by Tina Sears
“What did you do that for?” Freckles asked, producing a pocket knife from his jeans. “We could have cut its head off and watched it squirm.”
I furrowed my brow at him.
“Put that knife away before you cut yourself,” Julie said.
“Come on,” Reds said to me.
“I don’t know. How do I know it’s safe?” I asked.
Wendy locked elbows with me. “It’s safe. You can tell a poisonous snake by the shape of its head. If it has a round head like the snake on the path, it’s not poisonous. But if it has a pointed head, watch out, it’s poisonous. My dad taught me that.”
I felt better, but I was still freaked out and didn’t move. “Is that true?”
“Actually, yes,” Reds said. “But a venomous snake will also have a small depression between the eye and the nostril. That’s called a pit, which is used to sense heat in their prey.”
He came up to me and hooked his elbow around my free one. “I’ll protect you. Besides there’s something I want you to see.” That made me move further down the path, but I was cautious.
At the river’s edge, there was a chorus of frogs, crickets, and katydids singing their summer song. The moon was floating above the trees, and the lightning bugs glowed like candles on a cake. The muddy air felt soft against my skin.
I looked around cautiously for more snakes. When I was sure there weren’t any, I sat down on a log and Reds sat next to me, our bodies touching. I felt the thrill of it, thirsty for his attention.
Reds leaned into my shoulder and talked low so no one else would hear. He seemed nervous but I didn’t know why. He reached for my hand. His hand was sweaty and his nervousness made me nervous. Finally he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I made this for you.”
It was a macramé bracelet with hemp twine knotted around blue beads. “Thank you,” I said.
“I hope you like it.”
“It’s beautiful.” He took the bracelet from my hand and tied it around my right wrist.
Julie twirled in the moonlight in front of Tommy. Owl was standing by Wendy with his arm on her shoulder. Freckles picked up a stone and skipped it across the water. It was peaceful for a long while, until an unfamiliar voice disrupted the night.
“What are you kids doing down there?”
We were all quiet.
“Answer me.” It was a man’s voice, deep and authoritative.
I stood up, stepping on a twig.
“I can hear you.” We heard the man getting closer. Finally, we saw the face that went with the voice. He was a broad man with a crew cut and a square jaw.
“Dad, what are you doing down here?” Freckles asked.
“I knew you were up to no good, boy. Get your ass over here right now!”
Freckles got within arm’s reach, and his dad struck him on the back of his head and shoved him up the path. Freckles stumbled to his knees. As he was getting back up, his dad kicked him in the gut. Freckles brought his legs up to his stomach, moaning.
He finally got to his feet.
His dad called him a sissy and slapped him across the face. “I knew you were stealing cigarettes and whiskey from me boy. Now get home.”
Freckles didn’t even look at us as he started up the path.
His dad followed him then stopped and turned around to face us. “The rest of you better get home too, before I tell your parents.”
After Freckles and his dad disappeared, we gathered together like a swarm of angry, nervous bees that had been kicked out of their hive.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I hope Freckles is okay.”
“Me too,” Wendy said.
“Wow, his dad’s pretty pissed off,” Reds said.
“I hope he doesn’t tell our parents,” Owl said. “We would all be in big trouble.”
“We better go,” Julie said.
Wendy and I ran back to the cottage. We were in bed, pretending to be asleep when Aunt Lori and Uncle Butch got home.
I didn’t know what would come next. It seemed like we were always just one step in front of getting caught. Everything I did since I arrived was breaking rules. I thought about how good I was back home. I wouldn’t dare break the rules, but now I was a bona fide rebel. I just kept following Julie’s lead, and her path was leading me right to Hell and further away from my mom.
Chapter Eleven
Heart of Darkness
SATURDAY MORNING BROUGHT the promise of rain as the elephant gray clouds rolled in. After I got dressed, I went to the porch where Wendy and Paige were.
“Girls, set the table please,” Aunt Lori said. “And Wendy, your father wants to talk to you before you leave the cottage today.”
“What about?” Wendy asked, but we already knew the answer.
“About last night. You disappeared, didn’t tell us where you were going, who you were with. We had to get Karen to babysit Paige and—”
Wendy cut her off. “Is Dad real mad?” I could tell she had asked this question many times before.
Aunt Lori stroked Wendy’s hair and smiled sadly. “He’s mad now, but by the end of the day he will calm down. Especially since I’m making his favorite cake.”
I heard Uncle Butch stir in the master bedroom. “Lori, bring me some aspirin and a glass of water.” His voice was slow and hoarse, and I knew from last Saturday that he was hung over. We finished breakfast without a word and went into the living room. Paige followed us and we played cards quietly. The alcohol ate at my stomach like a fungus on bread.
I felt some sort of impending doom.
Wendy whispered to me. “Don’t say anything about last night. Let me do all the talking.” Fear crept over me as I sensed the trouble we were in. “No matter what, don’t admit to anything.”
Paige looked up from her cards ready to speak, but Wendy cut her a look and stopped her from talking.
