Marc and Angie

by Angela White

  Larry regarded me knowingly and took a long swig of his bottle.

  I struggled to keep quiet, not positive that I could trust this drunken, angry man.

  Larry wiped his mouth on his hand and let out a loud belch. “Yep, a good kid. She’ll use you right up.”

  Larry staggered away from the farm where his sons were openly doing the things that I had only started experimenting with this year. The thought of doing it while standing next to them had been horrifying.

  “Hey, good kid,” Larry called, stopping a bit away.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Larry chuckled bitterly at the politeness. “Don’t tell your mother about tonight, huh? She’ll give the wife hell and that’ll trickle down.”

  “No, sir. I won’t,” I answered. I hadn’t been planning to.

  “Good,” Larry approved, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t go in the way you came out. The hens are listening for creaking floorboards.”

  I suddenly decided to try to like this uncle, despite his miserable behavior. “Thanks.”

  “Need all the help you can get in this family,” Larry grunted. “Good luck.”

  Sneaking back in without using the front stairs meant either climbing to the window or using the backdoor to get to the narrow fire steps. I chose to climb. I was good at that and I didn’t care for cramped spaces.

  The warped wood gave me plenty of hand and footholds, (and splinters) but I was only halfway to the single second floor window when I heard voices. Glad of the shadows, I held still and hoped whoever it was kept going without noticing the boy clinging to the side of the farmhouse.

  “Where did Larry go?”

  “Chasin’ down those wild sons of his, guess.”

  “Hope he gets the still fixed.”

  “Shh! You know the wifie don’t like that.”

  The two drunken men were also my uncles, but I couldn’t pull up their names right then.

  I waited until the men were out of sight and began climbing again. The window wasn’t far above me now, but it was in an alcove without footholds. I would have to leap.

  As I got set, planning where my hands would land, I heard more voices, but it was too late to stop. I lunged.

  “Look at that!”

  Scot sounded shocked and I wanted to glance down, but I’d barely caught the hold and was struggling to keep it.

  “He is crazy!” Rodney commented in awe.

  I hefted myself up and into the open window, glad that my aunt was too poor to afford a screen. As I thumped to the floor next to a sleeping form that came awake with a soft shriek, Rod and Scot cheered. I winced as the noise echoed upward.

  The adults in the room below went outside while I hurried to my pallet, hoping Rodney and Scot didn’t tell on me.

  I listened to my cousins lie their way out of trouble by saying they’d been going to the bathroom and weren’t feeling well. The adult females fell for it and heavy steps tromped up to the sleeping area a few minutes later.

  Rod and Scot dropped down on either side of me, exclaiming about my bravery, but I didn’t feel that way. I’d been shaking the entire time and grateful to make it in without falling.

  “You’re all right, Brady,” Scot stated. “We’ll take you around while you’re here. Let you meet the skanks.”

  “The skanks?” I repeated, frowning. I didn’t know what that was.

  “There’s a big dance once a year,” Rodney explained, crawling under his blanket. “The girls you can have stand on one side, and the girl who won’t are on the other.”

  “The girls who won’t what?” I asked in confusion.

  “He doesn’t know!”

  “I told you he was a virgin!”

  My cousins snickered cruelly and I felt my cheeks flame. The teasing continued, but with that one word, I understood and didn’t care. I wasn’t obsessed with girls.

  My thoughts flashed to Angie and I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket up. Was she thinking about me? Had anyone told her I left?

  As I lay there listening to the others shift, fart, moan and mutter, it occurred to me that I’d expected to be greeted by my aunt, but I hadn’t even spoken to her. Mother would ask if I’d delivered her messages and made my manners. I hadn’t and she would punish me.

  I got up and took the rickety stairs to the first floor, ignoring the surprise of the sweaty kids around me.

  I was noticed by the single adult in the room as soon as I hit the bottom floor.

  “Go to bed.”

