by Dina Rae
“Sure got cold in here. You open the window? Open the door, you little shit! Now, before I beat you to a pulp!” Pete pounded down the flimsy door with supernatural strength. Jake could already see it splintering on the inside of his room. He had both legs dangling out of the window, balancing on his torso through the opening. He looked down and realized the jump was only four feet. He let himself drop out, landing on a fresh snow bank. Rhianna cried as she looked out the window. He got up and dusted off the snow. Thud! He didn’t know what hit him. Back on the ground, he looked up and saw T.J. looming over him.
“Pete, he’s right here! Before you leave, your uncle has something to say to you,” T.J. replied. Jake was confused as to why T.J. would side with his uncle after just receiving a beating from him.
Pete thundered down the half-finished wooden deck outside of the trailer’s entrance. “Get your fucking ass back in the house now!” Jake could barely hear him due to the whistling of the wind. He doubted any of his neighbors heard him; it was so late. Forget about the cavalry being called, he thought.
His uncle and T.J. carried him back inside. T.J.’s jaw was swollen and his nose broken. He obediently closed the window while Pete ranted.
“You stupid son-of-a-bitch! Where were you going? Another shitty group home? Police? What are they going to do? You need to mind your own business!”
“Pete, found this lying on the ground,” T.J. said as he tossed Pete the can.
“What the fuck is this? Running away and planning on cleaning toilets?” Pete examined the can and began to shake it. He heard something solid and began to twist off the top. Pete found the cut opening. “What the hell, you’ve got over a thousand bucks here. Where’d you steal it from?”
“No, I earned it from helping everyone here at the park. I’ve been saving up for when I’m an adult,” Jake stuttered.
“Bullshit! You’ve been stealing from all these here old people, you thief! This here money is now mine. Gonna use it to pay for that window you broke! And I’m gonna teach you a lesson that you’ll never forget!”
Jake wondered where Leah’s unconscious body went. The living room was now free from obstructions, giving his uncle free range of motion for his third beating of the night. Jake could see blood splattering all over the carpet and walls. Uncle Pete slid his belt out of his belt loops and then swung it in circles for added momentum. There was an ornate bronze belt buckle of a cowboy at the end of the belt. The whoosh sound that it made scared the hell out of Jake.
“Turn around and take off your shirt! Now! Or it’s gonna be that much worse. This is how my daddy, your grandpa, showed me who’s boss! And stealing is a sin!”
Jake looked over to T.J. Refusing to return eye contact, T.J. made it clear that he was finished playing hero and stood blocking the front door. Better me getting the beat down than him, asshole. Rhianna stood in front of his mangled bedroom door, crying.
Down came the bronze belt buckle, again, and again, and again until Jake couldn’t feel anymore. His vision faded.
By 6 a.m. Leah woke him up in his bed with a tray of cereal and juice. Remnants of the hellish night instantly came back as the pain in his back throbbed.
“You okay? It’s all my fault. I’m what triggered everything,” Leah cried. “Take this. It’ll help out a lot with the pain.”
Jake could barely sit up. He downed the pill without even asking what it was. He looked at her once pretty face. It was purple and swollen. An upper tooth was missing.
“Your shirt is saturated with blood. Let me see your back.”
He agonized as he lifted his shirt. The pain pulsated even harder as the cool air hit all of the sores.
“Holy shit! I need to clean you up. With all of the dried blood it’s hard to see how bad this is.” She went into his bathroom and came back with a damp towel. Once she was finished wiping off his back, the white towel was a filthy reddish-brown color. “This isn’t so bad. You need to take a bath. Nothing some Bactine won’t heal up. And you’re still stuck in the Zoo, right?”
“Yeah. So don’t worry. No gym class. No one will see my back if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jake said with indignation.
“Shhh. He’s asleep.”
“Don’t you worry about Rhianna? Look at yourself. Look what he’s done to you. Your brother…He was going to rape you until T.J. stepped in. Wished T.J. would have stepped in for me. Pete took all of my money I worked so hard for. It was my ‘get the fuck outta here’ money. When I’m eighteen…I hate him, Leah. I really hate him.”
