Poisoned

by JJ Liniger

  How was that possible?

  As I progressed up the corporate ladder, my dad encouraged me to focus on my work. Even Mother supported me not returning home. Now, I wasn’t so sure I had made the right decision.

  Coins and lint from my father’s pockets littered the corner of the hutch. His habitual mess drove my mother crazy, but for some reason the man couldn’t stop doing it. A thick layer of dust sat along the dresser which matched the end tables on either side of the bed. Mom often complained about the Texas dirt storms aggravating her allergies and made sure her bedroom didn’t contribute to the problem by dusting daily.

  Something was wrong. Unless, for some reason they no longer lived here.

  I opened the closet door, looking for evidence and flipped the light switch, nothing happened. The sun pouring through the windows illuminated clothes on the racks and shoes in their holders. I inspected the overhead fixture and found a black bulb inside. That explained why the light didn’t come on, but the rest didn’t make sense. Maybe they stayed in one of the other bedrooms.

  I walked down the hall, past my room, opening the doors of the other two bedrooms, discovering a few pieces of furniture I didn’t recognize and the closets full of junk.

  Shaking my head, I hurried back to the kitchen and opened the cabinets, finding them filled. Everything said they still lived here, except for the dust everywhere. There had to be something else to check that would give me clues. My fingers drummed against the counter as I thought. Furniture and clothes could be left behind and not used often, but the refrigerator had to be changed out regularly.

  I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and slowly opened the cooler’s door. It smelled musty but looked crystal clean except for a puddle in the right corner. The longer I looked at it, I realized it wasn’t cold inside. I sniffed and grimaced. A brown drip found its way from the freezer to the bottom.

  It hadn’t been used in a long time. Wherever Matthew and Carole Porter called home, this wasn’t it. My heart raced and my breathing sounded loud in the silence of the room. What should I do?

  I still needed answers. Unfortunately, the only two people I’d seen were Pimple Face and Jerkette.

  Given those options, I ran to the car and drove back to Clayton’s Corner. Grabbing the empty fuel can from the floorboards, I marched inside the convenience store. I slammed the can on the counter, grime smearing on the glass.

  “Here’s your bucket!” I said to what appeared to be an empty room.

  “Heath told ya not to bring it back!” a thick Texan-drawl bellowed from the back.

  “I’ve got questions!”

  Heavy-soled boots echoed against the hardwood floor, carrying an irritated-looking older version of Heath to the front of the shop. Time hadn’t served him well. Deep creases like weathered leather lined his forehead and around his eyes and lips. Faded jeans suited his worn Becton Bears t-shirt. At least he still had home pride.

  “Whaddya want?” Clayton asked.

  “I drove home and didn’t find anyone. Where are they?”

  “It’s Friday night in October. Where do ya think they are?” A stream of brown tobacco left his mouth, landing in a pork'n beans can at the end of the counter.

  At least he had answered. Where was any respectable Texan on Friday night? The high school football field. I should've known, and the deadpan look on Clayton’s face told me he thought so, too.

  “Thanks.” I turned to the door and noticed another stream a brown spit land near my feet. I knew where Heath received his bad manners. He learned from one of the best.

  I climbed back in my SUV, and it roared to life. Driving down Cotton Ave., I turned right onto Blue Star Road. The horizon offered shades of orange and pink as the sun gave its final salute for the day. Like so many other things, I’d forgotten the beauty of a Texas sunset. The clustered buildings of New York City blotted out the skyline, making the wide expanse appear grander. I took a deep breath, relishing a moment of peace.

  Maybe the excitement of small town football was exactly what I needed. Nothing made the adrenaline pump more than competitive sports. The crunch of helmets slamming into pads and the roar of the crowd after the game-winning touchdown.

  A smile spread across my face as I remembered being Drum Major alongside the Majorette. Together, we directed the band on the field. Each individual shifted to their specific formation to create a unified presentation that coordinated with the latest movie or gave tribute to a previous generation. At pep rallies, the cheerleaders flipped, danced, and bounced their way across the gym.