  I spotted my uncle Larry on the sofa, beer in hand now, and said, “I forgot to give you mother’s messages and thank you for–”

  “Give them to your aunt tomorrow. Go to bed.”

  I climbed the stairs in a hurry, wondering if Larry was always so surly. For a moment outside tonight, I’d liked him. Before coming, I hadn’t thought to ask what my uncle was like or even what he did on the farm. It was clear that Judy was in charge, but her husband was intimidating.

  The other kids gaped at me again when I returned and I shrugged when Scot asked me if I was indeed crazy. I hadn’t been trying to impress them further, but I had. Why? Were the rules here stricter than I’d thought? I would have to ask some careful questions. Mother did want some details on the setup, and now, so did I. I’d been led to believe this was where boys were sent to become men, but so far, it had fallen short in every way.

  I fell asleep pondering the differences between perception and reality.

  I dreamed of Angie. We were in my mother’s spotless hall and her violet eyes held blue lasers that cut through the distance. She stared at me in longing, but she couldn’t hear me no matter how loud I shouted. It was unsettling and I snapped awake as just the rooster began to crow.

  It wasn’t a good start to my day as shouts echoed from people trying to quiet the big bird. I’d viewed it in the front yard upon arrival and gawked at the size. Even the barn cats wouldn’t come near the chickens with that big boy on guard and it sucked to find out that he had a mouth to match.

  I groaned at the stiffness of sleeping on nearly nothing and slowly sat up, aware of sweat coating my skin. The other kids were also complaining, but it was from being woken so early. I understood how they felt, but I was anxious to begin my free life here on the farm and I got up.

  Waiting in line for the disgusting bathroom made my mood worse and I vowed to do something different tomorrow morning. As it was, I had no choice today and used the facility without touching anything more than I had to. Then I spent a long time washing up, causing the other kids to wait, which they paid me back for by tripping me as I went down the stairs.

  I told them the bruise didn’t hurt.

  Breakfast was scrambled eggs, biscuits with gravy, and an apple. The same three big bowls as last night graced the center of the long table, and I assumed they ate this way all the time. The warped marks on the wooden surface were the proof. They were in the shape of those dishes, and I swept the people at the table. Was everyone here, except me, poor? Were they also here for training and punishment, or was this a normal life for them? I had more questions than answers.

  I went outside after I finished eating, scanning for another bathroom that I could sneak into when I needed to do more than pee. As I did, I spotted my Uncle Larry lying in the hammock behind the house. Hoping he wouldn’t mind, I strolled that way.

  Larry inspected me blearily as I joined him, taking a seat on the nearby stump. When I didn’t speak, he leaned his head back and let the silence drag out.

  As I scanned this overgrown area, I found an old outhouse and relaxed a bit. Anything was better than that upstairs horror. I’d never known anyone to do that with curtains, but I assumed my aunt never went in there. If she had, her screams would be loud. It was disgusting.

  “That’s my private space, boy,” Larry said without raising his head. “You leave it like you find it.”

  I grinned. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We stayed q
uiet for the next ten minutes, listening to the noises of the house grow louder. It was chaotic, but in a good way. No one ever said good morning or asked how you slept at my house. No one cared.

  The insects flew through the tall grass and the sun came out, warming my face. I inhaled deeply, sensing I was about to learn something important. I didn’t know where it was going to come from, but I hoped it wasn’t gross. I didn’t have a strong stomach in the morning.

  “Why did she send you to the farm early?”

  I was unprepared for the question and stammered, “Uh, I don’t... I mean, I’m not...”

  I flushed when he glanced over with a brow lifted.

  “I didn’t do what she wanted.”

  Larry grunted, clearly expecting more details, but I wasn’t going to spill my guts to a stranger. Angie already meant more to me than that.

  “You gonna do it again and get sent back?” Larry asked. “Most of the boys do. They like it here.”

  I shrugged, but didn’t answer. He was trying to pull details from me that I wasn’t willing to give.

