Not So Easy

by Sherry Gammon

  He sat down in the grass next to the memorial, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love. He tipped his head back and let the sun’s rays bathe over his face. Shutting his eyes, his mind flooded with JD’s dream again. Too tired to battle him, he let JD remember the nightmare. Maybe if he stopped fighting JD about it, he’d finally get it out of his system. Besides, Tim was gone now. Max never did give him his pen back. He smiled to himself.

  This time the dream picked up with Tim shoving JD in the car.

  “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”

  JD laid the seat back in the car to help fight the nausea as Tim drove carefully down the road.

  “I can’t risk getting a ticket. My suspension is almost up and I’ll be able to drive again.”

  “Okay,” JD said as his stomach rolled.

  “I’m going to make you a deal. You tell the hospital that some kids from school jumped you and knocked you to the ground, and I promise I won’t try and teach you any more lessons. You understand?”

  “You won’t hit me anymore?”

  “Yes,” Tim growled.

  “Okay. I promise.” JD dry-heaved.

  “Sit up,” Tim demanded. “Do you need me to pull over? You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  “No, I’m okay.” His stomach rolled again as they entered the turn on the Widow Maker.

  Tim pressed the button that controlled JD’s window and lowered it. “I mean it, you f—kid. You better not throw up in this car.” Tim pushed his head out the window as vomit sprayed out of JD’s mouth.

  Busy shoving JD, Tim lost control of the car and it veered to the left. He fought to regain control and over-corrected. The car slid off the road, spooking a mother deer and her two fawns that grazed in the tall grass near a ditch. They bolted across the road, directly in front of a silver sports car. JD, who hadn’t buckled his seatbelt in his nausea, slammed through the windshield as their car came to a halt in a ditch. He looked back at his mom’s car. The air bag had deployed, saving Tim. Tim kicked the door open and ran over to JD.

  “Looks like the god’s are on my side, fat boy. This little accident will explain your injuries and save my butt.” He gingerly touched the side of his face. “I’ll have to come up with a cover story for this, but that will be simple enough.”

  “Help me,” JD begged, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

  “No way.” Tim smiled. JD shut his eyes to the pain.

  Max shot to his feet. JD wasn’t dreaming. He was trying to remember the accident. And he just did.

  **

  Max, soaked in sweat when he got back to the house, immediately took a cool shower. A long cool shower. He pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a blue t-shirt before combing his hair. Walking by the door frame, he noted the large chunk of wood that’d been glued back into place, no doubt by Tim trying to cover his butt.

  “Gabe pointed that out to me when I first got here.” Max shook his head. “You’re going to have to be a little more blunt next time, Gabe,” he said looking up.

  “Knock, knock, and who’s Gabe?” Em stood at his screen door wearing a red shirt and his favorite gray shorts. They had the word Taken in bold red letters across the butt.

  “Hi, Em. Come in. What are you up to?” he asked, hoping she didn’t press the Gabe question.

  “Just wondering if you want to go for a burger at the Burger Barn. I thought maybe you were as miserable as me after the funeral and all, so why not be miserable together?” She shrugged.

  “That sounds like a great idea. My mom works ‘till nine, so I’d love to be lonely together.” Max locked the door and followed her to the car.

  “The funeral was beautiful. It’s too bad it takes a tragedy to open people’s eyes, you know?” Em stated as they drove to the Burger Barn.

  Excluding ice cream and frozen yogurt, Max had never eaten at the restaurant. “So what do you suggest?” he asked Em as they walked into the restaurant five minutes later.

  “You’ve seriously never eaten here before?” She looked at him, stunned.

  “Just ice cream and frozen yogurt. My mom jokes that fast food is fodder of the devil,” he laughed, following the waitress to a corner booth in the back.

  “Max’s mom used to say the exact . . . Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring Max up.” Her cheeks pinked.

  Guilt bit at him. “Em, I don’t mind talking about Max, just not all the time. It doesn’t help you.”