“He takes my money every night. I know how you feel. You just gotta hide it better. Somewhere that’s not here. Your uncle does pay the bills, and keeps things running. Please, no more fights. He’s not all bad. Just when he drinks is all.”
“I’ve gotta bus to catch, so if you don’t mind,” Jake said. He washed up, got dressed, and waited at his bus stop thirty minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive. He needed to get out of that hellhole. While waiting on the corner he cried. His cries escalated into shrieks with tears falling out of his eyes like rivers. He didn’t know what upset him the most. His mutilated back? Perhaps. It would heal, leaving him the souvenir of scars for the rest of his life. The money? It represented a piece of his freedom he had planned for after turning eighteen years old. And then there was his unadulterated grief. Cancer or not, his mom left him behind to be tortured. One way or another Pete was gonna pay dearly for what he had done.
Chapter 10
Lucien Nazaire descended from a legendary line of Caribbean bokors. His great-great-great-great grandfather, Plato the Wizard, was a runaway slave who practiced Obeah, a West Indies form of sorcery. His magic seduced loyal followers and threatened all who got in his way, drawing lots of attention to the wrong people. In 1780 he was convicted of heresy. Plato infamously promised to bring a terrible storm onto the shores of Jamaica by the end of the year right before he was executed. In October of the same year, Jamaica and other nearby islands suffered a deadly hurricane. Plato the Wizard’s secrets were passed on to relatives. Part of his family was sold off to the St. Dominigue slave owners, currently known as Haiti and Dominican Republic.
On Lucien’s twentieth birthday, he inherited Plato’s generational Obeah and Voodoo secrets. This knowledge grew exponentially over the centuries. Soon he became an important man in Haiti. A few decades later, like his great-great-great-great grandfather, Lucien was indicted for occult rituals and faced with execution. Murder was the official police charge with his motive linked to sorcery. Unlike Plato the Wizard, Lucien had figured out a way to escape. He prayed to Baron Samedi and was last seen running on the beach, and diving in the water, never coming back to shore. Most believed he died in the Caribbean Sea, but some still had doubts. Only a select few of his family members knew he made it to America.
Now, nearing a century of age, Lucien feared his craft would die with him. He loved Jake like a son and began grooming him in the dark arts. First, he taught Jake common symbols used within the hounfours where worship took place. Jake caught on instantly. Lucien moved onto the mystical side of the religion, showing him healings, protective powers, and hexes. He regretted never teaching his wives or children. Jake was his last hope in continuing on his family’s legacy.
Although they had grown close, both kept secrets from each other. Lucien suspected a great deal of abuse in Jake’s home. He wanted to adopt the boy, but his age and U.S. legal status would be under fire. For the time being, he enjoyed their relationship and vowed to help the boy under any circumstances.
***
By the time Jake’s school bus arrived, his eyes felt as dry as sandpaper from crying. Like magic, he no longer pitied himself, shifting to fantasies of revenge. He was grateful to his aunt for making him go to school. He certainly didn’t want to stay home. Henry lurked by his locker, excited to see him. They both walked to the Zoo together and began their day.
Like the day prior, Mrs. Powell allowed them to watch more news coverage a
bout the Haitian earthquake. The aftershocks were causing widespread alarm. The Red Cross was already delivering food, water, and medical supplies. Makeshift camps were in the process of being set-up for the thousands and thousands misplaced. Jake thought of the worry Lucien must be going through.
“Can we go to Lucien’s again?” Henry whispered. He looked like a puppy begging for a hamburger.
“Sure. As long as your mom takes us there.”
After school Henry’s mom again was gracious enough to drop them off at Lucien’s. “Same time as yesterday?” Henry nodded. She waved goodbye.
Lucien automatically made hot cocoa. Jake needed to unload, but wasn’t sure if Lucien or Henry wanted to hear his problems. After reiterating earthquake news, Jake took a chance.
“So…I’ve gotta tell you about my night. And Henry, please don’t repeat this to anyone.”
“You don’t have to worry. I’m good at keeping secrets. Sometimes I don’t even remember them,” Henry answered.