A half hour later we got bored, and Wendy and I went into the kitchen. Aunt Lori was bent over looking into the oven, checking to see if the cake was ready.
“Can we please go outside before it rains?” Wendy whispered to keep her father from hearing.
“No, he wants to talk to you before you go anywhere today. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.” She removed the cake and put it on the counter, then flipped the dishtowel across her shoulder and swiped the loose strands of hair from her face.
We went back to the living room where Paige had set up the Monopoly Board.
“Aw, Paige, I don’t want to play that,” Wendy said.
“Okay, but I might slip up and tell Dad that you’re keeping secrets.”
“You little brat.” Wendy slammed her fist down on the board, waited a minute, and then picked up the race car. “Okay, you win. Are you happy now? Forcing people to play with you.”
Tears threatened Paige’s eyes, and I quickly jumped in. “I like you, Paige. You’re not forcing me to play with you.”
Paige smiled at me and stuck her tongue out at Wendy. Trying to keep the tears from falling, I added, “Hey, y’all know that song by War?”
“What song?” Wendy counted her fake money, put it into piles by denomination, and tucked it under the game board.
“C’mon, you know.” I sang the words, “Why can’t we be friends . . . ?”
Paige tilted her head like a lost puppy and Wendy continued to count.
“Y’all know it.” I continued to sing until they picked up the beat and the words. Singing with them actually made me feel like I truly did have sisters.
My legs were cramped so I stood up and stretched. Paige put a finger to her mouth. I heard Uncle Butch bumping around in his bedroom.
We were quiet as mice trying to avoid the mousetrap. But no matter how quiet we were, we couldn’t avoid him forever. Finally, Uncle Butch appeared. He was wrapped in a white bathrobe with his bare chest and legs exposed. His wide frame blocked the doorway. “Wendy, Chris, come here. I want to talk to you.”
He cleared
the doorway, but only as Wendy pushed past him. I was afraid he didn’t have anything on underneath his robe and I didn’t want to find out. I felt awkward and hoped his belt was cinched tight enough around his waist to keep his robe closed. Paige followed us quietly into the kitchen. I didn’t see Aunt Lori anywhere.
“I don’t like when you disappear without telling us where you’re going or who you’re with. We looked all over for you two at eight, and you were nowhere to be seen.”
We said nothing.
“Know what else? We didn’t see any of your friends, either. You know better than that.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. You’re grounded until I tell you you’re not.” His voice was loud and authoritative.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong, honest.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”
“Because I knew you would want me to babysit Paige and—”
“That’s no excuse. I also don’t want you hanging around that river, especially at night.”
“We weren’t down there, honest. We were in the game room.”
Wendy told a boldface lie. I held my breath, not wanting to be part of it.
“Is that true?” Uncle Butch asked me.
I was still as a statue. “Yes.”
“You’re getting too big for your britches, young lady. From now on, you will tell us where you’re going.” He finished by pointing his big sausage finger at Wendy’s nose, almost touching her face. He held it there for a couple of seconds, daring her to move.
She stood, unflinching, but as much as I was afraid, she was brave.
He moved his hand from her face. Only then did I breathe. Paige remained quiet.
We crept back into the living room and sat on the floor. Paige followed us. We played Monopoly until it was dinner time.
“Butch, come help me stuff the chicken with these herbs,” Aunt Lori called from the kitchen.
Rosemary hung in the air. It smelled like Thanksgiving, reminding me of family. I remembered what my mom said on the trip. “He’s the only family I’ve got left.”
I could see the kitchen table from where I was sitting, and I watched as Uncle Butch put the chicken in a pan. He yanked its legs apart and spread them wide while jamming and stuffing the small cavity with over-large hands. Then he tied the legs together with roasting string.
After he stuffed the chicken he went on to the porch, which was fine by me. He was the darkness that kept us down all day. He wore the darkness like my mother had at times, the times she felt lonely, although I was in the room with her.
At dinner, Wendy set the table while I got the milk. Aunt Lori followed us to the porch with the roasted chicken and put it on the table, then walked to the couch to pick up the newspapers that had collected there.
We heard a sound, like a baby crying. Aunt Lori went to the door to investigate.
“Oh my gosh, what’s that on the step?” she asked.
With noses pressed to the screen, we could make out a closed picnic basket on the front step, bound in twine. Aunt Lori opened the door and picked it up. She raised the lid, and Oreo poked his head out and meowed.
“Well, would you look at that? I wonder where this came from.” She unfolded a handwritten note. It read, “Thank you.”
“Oreo!” I took the basket from her and two green eyes peered out at me. “This is the best surprise ever!”
“Can we keep him?” Paige asked.
Uncle Butch harrumphed. Everything was quiet for what seemed like eternity. “If that cat messes up in here, out he goes.”
I got a shoebox from Aunt Lori and put torn newspaper inside of it for a makeshift litter box. Then we let Oreo wander around to get used to his new surroundings while we ate dinner. The whole time we were eating, I was trying to figure out who had delivered the basket, but I knew in my heart that it was someone on behalf of Mrs. Weaver.