  “I’m trying, JD. Honest, I am. It’s just so hard to let him go. You’ll see. Now that Izzy’s gone, you’ll understand,” she said, near tears. She picked up the menu, fingering it for a minute.

  “My mom and dad don’t want me going off to college in the fall. They think I should stay around here and continue with counseling.” Squirming uncomfortably, she kept her eyes on the menu.

  Max liked the idea of her sticking around. He worried about her going to school alone also. “And what do you think?” he asked, hoping she agreed.

  “I think maybe they’re right. My mom would faint if she heard me say that.” Em laughed. “I talked to Mr. Roberts. He said I could work as a teacher’s aide for his journalism classes next year, and he suggested a few online courses that are really good I could take. It would put me a little ahead of the game next year when I do go away to college.”

  “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m staying.” She turned the menu to the salads.

  Max buried his relief behind his menu, glancing up as Mindy from school approached their table. Max knew mice that made more noise than her.

  “Hi, JD. I’m really sorry to hear about Izzy. She was a really nice girl.” Her soft voice Max strained to hear her.

  “Thanks, Mindy,” he said. He looked over at Em who was all smiles.

  “I made this sketch of her for you.” She handed him a file folder.

  Max took the folder and opened it. Inside was a lovely pencil sketching of Izzy, smiling, with a paintbrush in her hand. “You’re very talented. This looks just like her. Thank you.”

  She blushed. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.” She walked away as quietly as she came.

  “She has a major crush on you, so you know,” Em pointed out. “I saw her slipping a read heart into your locker a few days ago.”

  “Really? I wondered where that came from.” Max grinned. Way to go, JD.

  He ordered the Bacon Ranch Diablo burger since it was devil fodder after all. And he enjoyed every last bite, despite the heartburn he suffered two hours later while lying in bed.

  Mel hadn’t come home. She left him a message on the answering machine that she went out after work again and would be back late.

  He grabbed one of JD’s stories to read before going to sleep. He didn’t want to think about Izzy tonight. JD hurt big time, and Max hoped to lift his spirits by reading one of his adventures.

  Chapter 28

  “Morning, sleepy head.” Mel ruffled Max’s hair as he stretched. “Time to get up. You don’t want to miss the bus.”

  “Yeah, it’s a long walk to school.” Max’s stomach plummeted at the sound of Tim’s voice. He bolted upright, finding Tim, with a cocky grin anchored to his face, standing behind Mel.

  “Why is he here?” Max demanded, making no effort to hide his anger.

  “Is that any way to talk to your new daddy?” Tim glowered at Max. “I’m offended.”

  “Tim! I told you I wanted to tell him.” Mel crossed her arms, pouting.

  “You married him?” Max shouted incredulously.

  “Not yet, fat boy, but soon.”

  “Tim, I thought we agreed, no more name calling,” Mel said.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bowed dramatically before turning and leaving the room.

  “Mom, why?” was all Max could say.

  “I love him, sweetie. We were up until five this morning working through our problems.”

  “He’s cheating on you. That’s a bit more than a p
roblem.” Max jumped out of bed and stumbled to the window.

  “He’s assured me she’s just a friend. I told you that. And he’s promise to not see her anymore since I’m a . . . what did he call me? A jealous fish wife.” She giggled as if he’d paid her a compliment. “JD, we’re getting married. He’s got an interview for a new job over at the Port Fare transit office. They pay really good. We’ll be able to buy a house. Isn’t that wonderful? No more rentals. I’ve never owned a house before, sweetie, never.” She sounded positively giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. “It won’t be right away, of course. We need to get a car first. And Tim has some credit card bills that he wants to pay off before we get married, but we’ll get there.”

  “But, mom, what about the beatings?” Max couldn’t believe this.

  “We talked at length about that, too. He’s promised he’ll not hit you ever again. All the discipline will be left up to me.” She shook her head at Max’s sour expression. “Please give him a chance. He feels badly about hitting you with the cord. He really does. We’ll be a family, JD. A real family for the first time since your dad died.”

  “Mom, we are a real family,” Max sunk back onto the bed. “We don’t need him.”

