Me and Jake

by Boo Riley

  “Maybe you ought to take Cameron. He likes to fish.”

  Shucks. I was ready for him to strike, but he still got me with the back of his hand. I don’t know why I opened my mouth. I’d almost made it.

  Dad pointed a stubby finger in my face. “Don’t you try to stare me down, boy. You better find something to look at ‘sides me.”

  My stare moved from the beads of sweat on his pockmarked nose down to a white button on his shirt, next to a slimy smearing of tobacco spit.

  He walked to his pickup, put one foot on the doorjamb, then stopped. “That slap was for breaking the mower and costing me time. Your mouth just reminded me I owed you.”

  3

  How in the world does the sun get so high so quick and then take forever to fall? Momma Ray said a watched pot never boils. Well, a watched sun never sets either.

  Plenty of time to ponder the sun’s movements for the latter half of its journey, driving my tractor in a smaller and smaller circle, working my way toward the middle of the field and the last narrow swath of standing grass. Had time to mull over Dad too. He reminded me of an old cow we used to have. She was tame as a pet coon one minute, and then, without warning, her cheese would slip off her cracker, and you’d be climbing the closest thing you could find to save your bacon from being trampled. I never ran from Dad, but I wanted to. Who knows what he’d do if I did.

  Evening finally came. Deer ventured out—does with fawns at their sides, bucks with nubs of antlers that looked like another pair of ears. One sure-enough dandy buck strutted his stuff across one end of the hayfield. His rack of antlers towered over him, tall and thick, like he’d put his head in a bush and came out with branches stuck to it.

  The sun and I finished our work about the same time. I kicked the mower out of gear, drove to the edge of the field, near the road where Dad would pick us up, and parked next to the baler. Cameron finished raking a few minutes later and followed me.

  Jake walked to me, his tail wagging him. He put his head under my hand, so I could scratch him, and then moved to make sure I got his back.

  I sat down with my back to a tractor tire. Stretching my legs out felt wonderful.

  Cameron shut off his tractor, jumped down and walked over. “Dad’s late.”

  “He won’t be long,” I said. “Wants to make sure we’re finished. Might be parked in the woods watching us. You know how he is.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Dad didn’t leave us in the field after dark most times. Both tractors had lights, but we had chores to take care of. Chickens needed to be fed, hogs slopped, the garden tended, and dinner dishes washed.

  Thoughts of my first wish poked me in the belly with a sharp pang of guilt. After I found out from my friend, Cindy, I could wish on a star, but only if it was the first star in the sky, I wished on a wish. I saw it the next night, put all I had into it, fingers crossed, hoped to die, all the things, and wished Dad would have a wreck. It’s not right, I know, but I couldn’t help it.

  I never considered what we’d do if he crashed his old, blue rust-bucket. Me, Jake, and Cameron could survive without him, that’s for sure. Jake could run down rabbits, and coons were right tasty. Some creeks had fish. Nuts and berries could be picked. Hundreds of old barns and houses sat empty in the woods. We could hide out. No one would know. We’d live off the land like folks did in the olden days, before fast food was invented.

  My tongue had been dry as a dead rabbit on a dusty road, but now my mouth started to water. I couldn’t help that either. Me and Cameron had only been to The Burger Stop once, and Burger Monster…I could only imagine what monster burgers they made. People walked into that place fast, like they knew what was cooking. When they left, they barely moved, holding their stomachs, like they were weighted down with food.

  Must be nice to eat until you can’t stuff down another bite. My belly turned over at the thought.

  Cameron sat next to me. Jake plopped down and put his chin on my lap. I stroked his head.

  “Cameron, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “A ninth grader.”

  “What? Come on. I’m serious.”

  He laughed. “What’s there to be?”

  “I don’t know. You could be a fireman or a policeman or a farmer.”

  “Well, I’m not going to be a farmer. I promise you that. I might be a cook so I can eat when I want to. I don’t think about such things. All I know is being a kid is killing me, spending our summer vacation from school in the hayfield and slopping hogs. Why would I be a farmer?”

