Me and Jake

by Boo Riley

  “Baking soda. Momma Ray says it absorbs odors. Got to have food in there to make odors.”

  “We ought to put it outside. Maybe them hogs would smell better.”

  Jake whined at the screen door. Always the gentleman, not one to complain or be pushy, but he’d sat patient long enough.

  I pushed away from the table and checked the slop bucket. Two T-bones lay atop of some stuff that it would take my biology teacher to identify. I picked them out and gave them the once-over.

  Cameron stepped forward for a look. “Any meat left on them?”

  I shook my head and heard a sigh.

  Jake took them as a gentleman would, then turned and trotted off behind the house. He’d lie in his bed and gnaw off enough to let him sleep. Maybe he’d stay home tonight and not go gallivanting through the woods looking for a rabbit or a squirrel to eat.

  The sink only held two glasses and some silverware and didn’t take long to wash up.

  I turned to Cameron. “You done? Give me your glass.”

  “Yeah, I’m about real done.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He handed me his glass and stomped across the kitchen louder than I would have liked.

  “Cameron, I don’t want to see. I want to know.”

  He disappeared around the corner into the dark living room.

  After checking the kitchen, I turned off the light and tiptoed down the hall, closing the door separating our room from the rest of the house as I went. The swamp cooler blew it open, so I secured it with a folded piece of cardboard wedged between the door and the jamb.

  I crawled into bed next to Cameron. He liked to take up more than his half of both the bed and the covers, especially in the winter. Tonight it wouldn’t matter much, because it felt like a steam cooker in the room.

  We’d been sharing a bed since forever, so we didn’t know of another way. Neither of us had ever wet the bed. That made it easier.

  Most boys wouldn’t think of sharing a bed with another boy, at least not a single bed, not even with a brother, but we didn’t mind. In the winter, it was the only way we could stay warm, since Dad demanded the hall door be closed at all times.

  A slight breeze drifted across the room between two open windows, cooling the sweat on my legs and chest. The sheet stuck to me like flypaper.

  Crickets and other bugs sang their night songs. Jake chewed on a bone below the window. Dim shadows on the wall grew darker and more distinct as the moon peeked over the treetops.

  “Thanks for helping with the hogs, T.”

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Nah, just thinking about things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Want to sneak out?”

  Holy cow, my heart just stopped beating right then. I rolled over and propped myself up on an elbow.

  Cameron laid there, his back to me, acting like the question was normal or something.

  “No, I don’t want to sneak out. You done lost your mind.”

  “I might want to sneak out. You wouldn’t tell, would you?”

  “Course not. Just quit talking about it.” I laid back.

  “I might quit talking, but I’m not going to quit thinking.”

  I tried to block his question from my mind by concentrating on shadows swaying on the wall. “What would you do? Where would you go?”

  “You said to quit talking about it.”

  “Cameron, come on.”

  He turned onto his back and put his hands behind his head, like me. “So, did Dad say what time you were going fishing?”

  He was trying to change the subject. “It’s a long ways to the road. Take awhile to get anywhere from here.”

  “I don’t care. I just want to do something I’m not supposed to. That would give me one up on Dad.”

  “We just did chores. We could have stayed outside, would have been the same thing.”

  “Nah, we were supposed to be doing chores. Crawling out the window is different. Answer my question.”

  “He just said the missus wanted some catfish.”

  Cameron blew a puff out his nose. The bed shook with the effort. “The missus? He talks to us like we’re not part of the family. I wonder what he has planned for me?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Cameron turned his back to me again. His foot touched my shin. I think he felt better when he touched me. Knowing he was there made me feel good.

  I watched shadows change shape and listened to the night, afraid to go to sleep, in case he tried to sneak away without me. Life without Cameron would be … well, this morning was the first time I’d ever thought about losing my brother. I didn’t like the feeling.

  My eyes burned and grew heavy. Too heavy.

  A sting on my cheek, a mosquito, and then one buzzed my ear. I jerked the covers over my head and turned onto my side.

