel road before speaking again. “If you find yourself in any sort of trouble, you just let me know.” His tone was hushed.
“What kind of trouble?”
Otis gave a wan smile. “Haven’t you heard? Your uncle is a bit of a troublemaker.”
“Mom says he’s just lonely.”
“Listen, I’m not talking bad about the man, but just keep an eye on him. Something happens, anything, you call me. I’m right down the road.”
Rodney stood silently. He knew people considered Ray weird, but this was the first time he’d heard that Ray was trouble.
Otis sat down and shut the door. He stuck his head out of the window. “You wouldn’t understand. Forget I said anything.” He stopped. “And don’t tell your uncle. He don’t like me, neither. Just be careful.”
He drove off before Rodney could ask anything else. He followed the red lights of his car until it turned off the road. In the distance he spotted the lights of Otis’s house.
Rodney turned and started the trek back to his uncle’s house, his thoughts growing as dark as the night around him.
Chapter Two
OUR ANCIENT FOE
It was past nine when Rodney got back to Ray’s house. The walk in the dark wasn’t nearly as daunting as the prospect of spending the summer here. He had never felt this sense of foreboding when he had visited before with his mother and father. There
was something more ominous about the house now.
He went upstairs to his room without looking for Ray or his mom. Flipping on the light, he flopped on the bed and stared at the beetles carved on the wall. Scarab beetles, Ray had explained to him years ago. At first Rodney was scared of the horned bugs ascending and descending the walls. Some with wings outspread, others bearing circles which Ray mysteriously said were suns or balls of dung.
He spotted his things near the door where Ray had deposited them. He began unpacking. He stuffed his clothes into the dresser without much care, socks with shirts, socks with pants, underwear going anywhere.
When he was little, his dad would sweep him into his arms to crush him. “Too big for the bed,” he’d say as his arms would tighten around him. Or he’d say, “Dreams are in your bed. Go get them.” Every New Year’s Eve he’d tuck Rodney in bed and say, “I’ll see you next year.”
“Don’t go,” he’d say to his dad.
“I’ll be back next year though.”
“Don’t go.” He’d cling to his dad’s arm.
“I’ll miss you,” his dad would say as he shook himself free.
He put his comic books and electronic distractions in the cabinet next to his bed. He let his bat roll underneath and tossed his glove after it to keep it company. He hoped they’d stay hidden all summer.
When he lifted his empty suitcase to toss it into the closet he found a wood bat underneath. He picked it up and ran his hand down the shaft. It was smooth and a deep red color. He held it out and noticed that it was warped. It was humped in the middle, just a slight curve. On the barrel of the bat the word “Libra” was carved.
“Libra means Balance.”
Rodney looked up to see Ray standing in the doorway. “Huh?”
“The name of the bat.”
“Why would you name a bat?”
“Your bat is named.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Sure it is, look, says there its name is DeMarini.”
Rodney turned and saw that the bat had rolled back from underneath the bed. “That’s who made the bat.”
“Oh, does it say anything on the other side?”
Rodney spun it with his toe so that he could see. ‘Vendetta’ was printed on the side in wide red letters. “Yeah, I guess it does have a name.”
“I put the name of my company on your bat too.”
Rodney spun the wood bat in his hand to find a symbol of two lines, with the top line humped in the middle like a sunset. Underneath were the words “Ray of Hope”.
“When did you start making bats?”
Ray grinned. “This afternoon.”
Rodney gripped it till his knuckles went white. “Not bad, it’s hardly wonky at all.”
“Yeah, but you should see the other bats. They’re way worse. They look like gnarly wizard wands.” Ray laughed, then placed his finger on the sunset lines. “That’s the astrological symbol for Libra.”
“The what?”
“Astrological symbol for Libra.” Rodney’s face was as deeply grained as the bat he held. Ray laughed.
“Don’t you know your constellations?”
Rodney continued frowning. “No.”
“Patterns of the stars?” Ray whirled his finger around above his head. “Pictures that guide us through the year? Sagittarius, Capricorn, Taurus . . . ring any bells?”
“Is that like the horoscope? Mom says that’s stupid.”
“It is stupid, but that doesn’t mean the constellations are. We’ll play with the telescope some night.”
“Okay.” Rodney stretched, signaling to Ray that he was ready to be alone.
“I can see you’re tired. Long day, I know.”
Rodney toed his shoes off, stepping on the heel to peel his foot out. “Yeah, thanks for letting me stay here, Ray. Even though you didn’t want me to.”
“What? That’s crazy. Who told you that?”
“I heard Mom. She had to convince you to keep me.”
“Hey, hey, that’s not how it is, bud. It was never about you.”
“But you didn’t think it’d be good for me to stay here, right?”
“I’m not worried about you.” They both nodded at each other, unsure of how to continue.
Rodney sensed a deep conversation coming. Perhaps someone would finally talk like an adult to him about his dad leaving. He was past ready to be angry about it, past being sad, but he felt a fist well up in his throat.