  “We don’t think alike, do we?”

  “Why would we?”

  “We’re twins.”

  “Well, maybe if we were identical we would.”

  Never thought of that one. “I wonder who’s the oldest.”

  “T, we’re twins.”

  “Yeah, but one of us is older. Can’t be born at the same time. Just like a hog or a dog.”

  Cameron picked a blade of grass and held it in his lips like a toothpick. “Does it matter?”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I wish you’d stay on a subject longer.”

  There were too many stars in the sky to be wishing on one. A big one twinkling on the horizon would have been good, but it was never the first to appear. “Do you think there’s a God? Look at all them stars. I feel so small, like, like I’m just nothing. Don’t you?”

  “You are small. So am I.”

  Cameron always stated the obvious. I didn’t know if I wanted an answer, not really. My heart told me God existed. If Jake was an angel, then God was out there somewhere. Didn’t angels work for God? “He’s supposed to be everywhere at once. Might be sitting right here by us.”

  Cameron glanced around, as if he might catch God standing on the other side of a tractor tire, listening in on our conversation. “T, you sure got a lot of questions floating around in your head. I don’t know about God. Hard to see how He could be everywhere. He sure ain’t looked in on us much, not that I can tell.” Cameron pulled one blade of grass at a time and made a pile on his pants. “All I know is I’m hungry, thirsty and tired. I’ve been on that tractor so long I’m still vibrating. Probably be another hour ’fore I’ll be able to feel my feet they’re so numb.”

  Now that the tractors were silent the bugs chirped and sang. As dusk’s red and yellow shades faded to gray, then to black, the skeeters woke up, their buzz irritating as the no-see-ems tormenting folks during the heat of the day. No-see-ems are always behind you, even when you look back, quick like, they stay behind you, buzzing, driving you crazy. No one’s ever seen ’em.

  Cameron put a hand on Jake’s head and stroked it. “I’ll be glad when Dolly has her calf, so we can start milking again.”

  “Just another chore for us to do. Don’t we got enough without you wishing for more?”

  “I suppose, but at least we can get a squirt of milk when Dad isn’t looking.”

  Milk would be good. Milk on cornflakes with a dab of honey would be even better. “Dad said we had to run a trotline on the slough tomorrow.” Cameron didn’t move. I could tell he was curious by his silence. “I told him he should take you, because you like to fish.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That when he slapped you?”

  “Yeah, sorry. He knows you like to fish.”

  “That’s why I can’t go. Sorry you got slapped.”

  “He’d a’ got me for the tooth on the mower anyway. Just used you as an excuse.”

  We sat for a minute. We felt comfortable in silence.

  I said, “Thanks for saving Jake from the coon today.”

  Cameron nodded. Before he could reply, Jake’s belly rumbled and reminded me. “Did you feed our coon before we left the house this morning?”

  “Yep. Give him some water and a couple of eggs.”

  “Hope Dad don’t find out we gave a pet coon his prized eggs. He’d have our hide. Might shoot the coon t
oo.”

  “How would he know? He doesn’t go to the barn except to check on our work. I’ll make sure and pick up any shells he left when we get home.”

  Another rumble coursed through Jake, emerging from between his teeth as a growl. Headlights topped a hill in the distance.

  The bugs grew quiet. They knew he was coming too.

  Dad drove up and stopped, arm on the window. A tune played on the radio, but there was too much static to hear the words. I lowered the tailgate so Jake could jump in. He gave it a good effort but didn’t make it all the way. He held on with his front paws, his hind legs flailing at nothing. I helped him in and closed the gate.

  Cameron put one hand on the handle but didn’t open the door. He cupped the other hand to Dad’s side of his mouth, so Dad couldn’t hear him whisper. “Come on, T. Get in.”

  “You’re already there. Quit stalling and get in yourself.”

  Cameron leaned into me and hissed. “I sat next to him this morning. It’s your turn and you know it.”