“My uncle is a real dick.” Jake retold every dirty detail he endured from his uncle’s wrath. For the grand finale of the tragic tale, Jake lifted up his shirt, displaying him numerous welts.
Lucien’s face flashed with anger, but Henry remained unaffected. “Jake, my dad always says the only way to get someone to quit picking on you is to defend yourself. That’s why I didn’t get in any trouble at home after I punched Rio. Maybe if you hit your uncle back, then he wouldn’t mess with you.”
“Ah Henry. Your dad is a very wise man when it comes to giving his big son advice, but you don’t know Jake’s uncle. He’s bigger than even you. And he’s a mean drunk who’s used to fighting,” Lucien explained.
“Jake, I consider you my friend. My best friend and my only friend. If you need me to go punch your uncle’s lights out, no problem. Where does he live? I’ll go do that now. Get it out of the way,” Henry offered.
Jake smiled. Henry’s loyalty was touching. “Henry, that’s okay. And since you’re my only friend, you’re also my best friend as well.”
“There will be no fighting from anyone. Now Jake, I love you like a son. And you’re welcome to stay here as much as you want, as long as you want…I’d adopt you myself, but no one would give someone my age custody,” Lucien added. Jake couldn’t help but feel he was holding something back. “He’s done this before, hasn’t he?”
“Yes. Lots of times. But this is the worst time,” Jake cried. Emotions suddenly overcame him.
“This is unforgiveable. The next time might be worse. He needs to be stopped. Police?” Jake shook his head. “Let me make you an ointment for your back.”
Lucien opened a drawer with endless containers of odd spices labeled in French. He began to boil water.
“Lucien, why don’t you make a Voodoo doll? Isn’t that what you do in Haiti when someone is making you mad? We can make one of Jake’s uncle,” Henry suggested.
“Can you do that, Lucien?” Jake asked.
“I haven’t done that kind of thing since, oh, since I left Haiti. And sometimes it doesn’t even work. It’s such a small part of the Voodoo religion. Some would call it Hoodoo. These things take time, but we could try. Although I’d feel more comfortable showing you how to make a healing ointment for scarred skin. Revenge is one of the trickiest of the hexes. It has a power of its own, making it easy to backfire. Any more harm than what your uncle deserves might invite evil loas into your life. And Henry, your parents might not approve of this. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”
“Like I said earlier, I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“But from your parents? I don’t know if that’s right.”
“He’s cool. And like you said, this probably won’t even work. It’s worth a try. You’re cheering me up just talking about it,” Jake said.
“Then I’ll need a few personal items from your uncle. Hair, Q-tips, trinkets, clothes, anything he personally uses,” Lucien instructed. “I also need dirt. Large Ziploc bags of dirt from the graveyard next door. I think I can provide the rest.”
Lucien dabbed his herbal healing concoction over Jake’s back. Once it absorbed into the skin, the boys bolted out of the house to gather everything on Lucien’s list. They first headed towards the adjacent cemetery.
“How are we gonna get dirt if the ground’s frozen?” Jake thought aloud. He was very familiar with the cemetery. His mother was buried there. For the time being, he kept that information to himself.
“Let’s walk around. Maybe someone just got buried and there’s fresh ground dug up.”
A half an hour later they stumbled upon a new grave. “Henry, you’re a genius, you know that? Let’s see, we are taking Mary Ann Shepard’s dirt. She lived from 1923 until last week. This must be her husband, Paul, next to her.”
“Jake, what time is it? My mom picks me up at 5:30.”
“We still got some time. Come to my house. I’ll ask if you could use the bathroom. My uncle won’t want you using mine because my room is messed up from what went down last night. Once you’re in there, grab whatever you can that’s his. The laundry basket is in there. Nothing too noticeable.”
Jake’s uncle, preoccupied with the hockey game, sat on the couch with his sleeping daughter and brother-in-law. The coffee table was covered in empty bottles of Miller Draft.
As planned, his uncle mindlessly pointed to the other bathroom, too absorbed to question who Jake’s friend was.
A few minutes later, Henry was finished. They returned to Lucien’s and emptied their collection.