Ray scratched his beard with his mouth agape. Finally he spoke, saying each word slowly, “I don’t know how to say this.”
Rodney blinked away the wet in his eyes and flopped on the bed. He pulled his hat off and set it in front of his face. He took a deep breath, smelling the salt of his sweat.
“You’re a brave kid,” he finally said.
“Thanks.” He waited for Ray to say more.
“We’ll talk more.” He nodded his head once. “’Night.” Ray turned. Rodney listened to him descending the stairs. There were stumbling, heavy stomps on the steps. He heard Ray bark, “Spit-thicket, bah!”
He tried to recall all the weird things he’d heard about Ray. His dad never liked Ray and called him kooky, but he didn’t remember any reasons aside from his constant comments to no one. His mom called him strange, but seemed to mean his lonely lifestyle. He had no friends that Rodney had ever seen or heard about, and he only visited town for food. Everything else he needed he received by mail.
He heard his mom entering the bathroom that connected their rooms. He rolled over and began to feign sleep in case she decided to peek in. He heard the shower snap on and the white noise of water rise. His eyes felt thick and the warm night packed him away into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
When he woke, the house was quiet and the lights were off. His stomach growled, so he decided to slip downstairs to find a snack. Maybe spin out another apple. The clock in the stair room indicated that it was just after midnight. The night was alive and aloud with bugs and frogs; the wood of the house shifted and groaned, but other noises caught his ear. There was movement in the library.
He crept closer and heard Ray as he flopped into a leather chair with a groan. Through the door he heard Ray say, “Do you have to break my light bulbs every time you come?”
Rodney was startled at the crackling voice that responded. “Do you insist on fouling the air with light?” It was like gravel being crushed.
“It’s a fifteen watt bulb, the dimmest I can find.” Ray responded, clearly annoyed.
“Your obsession with light is not shared by the diaboloi.” The figure shifted, Rodney could tell he was standing in front of the far wall by the windows. The boards creaked under the weight of the mysterious figure. “Now what is the reason for this summons?”
“The deal is still on, but my visitor is here. I want you to leave him alone. I’ve already talked to the minion that will be following him around. Make sure your other flunkies stay out of the way.”
There was a swooshing sound like the visitor had slashed the air with a flag. “That is not a part of the terms. The diaboloi have free reign here. That is the deal.” The last sentence was punctuated with a menacing pause between each word.
The squeak of leather and shift of the wood flooring signaled that Ray was rising to his feet. Rodney scrambled to the clock and hid beneath the bench. He knocked his knee against his lip as he curled up in the cubbyhole. It was a lot smaller than he remembered.
His clamoring was covered by the library door being pulled back. Ray stood at the door to say one last thing over his shoulder, “Listen fella, I’m not asking permission, I’m telling you. There’s a guest, a boy. He doesn’t know the rules, he doesn’t know the agreement. Encounter him at your own risk.” Ray turned and marched directly upstairs.
A long shadow was cast on the floo
r, and Rodney could hear the figure in the library breathing. There was a loud clatter and the tinkling of broken glass as the last light went out.
Rodney held his breath and heard a low murmuring from the library. “The risk is yours, foolish adam.”
A chill went up Rodney’s spine. He heard a click like the sound of a dog’s toenails on the wood floor and the scuffing of the window being opened. There was the sound of wind and then quiet. Rodney lay in his alcove long after the only sound was the crickets and the croaking toads.
* * *
The morning light was a dim halo at the horizon when Rodney woke. He sat up in his bed and began patting his hair down. He slid out of his bed and tiptoed to the bathroom.
Last night he had waited until he was certain that Ray was in bed and whoever or whatever was in the library had long ago abandoned the premises. He’d pulled himself out from under the clock in the stair room and made his way back to his room. He lay in bed with the sheet up to his nose trying to still his shivering legs. He drifted off without ever feeling sleep creep up.
In the new day, the house had lost its menace. What had happened or what he thought had happened last night seemed like a dream. He made his way loudly down the stairs and stretched his arms and legs, stretching his back and joggling his head as he went.
He turned at the sound of movement. Ray was scuffing his way toward him wearing a tie-dyed bathrobe and blue bunny slippers, both ragged with use.
“There he is, prince of the beetles.” Ray was always coining dumb nicknames.
“Morning,” Rodney mumbled.
“Night not have enough sleep for ya? Had to spend some of the morning to get caught up?” Ray knocked the wet tail of his braided hair off his shoulder.
“I guess.”
“Your mom already left. Said she’d give you a call tomorrow.”
“She didn’t wake me?” He followed Ray into the foyer.
“Said she stuck her head in and said goodbye. Apparently you muttered a goodbye back.”
Rodney shrugged. “Don’t remember that.”
“I was just about to get you; I’ve got breakfast on the way. My morning is all wonky. Haven’t even picked up the paper.” He raised his arms in the air looking like Moses at the Red Sea. “How will I know what to think if I don’t read the paper?” He laughed.
