by Boo Riley
One car had the hood off and turned upside down next to it. Three kids stood in it. One boy held a stick over his head. He might have been the captain of a pirate ship, or fighting wild Indians with his brother and sister.
Me and Cameron fought Indians before we came to live with Dad.
Cows and horses of every color stood in belly-deep grass. One horse looked up as we passed and got me to wishing I could ride one someday. Kids at school talked about going on trail rides and roping and barrel racing and stuff.
It seemed like everyone owned a tractor, a nice big one with an air-conditioned cab mounted on it. Some kid was lucky.
Fall wasn’t too far away if school was about to start. Leaves would change color, and that was good because the weather would cool and skeeters and no-see-ems would leave folks alone.
The thought of school brought me to the holes in my britches and loose soles on my shoes. My knees stuck out of my pants and they were a good four inches too short. Momma Ray had ironed a patch on both knees, but her work didn’t last a week. Maybe patches would last longer on another kid, but not on me. Cameron had grown so much his britches looked dumb. Almost didn’t cover the top of his socks.
Dad pulled in at the bait shop. “Boy, you throw in the minnow bucket?”
“Yes, sir. It’s in the boat.”
Dad didn’t shut doors. He slammed them. He disappeared inside with the yellow bucket.
I figured he’d buy goldfish or minnows. Large minnows would be better. Goldfish had sharp fins on their backs.
When Dad walked out with the bucket, the cheek-lady followed him. That’s what me and Cameron called her because she grabbed our cheeks and pinched the fire out of them. Dad looked like he’d swallowed a dose of stink bait and hurried to get away.
She dogged his every step. “You know you need to. Don’t ignore me, Mr. Ray. Last time I seen your boys they were skinny as a rail. You start feeding them. Looks like you get plenty to eat.”
Dad shuffled to the boat and never said a word.
Then, she spotted me. “Well, which one are you? Ty? Oh, you darling! Let me look at you!”
Dad looked relieved when she turned her attention toward me.
I panicked. She had her hands raised, warming up her pincers, and here she came.
Jerking the door open, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the pickup with a surprising grip. She smelled like I don’t know what. Coffee and cigarettes mixed with stump water and peppermint.
She started squeezing and thumping me like a watermelon. “He’s thinner now than he was a month ago. You ought to be ashamed, locked up. He looks like he’s got worms.”
She quit poking, pushed me back inside the cab, slammed the door, and scurried around the front of the pickup to meet Dad at his door. I couldn’t believe her boldness. She walked right up to him and put her finger in his face, and she was a good foot shorter too. “Mr. Ray, the next time I see them boys, they better have some meat on their bones. Don’t you look away, and don’t look down your nose at me. You think I’m afraid, you got another thing coming. I’ll tell you something else. Get them boys in church. Let them meet the Lord. Just because you don’t want to know Him don’t mean they don’t.”
She held Dad still with a finger. His eyes moved as the red fingernail did—up, down, left, and right. When it shook, he blinked.
Then I heard something I had never heard before. Dad whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”
The cheek-lady marched back toward the bait store, her pant legs slapping together, elbows working at her sides. She stopped at the door, looked back, and swiped at a strand of brown hair blowing across her face. “Ty, darling, you be a good boy.” She waved and disappeared inside.
Dad crawled in behind the wheel and slammed the door.
I thought I’d missed something. His lips had moved and “Yes ma’am” had emerged. I heard it, but before we got on the highway, not fifty feet from where we were parked, I convinced myself there was no way. He never said it.
I pretended to check the boat, turning to look through the back glass. It dawned on me when I saw Dad’s jaw muscles flexing, I might be in a heap of trouble.
The cheek-lady meant well, but I wished she had minded her own business.
7
The Duck River is lined with trees. Hickories, red oaks, maples, and walnut trees stand tall on solid ground, and when the leaves turn, they are a beautiful sight to see.