  “I don’t know nothing of the sort. I had two turns in a row riding in the middle yesterday. This will be your second turn and make us even-steven. If you can’t keep the count straight, I’ll help you.”

  Cameron cringed and jerked the door open when Dad’s booming voice shook the air. I hopped in.

  Dad jerked on the shifter like he did Dolly’s teats when he helped with the milking. “I don’t know why you let the tailgate down for that old dog. He can jump in or walk. Ought to put him down. Isn’t worth nothing.”

  Talk about killing Jake hurt my heart. He’s my dog. Come out of the woods one morning and walked straight to me, wagging his tail. He chose me.

  Mouthing off within striking distance of Dad could prove dangerous, but I didn’t care. “Dad, that’s my dog, and he’s good for huntin’ coons. I take care of him, and he don’t cause no trouble. I’ll hurry next time, so you don’t have to wait.”

  Cameron took my right hand and twisted my little finger like a key in a rusty door lock. The lights on the dashboard lit Dad’s face just enough for me to see him smile. The smile, one that didn’t mean he wanted one in return, and Cameron’s pressure on my finger kept the rest of my thoughts from reaching my big mouth.

  I glanced at my brother and he turned loose of my hand.

  Cameron loved me. I knew he did, even though he never told me.

  I’d like to have talked about love with Cindy, and thought I’d found the gumption to do it one day on the playground at school, but my tongue froze up like a stiff drop of tree sap in December, and I broke out in a sweat.

  Lights shone from the house. Momma Ray had dinner ready for sure. Probably mashed potatoes and lumpy gravy with fried chicken. She didn’t cook much else. Not for me and Cameron anyway.

  My mouth watered again.

  Dad slammed the pickup in park and turned it off. “You boys get on with your chores. Don’t forget to doctor them two sick piglets.”

  Cameron opened the door and I stepped out. The odor of pig manure soured my thoughts of fried chicken and taters.

  Dad walked away, and Cameron whispered, “Ty, I don’t want to doctor hogs. I don’t give two hoots about them sick piglets.”

  “Me either, but we don’t have a choice. I’ll get a stick to hit their momma if she gets after us. I can whack her on the nose and she’ll leave us alone. Let me get Jake out of the pickup.”

  Cameron stood next to me.

  Jake went in the dark hole that was our barn without looking back. And him with only one eye to look around! Not me. I wasn’t going in there. No telling what might’ve been in there. Snakes and skunks could’ve been laid up under the wooden workbench, waiting. All kinds of spider webs crisscrossed the doorframe or hung from the open ceiling. Not to mention the usual residents, like squeaky mice and rats the size of rabbits.

  Jake came to the door, then he turned and disappeared into the hole again. It was safe.

  Cameron reached in and pulled the string on the bulb hanging just inside.

  Jake stared at the little wire cage on the workbench. The coon stared back, standing in the middle of the cage. Coons are smart, and he knew Jake couldn’t get to him.

  I grabbed a broken shovel handle from an old barrel of garden tools. It fit my hand well. It would keep Dad’s sow from taking a bite out of us.

  Cameron nodded his approval. “That ought to do it. I got the flashlight, but give me a second.”

  “Cameron, what are you doing? Let’s tend them pigs right quick.”

  “Just relax a minute. I got a couple of more eggs hid for our coon. Then we’ll look at the pigs.”

  “Just leave it for now.”

  Cameron ignored me, took two brown eggs from between a pile of dusty tote sacks under the bench and opened the door to the cage a crack. The second he did, that coon came out of there like nothing I’d ever seen. Went straight up Cameron’s outstretched arm to the top of his head.

  Cameron screamed like one of the girls we chased on the playground at recess. “Help me! T, help me! Get him off!”

  Both barn doors stood wide open and the coon could have run out of either one, but he chose to scratch on my brother instead.

  Jake joined in the mix and jumped on Cameron, knocking him down. The coon gave up on Cameron’s head and left with Jake hot on his trail.

  My brother turned on me, like it was my fault. “Why didn’t you help me? Now we don’t got a coon no more.”

