chapter 38
THE CHUMSKY HOUSE
The Chumsky housekeeper is Margie. She watches us. Close. She is not new in Merrimack. She is old here. She gives me the sad-to-see-you look. Like she knows my story. About my family living in the old crumbledown on Swaggertown Road. How we have been selling off chunks of the orchard to developers. How my best friend died. I know people feel bad about it.
I used to see Margie at the diner. All those years of Saturday mornings when I went with Uncle Drum. Saw her at Benny Kilmartin’s funeral too. Along with pretty much everyone. Used to be that most people in Merrimack knew most other people in Merrimack.
Now I am seeing her here. First time I am at the Chumsky house. We are here to make charcoal. Calvin learned it from his tablet. The way to do it is you burn some apple sticks. We got plenty from the orchard. Calvin said, “See that? We want apple wood and the Universe provides it.”
I said, “Right. And maybe it is provided by my family too. The Buttles who came before me. The ones who planted the orchard. Before the place even had a first apple season.” Calvin said I made a good point about that.
Now we take sticks. Same size as fat pencils. Just use the pruners. Found those in the shed. And I know which branches to take. Straight-up suckers. Uncle Drum used to say it. Those are robbing the tree. So they get cut out. It is a lot of seasons now that we have not taken care of this. The suckers are fat and they have gone from green to woody.
We peel the bark. Put the sticks inside a can. It is one that Calvin’s mom saved. The kind from chicken broth. It has got a few holes punched in it. We put the can in a fire. One we built inside the fireplace at Calvin’s house. Theirs works. That’s why we are here. We’ve got a fireplace at the crumbledown too. It’s old. It’s stone. But something is wrong there. Something in the chimney, I think it is.
Margie stays close while we burn the fire. I try to smile at her. A couple of times. She looks away both. It is sort of like the sad-to-see-you. Pretty soon I get two feelings: Warm fire on my face. Cold eyes on my back. Not sure why.
The charcoal takes a pretty long time to be made. Hours. That’s what Calvin read. It has to carbonize. That will take until that fire goes cold. So we let that burn for the whole afternoon.
Calvin gets out pencils. Paper. And a roll of paper towels for my sweat. We sit down with the tablet and copy the shapes of that aurochs. And the dead man. We try to make them look like the ones in the Caves of Lascaux.
Margie looks over. Now and then. She doesn’t ask about the drawings. Just as well. We won’t have to say anything about the root cellar. She folds the Chumsky laundry. Starts their supper. When I get up to go home to my own supper, I say good-bye to her.
I say, “Nice to see you again. After so long.”
She nods. But it’s small. Wonder if she knows that I just lied some. Seeing her did not feel that nice.
I look at the fire before I go. Red embers. I tell Calvin, “Can’t wait until it is charcoal. Tomorrow.”
chapter 39
THE BAD DAY IN THE DINER
I sit at the Dragon. Ms. Blinny is pretty right about how this works. If I think about something before I tell it here, well, it comes out smoother. The story feels ready. It writes itself. From my voice.
