by A. M. Burns
For a moment after he closed the door, he looked around wondering why he’d bothered to go into the bathroom. He sat down on the closed toilet and took the book off the cabinet beside it. He read for a little while until his mother pounded on the door.
“You better not be in there reading. I told you to go to bed.”
“I’ll be out and in bed in a minute,” he replied and finished the chapter he’d been on before he flushed the empty toilet.
He turned out the light, opened the door, and then stopped. His mother sounded like she was on the phone, but it also sounded like she was crying.
“Bryan, I don’t know what I’m going to do. What if he has joined a gang? I don’t want to think he’s lying to me, but so many kids nowadays that’s all they do, lie, even to their parents.” There was a short pause.
Dillon carefully sat on the floor and listened with the bathroom door open just enough that he could hear.
“I don’t want him to end up like Dion. Losing Dion nearly killed me. If it hadn’t been for Dillon, I would’ve lay down on his grave and died right there at the funeral.” After another pause, she continued. “I know. I know. But Bryan, I just don’t know what to do. I want to keep him safe, but we can’t afford to move right now. Our lease isn’t up until the first of the year, and even if I can afford something by then, where would we go? My job is here in Dallas. I don’t think I could move far enough away to keep him out of the gang.” She blew her nose, and afterward her voice sounded stronger. “Would you really do that? He can be a real handful, and you’ve never had kids before.”
Dillon straightened and almost knocked a can of cleaner off the shelf near his head. He quickly grabbed it before it made any noise. Is she sending me to Uncle Bryan? What would I do out in Kerens? Does he even have Internet or a cell signal?
“Bryan, that would be wonderful. I think it would be an awesome idea. He’d be close enough for me to come out on my days off and visit…. No, I won’t talk to him about it. I’m his mother. He’ll do what I tell him to do, or I’ll let the police take him away to wherever they put gangbangers nowadays…. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Dillon rested his head against the shelf, not caring that the rough wood pressed into his forehead. He’s coming tomorrow? She really wants to get rid of me. I never thought that my own mother would want to get rid of me that badly.
He sat there until she got out of the recliner and walked into the kitchen; then he scurried across the hall to his bedroom, careful to close the door quietly so as not to alert her to the fact he was still awake and had overheard her conversation. He didn’t bother turning on the light. He could see his bed well enough in the dimming light outside his window. He took off his clothes, put on his shorts, and fell upon his bed.
Light glinted off the sharp bowie knife lying on top of its sheath on his desk. He got up and picked it up. It was the only thing he’d ever stolen. He’d nabbed it from a stand at the flea market after he’d seen it the first time. There had been something about it that had called to him. Stealing it was easier than he ever dreamed, but soon afterward he felt guilty about it, though he could never bring himself to take it back. Was that the start of me being a Shank? Is that all I’m destined to do? What other option do I really have? Working a minimum-wage job like Mom? Will there even be options for me when I graduate? I don’t want to be in the Shanks, but I don’t want to be like Mom either. I want to find some way to be happy.
3
DILLON GOT tired of staring at the blown-popcorn ceiling above his bed as the first fingers of dawn worked their way through his bent blinds. He’d dozed off and on through the night, but hadn’t truly slept. I can’t believe that Mom’s going to send me away to Uncle Bryan. It doesn’t seem fair. I’m not part of the Shanks, and I never will be. She’s just too drunk to really care. The knife was still on the bed next to him.
He rose, put the knife back on the desk, and walked quietly to his door. He slipped out and headed for the bathroom. The glow from the TV was slightly brighter than the emerging sunlight from outside. For a second Dillon thought about going into the living room to see if his mother was still awake, but instead walked on to the bathroom and shut the door quietly.
By the time he finished with his shower and pulled on clean clothes, the light from outside overran the TV’s. Before he reached the living room, he caught the drone of an early morning newscaster.
His mother blinked at him as he walked into the living room. I wish I could make it into the kitchen without going past her. He paused as she straightened. A couple of beer cans fell from her recliner to the floor at her movement.
“Dillon”—her speech wasn’t smooth, a clear indication of the amount of beer she’d consumed and her lack of sleep—“come… sit… talk to me.”
He sat on the couch without saying a word.
“Son… you scared me… to death… yesterday.” She ran a shaking hand through her limp blonde hair. “I can’t tell you how… important it is for me that… you aren’t in a gang.”
“Mom—”
She raised a hand to silence him. “I heard you yesterday… when you said you weren’t… in the gang. I never thought… that I’d not believe you… right now, I don’t. You’re sixteen. I remember being sixteen. It was so easy… to… to lie… to my parents then, particularly if it meant I could spend more time with my friends and eventually your father.” She frowned like she normally did when she mentioned his father. “Look, it hurts me to say… I don’t trust you… right now.”
Dillon slumped on the couch and stared at the TV; he didn’t want to look at her. I never thought you wouldn’t believe me. I’ve always been honest with you.
“Anyway… I talked to your uncle Bryan… last night. He’s agreed to take you for the summer. He’ll be here… in a little while to pick you up. I don’t like sending you off. I hope the time away from… the hood will help… you see things differently. Gangs are really bad. Right now… always… I’d do anything to keep you from being part of one.” Sniffling, she leaned forward and pulled a tissue from the battered box on the coffee table. A quick shake removed the cigarette ashes before she lifted it to her face and blew her nose.