That’s where Dad nearly flipped us the first time we put the boat in the water, so we didn’t go there anymore. Both Dad and the motor on one end at the same time pointed the bow at the sky. That day, he was going to drive because I sure didn’t know anything about driving a boat. He cranked her up, put her in gear, and gave it too much gas all at once. Nearly drove the backend under the frontend. Scared the daylights out of me. I fell into the back of the boat, piled at Dad’s feet.
After that, I drove the boat. Dad was my teacher and the lesson wasn’t much fun, but I learned how, and now, Dad sat and pointed while I drove.
Dad turned left and right down dirt roads choked with brush to the slough. I knew where we were going but still got confused. The grass was deeper, the bushes thicker and taller. The muddy road ended at the edge of the water and that’s where he backed up the boat to put it in.
A swarm of skeeters greeted me as the door opened. Jake would have checked for snakes in the deep grass and weeds. He would have made me feel better if he could have came.
We undid ropes holding the boat and let it slide off the trailer. Dad gave me his lunch box and thermos to put in.
“You should have said something!” Dad yelled. The lid on his feelings didn’t stay on long.
Say something? That was a first. My thoughts went back to the cheek-lady and how she had given Dad what for. That made me want to run for the woods, but my feet were sucked down in mud and wouldn’t move.
“Look what you made me do.” He pointed to the back of the boat. “The plugs ain’t in.”
I managed to back up a step as he stomped to the front of the trailer, grabbed the winch rope and hooked it to the ring on the bow of the boat. “Here, get over here and crank on it, boy.”
We let the water drain, installed the plugs, and started over.
Once the boat settled in the water and we had all of our gear in, I crawled to the back and let the motor down. Dad said it had fifteen horses, but it didn’t run like fifteen of anything, and it sounded like one of Dolly’s calves with a bad cough.
Dad used his cap to brush off his captain’s chair and plopped down. The boat rocked and bobbed, adjusting to the sudden shift in weight.
“Pull out the choke before you start pulling on the rope. No, squeeze the bulb on the gas line and pump it up first. It’s been awhile since we run it.”
It had been a while, all right—a year. Used it and parked it. Probably wouldn’t start in ten years without some work.
I started pulling and knew right off we weren’t going anywhere.
“Did you pull that choke out like I told you?”
I checked it to make sure and pulled the starter rope some more.
“Open the throttle halfway. Don’t stop. Keep pulling. Wait, I smell gas. Boy, you got it flooded. I ought to kick your behind.”
Since I did what he told me, how did I flood it?
We cautiously traded places and Dad got loud and colorful. That’s how he worked on things. The less he knew, the louder he got, and the redder his face turned.
Pretty soon the bottom of the boat held pieces of motor. I ran back and forth between the boat and the pickup, getting wrenches of this size and that size out of the toolbox. In between runs, I tried to watch where the parts came from on the motor. But in the end, who knew? I hoped Dad did.
Then, it dawned on me to wish otherwise. We could go home if he took it apart and couldn’t put it back together. This might be our last trip. I had a good feeling about it too.
Dad stopped removing and started replacing. H
e’d blow on pieces before he put them back. When he turned a part over and looked at it a second, he’d grow still. His lips pooched out and face wrinkled. Then, looking down his nose through the bifocals of his black-framed glasses, he’d work his lips, pucker, spit over the side, and put it on.
It started. I couldn’t believe it. Second pull and it sputtered to life. He gave a satisfied grunt and we traded places again.
I backed us into the slough. Dad turned his captain’s chair to face forward and waved us on. The throttle stuck at first, but I managed to point us down the middle between overhanging trees and bushes without an incident.
She tracked dead center, but Dad made adjustments as he saw fit. He pointed left and right, and I just sat there. He leaned when he pointed and his arms were heavy, so the boat rolled to the side he pointed to and naturally went in that direction. Soon as he pulled his arm in, we’d go straight.
Dad’s ears were sunburned and red. Peeled patches looked sore. Below his hairline, a dark mole seemed to grow bigger as I stared at it. A bead of sweat snuck out from under his gray ball cap, found a wrinkle, and followed it toward his shoulder.
