Life Happens on the Stairs

by Amy J. Markstahler

  Tyler smiled. “I totally understand. The first time I saw Peter Rothermel’s painting of Patrick Henry before the Virginia House of Burgesses, I had to look into the history behind it. Patrick Henry was one of the Founding Fathers. You know who he is. His most famous words were, ‘Give me liberty—’ ”

  “Or give me death,” we said in unison.

  I laughed. “I didn’t remember his name, but who can forget that quote?”

  “I know, right? In this particular painting, he was protesting the Stamp Act of 1765. All the men’s faces were angry and suspicious-looking. Patrick Henry wore a bright red cloak with his arm raised high in the air. It gave me goosebumps.” He laughed and waved his hand. “I was ten. It’s kind of funny now.”

  We talked for another hour, then he dropped me off at my car and kissed me goodbye. I drove home and went straight to the field to pick.

  At four o’clock, sweaty and tired, I plopped down in the recliner. Where was Mark? Within seconds, I saw him walking down the hall carrying a basket of towels. I snickered. Megan had him whooped already. For the next hour, she worked that boy like a tool. He washed the dishes, folded towels, took out the trash from Dad’s room. All the while, she’d smile and thank him in her sweet Southern drawl.

  When they went to the kitchen to start dinner, I headed to Dad’s room.

  “Hi, Daddy. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  He turned his head toward me. I smiled, thankful to see his beautiful blue eyes again.

  “Things are going pretty good.” I put my hand on his. He didn’t move. “We’re trying to get the crops out. Mark can take the second load tomorrow.”

  He blinked.

  “We have almost two acres covered. We’ll go back over it as the season moves on, just like you taught us.”

  He blinked again. I wanted to hear him say something. I missed his voice and his reassuring words. They’d been stolen from me, just like his strength had been stolen from him. The way the disease had destroyed him was cruel. I pushed back the pain and gave him the only thing I could.

  “Mark and I will get it done, Dad. I promise.”

  The door swung open. Megan stepped inside. She glanced up.

  “Oh, my gosh! I didn’t think anyone was in here!”

  I laughed. “It’s okay.”

  “That scared the daylights out of me.” She walked around the bed and set the towels on the nightstand. “It’s good you’re talking to him. He needs to hear your voice.”

  “He’s been in the hospital for a long time. It’s different having him home.”

  “This can be a long journey.” She leaned against the wall. “How old are you?”

  “Almost eighteen. You?”

  “Twenty-one.” Then, she whispered, “This is my first job. I just finished school.”

  “Well, you’re doing great. You handled yesterday a lot better than I did.”

  “Oh, you’re okay. I passed out in the cadaver lab the first time I saw a dead body.” She giggled, waving her hand by her nose. “The place smelled so bad.”

  We chatted for a while, then I went to my room. My phone alerted me to a text.

  Tyler: Do you have your portfolio on file somewhere?

  Me: Yep. On a flash drive.

  Tyler: Bring it.

  Me: Okay. Why?

  What was he up to? I let it go and headed to the bathroom to shower. By the time I’d finished dressing in my room, I heard Mom in the kitchen.

  I stepped out of my bedroom. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Not bad.” She grabbed a pitcher of tea out of the refrigerator. “You did a nice job.”

  “Thanks. Was the wicked witch of the South home?”

  She smiled. “No. I’m not sure where she’s at.”

  Chattanooga.

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “You care if I go to town and get some stuff for school?”

  “Go ahead.” She set down the pitcher and grabbed her purse.

  “Put that away. I have cash.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t be so late.” She gave me a hard glance. “You were out past ten, last night.”

  “Sorry.” My voice cracked. “We talked for a while.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” she asked with an edge of sarcasm.

  I twitched. “Jenna.”

  “I want to trust you, Elsie.”

  “You can.” I glanced left. “It’s all good.”

  She could see through me. Blood rushed to my cheeks. I scratched my forehead. She knew.

  She narrowed her eyes, staring me down. “Are you hiding something?”

  Focus. Don’t fidget. I looked her straight in the eyes.

  “Of course not.” I squinted. “I might stop by the Worleybird and grab a burger, too. But I won’t stay long.”

  “Okay. Where’s Mark?”

  “Outside, talking to Megan.”

  “Oh. She sure is a sweet girl.”

  “Yeah. She’s cool.” I grabbed the keys off the counter. “I’ll be back soon.”

  At six o’clock, I parked in front of the café. Tyler sat at a corner table with his PowerMac. I sat down across from him. He smiled, then typed something.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  “School of the Art Institute of Chicago’s website. Check this out.”

  He leaned across the table and gave me a quick kiss, and then he turned the computer so I could see the screen.

  “See, they’ll help pay for everything federal aid won’t with their scholarship program. You just have to apply,” he emphasized his words.

  “Chicago?” I cringed. “I’d planned on staying in Tennessee.”

  “I wouldn’t rule anything out at this point.”