He turned his attention from the TV to her. Black tears of mascara streaked down her cheek. Dillon swallowed hard. He’d rarely seen his mother cry. The last time was when his grandfather died several years before. She’d cried the night she got the news; then, after drinking herself into a stupor, she hadn’t shed another tear before, during, or after the funeral.
She’s really upset about this. It’s not just the beer making her overreact. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. The reek of beer and cigarettes was almost more than he could handle. “It’s okay, Mom. Maybe going to Uncle Bryan’s will help me figure things out.” He knew that it wouldn’t change his mind about avoiding being in a gang, but it would be good to get away from the apartment for the summer and maybe it would count as getting a job.
“I hope so. I just want you to be safe.” She blew her nose again and wiped the tissue across her cheek, smearing the mascara even more. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’ve got a great future… if you just make the right choices. Gangs are the wrong choice.”
The reporter on TV went to a story about the robbery the previous day, explaining how the two boys had been shot in an attempted holdup. Dillon tried to block it out, but the volume seemed to grow louder and drowned out his mother’s quiet tears.
A soft knock came from the door.
His mother pushed him away. Dillon stumbled to avoid crashing into the coffee table.
“I can’t answer the door like this. Go see who it is.” She dashed for the bathroom.
With a heavy sigh of exasperation, Dillon walked to the door. He glanced out the peephole. The broad shoulders and blond buzz cut of his uncle filled his view. Dillon undid the chain and locks. “It’s Uncle Bryan!” he shouted as he opened the door.
“Hey, Dillon.” His
uncle smiled at him. “It’s been a while. Haven’t you stopped growing yet?”
Dillon stepped to the side so Uncle Bryan could enter. “Not yet. Most folks don’t stop until what, twenty? So I probably got another three and a half years to go.”
“Might be longer than that.” Uncle Bryan gave him a warm smile. “So where’s your mom? She didn’t sound too good last night.”
“Bathroom.” Dillon jerked his head that direction. “She’s not doing real good this morning either.”
“Did she tell you what we talked about?”
“Yeah,” Dillon said, dropping his voice. “Don’t tell her, but I overheard last night.” He didn’t like keeping secrets but figured if his mother knew he’d heard last night, it might upset her even more than she was already. He’d always had a comfortable relationship with his uncle, the only member of the family who spent much time with him and his mother. There had been many times Uncle Bryan was more like a father than an uncle.
“So are you packed already?” Uncle Bryan moved a couple of empty beer cans from the recliner and set them on the floor next to the coffee table.
“Not yet.”
Uncle Bryan glanced at the number of beer cans on the floor, then at Dillon. “Are all these from last night?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Dillon glanced toward the hall and the still-closed bathroom door before nodding.
Uncle Bryan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about it as he settled in the worn chair. Then he sighed. “Okay, why don’t you go pack a couple of bags with some clothes? Grab your laptop too and anything you think will help you stay entertained in the evenings. If you forget anything, don’t worry about it. We can drive into Corsicana fairly easily, and Dallas if we can’t find it there.” He shooed Dillon out of the room. “I’ll take the three of us out for breakfast before we hit the road.”
As Dillon passed the closed bathroom door, it sounded like his mother was getting sick in the toilet. He paused. “Mom, are you okay?”
It was a moment before she replied, “Sure, sweetie.” She sounded weak. “Don’t worry about me. If your uncle is comfortable, why don’t you start… packing? I’ll be out in a minute.”
He turned and went into his room. Knowing that Uncle Bryan lived out in the country, Dillon didn’t pack much in the way of “good clothes,” deciding to go more with things he didn’t mind getting dirty, which was most of his wardrobe. It took longer for him to select a few books and games to take with him. Since he didn’t recall Uncle Bryan having a gaming system, he took his along with his laptop. He made sure the knife was buried in his clothes. Before he walked out of the room, he took a moment to straighten his bed.
By the time he returned to the living room, his mother had repaired her makeup, and other than a slight puffiness around her eyes, didn’t look like anything in the world was wrong.
“Come on, Dillon, Bryan’s taking us out for breakfast before you two leave.” She stood as soon as he walked in. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry.”
Uncle Bryan rose from the recliner. “Me too. What do you guys say about that little diner on the corner? Last time I ate there they had some great pancakes. If it’s one thing I can’t cook, it’s good pancakes.” He gestured for them all to head out the door.
Dillon set his three bags down in front of the TV stand and followed them out.
4
THE CITY slowly drizzled out of view as Dillon rode quietly in Uncle Bryan’s shiny new blue pickup. At least it’s decent country music, he mused as the last dregs of south Dallas gave way to forest dotted occasionally by river or swamp.
“Okay, Dillon, do you want to tell me what happened yesterday?” Uncle Bryan asked. “I got your mom’s opinion last night. So, I figure that your side is a bit different.”
“You could say that. She’s convinced that I’m a member of the South Side Shanks.”
“And I take it you’re not.”