We stopped to put out our first set of hooks between two low hanging tree branches about twenty paces apart. Dad tied the knot in the trotline on the first branch, then used the oar to pull us along to the next one.
I put a big minnow on each hook and never poked myself, not once. At the second tree limb, Dad stretched the line tight and tied another knot.
Dad rowed and spit a lot. Now and then he poured a cup of coffee into the thermos lid and sipped at it. Something nasty always sat in my throat when thinking about that combination.
It took three pulls before the motor fired. When it did, I put it in gear, opened the throttle to the little rabbit stamped on the handle, and turned hard right to move us away from the bank.
Dad reached for what wasn’t there. His coffee cup flew over the side of the boat, his legs pointed skyward, and he did a flip off the chair and landed in a heap in the bottom of the boat. It only took a split second, but it seemed like several minutes. Dad cussed a blue streak, screamed, “I can’t swim,” then let out another round of words I had never heard before.
As he rolled to his knees, I managed to cut the power and look up. Lights flashed, then went out.
I felt like I floated on a cloud. My feet hit something soft and mushy. Cold crept in on me, as if Cameron had all the covers and wouldn’t share. Surface and air were above me, but just beyond my fingertips. It was like looking through the bottom of a glass, light shining through murky water, shadows extending through the water to bottom. I took a breath and my lungs filled with water.
Pushing with my legs, I surfaced and grabbed a branch, choking and gasping for air. How come I’m in the water? And where was this water? Nothing seemed real. Splashing noises behind me caused me to turn.
Dad had the paddle out, rowing my direction. The look on his face showed determination, but to what intent I could only guess.
My mind came back, and I knew I wasn’t going to take a chance. I pulled myself hand over hand through the bushes toward the bank until my feet found bottom, then I waded ashore.
“Come here, boy. Get back in the boat. I didn’t mean to push you out.”
My tongue found a loose front tooth and my upper lip felt like a marble attached to my face. My blood mixed in the water dripping off my chin and turned the front of my gray T-shirt red.
Dad tapped the oar on the edge of the boat. “You hear me? Get back in here.”
What he expected was beyond me. “I’m not swimming back out there. You want me in the boat, you got to come here.” The words came out strong and defiant, surprising both of us. Dad seemed to relax and let the oar rest on the edge of the boat.
Snakes lived along the slough, lots of them, but I didn’t care. The danger lay in front of me.
Dad’s tone changed to something I’d never heard before, not when he talked to me. “I sure didn’t mean to do that. Come on, Ty. Get in the boat. We’ll go home.”
He sounded sorry, but not for one minute did I believe he hadn’t meant to hit me in the face. In fact, I had an idea. He gave it to me when he screamed like a girl and said he couldn’t swim.
8
Cameron stood and tossed a large weed out of the flowerbed when we drove into the yard. He pushed up his cap and passed the back of his hand across his beet-red forehead. As Dad and I stepped out of the pickup, he started toward us but stopped. I didn’t catch Dad’s look, but it made Cameron bend over and pull weeds again.
Jake ambled over to walk me to the back door. He put his nose against my wet pants and sniffed up and down, first one leg then the other. A pat on his head was all I could muster before going inside.
From the living room, I noticed Dad pass a window, then another.
Momma Ray worked in the garden dressed in red pants and one of Dad’s green long-sleeved shirts. A big straw hat covered her head. With her yellow rubber gloves, she looked like she should be standing on the highway next to orange cones holding a sign that read Slow.
I moved to the window where I could hear them but remain out of sight.
She stood and clapped the mud from her hands. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, the boy fell out of the boat and liked to drowned on me.”
“That’s terrible. Is he OK?” She looked around like I should have been following Dad.
Huh, she sounded concerned.
“Oh, he’s fine. Just got to whining about being cold. We only got out one set of hooks, but I’ll take him back with me in the morning. We should have some nice fish on by then.”