“Ah…A razor…good. And a pair of dirty underwear…a pair of scissors, dark brown hair clippings, Sports Illustrated, a St. Anthony medal…”
“Henry, he might miss that!”
“Jake, it’s okay. You can return it in a day or so. He’ll just think he lost it. And here’s the dirt. Oh, and several cigarette butts,” Lucien said. “Tomorrow I will be ready. Will you boys be back?”
“I’ve got Awanas tomorrow night at 7 p.m. Will we be done by then?” Lucien nodded. “Then tomorrow. Jake, do you want to come with me? They won’t mind if I bring a friend.”
As lame as Awanas sounded, it would keep Jake away from his uncle’s house for the night. He eagerly accepted. Just then, Henry’s mother pulled up in front of Lucien’s window and Henry bolted out the door.
“Jake, you are going to help me assemble a poppet. Don’t worry. He’ll get what he deserves. It’s in the hands of the loas now.”
Jake and Lucien quietly worked together for a couple of hours sewing burlap fabric together and stuffing it with different kinds of herbs Lucien boiled and dried. Jake imagined many different ways his uncle would suffer.
Chapter 11
Plotting revenge had given Jake a new optimism. Lately, he couldn’t help but think of his mother. He recalled seeing her go from a young lively woman to a sickly, bald one in only a few months. The endless visits to the hospital, constant care she required, and desperate financial situation were more than most kids could handle. He took on the role of the parent and watched her deteriorate to infant status. She didn’t just die. He had to watch her die slowly, over two years. His uncle’s lack of support never bothered him before. Pete did manage to take time out of his busy day to attend his mother’s funeral.
As Jake grew older, seeing people’s true colors became less complicated. His uncle’s color was evil in its deepest shade. He didn’t just hate his uncle, he hated his life. Pete was every obstacle, every tragedy, every injustice Jake had ever encountered. Bondye, Papa Legba, Mami Wata, and all of the loas put together were going to give Jake the judgment he craved.
***
For the third day in a row, Henry’s mother dropped them off at Lucien’s home.
“Mrs. Novak, on Saturdays I help my neighbors with chores, handy-man type of work, errands…Some of them pay me. Some of them don’t. Would it be okay if Henry helps, too? He might earn some money.”
“That would be nice, but I don’t want Henry taking away money that y
ou earn.”
“Mom, I wouldn’t take any money. Just give me something to do,” Henry lobbied.
“Very well, then. He’ll come over tomorrow morning. Around 10-ish? And then I’ll pick him up in the afternoon. And Jake, you’re coming to Awana’s tonight, right? If you come early, they feed you. Usually pizza. It’s free.”
“Great,” Jake replied.
“Then I’ll pick you both up around 6:00 p.m. One day I’d really like to meet your friend, Lucien.”
“Yeah, soon, Mom. Gotta go,” Henry said, cutting her off. They both dodged out of the car and waved her off. “My mom hovers. My dad gets annoyed.”
“At least you have a mom. Mine died. And your mom is really nice, and pretty too.”
“She’s okay.”
Jake was half expecting the standard ‘I’m so sorry’ plea of sympathy with a side of ‘What happened?’, but Henry seemed uninterested. Jake appreciated his eccentricities. He didn’t have to explain himself around the boy.
“Both on time. Let’s continue assembling our poppet. Jake and I didn’t finish it because we wanted to show you how it’s done. When I was a bokor in my village, I used to do this kind of thing all the time. It’s been a while.”
“How long does it take to work?” Jake asked.
“Varies. You’ve got to pray to the loas and remind them of your reasons. Step one: Take burlap from a bag of potatoes and cut it out into a doll figure. You can use other kinds of fabric.”
“Like a gingerbread man,” Henry observed.
“Yes. And then we stitched around the outline of the doll, leaving part of it open. Notice the material is flimsy, so I doubled it up, but you don’t’ have to do that if the cloth is real thick. Now we are going to stuff it up with some of the things you gathered yesterday and some of my own special mixture.”
“What’s in that?” Jake asked, pointing to the dried out plant clippings and ground up spices he had mixed into a bowl.