Dillon kept his voice level. It was easier with his uncle than his mother. “Do I look like I’m a gang member?”
“Hard to say nowadays. They’re kinda like homicidal maniacs; they look like everyone else.”
“There is that,” Dillon agreed. “I know sometimes at school, it’s hard to tell the goths and emos from the gangbangers without a metal detector.”
“Look, you’ve never done anything to break my trust, so I’m going to take you at your word until you prove to me that you’re not trustworthy. So what exactly happened yesterday?”
After swallowing hard, Dillon related the events of the previous day. “But Mom wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. By the time she got to the police station, she’d already tried and convicted me.”
“She can be like that.” His uncle rubbed his smooth chin with thick fingers. “Tell me what you think of being sent down here for the summer?”
Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish she’d asked me first before just deciding I needed to come down here.”
“Yeah, Milly… your mother… has always been quick to jump to conclusions and take off with all the wrong ideas stuck in her head.”
“I feel like she’s throwing me away because she doesn’t want to deal with me.” Dillon swallowed hard. For a moment his throat tightened, and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“It’s better than shipping you off to one of those church camp places for reprogramming. I don’t care what they’re trying to do there, fix being a gang member, eating too much, or being gay, it never works. There are very few things that you can pray away, and most of them are mental issues anyway.” There was unexpected harshness in his uncle’s voice.
Does he have experience with something like that? “You’ve never been religious around me. I can’t see you making me do a lot of praying.”
“And you won’t. I’ve got no patience for that sort of nonsense. This summer’s going to be hard work, but that’s about it. I promised your mom to keep you busy, and there’s plenty to get done around my place. If we run out of things to do there, the neighbors can always use a helping hand.” He glanced across the truck at Dillon. “You know, one of the neighbors has a boy your age. Nice kid. We’ll have to introduce you. He might help the summer go by a little easier for you. Make being out in the country not so lonely.”
“Lonely’s okay, Uncle Bryan. I’m used to being by myself. I don’t have a lot of friends at school. With all the gangbangers, I try and stick to myself.” Not to mention that I’m too white for the black kids to like and too black for the white kids, or at least that’s what Mom’s always saying. I wonder if this kid he’s talking about has issues too.
“Well, we’ll do what we can to make sure that’s not a problem. Plus, I’m sure your mother will be checking in from time to time, and it’ll make her happy to hear that you’re making friends who aren’t in gangs.”
“Yeah, that’ll make her happy.” Dillon watched the trees go by. “Uncle Bryan, do you have any idea what I can do to get her off this trip she’s on about me being in a gang?”
“It’ll take time. Once she sobers up and has some time to think on things, she’ll remember you’re a good kid and that you’re her kid. Maybe she’ll even remember your father didn’t have a hand in raising you.”
Eager to change the subject, Dillon latched on to the last bit. “Did you know my dad?”
Uncle Bryan pursed his lips and let out a long slow breath. “Yeah, I did. Dion was a good kid when we were all in junior high. I think it was in his and your mom’s second year of high school that he fell in with the gang. I was one year behind them. Even though he loved Milly, he started to distance himself from me. I don’t really know how he got pulled into the Shanks.”
Dillon straightened in his seat. “The Shanks? That was the gang he was in? Mom never said anything about that.”
“She doesn’t like to talk about it. Dion’s brother was running with them too. We all lost track of him after Dion died.”
�
��That was in a carjacking, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. They weren’t as commonplace as they are today. But he and two of the other Shanks picked the wrong car to hit. The driver pulled a gun, blew Dion and the other two away, then called the cops. It was ruled self-defense.
“We didn’t blame the driver. Dion and the others were the ones breaking the law. Your mother never really recovered, especially after the family found out and all but disowned her.” He glanced over at Dillon as he took his exit from I-45. “If she hadn’t been pregnant with you, I don’t like to think about what she might’ve done to herself. No matter what might be going on right now, always remember that your mother loves you and you’re her reason for living.”
“Sometimes she has a weird way of showing that.” The outskirts of Corsicana fell away; as they drove east, the forest quickly reasserted itself.
“I know.”
On the other side of the highway, a semitruck screeched its tires and swerved. Something dark tumbled through the air in front of Uncle Bryan’s truck as he slammed on the brakes. The seat belt bit into Dillon’s shoulder as he lurched forward.
“What was that?”
After swinging the truck off to the side of the road, Uncle Bryan unfastened his seat belt and jumped out of the truck. “A bird, I think.”
Dillon followed him along the shoulder of the road. The semi had corrected its swerve and was still blasting down the highway.
“Asshole,” Uncle Bryan mumbled as he slowed his pace. “Doesn’t even stop to see if what he hit needs help.”
“Do you always stop to help injured animals on the side of the road?” Dillon asked.
“If I know it’s dead, I just keep driving.” Uncle Bryan moved toward the trees that bordered the bar ditch. “But if I think I can save it, I do. We humans make a huge negative impact on the world around us, and sometimes it’s important to try and improve things. One bird might not make a huge improvement in things, but if more people cared enough to help, you might be surprised at how things would get better.” He picked up his pace again. “There it is.”