  Alarms went off in my mind. Asleep. Are you crazy? Skeeters in the house?

  The screen was missing from the window, and Cameron was gone.

  5

  It was all I could do to keep my mouth closed. I wanted to scream out the window. No Cameron and no Jake, now what? My best friends had run off together.

  The first hint of morning glowed orange through the oaks behind the barn. Our old rooster would be screaming his fool head off any minute.

  Leaning out the window, I grabbed the screen propped against the house and put it in place. At least Cameron put it where I could get at it. Probably by accident. While I tried to think of a story, any story, I shoved my feet into a pair of socks, buttoned my shirt and jerked on my britches.

  What could I tell Dad and Momma Ray that they would believe? Nothing, that’s what, nothing at all. I headed for the kitchen.

  Voices floating down the hallway made me wish to die. I stopped in the living room to listen.

  “Honey, how’s your coffee?” Momma Ray cooed.

  “It’s just right, dear. It’s always good when you make it.”

  Oh, I almost gagged.

  Momma Ray said something too low for me to hear. Sounded like air leaking again. I stepped closer to the door, where I could just see the back part of the stove.

  Smooching noises mixed with the simmering gurgle of coffee on the burner.

  Chills ran up my spine and goose bumps jumped out all over me. That kissy-smoochy stuff didn’t set well this early in the morning.

  Dad’s deep voice sounded too close for comfort. “I’m going to take a boy down to the river with me today. Going to run a trotline and catch some fish for us.”

  “Well, that sounds wonderful. Who you taking?”

  “Ty.”

  Silverware clinked in the sink. Water splashed. A noisy sip and sigh followed by a cup scraping on a plate put me on my toes. I edged a little closer.

  Momma Ray cleared her throat with a dainty ahem. “Can I use Cameron around the house while you’re gone? I got some things he can do for me.”

  “Why you sure can, Ma. Better use him good today. Don’t waste no time. I got me a little deal working with a man in town. He’s going to pay me to work the boys a day or two. Speaking of, I better get them up.”

  Dad’s comment about working us for someone else didn’t register right off. When it did take root, I didn’t have time to mull it over. A chair slid across the floor.

  I stepped around the corner, rubbing my eyes, like I’d just rolled out of bed. As I entered the kitchen, Cameron strolled through the screen door holding a handful of eggs.

  Dad looked back and forth between us. A look of recognition changed to confusion then to doubt. He focused on Cameron, the one out of place. “Boy, what are you doing outside this early?”

  Cameron walked by him and placed the eggs on the counter. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d gather eggs and start our chores.”

  Momma Ray looked like she didn’t believe the story either. But what could they say? There he stood with a double-handful of eggs.

/>   Dad looked at me and started to say something, but he must have changed his mind. Apparently, he knew something had happened, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

  He stood and handed his coffee cup to Momma Ray. “You two sit down. Momma, fix them an egg apiece.” He pointed at each of us in turn, wagging his finger. “You two eat and get your chores done. Ty, me and you are going to the river. Cameron, you’re going to help here at the house today.”

  Cameron let out a hard breath. Dad paused and gave him a narrow, glaring eye. Cameron managed half a smile, and Dad looked away.

  Momma Ray’s lips turned down at the corners. She crossed her arms over her nightdress, curtains with different flowers. It was too short too. Cameron called them very-close veins. She had a bunch of them on her legs.

  She never said anything to support us. This morning was no different. I think Dad scared her as much as he did me and Cameron.

  Dad walked out and she turned her attention to me, pointing with a spatula. “Your shirt’s crooked.”

  Redoing my shirt and watching her to make sure she didn’t catch me, I leaned over and whispered to Cameron. “We get outside and I’m going to poke you in the nose.”

  Cameron never moved anything but his lips and whispered back. “You do and I won’t share the eggs I found and hid in the woods.”