  So that’s why he wanted my files, I thought, as I gave him my flash drive. He uploaded my portfolio on his hard drive. While we ate, we looked at several different schools: Memphis College of Art, University of Tennessee, School of the Art Institute of Chicago, as well as the Art Institute for Graphic Design.

  “Let’s fill out some of the applications,” I said, suddenly excited.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  After applying to four schools, he kissed me goodnight in the parking lot, then I drove to the dollar store and bought some notebooks and pens.

  When I walked in the house at nine, Mom seemed pleased to see me so early.

  Chapter 25

  Four days left.

  Tyler and I met Tuesday morning at six. As we walked toward each other in the parking lot, I could see it in his eyes. The countdown to Friday haunted him, too. He pulled me into his arms and I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent. The cool morning breeze rushed over us. He squeezed tighter. Minutes passed. We didn’t move. No kiss. No words. We just held each other.

  Several minutes later, he stepped back with a shy smile.

  “How am I ever going to leave you?”

  “Don’t,” I said. “Just stay.”

  He shook his head, then he pressed his lips to mine. I trembled under his gentle touch.

  Stay. Stay, for me.

  When we pulled away, he took my hand, and we started toward the river.

  I went home around noon still fighting my sour mood. As I headed to the refrigerator to grab a soda, Megan walked in the room.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Good.” She sat down at the counter. “I don’t mean to intrude or nothin’, but Mark left with a guy that looked higher than a kite. Thought I should tell his sister instead of his momma.”

  “Did you see what the car looked like?”

  “Yep. An old, red pickup.”

  “Bobby.”

  Great. The last thing we needed was Mark running around with Bobby.

  “Oh, girl. He’s an excuse to turn away from all men. Heavens, he made my skin crawl when I answered the door. Why does your brother hang out with him?”

  “That. I don’t know. We’ve been trying to figure
it out for years.”

  She wiped her face like she’d been crying. “Well, Mark’s got too much going for him to be around that.”

  I grinned. “What exactly does Mark have?”

  Megan blushed. “Oh, I shouldn’t say.” Then her bright eyes rose to mine. “He’s really sweet. He helps me out all the time, and he’s funny. Not to mention how cute he is.”

  “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. He feels the same.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re adorable. Who wouldn’t?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

  “I hope that Bobby guy doesn’t do something stupid. I got a bad vibe.”

  A few minutes later, I went to Dad’s room. Standing beside his bed, I rubbed his hand. He blinked and his lips moved into a faint smile.

  “I love you,” I said. “I really miss talking to you.”

  He blinked again. I kissed his forehead and sat down in the chair next to him. What could I tell him? Everything that happened last week would’ve upset him. I thought back. He’d love to hear about Tyler in the field.

  “Remember Tyler?” I said. “You won’t believe it. That city boy helped me in the field.”

  After I told him all about Tyler and me picking the first crops, I headed outside to continue where Mark and I’d left off. Around four-thirty, I went back inside to take a break.

  When I walked through the door, the phone rang. I trotted through the house and snagged it off the wall. “Hello?”

  “How y’all doing out there?” Ruby asked.

  “Not bad. You?”

  “Mighty fine. So. Roger called me. Mark’s been raisin’ hell up yonder.”

  “Where?”

  “Between Milledgeville and Saltillo. He said, him and Bobby were drinking and driving.”

  “Crap,” I huffed.

  “That’s one way to put it. When’s your momma gonna get home?”

  “Around five-thirty, six,” I said. “Ruby, you don’t have to deal with this. Let me call a friend. He’ll help me find Mark.”

  “Your secret friend?”

  “Yeah... ”

  “Well, y’all be careful. If they’ve been drinkin’ all day, who knows what they’re up to.”

  “Will do. Thanks for calling.”

  I hung up and grabbed my cell phone. Tyler answered by the second ring.

  “Hey,” he said. “I was just getting ready to call you.”

  “I’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Mark.”

  “Okay. You want me to come over?”

  “Please. I need to find him before Mom gets home. Ruby says he’s out drinking.”

  “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll head over.”

  “Thank you.”

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the driveway, and we headed north toward Milledgeville. After a quick drive through the ghost town, we cruised through Saltillo. Nothing. No Mark, no Bobby, no red truck.

  Shit. Mom didn’t need any more crap to deal with. As Tyler drove back toward the Hardin County line, I let out an irritated sigh and slumped back in the seat.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said. “Where the hell did they go?”

  “Who is this Bobby guy, anyway?”

  “Bobby Dale.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Great.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head like he didn’t want to talk about it. I wrinkled my nose. How did he know Bobby? Wrong side of the river for him to run with the likes of a Dale.

  After driving for over two hours, the sun started to set. The sky shifted from a soft indigo to an eerie red-orange. A surreal neon haze illuminated the landscape, like we’d stepped inside a Maxfield Parrish painting.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms. “It looks weird out.”