  My smile twisted into a scowl as I thought of Tiffany King. There was something wrong with her. She craved attention like a stoner needing her next hit. The addiction made it not take long to need something bigger and more spectacular to capture the same awe.

  As I approached the school complex—Becton Elementary, Middle, and High School all clustered together—I saw the field which served for baseball and soccer. The school had to have variety and for some reason basketball and football weren’t diversified enough.

  A picture of the elementary playground would’ve matched every other 80’s school complete with metal slides and fast-spinning merry-go-rounds. Of course, every other school district had the good sense to upgrade their equipment years ago.

  I slowed my car’s pace to inch around the middle grade building to the high school, an old habit which made it less likely to run over an overzealous kid. Blinding stadium lights and a gathering of pickup trucks met me. Hopefully, I could acquire the information I needed to find my family and know what the heck is going on.

  CHAPTER 3

  FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS

  Despite the setting sun, warmth hung in the air. In another hour, it would be cold. I tossed my ball cap inside the SUV and grabbed my jacket, throwing it over my arm. As I approached the stadium, my khaki pants screamed, “Foreigner!” in the sea of jeans and cowboy boots. Similar to my arrival in New York City, but in reverse.

  All 195 pounds of me rattled the rickety bleachers with each step, making the metal sway. For a second, I thought it would crumble. I estimated less than 100 people had come to take part in the evening festivities.

  Pathetic crowd.

  I hadn’t realized how immersed I had become in my new city until I felt the stares and glares of my former community. They gave a wide berth for me to walk through, making sure I didn’t touch them. It seemed I had paraded myself on stage like a contestant for the Westminster Dog Show.

  Whichever category I was in, it certainly wasn’t Best-in-Show.

  And I thought New Yorkers were rude. Jeez.

  Whatever they assembled for, it wasn’t football. No coaches gathered equipment, no tables boasted Gatorade bottles, no cheerleaders stretching or doing flips along the sideline. The field appeared more dirt than grass. Not a single person stood in uniform. The stadium lacked the magic I remembered from my childhood, now as neglected as the rest of the town. Compared to luster of New York, everything paled.

  Why were these people here?

  I searched the nearby faces, looking for someone familiar. Thirteen years was a long time away, but not enough for a town’s former population to completely disappear.

  In the middle of the bleachers stood a man I recognized. Alex Black’s carrot top and 6’5” height made him easy to spot. He had once been the most popular guy in school.

  How a band geek and Mr. American-Jock became best friends had to do with us living three doors down from each other. An echo of words bounced off the surrounding metal. Those who weren’t staring at me leaned toward Alex, soaking in his speech.

  Based on the lack of response, I assumed he had just started speaking.

  “... ya’ll know last year we had to end fundin’ to all extracurricular activities at the elementary and middle school levels,” Alex said. “We didn’t have the finances and made the unanimous decision to focus on the high school. The bake sales and concession stands may have been successful if people had come
to the games. But, as ya’ll know, no one ever comes to Becton anymore. Today, I regretfully announce that sports will no longer continue at the high school.”

  A grumble spread through the crowd, but I appeared to be the only one shocked by the declaration. Thirteen years ago, this flimsy stadium was the lifeblood of the city. They would’ve saved it, no matter what! Now, I looked at the faces of people who had survived some type of disaster, mystified by their lack of zeal to save their beloved football program.

  Alex continued, “As superintendent of Becton Public Schools, it saddens me to make this decision. My heart grieves for the students and our community. I know ya’ll don’t like the choice made today but, let’s be honest. Ya’ll must’ve seen it comin’.”

  The people in the stands nodded in agreement with frowns on their faces.

  “I also must inform ya’ll that I’ll be leavin’ Becton next month,” Alex added.

  The audience gasped, finally giving a response that made sense.