  That revelation changed everything. Sometimes Dad and Momma Ray left us with the chores and went to town. We could sneak in and have our own little feast if that happened in the next day or two. Eggs hid outside wouldn’t last any longer than that. Coons would find them.

  Momma Ray put a blob of grease in the pan. Me and Cameron sat silent, listening to the eggs sizzle and pop. They were hard and crispy-brown around the edges when she slid them out of the skillet onto our plates.

  I ate and kicked Cameron under the table.

  He kicked back.

  Cameron looked at his egg like he did the chicken leg and taters. Then it disappeared in two bites.

  I cut mine up, ate little pieces at a time, and took my time chewing.

  Cameron stared at every bite, but I didn’t care one hoot.

  Jake walked up and took a peek through the screen door. Yeah, me and Jake were going to have us a one-on-one about him running off with Cameron. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate him looking after my brother, but he should have barked or whined, anything to let me know what was happening.

  The floor groaned as Momma Ray shuffled back and forth across the kitchen in her purple slippers. Time and moisture had weakened nails, curling floorboards at the joints in a few places. The gray paint had worn thin in front of the sink and the stove, revealing dark knots in the oak.

  Cameron looked at Momma Ray for the first time as she dropped the spatula in the sink and walked out. “T, quit kicking me.”

  “You run off and left me. You and Jake.” My voice broke, surprising me as it squeaked out.

  “I didn’t leave you. Just went out and looked around. I felt free.”

  “If a skeeter hadn’t bit me on the cheek, Dad would’a found you gone. He might have killed me. I don’t mind taking a licking for you, but friends shouldn’t leave like that. And why didn’t you put the screen back on?”

  “Too tall, I tried. I didn’t think about the skeeters eating on you.”

  “No, you didn’t think about nothing.” Something had a hold of my heart and wouldn’t turn loose. My words sounded strange to me, like someone else gave them to me to say.

  Cameron looked like he recognized me for the first time. His hand rose slowly. I took it and we shook. My tears tasted salty.

  A door slammed in the back room. I wiped my eyes real quick. Momma Ray walked in carrying a slab of baloney and a loaf of white bread. Me and Cameron looked at each other then eyed the meat. Nothing like a good slab of boloney fried to a golden brown to make a feller rub his tummy.

  As Momma Ray worked at the counter, it was obvious what she did was not for our tastes. Dad and I were going fishing. Dad would want a hefty lunch. She cut a good slice and set the knife aside. “You boys know school starts Wednesday.”

  You could have pushed me over with a broom. Summer was done already? And the information, for our benefit, simply stated. Cameron blinked like he’d got caught downwind of Dolly after she passed gas.

  I grinned and thought of Cindy’s red lips and freckles, and colored barrettes holding her golden hair behind perfect ears. And green eyes and a sweet smell, like rain in the morning. She made me stutter.

  6

  Jake fell in beside me on the way to the barn. He raised his dark head to cast a lazy eye at me every other step. I knew what he wanted—a morning hug and a scruff on the head. One side of me wanted to hug him. The other side wanted to ignore him for leaving me asleep and running off into the night.

  Jake nosed the slop bucket. “Quit, Jake. I’ll get you something out of it before I give it to the hogs. I didn’t forget your breakfast. I should leave you on your own, but I’m not like you and Cameron. I think about my friends.”

  Cameron trotted up beside me. “Want to see them eggs?”

  Fire stoked in my belly. “No, I don’t want to look at no eggs.”

  “I got eleven of them for us. They’re in the fork of that crooked oak behind the barn.”

  I wanted to see them and gave the oak a peek. It would be something to hide from Dad if I knew exactly where they were. “Cameron, we can’t sneak into the house and cook, so why look at them? One egg for breakfast this morning just made me hungrier. The sight would make it worse.”

  “I just thought you’d want to see them, that’s all. You still mad at me?”

  Cameron didn’t get it. I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “I have to spend the rest of the day in the boat with Dad. I’d rather cut hay.”