  After another minute of silence, Larry sat up and faced me with a grim expression. “I’m gonna take a chance with you, boy. Mostly because you didn’t stay and join the circle jerk last night. You’re smarter than the others and I admire that. But you’ll lose it before long. This family uses a man up until he’s nothing but a rooster crowing for no good reason.”

  I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me, but at the same time, I did. “I’m leaving as soon as I can.”

  I didn’t mean to say that!

  “Good,” Larry stated, surprising me again. “I thought you were smart. Nice to know I’m right.”

  He didn’t say anything else, just went back to snoozing in his hammock, and I returned to the house, wondering if all the uncles hated their lives. Larry clearly did–enough to risk mother’s wrath by warning me. If I hadn’t already been positive that leaving the family was the right thing to do, the short conversation with Larry would have convinced me. I didn’t want to end up a bitter drunk hiding behind his house to avoid his life. I wanted a happy, loving family...with Angie.

  That morning set a routine for me on the farm. I avoided my uncles during the evening, when they were most likely to be drinking, and rose early to spend time with them in the mornings, before the rest of the family was out and about. The second morning, I’d found all five of my uncles gathered around Larry’s hammock, each of them bloodshot, unshaven, and grouchy. It was great. I learned more about life and women during that hour than I ever had from school or my magazines. These men weren’t afraid to talk in front of me if I was careful to keep my mouth shut. I had a million questions, and I sensed that if I listened, I would be able to glean enough to make up my own mind.

  During one of these mornings, when the chill had finally arrived to coat the ground with frost, the uncles were discussing spring branding and breeding. My face stayed red at the conversation and jokes, but I finally discovered a reason for my attraction to Angie.

  “Men always want what they can’t have,” Jerry stated. “Gets us in trouble, but there’s no fighting it.”

  “Like Georgie,” Larry agreed. “He’s got that hot one about to grow up.”

  “Think he’ll hurt her like the one before?” Bobby asked.

  “Hard to tell. He might be better now.”

  The conversation drifted to other things, but I stayed on the image of wanting what I couldn’t have. Was that why I needed to spend time with Angie? To rebel against my parent? If so, that was okay. I wasn’t a sick boy who would grow up to do sick things. I was a normal teenager fighting the control of his parent.

  In that moment of revelation, I decided it was okay for me to have a friendship with Angie and later, maybe more, because I didn’t want her for bad reasons. It wasn’t her power or how cute she was. I didn’t want her for branding and breeding. I hated Mary and I wanted to strike out. That was fine.

  I had expected to be toiling all the time while on my aunt’s farm, but I quickly discovered they had a laidback approach. They often let the big chores build up all week and then spent the weekends knocking it out. I was lost. My mother would never tolerate that and through the week, I had no idea what to do with myself once the basics were covered. Many of the other kids didn’t even have to go to classes. It was called homeschooling and I was shocked by it. There were no teachers to slap your hand with a ruler, no bullies or clubs, or girls that followed you to gym class. In fact, there was no gym class. These kids got exercise on the weekends, where everyone worked until they dropped. The rest of the time was free after feeding and watering the animals, and I was jealous of them at first. The things I wanted to do would take years and I couldn’t imagine getting bored like the older boys complained of.

  That was the first few weeks. After a month, I’d gotten tired of the talks and walks, of the smells, of that rooster crowing for no reason. I wanted to accomplish something during my time here, something more important than baling hale until midnight. So, I explored the area for people who were more like me.

  Daniel Glass was the boy from the trailer park where Angie lived. I knew him on sight because he rode his dirt bike everywhere he went, even to school. I’d witnessed the short, stocky boy practicing tricks up on the hill behind the trailers and thought he was determined to kill himself. I also admired his courage. There wasn’t a ramp that he wouldn’t shoot across, a space between the boards he wouldn’t try to jump. Daniel was fearless.