  What took them so long to be shocked by this?

  “I’ll do everything I can to find my replacement, but ya’ll know somebody new might be difficult to find. Thanks for your understandin’.”

  “Where will you go?” a woman asked.

  I didn’t look to see if I recognized the speaker, nor did I hear Alex’s reply. My heart felt like it was being abused by a hurricane, tossed back and forth without care to the damage caused.

  “Please! Please stay.”

  The words echoed in my mind. The same voice that sang on Sunday mornings. It read me stories. It helped me study and memorize spelling words. It said the same rhyming prayer before tucking me into bed at night. My mother.

  I found her!

  She rose to her feet, but the way her back and shoulders arched she might as well have remained seated. Her hair had once been as black as my own, but now appeared more salt and pepper, heavy on the salt.

  What happened to her?

  I lurched closer, looking for my father. I didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there in the sea of cowboy hats.

  “Mrs. Porter,” Alex said, stepping to her and took her elbow to support her curved body, “no one has taught me more about integrity and endurance than you. I consider it a privilege to serve next to you and the other teachers and staff. If something could be done to save us, I’d do it.”

  My mother’s hand shook as she placed it on Alex’s shoulder, and with great effort she turned to face the audience. Her black broom skirt swished with each movement. Her hazel eyes saw into the heart of a person and her rosy cheeks used to dance from laughter. Now wrinkled skin sagged against her bones.

  She licked her chapped lips and cleared her throat to speak. “Bless you, dear—”

  “What do you need?” I shouted.

  Those who weren’t aware of my presence now gave me their full attention. Their eyes widened in shock, and bodies leaned away. Others stood to obtain farther distance. They seemed fearful to be in the same space as me.

  My mother’s mouth remained open, frozen in place.

  “Trevor?” Alex asked. His face matched the surprise of those around him and he brought my mother protectively close. “What are you doin’ here?”

  “Helping.”

  My lucrative salary and accumulated vacation time gave me the ability to do something. But what?

  My mother’s lips trembled and tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks, settling in the corner of her mouth as it curved into a smile. It was the first happy face I’d seen since returning home. Maybe it wasn’t every child’s dream to make their parents proud, but it certainly was mine.

  “I used to sit in these bleachers, bang my drum, and cheer for that man.” I pointed at Alex. “Even as a kid, his leadership was admirable. He volunteered at the elementary school and wore his football uniform with pride, chanting ‘say no to drugs.’”

  As I spoke, I walked closer to Mom and Alex. My mother continued to grin, followed by my former buddy. Chuckles came from those close by, most likely thinking of the crazy antics of the one and only Alex Black. It felt nice to not be the focus of stares and critical examination typically reserved for a criminal. Maybe whatever upset them had come and gone.

  With renewed enthusiasm, I continued. “Football has long been the backbone of this community, and I fully believe that it can still be today. It’s not about wearing a fancy uniform and running from one end of the field to another. Playing sports teaches kids about teamwork, leadership, the success of winning and perseverance after losing.”

  “That’s right!” a woman shouted.

  Heads nodded, and the audience leaned my direction. Years of marketing allowed me to understand the way people think and the best way to capture their attention.

  I continued. “Students learn how to balance their academics with daily practices and games. Kids who might never get to know each other are brought together through extra-curricular activities. Friendships are formed that last a lifetime and go on to solidify a community. It’s hard work that pays off!”

  “You can’t let this happen to my kids,” a dad added.

  Murmurs of agreement bubbled through the crowed.

  “I will help in any way, just tell me what you need,” I told the cheerful crowd.

  “Becton Bears! Becton Bears!” Walter Buck chanted.

  Mother must’ve been right all along. He was a pleasant person.

  Alex released Mother as she scooted within arm’s reach of me. People tipped their cowboy hats to us in respect. It felt great being part of the community again.