So umm. I have been thinking. Remembering. Here is what. People used to be glad to see me. Even though I was this big sweaty kid. I think people liked me. Better. Before. Like Irene at the diner. In her hairnet. She always greeted me. Smiling. Stewart at the griddle too. But then we had a rough day in there. Not too long after Benny died. Both his dads were in the same morning Uncle Drum took me. A Saturday. I think it was. Andy and Franklin were at the corner table. And it was the first time I saw them after the funeral. I took myself right over to them. I said hello. I asked how was everything at their house. I asked about the stone wall. I just wanted to know. Was everything still the same. Or umm more like was anything still the same. Because tell you what. It didn’t seem like it was. Not for me. I was missing Benny so much. Thought I could tell them. But Andy he umm he just kept two hands around his coffee cup. Stared down into it. Never did look up. Franklin is the one who said it. Mason. Please understand. We just can’t talk to you. It’s too hard. Then he said could I leave them in peace. And I thought of the other kind of peace. Like pieces of pie. Because there is that case full of pies in the diner and my brain just umm took the wrong bus on that. But umm well what he meant was stop talking. Stop talking to them. He told me better if I go over to my own table. I remember because then Uncle Drum came up and gave a tug on me. We went and sat down. But Andy and Franklin got up. Left their corn cakes. Full stacks. They held tight to each other. Both their sets of shoulders were umm well kind of stuck in the one doorway. Two grown-up men. So sad. And shaking too. And Uncle Drum tapped on the table in front of me. He whispered for me to stop staring. But well it was hard to stop that because I needed to see them. And I know mostly you wouldn’t want to do this but umm I wanted to let the sad part worm all the way through me. Like getting it over with. Even though it was probably going to take longer than anything in the world. I thought Andy and Franklin were probably the ones that missed Benny like I did. I felt the same as them. So then. Oh. Yeah. And then on their way out Andy’s elbow. Or his hip. I don’t know. But that caught on the gumball machine in the entry. Holy cow. What could have happened then. I almost jumped up. But Franklin he stopped and turned back to put that thing steady before it could fall. Then they went out. Anyways. It was like that whole diner froze over. I looked around the place. Everyone there looked back at me with the sad-to-see-you faces. Sad to see you is not what people say. But they look that way. Now. So. That night I heard Drum tell Grandma something. He said, Having a broken heart is no excuse to break someone else’s. Our boy is hurting too. He meant me. Their boy. But. Well. Funny thing. What he said. Because tell you what else hurt. Uncle Drum quit taking me to the diner. He didn’t say why. But seems like that was because if people were going to just be all sad to see me then maybe better if I not go in there. Anymore. So that is how I umm I lost one of my places. I only see the diner from the bus now. Only see it on the loop through town.
chapter 40
DISTURBING
Calvin and I run into the crumbledown from the cluster stop. We have banana milkshakes at the kitchen counter.
Shayleen comes out to bother me about a box she thinks will come today. Something she ordered. UPS. She says, “Will you be around, Mason? Can I count on you to bring it in?”
I say, “Could be I won’t.” I say, “You got your button boots on, Shayleen. Go out to meet Jerald yourself. He won’t bite.”
I think this: That girl needs to leave the house some. Before she goes pale and sick. Now she is cross at me. I don’t have time for her. Calvin and I slide off the kitchen stools. Head out.
We check for the coast to be clear. We look for trouble first. Then both ways for cars on Swaggertown Road. Then we cross and go up Jonagold Path. We go into Calvin’s house. Margie is running the vacuum cleaner. She nods at us. But she doesn’t shut it off to talk. Fine. This is a quick stop. Just to get the can of apple wood out of the ashes. Charcoal. All black now. Calvin fishes one stick out of a hole. Gives it a pinch. It smudges him up. He smiles. He says, “Yes! It worked! Carbonized!” And we know we can use it to draw the great aurochs and the dead man on the root cellar walls.
He carries the charcoal can like it is a treasure. One hand on top. One hand on bottom. We come back down from Jonagold Path. Don’t you know it, there is Moonie. Curled in that mousey chair on the porch at the crumbledown. He stands. Front paws start marching. Tail wagging so hard he will about fall over. My heart goes soft. This dog. He has been waiting for me. He comes off the busted steps. Out to meet us at the edge of Swaggertown Road. Not a good place for a dog. So I take his collar. Just gentle. Call him as we go. He comes.
Now I have this worry. I want to be with Moonie. Don’t want him to be lonely. And he must feel lonely o
n account of how he came up the hill on his own. But Calvin will want to be in the root cellar. Trying out that charcoal. And part of me wants that too.
I don’t have to say it. Calvin knows. He says, “Think we can sneak the pup down without giving the place up?”
I say, “You mean bring him in with us? Inside you-know-where?”
Calvin laughs. He says, “Sure.”
But then we don’t even make it around the corner of the crumbledown. Because trouble comes up fast.