  “You’re being selfish,” she snapped. “You leave for college next year, and then I’ll be all alone. This is my chance at happiness. I’d think you would be more supportive. Maybe Timmy is right. Maybe I do coddle you too much.” She ruffled his hair again. “You’re going to have to learn to share me, sweetie. I have to get to work. We’ll talk tonight when I get home.” She started for the door. “Wait, Timmy and I are going out to celebrate, and we won’t be back until late. I guess it will have to keep until tomorrow.” She smiled. “Try and be happy for me, JD.”

  Max watched Mel leave, too sickened to say anything more. Is she really so insecure she’d settle for a loser like Tim? Max ripped his shirt off and slammed it into the hamper. “The guy beats JD, and he lied about the accident, and she wants to marry him?”

  The accident! Max ran to the dresser, searching for the pen. He’d almost tossed it out when Mel told him she and Tim were no longer together. He jerked the dresser drawer open, spilling his socks and underwear on the floor.

  He found it under a pair of jeans. Grabbing the pen, he stomped out into the living room. Mel had left already. But Tim lay across the couch watching The Three Stooges, pants unbuttoned, belt dangling halfway to the floor.

  “You’d better hurry, fat boy, or you’re going to miss the bus.” Tim didn’t bother looking away from the TV.

  “Why aren’t you going to work?”

  “Me and my boss had a little misunderstanding the other day. The jerk fired me. I’m going to talk to a lawyer. I don’t think he can do that without a good reason.” He scratched himself.

  Max rolled his eyes. “Here.” He tossed the pen. It landed with a small thump on Tim’s chest. He sat up, muting the volume on the TV.

  “Well, lookie here. You found my pen. Took you long enough.” Max noticed a small tick along Tim’s jaw.

  “I remember everything. Everything except why. Why is that pen so important to you? It’s not like it cost you anything.”

  Tim carelessly tossed the pen onto the coffee table. “It’s not the pen, boy. It’s the fact that you need to be taught responsibility. You took my pen to do your homework, promising me you’d return it, and you didn’t.” He stood up. “Remember the day before the accident? Your mom asked you to do the dishes, but you locked yourself away in that room of yours writing stupid stories instead. That night, after working a twelve hour shift, she had to clean the kitchen. When she asked you why you didn’t do it, you claimed you forgot. You didn’t forget. You’re a lazy, fat lump.”

  Max suspected he did forget, if JD were anything like him. He remembered a time last spring when his dad told him he wanted the grass mowed before it started raining. Max promised him he would after half an hour in the batting cages at the local sports park. Three hours later, the rain forced him out of the batting cages, and only then did he remember promising to mow the grass. Max got grounded for a week. He didn’t get beat to the point of needing to go the ER.

  “Now that I’m going to be your dad, things are going to be different around here. When you’re told to do something, you’ll do it.” Tim caressed his dangling belt. “Do you understand?”

  “I knew you were lying when you said you wouldn’t hit me again.” Max said defiantly. “You’re an abuser. A sick, twisted bully.”

  “And what are you going to do about it?” Tim chuckled.

  “Go to the police. I’m sure they’ll be interested to hear the truth about the accident.”

  Tim laughed. “You suffered a head injury and claimed not to remember the accident, stupid. They’ll just think you are confused. Anyway, I have friends who will swear to their graves I was with them that day.”

  “Well, we’ll let the police work that all out, I guess. And I’m sure Mel will be interested in the truth about the beating that day,” Max turned to go back to his room. He heard a swooshing sound right before a sharp pain dug across his bare back. He spun around. Tim stood with his belt in his hand, ready to swing again. To keep from being hit in the face, Max wheeled back around as the belt came at him. Again, the buckle dug into the skin on his back.

  “Don’t you ever call your mother by her first name, fat boy. That’s very disrespectful.” Tim hit him again.

  Max had enough. JD, don’t let him do this to you. Fight back. You’re bigger than this weasel. The police will listen to you. The marks on your back are all the proof you’ll need.