  “I was laughing too hard to help. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Cameron brushed himself off. He looked kind of huffy, but then he smiled. “I guess I did look a sight. Better call Jake back, if he’ll come.”

  “He’ll be back in a minute. He knows we’re not hunting. Let’s doctor pigs.”

  Dad liked any kind of hog as long as he could get it cheap. We had red Durocs, black and white Hampshires, and crosses between the two. Breeds didn’t mean a thing. If their first name was pig, Dad liked them.

  The sow was a Hamp with a black rump, a pink chest and head, and she was huge. She nosed around in the mud at the back of the pen, but stopped and eyed us when we approached, head low, like she dared us to enter.

  Cameron shined the light into her coal-black eyes and goose bumps jumped out on my arms. I took a firm grip on the shovel handle, looked at my brother, and crawled over the fence.

  4

  White clapboard siding gave our house a scaly, menacing look. Brown water stains close to the ground looked like rotten teeth. Windows to each side of a rust-red door were its eyes and nose. Flower-printed bed sheets, Momma Ray’s handmade curtains, covered the windows. No lights on, nothing inviting about it, except the thought of a bed.

  Curtains didn’t make much sense really, not to me. Eyes looking at our house belonged to wild animals and bugs. We lived a mile off the road through the woods, and I don’t recall anybody who just stopped in, for whatever reason. People would know they were lost long before they got to our place.

  Jake padded along behind us as we walked from the barn.

  I couldn’t see it yet, but I had my eye on a dinner plate. “My belly’s been feeding on my backbone ever since we got home. All I can think of is fried chicken.”

  “Me too. Might not be chicken though. Whatever it is, it’s going to be cold.”

  “I don’t care,” I said.

  As we neared the door, Jake left us and trotted around the house, out of sight. He had a dark place to sleep in the bushes under the eave beneath our bedroom window.

  The swamp cooler stood two-legged at the window beside the door, its head in the window, blowing air into the house. Water trickled down the straw mats. Weeds grew tall under it, where water dripped from the leaky waterline that fed the thing. The noisy fan would cover our entrance, and that was good for us, because the last thing we wanted to do was wake up Dad.

  Humidity inside matched the outside, only cooler. I pushed the button on a little light under the plywood cabinets. The p
ungent odor of propane lingered near the white porcelain stove. Momma Ray had the blackened coffee pot loaded with water and grounds, ready for morning. I replaced the lid on the container she kept near a burner, so the pilot light would keep the bacon grease in it warm.

  Can’t cook without bacon grease.

  On the table sat two empty glasses, two plastic plates with a scoop of mashed potatoes, and one greasy chicken leg. The glasses were a ticket to all the well water we could drink.

  Cameron’s shoulders slumped when he saw what she’d put out. He picked up his plate, inspected it for a minute, and stuck a finger in the taters. He slid back the wooden bench we normally used and sat.

  I filled our glasses and took a chair facing him. We couldn’t change what she’d set out, and griping about it didn’t make sense, so I picked up my fork.

  Cameron acted like he didn’t want his, but the first nibble of cold potatoes opened the floodgate, and he ate with a fork in one hand and the chicken leg in the other. He gnawed on the leg bone until the only thing left to do was crunch it up and swallow it, like Jake would.

  He sat up, wiped his hands on his pants, and looked at my plate. I didn’t eat as fast and had a couple of bites left. He licked his lips and let out a long breath. He could just keep on licking. I was hungry enough to lick the grease off of my plate.

  As the last bite entered my mouth, he stood up and walked to the icebox.

  “You know they don’t keep nothing in there. All the food is locked up in the icebox in their room,” I said. Like he didn’t already know.

  Cameron opened the door and extra light from the bulb inside flooded the kitchen. He slammed it closed and stared at the opposite wall, toward Dad’s room.

  A look of hate or disgust, it didn’t matter. I knew how he felt.

  Cameron let out a long breath and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Only got a yellow box in there.”

  “It’s been in there a long time. What’s it for anyway?”