Matt Drinker is on the hill. I feel Moonie pull to a stop. Matt hollers. He says, “Buttle! What do you think you’re doing with my dog? Took him again! Didn’t you?”
I say, “No. Just bringing him back. Away from the roadside.”
Lance Pierson hops to the front. Swings his lacrosse stick. At Calvin. He hits the charcoal can right out of Calvin’s hands. There that goes. Spinning up into the apple trees. It pings off a limb. Lands in the grass. And there is Calvin. Mouth open. Hands empty.
That’s bad. But I know what is worse. Worse is, the five or six more lacrosse kids who come up the hill behind them. Not because they will join in. No. It is usually just the two. But Matt will make a show of this. And he does. He throws down his own stick. He comes after Moonie. I step up front. Dog goes back behind my legs. I am looking for Corey McSpirit. He’s not around.
Matt shoves me back. Grabs Moonie’s collar. In a twist. A choke, is what. He starts in on him. He says, “Bad dog! Bad, bad, dog!” And it is awful. Moonie gets low. Licks his lips. And then Matt lands a smack on that poor dog’s head.
I step up again. I say, “Hey, Matt. Hey.”
He jerks Moonie by the neck. Swings him side to side. Moonie’s feet have to go fast. Stepping left. Stepping right. I hear the small cry from him. No bark. More like a mew from a kitten.
I tell Matt, “Hey now. It’s not his fault. Just be nice to him. Come on, Matt. Please.”
Matt says, “If you don’t like it, then quit letting him out of my yard, Butt-head! Because this is what he’s gonna get from me every time you do it.” Then he hits Moonie across the nose. Dog goes low. Eyes blinking.
There is a group grunt from those lacrosse dudes. Then a lot of quiet. I’m thinking and thinking. The inside of me is boiling. And tumbling. I don’t think anyone likes this. Seeing a kid be bad to his dog. But no one steps up to say it. I want to tell Matt he is dead wrong. But I don’t want to make this worse for Moonie.
So I say, “Okay. Okay. I won’t come for him, Matt. But just be easy on him. He’s a good dog. He’s a really good one.”
Matt says, “No. He’s bad.”
Then Calvin puts his small hands in the air. Voice up loud. He says, “Matt, I get how you feel because you’re a basically ignoble kind of kid.”
Lance Pierson says, “Shut up, Fetus-face. Don’t try being all nicey-nice. We’re not having it.”
Calvin smiles. Just small. He says, “Okay, then just listen. Matt, Mason did not take your dog. We weren’t even here. And we certainly have not been down to your house.”
Lance pokes a stick at Calvin. He says, “Of course you’re gonna stick up for Butt-hole.”
Calvin says, “I am vouching for him. Mason didn’t let Moonie out. The problem here is that the dog is smart. He knows who he wants to—”
Calvin stops. Like he changed his mind. He reaches down. Quick. Picks up Matt’s lacrosse stick. And don’t you know, Matt lets go of Moonie! He jerks the stick away from Calvin.
I think, Yes! Calvin is the smartest kid ever! Moonie scoots under my legs. I scoop him up. Take a few steps back. Holding him in my arms. And there we all are. Frozen in place.
Funny thing when nobody knows what will come next. Big surprise when the thing that comes is Uncle Drum. He drives up in the truck. Opens the door and slides out. Moonie lifts his nose. Smell of breakfast in the afternoon air.
Uncle Drum looks us over on his way to the house. He puts eyes on Calvin. Sees me with Moonie. Matt. Lance. And then the lacrosse dudes. He says, “Hello. Hello, boys. Hello, Moonie.” He goes into the crumbledown. Shuts the door behind him.
I feel Moonie breathing. Pant-pant-pant in my arms. I think about the Universe. Seems like Uncle Drum was our gift just now. It’s not that he did anything. Just showed up.
Matt says, “Put my dog down, Mason. Right now.”
Calvin says, “Let’s walk him back. Let’s all do that. That way, all of you will know he’s back home. And Mason and I will know he’s not near the road. Or some other bad thing.”