  “Yeah, it’s like the heavens are warning us of something. Where should we go next?”

  “Let’s drive by Bobby’s trailer.”

  He drove toward Morris Chapel, winding through the back hills.

  When we passed by the dilapidated trailer, Bobby’s truck wasn’t there, either. The property looked like a junkyard. A path led through the overgrown lawn to a 1960s, rectangular, metal box. Four rusty cars rotted away in the weeds, and trash bags were piled around a burn barrel. The front door had a hole in the center with yellow insulation falling out, and aluminum foil concealed the inside of every window. The place wasn’t fit for the shabby dog howling at us as we drove past.

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” I said.

  “That’s just wrong.”

  Tyler turned at the next road and headed toward Morris Chapel. As we drove over the hill in town, I spotted Bobby’s truck at the pool hall.

  “It’s about time,” I said.

  Tyler pulled in and parked under a streetlight at the furthest side of the lot. He shut off the ignition and turned to me. “I’m going in.”

  “It’s no big deal, Tyler. Once Mark sees me, he’ll know he’s busted.”

  He sighed and glanced at the bar. “You can look for him outside. I’ll go inside.”

  “Okay.”

  Sweet Home Alabama, by Lynyrd Skynyrd blared from the beer garden as we walked across the parking lot. Tyler gave me a quick kiss and headed inside. I walked through the wooden gate. Heart pounding, I knew I had no business standing in a beer garden.

  The courtyard spanned the back of the long pool hall, enclosed by an eight-foot privacy fence. Five guys at a picnic table turned and looked at me. Indifferent to my presence, they went back to what they were doing. The atmosphere was shrouded in a yellow haze from the florescent lights on power poles, and a cloud of cigarette smoke lingered in the air like smog. A few guys sat at a makeshift bar near the building. In front of it, four people were playing cards at a table.

  Bobby. He towered over the card players, holding a beer, chatting with someone I didn’t recognize. His head jutted back and forth, looking my way like he smelled fresh blood. Over six-foot-tall, he sauntered toward me, wearing grease-smeared jeans and a black AC/DC T-shirt.

  “Where’s Mark?” I shouted out over the music.

  His arm was sleeved in tattoos up to his knuckles. Cupping his ear, he leaned closer.

  “What’s that you say?” he asked in a thick twang.

  I arched away from his cigarette-laced, beer breath. “Where’s my brother?”

  “Who?”

  Insufferable, sleazy jerk.

  “Mark,” I stressed. “My brother.”

  He took a swig of beer. “Oh. Y’all mean Mark.”

  I gave him a blank look.

  “He just went inside to take a piss.” Bobby pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. “You kicked me out the other day. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “You guys trashed the place.”

  His lips curled into a slimly-toothed grin. “Reckon we did. Come on over here and wait for him. I’s got somethin’ to show you.”

  “I’m not supposed to be in here, Bobby. I’m only seventeen,” I turned. “I have to find—”

  He grabbed my shoulder and I was spun around. He stepped within inches of my face.

  “You’s gonna come ov’r here!”

  “What the hell, man?” I smacked his hand off me. “Back off.”

  He grabbed my waist, pulling me toward him. “You sure is feisty.”

  I squirmed and shoved his shoulders. He let out an ear-piercing cackle. I stepped backward, balling up my right fist. Just try it, asshole.

  Taking two long strides, he sneered, “Think you’s better than me?”

  I sucked in a breath and pulled back my fist.

  Something flashed to my right. Air moved past my cheek and Bobby’s head snapped back. Orange sparks exploded in his face as his cigarette burst in the air. I dropped my arm. He stumbled backward, slapping his hand to his jaw. Tyler stepped in front of me.

  I exhaled. Thank God.r />
  Bobby cringed as he wiped his mouth. “What the fuck, Vaughn?”

  “Keep your fucking hands off her,” Tyler shouted.

  Reaching back, Tyler touched my hip. I took his cue and moved aside.

  “Out slummin’, TJ?” Bobby said. “You ain’t got nothin’ better to do than that?”

  TJ? Why did he call him TJ?

  Tyler crossed his arms. “Fuck off, Bobby.”

  “What’cha gonna do about it?” Bobby spit on the ground and wiped a bit of blood off his mouth. “You come back for more? One ass kicking ain’t enough, huh? Pretty boy.”

  “You still kiss your sister with that mouth?” Tyler cocked his head to the side. “Hear she finally turned your nasty ass in. I figured you were somebody’s bitch by now.”

  Bobby’s face filled with rage. “You’re the little bitch.”

  Gravel crunched. Bobby lunged.

  “No!” I screamed.

  Tyler grabbed his arms to stop him. Bobby’s shoulder slipped through, ramming into Tyler’s chest. They both slammed to the ground. Bobby nailed him with a right and then his left. Tyler jabbed Bobby’s ribs. Bobby buckled, then his head snapped back.