  Max smiled as JD took control. He’d finally reached his limit. When Tim tried hitting him a fourth time, he caught the belt mid-swing and jerked it out of Tim’s hand, tossing it to the floor. Tim stumbled forward. JD took the opportunity to punch him square on the jaw. He didn’t have a lot of skill when it came to fighting, but he did have girth on his side.

  Tim flew backwards into the wall, sliding down to the floor. Max fought the urge to jump up and shout yes! He strutted up to him and spit out, “Don’t ever touch me or my mother again. And yes, I am calling the police,” he added. Max wheeled around and stomped toward his room.

  “You go ahead and do that, fat boy, and I’ll make sure to tell them all about your mother and her nasty little side business. Cops don’t look too highly on drug dealers.” He stood, folding his arms triumphantly.

  “My mom doesn’t sell drugs,” Max said, unsure of where Tim was going with this.

  “You know that and I know that, but the police don’t, and more importantly, social services doesn’t. They’ll rip you out of here so fast you won’t know what hit you. That means you’ll be sitting in a foster home for a good long time until they work it all out. And you know the government, they don’t do anything fast.” Tim picked up the discarded belt and fed it through the loops of his pants. Max didn’t understand why Tim thought he held the trump card, until JD started shaking.

  “That’s right, fat boy. I know all about your fear of going into foster care. Your mom told me about what happened five years ago when she lost her job and couldn’t find one for months. She considered putting you in foster care if she lost her apartment. She said you threw up for two days you were so scared. Fortunately for you, she found a job the next week. Too bad. A nice, strict foster home would have made a man out of you.” Tim stood triumphant.

  Max knew it, too. JD was a mess, though he admired the fact that he didn’t let on to Tim how he felt. “I mean it. Keep your hands off me and my mom,” was all Max could muster without his voice breaking. He went in his room, putting on some clean clothes, having to pass on the shower or miss the bus.

  He ran out the door and to the bus stop, praying Greg had dropped off the face of the planet. JD was in no condition for the gauntlet today; his nerves were a frazzled mess. For the first time ever, Max battled back his own encroaching fear. JD now walked a knife’s edge. Too much had happened in a sh
ort period of time. Max panicked. He tried a pep talk, but JD didn’t hear a single word.

  Nancy sat next to him, going on and on about Izzy’s funeral, adding to JD’s internal mayhem. He gave her a quick “See ya later,” and darted off the bus as soon as they got to school.

  He went straight to PE, setting his gym clothes next to him on the bench as he put his backpack in the locker.

  “Did you hear the news?” Jeff came up to him, planting a foot on the bench.

  Now what? Max didn’t want to ask, but saw no way out of it. “Nope,” he said, pulling off his red t-shirt.

  “Nate Stackman’s dead.”

  Max’s mouth dropped. “How? When?”

  “You remember his dad refused to bail him out of jail, right?” Max nodded. “Turns out the idea didn’t sit well with his mother, so she bailed him out yesterday morning, telling him he had to stay away from his dad. But he didn’t listen.” Jeff shook his head. “Not very bright, if you ask me. Anyway. He went over to his parent’s house and got in a fight with his dad. I don’t know all the details, but somehow Nate fell and hit his head on the fireplace mantel. It killed him. And his dad’s been arrested.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Max folded his shirt and turned to slip it in his locker.

  “Who did that to you?” Jeff demanded.

  Max wheeled around. Worrying about JD’s state of mind, he’d forgotten about the marks on his back from Tim. “I fell down some steps yesterday. Looks worse than it is.” He grabbed his PE shirt and pulled it on.

  “Those are fresh marks, JD. They’re still bright red. Did someone on the bus hit you?”

  “No.” Max let out a breath. Time to reach out, JD. Despite the internal protest, Max said, “Alright, my mom is dating this loser. He went nuts on me this morning, but I got it under control. It won’t happen again.” Now we have a witness, and if Tim does hit you again, Jeff can verify your story. Relax. This is a good thing.

  “I’m calling the police,” Jeff said, visibly shaken.