Luke holds on tight; it means he is still conscious. My father loved me. The road whizzes underneath and the cold wind whips my face and hair. The Iron Horse has a full tank of gas. The road is straight ahead.
Epilogue
11/4
I didn’t win a prize at the science fair. Some of the exhibits were so sophisticated you would have thought only a professor could make them. It doesn’t matter. I had a wonderful time with Miss Braverman and DeeDee, and I got to know a boy named Bryan. He’s a nerd, but I’m sure I could use a good nerd in my life.
11/6
I had to stay after school today in Mr. MacFarlane’s office to talk about the people who molested me. It was real scary naming names. My mother was there and also a policeman who took a lot of notes. Mr. MacFarlane had a long letter from Dr. Rowe, although I didn’t see it.
I don’t know what the consequences will be for DeWayne and Butch and Brenda. They will probably be suspended or even expelled. I don’t dare think about the consequences for me, it’s much too scary. I only hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight. The next time I see Dr. Rowe I’ll tell her all about this. She usually makes me feel better when I’m real scared.
11/8
My mother and I talked to Dr. Rowe today. We talked about my escapade on the road with Luke and how it was a bad decision because it was so desperate. But Dr. Rowe said at least I acted, now I have to learn about actions and decisions that are appropriate.
I’m supposed to see Dr. Rowe on Saturday mornings. Sometimes when I see Dr. Rowe, Mother is going to go with me. Mother is brand-new at therapy and she’s not comfortable with it yet. We are supposed to try to figure out how the dynamics of an intense father and a withdrawn mother helped make me the way I am today. At least Mother and I will be working on it together.
I know I’ll never be a cool person, but with the right medicine and my mother, I believe I can make it. I hope to have DeeDee and Luke in my life; friends make a difference. I can learn control and I can have a future. Dr. Rowe tells me so, and I trust her.
11/13
Today, I talked to Luke on the phone. He is back at Clark House, on the strictest probation there is. There’s a name for it, which I can’t remember. Sometime soon he’s going to have a bench trial, which means a judge but no jury.
He has decided to go back to school. One reason he’s allowed to do it is that Dr. Rowe wrote a supportive letter to the authorities. When we were talking on the phone, he told me I was right; Dr. Rowe is no bullshitter.
When he goes to school, he will be taken and picked up by a parole officer, but we will get to walk together in the halls. He still has stitches and a leg bandage, so we will walk slow. But that will be good for me; I always walk much too fast and keep my eyes down. I don’t know if we will hold hands or not—I’ve never held a boy’s hand and certainly not in public. It will feel secure being by his side. I wonder if Dr. Rowe would think that’s a good way for me to think.
Who knows? Luke did tell me it’s okay for me to come over to Clark House sometimes and help him with his homework.
11/15
DeeDee came over and we spent most of the day working on the pitiful Russian olive tree. I’m not sure why I wanted to, it must be important somehow. She gave all of the advice and did as much work as I did. We pruned and pruned. DeeDee says the fall is a good time to try to resuscitate a sickly tree. She had her uncle’s deep-root feeder so we watered it and fertilized it down deep. It was hard to do it at what she called the tree’s drip line, because of the concrete and gravel and blacktop, but we did our best and she has some hope for the tree. We got some occasional grief from some of the Surlies in the parking lot, but we mostly just ignored it.
At night, I had a dream that a mourning dove landed in the tree and cooed at me on my balcony, ever so peacefully. I’m not sure if the dream has a meaning, but I’ll ask Dr. Rowe about it.
11/18
After school today, I picked up some trash and litter from around our building. There was some jeering, which made me shaky, but I wasn’t about to get scrambled, and I got a full bag.
It was warm before supper, so I sat on the balcony to read. I have taken down the blankets and towels from the railing; I can see my tree better that way. One day there may actually be a mourning dove perched in it, who knows?
The book I am reading is called On the Road, by someone called Jack Kerouac. Luke gave it to me. It’s not my type of book, but Luke says it’s a classic, and maybe we’ll be able to discuss it together. It’s a book, I think, which a lot of people read in the fifties, then basically vanished. Some day I may tell him what a classic really is. His feelings won’t be hurt. He’ll just tell me what a good mind I have. He has a good mind too, but he doesn’t realize it.
11/22
I have decided to spray paint the Beast. Mother and I are going to the mall today; I need to find a color which is an exact match with the rest of the sculpture. I reread the Beauty and the Beast story and the point is, the Beast is not really ugly at all, he only appears to be.
The most important thing about the spray painting is that I’m sure my dad didn’t get the sculpture finished. He would have wanted it this way. I don’t hear his voice anymore, but when I’m finishing the sculpture, I pray that somehow he will be hearing mine.
About the Author
James W. Bennett’s uncompromising, challenging books for teens have earned him recognition as one of the nation’s leading—and most provocative—novelists for young adults. His fiction has been used in curricula at the middle school, high school, and community college levels.
His 1995 novel, The Squared Circle, was named the year’s finest by English Journal and the Voice of Youth Advocates.
Bennett has served as a guest author at Miami Book Fair International, as a featured speaker at the Assembly on Literature for Adolescents of the NCTE, and as a writer in residence (a program he established) for secondary schools in Illinois. He has also been the director for the Blooming Grove Writers Conference.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1990 by James W. Bennett
Cover design by Mimi Bark
ISBN: 978-1-4976-8394-5
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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I Can Hear the Mourning Dove Page 19