  “Yeah, well, I thought I’d ask. Tell you what. You watch the sow while I check them piglets, and I’ll help you get stuff ready to go fishing.”

  I didn’t answer right off, but I thought why not? Doctoring pigs alone would make me nervous with that big sow watching every move and smacking her lips like she had peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth. “That’s not what Dad said to do, but sounds good to me.”

  I held the broken shovel handle while Cameron looked at the piglets. When finished, we checked the fishing gear.

  Cameron walked around the boat and inspected it. “This boat’s embarrassing. It’s not as long as the pickup. Not as wide neither. Got a kitchen chair mounted on the bench in the front. Looks like hillbillies own it. Aluminum, probably made out of old soda cans, and that old motor, can’t even read what it is anymore.”

  “They do.”

  “They do what?”

  “Own it. The hillbillies.”

  We laughed.

  I mucked wet, moldy leaves out of the bottom of the boat. “Dad likes to sit in the chair and act like a captain, perched up there in the front, giving orders, swiveling around and pointing. Keeps him out of my hair. Let’s go find the lifejackets.”

  Jake followed us to the barn and back.

  Cameron put in the lifejackets, two foam blocks with straps holding them together.

  Dad would whack me if I forgot the minnow bucket. I made sure to grab it. The trotline was rolled up around a stick with the rusted hooks stuck in each end and tucked under the bench seat in the back, by the motor. The wooden oar, in case the motor quit, lay hidden in deep grass under the trailer. I freed it and stuck it under the seats.

  Cameron raked leaves out with his fingers. “I wish Jake would sit and quit following us everywhere.”

  “He’s not following us.”

  “Yes, he is. Everywhere we go. To the barn and back, to the back of the boat, to the front of the boat, around the boat. He tags along everywhere we go. Then he sits and watches us.”

  “He’s following me, watching me. He’s my dog. You just happen to be with me.”

  Cameron nodded. “He does take to you. I’ll give you that. I better see to the rest o
f our chores. I didn’t finish this morning.”

  I kneeled to mess with Jake. The next thing I knew, I was on all fours. Jake growled and pushed, trying to get his head under me. He rolled onto his back and put his paws against my chest. His skin was so loose, like a badger, he could about turn over in it. I straddled him. His ears lay flat on the ground, lips loose, teeth showing, and eyes big. Like bat-dog. I loved him. He got the hug he wanted earlier.

  “Hey, boy. Get up.”

  Jake pushed me off, flipped over, and scurried under the boat.

  I stood and brushed at my pants. Dad carried a black lunch box and had a silver thermos tucked under his arm.

  “I got everything ready, Dad. Just need to hook it up.”

  “You get the cool box?”

  My face must have given me away.

  “Boy, get the cool box, and tell Cameron to come here.”

  Jake led me to the barn this time. He glanced back toward Dad and the boat once or twice. I grabbed the red and white plastic ice chest and yelled for Cameron.

  Jake stayed in the barn when we left, watching from the doorway.

  Dad turned around his pickup and hooked the boat to the bumper. The cool box fit in the bow.

  “Cameron, you get chores done and get to the house and help your ma. Watch your lip. I’ll be home later. You remember that.”

  Cameron looked like he’d taken a big swig of sour milk and I knew why. Momma Ray was not our ma. We were young, fourteen, going into the ninth grade, and we knew how moms were supposed to be. We had one, a real one, just hadn’t seen her in a while.

  I crawled into the pickup before Dad had to tell me to.

  Once we left, I forgot about things, or at least the conflicts that ruled my thoughts. Dad wasn’t a talker, so the countryside led my mind.

  Lots of houses much nicer than ours were tucked back off the road. Big stone barns with painted doors, some of them displaying the owner’s name or a brand in large, white letters, overlooked beautiful green pastures and fat cattle. Next to those fancy places were trailer houses with gray, wooden stairs, green or brown shutters and trim. In their yards stood a swing set, a blue plastic swimming pool, or an old car on blocks, half hidden by deep grass and weeds. Sometimes all three.