  I’d also witnessed one of his wipeouts. It had been ugly, sending the boy sprawling in painful positions as he slid across the gravel, but Daniel had picked himself up and returned to the ramp. On his second run, where he got more speed, he made the jump, dripping blood from his arm all the way up the wooden ramp.

  On this morning, we hadn’t officially met yet and I hung back as I came across him riding through the unplanted field by my aunt’s farm. Daniel was quiet and smart, with brown hair and sun-darkened skin that caused the girls to stare. They liked my dark hair and pale skin, but they were drawn to Daniel’s adventurous spirit and I was glad. I didn’t have any interest in girls–something I was tired of telling my cousins. I also didn’t have any interest in boys, though they both liked to call me queer whenever I did something right and got praised for it. I knew jealousy when I heard it and never responded. I didn’t care what they thought anymore.

  Daniel sped across the dirt, throwing dusty clumps in scattered piles and I wondered again if Angie had a bike. I could take her down to the creek for our time together. Adults never went there.

  I frowned. Normal adults didn’t go there. Sometimes the homeless wandered by, but I’d never had problems with them. For some reason, I was suddenly sure that Angie would.

  “You wanna ride?” Daniel called out, stopping nearby.

  I was startled at the friendly voice and the offer. I’d been considering Angie in danger and not liking the feeling.

  “I’ll watch.”

  Daniel shrugged, twisting the throttle. “Whatever.”

  I hung out for hours, watching from the shade of a nearby tree, and was joined a while later by a few other kids that I hadn’t met yet. I didn’t think they were from my aunt’s farm, but I wasn’t certain. There had been more than a dozen teenagers at the dinner table last night.

  The boys who found a spot near my seat on the wooden fence were tall and thin, with shaggy yellow hair and bright green eyes. Like Daniel, their clothes were K-Mart at best and their shoes were probably Goodwill or Salvation Army. I suspected my mother wouldn’t approve and immediately chose to make friends if possible. I certainly didn’t have much in common with Rodney and Scot, who were ‘acceptable’.

  After that first month, I had a full routine. In the morning, I listened to my uncles talk about bitterness, beer, and broads–in that order. In the afternoon, I joined Daniel and our small group at the flat field. Most of the time, we watched Daniel practice his tricks and talked about
life–much like with my uncles. We also swam, fished, and hunted small game, though I was the only one who knew how to do that last item. My mother had insisted I learn and help keep our larders stocked during deer season. It gave me a slight advantage, but mostly, it allowed me to fit into the group as a much-needed member. Daniel was our entertainment and we were his audience. I was the teacher and they were my students. It quickly became common for the other kids to ask me to help with their projects. I taught Dennis to skin a rabbit so that he could make the hat his mom couldn’t afford to buy him for his birthday. I showed three of our gang how to hunt for worms to hide in their sister’s beds. I even helped little Tony get his father a job, by telling him what my mother would want to hear during the interview. She often recommended people for work in the town shops and businesses that owed her money.

  In the evenings, I labored on the hand code, ignoring the taunts of the older boys as they left to peep at the widow and her sisters. I created another life on the farm, one that was the opposite of what my mother had planned for me.

  And I dreamed of Angie every nearly night.

  Chapter Three

  December

  Angie

  I sat in silence in the cold backseat as my mom fussed over her coat and Georgie muttered about having to go out so soon after the storm. Mother Brady had insisted we come. She didn’t care that it was still windy or below freezing.

  The icy snow was hard to crunch through and the winds blew harder as Georgie tried to get to his door. Frona snickered as we heard him slip and fall. My mom was odd like that sometimes. Georgie called it human nature.

  Hoping to stop the coming fight, I hurriedly climbed over the front seat and pulled on the driver’s side handle. It clicked right as he snatched the door open and I tumbled into his seat, dress flying up.

  I tried to peddle backwards, but his big hands went to my butt and jerked me out of the car. I landed against his hard body and cringed at his thoughts. I hoped it was too cold for a moment like this and was relieved when he shoved me toward the rear door.