Calvin does not wait for an answer. Me neither. I keep Moonie in my arms. I start walking. This dog is good about being carried. Paws flopping. Ears too. The others follow. Matt shoves us along some. I feel a lacrosse stick in my back. Lance Pierson takes his stick and tucks the basket under Calvin’s butt. Lifts up. Like he’s putting him in a spoon. The tan-sandy shoes hurry forward.
Moonie licks my face. Matt says, “Disgusting! Dumb dog! Licking up Buttle’s sweat. Ew!”
There is a lot of gagging behind my back. Fake barfing. I think this: Yeah. Well. I don’t care that I am a gross-out. Moonie is safe.
At the Drinker gate I push ahead some. I want to see Matt’s mom and I want to know that Moonie is inside. I want to see Mrs. Drinker take him in herself. And she does that. She is some surprised to see us all there. The lacrosse players walk on by. Into the yard. Start passing a ball.
Mrs. Drinker calls Moonie a Houdini. She says, “You’re going to have your hands full for Columbus Day weekend, Mason!”
I smooth my hand over Moonie’s head. I say, “He’ll be good for me.”
Calvin and I head off quick. Close the gate. We leave Matt and the others on the inside. We start up the hill. Calvin whispers. He says, “Careful. They could be watching.”
I say, “Yep.” I know what he means. I won’t give up the root cellar. I won’t even look at the place where the tractor is. Boy. It is hard to keep from doing that once your brain gets going on it.
I say, “The charcoal. Let’s go find that first. I think I know where it landed.”
Calvin says, “Me too.”
Then we both look behind us. Over our shoulders. Don’t you know it, Lance Pierson sticks one arm over the fence. Shows us his middle finger. We walk on.
Up by the crumbledown we start a search. Comb the grass back under the McIntosh trees. We look for the can. Calvin is quiet. I ask him why. He says he is thinking. About Matt Drinker.
I say, “And Lance too? After what he did? Knocking away the charcoal can?”
Calvin says, “No, not so much that. I can defend myself. I have a voice. But what Matt Drinker did to his dog, that’s different. It is disturbing.”
Tell you what. Disturbing is a word that goes way inside. Close to my bones.
chapter 41
DRAWING THE AUROCHS
I am standing in the root cellar. Looking at the pale wall. I have a stick of charcoal. Carbonized. Keep running my finger along that. I keep closing my eyes. Calvin clicks around on his tablet. He says, “Do you want me to bring up that image of the aurochs?”
I say, “No. I don’t need the photo. I see him. The aurochs. I’m not sure why. But he’s right there when I shut my eyes.”
Calvin says, “Hmm. Well. Okay then. Don’t let that blank wall stop you, Mason. Have at it.”
Maybe Calvin knows that I don’t want to make a mess of the clean pale paint. Can’t help thinking how the Buttles have been. The way we’ve been subtracting instead of adding. The root cellar is different. It is a place with progress to it. True since the day Calvin and I opened the door.
So I do it. I put the first charcoal mark down. And it is a long line. The long back of the aurochs. I walk a full step to make it. I put a dip in the middle. I like how the charcoal stick feels. How it is soft and gives itself onto that wall. And I go. I put up the lines my brain remembers. One after the other. I close my eyes. Then open them. Big parts first. That’s how this is going. It looks right. Then it does no
t look right. But I think that is because I have to finish what I started. So I add the low belly. Then I add wideness to that rump—and don’t you know it, a bump in the wall helps with that. Like it is meant to be. I draw the hinds of the aurochs. Can’t believe it. Looks like I have done them right.
I draw a line upward. That’s his chest. Then I draw the throat of the aurochs. His snout. Then the sloping face. I listen to the charcoal whispering along the wall. I draw pretty much a cap of a head. Like something I could cup my hand over—if I got myself close to an aurochs. But I won’t. He is extinct. I step back and breathe. Next would be the eye. But I am not so ready to draw it. I give him his legs. The thick upper and thin lower. The knobby bend in the hind ones.
The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle Page 10