Cleanup was fast so we could get back to Oreo.
“Who wants cake and ice cream?” Aunt Lori asked.
“I do,” the three of us echoed. Oreo would have to wait.
Everyone had cake and ice cream, except for Uncle Butch, who was happy with his beer.
He looked up from the newspaper. “What are you doing, young lady?” His question was directed at Paige. We looked up from our cake and ice cream, confused. “What do you call this?” He pointed to her glass of milk. He waited for an answer, but Paige just gaped at him, frozen. “How many times have I told you to finish your milk? It’s a sin to waste when children in other countries are starving to death.”
“I don’t want the milk. I want cake and ice cream. Besides, it’s warm.” Paige said.
I didn’t know if she was stubborn or stupid. I held my breath.
“I don’t care if it’s warm, finish your milk.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’m the adult and you are the child, and you do what I say.”
“I won’t drink it.”
“You will drink it, or you won’t eat your cake and ice cream.”
No one moved. The Stare-Down began.
Paige picked up her fork and took a bite of her cake. She was a weird little nut to crack. I didn’t know what would come next.
He put the newspaper down and shook his head in disbelief. He raised his bear claw as if to strike, but Paige remained silent. Then he picked up the glass of milk and poured it over her head. She had liquid white hair dripping down her face. Calmly, she wiped her face with her napkin and took another bite of cake. She spoke volumes with her silence. She became a princess wearing a crown of milk, and in my mind, I bowed down to her then.
“That’s it.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her up from the table, and forced her toour bedroom. “Stay in there until I tell you that you can come out.”
On his way through thekitchen he grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and stormed back onto the porch.
“I’m going to drive Chris over to the house so she can call her mom,” he said, after a few minutes.
I looked at the clock. It was a little after six.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Aunt Lori looked at him, then at his beer.
His gaze seemed to burn through her. He challenged her with his posture, his eyes. “Why not?”
She lowered her eyes from him. Then turned away and started cleaning the plates, scraping them into a brown paper grocery bag that served as the trash.
“Can I go?” Wendy looked hopeful.
“No, you’re on restriction, young lady.” He turned to me. “Let’s go.”
As bad as I wanted to talk to my mom, I was equally reluctant to go by myself with him to the house. He looked at me differently when he was drinking. I felt his eyes on my skin like steam in a shower. I climbed into the station wagon and looked back at Wendy. Wendy’s eyes looked more haunted than my heart. We waved to each other until I couldn’t see the cottage anymore. She blurred at the edges and the same feeling came over me as when I said good-bye to my mom.
MORE THAN THE rain loomed. My heart was burdened by what my future held. As if on cue, the bruised sky ruptured and angels everywhere began to cry. Fat droplets of rain flattened against the windshield and streamed down the glass, blurring the oncoming traffic momentarily between the rhythm of the wipers. Uncle Butch tight-knuckled the steering wheel as he caressed the edges of the wet, winding road. It felt like fifteen hours instead of fifteen minutes to get to the house. Lightning scarred the sky and a crack of thunder followed as we pulled into the driveway.
The house was dark and hot. Uncle Butch pushed past me and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “It sure feels good to be home.”
He popped open the can, chugged the beer, and slammed the empty can on the kitchen counter.
“Aw, that’s good,” he said and burped. He grabbed another one. “Maybe you’d like to go upstairs and take a long, hot bath before you call your mom. It’s a lu
xury we don’t have at the cottage.”
I felt uncomfortable in his presence, especially when he was drinking. I learned how to count the beers Uncle Butch had each night, and tonight he was on number seven. There was a darkness that crawled up inside him with each beer.
“No thanks. I’m going to call my mom now,” I said and picked up the receiver. I waited until he was out of the room before I dialed the number.
It took three long rings before I heard my mother.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Hi, Chris. It’s so good to hear your voice again. I sure do miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I took a deep breath. “Mom?”
“Yeah, honey.” She sounded so tired.
“I was wondering.” Another deep breath. “When can I come home?” The edge in my voice was clear.
“What is it, honey? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, but . . .” How was I going to tell her I knew about the divorce? I eased into it. “Have you heard from Dad?”
She let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s complicated.”
The sadness in her voice vibrated through the phone. It made me want to cry. I took a few more deep breaths to shake the feeling.
“I know, Mom. That’s why I want to come home. I can help.”
“Chris, you have to give me some more time.”
I wanted to scream-yell-cry. I said nothing.
“Please, honey. Can you just give me a little more time until I start feeling better?”
There was a quiver in her voice. She was pleading so I gave in. We were just talking around the “D” word anyway. “Okay, Mom. I hope you feel better soon.”
“Yeah, me too, sweetie.”
“I guess I’ll see you soon, huh?”
“Yes, honey. See you soon.”
She asked me a bunch of questions about what I’d been up to and I answered, trying to show her what a good time I was having. I told her about my new friends, about swimming at the pool, going to Coney Island, going to the dances. She seemed glad I was having fun with my cousins, but I guess she saw through me and asked about Reds specifically.