  My mother’s frail hand cupped my cheek, and I leaned down to hug her. Years of separation dissolved. There wasn’t a fight or anything to cause it; life simply got in the way. Seeing pride in her eyes would keep me going through the toughest of challenges.

  “Bless you, my sweet boy.” Her voice had the same calming effect as the first time I heard it.

  “No problem, Mom.” I hugged her tightly. Her body felt weak and frail, reminding me of questions I had yet to ask. I came here searching for my family and to find out what happened to our community. With my arm around her, I was one step closer to answers.

  Her nose scrunched as she sniffed.

  “It’s gasoline. I ran out of gas and borrowed a gas tank from CC’s.”

  “Smooth move.” Alex chuckled.

  I would have flipped him off had my mother not be standing between us.

  The shuffling of feet nearby prompted me to lean back and look around. Blonde hair roamed through the gathering and whispered to them. Something happened. Smiling faces had shifted into anger once again. I had come so far. It felt like the crowds on Palm Sunday singing praises, and a week later sentencing the same man to death. What caused emotions to shift so suddenly?

  I shielded my mother behind me. I didn’t understand the reasons, but knew the meaning behind clenched jaws and balled fists. Even the women surrounding me looked like they wanted to send me to the gallows.

  Alex appeared uncertain. He blinked wide eyes with indecision and his mouth gaped. His green eyes connected with mine and, like best friends could, I knew he felt trapped.

  What had happened?

  On the bleacher above me, a particular alligator boot captured my attention. I had seen that pair already today. My eyes traveled up denim jeans to arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face.

  “Y’all are forgetting something,” Tiffany said. “We don’t have enough kids to play. All this excitement and cheering is for nothing! Everyone’s gone.” She glared at me. “And it’s all HIS fault!”

  CHAPTER 4

  TOWN HALL

  The chill of a west Texas nightfall arrived. Goosebumps prickled my flesh. The old bleachers groaned and swayed as those who had gathered at the stadium charged to the parking lot. Pleased with her handiwork, Tiffany left without saying a word. How did she have so much power and influence?

  With a sigh, I punched my arms through the sleeves of my jacket. On
ly Mother and Alex remained. He draped a shawl across her shoulders as she rested a trembling hand in the crook of his arm.

  “Sorry, Trev. I shoulda known better.” Alex shook his head. I couldn’t decide if he felt more frustrated with himself or with me.

  “What did I do?” I asked for the third time, but neither answered. “I don’t know what happened, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll help.”

  “Everything matters, son,” Mom countered. With careful steps, she inched to the handrail, leaning into Alex’s arm.

  It was wonderful to see my mother well-cared for and respected. The connection between her and Alex that appeared familial, like he had taken my place. Part of me felt grateful, the other part felt envious. I’m right here! Yet, they continued to act as if I didn’t exist.

  “Allow me,” I said, taking my mother’s hand and walking with them to the parking lot. Neither acknowledged my overture.

  The only vehicles remaining were my Xterra and a wide black truck that looked like it ate lesser cars for dinner. How was Mom able to climb into such a beast?

  “If you don’t mind,” I said, assertive this time, “I’d like to take it from here.”

  My mother’s face wrinkled into a grin and she squeezed my hand.

  “I understand. Y'all, take care.” Alex nodded to us and left Mother’s side to go to his monster truck.

  I offered my arm the same way he had, and she held my elbow until safely seated. As I started up the SUV, I remembered the neglected state of my former home. As I’d drove away from the house, I knew my parents didn’t reside there anymore. So, where did they live? They. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Dad or heard him mentioned at all.

  “Mom?” A nervous gesture started with my thumbs beating against the steering wheel and spread to my toe tapping next to the pedals. Her hazel eyes settled on me as she waited for me to continue. “Where’s Dad?”

  Her salty locks swayed as she nodded. “I’ll show you.” She pointed her finger to the exit of the parking lot. “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit, or I would’ve picked up extra food.”