I’d just tell the same story Dad just told if Momma Ray asked me questions. She’d have to ask too. I wouldn’t volunteer information about what happened.
I had to go back to the river with Dad. Perfect.
In the bathroom mirror, I inspected and wiggled the loose tooth with a finger. Boy, I’d look dumb if it fell out. I sure wasn’t going to pull it, and neither would anyone else. Not if I had anything to do with it. Unless it died and turned black, then it would have to go. Missing would be better than black.
I peeled off my shirt in the bathroom, washed out the blood in the sink, then changed clothes and hung my wet ones on a string in front of our bedroom window. It took several rags stuffed in my tennis shoes to soak up the water, at least enough to stop them from squeaking when I walked.
After a minute, I gathered the nerve to go outside. Had to face him again sooner or later. Cameron motioned to me with a quick wave, looking over his shoulder at the same time. I walked over and crouched in the flowerbed.
“T, what happened? What happened to your lip?”
“Dad hit me in the mouth.”
“What’d you say?”
“I didn’t say a word. He wasn’t in his chair good and I dumped him out of it. Gave the boat motor too much gas.”
Cameron looked like he’d just swallowed a stinkbug.
I continued. “It’s like he fell ten minutes before he hit bottom, grabbing for air the whole time and nothing there for him to hang on to. You should’a seen it.”
Cameron’s eyes brightened. “Wow, I wish I could have. I would’ve laughed.”
“No, you don’t wish nothing of the sort, because I shut off the motor and woke up on the bottom of the slough. I don’t even remember looking at Dad. Must have sucked in a gallon of swamp water. Probably swallowed a tadpole too, for all I know.”
Cameron bared his teeth, like Jake warning me Dad was coming.
I pulled up my lip. “Look at my tooth. It falls out and I’ll look like Billy Ardmore. Bet he hasn’t got five teeth in his head. Has to gum his food in school, and that stuff’s just mush at best.”
“How’d you get out of the water? You can’t swim much better than me.”
“I don’t know, but I did. That’s all that counts. I’ll tell you something else. Remember the cheek-lady down at the bait shop?”
&nbs
p; Cameron put his hands on his cheeks. He didn’t have to answer.
“She give Dad what for when we stopped to get minnows. Really laid into him because we don’t have meat on our bones. Told Dad we might have worms.”
Cameron’s shoulders hunched. “Worms? How do you have worms? We don’t eat worms. That’s just dumb.”
I shrugged. “I’m just repeating what she said. And she told Dad to take us to church too.”
“No she didn’t.”
“Yes she did. Just like that. She poked at him with her finger.”
Cameron kept talking, asking questions about the cheek-lady and what Dad said and did. It made me feel better. I didn’t want to tell him what I really thought. I knew he’d go along with it, but I didn’t know how to tell him. He’d have to lie for me if my plan worked and lie if it didn’t. There was too much to remember when lies were told. We needed to have a meeting, off in the woods somewhere, where no one could walk up on us. Or better yet, maybe he didn’t need to know anything. Then he wouldn’t have to lie.
Cameron chewed on the information about the cheek-lady just like I had. No one had ever talked to Dad like the cheek-lady had. At least not that we’d ever witnessed.
“T, what’s today? Sunday, I think.”
“It’s Sunday. There were cars at the white church, and I seen them folks down the road in that big stone house walk out in their go-to-meeting clothes and get in the car. Why, what are you thinking?”
He looked toward the back of the house. “You think Dad would let us go to church today?”
My tooth smarted when I forgot and rubbed my tongue across it. “He’s not thinking about taking us to church. He ran back there to Momma Ray and started telling about what happened. Made sure he got in his story first. Said I fell out and liked to drowned on him. Bunch of baloney.”
“You don’t know what he said.”
“Yes, I do. I heard him through the window when I went in the house to change clothes.”
“Good thing you got to listen in.”
I couldn’t help what came out next. “Cameron, do you really want to be free?”
