Rule of the Bone (15 page)

After he'd calmed down some though I told him about most of my conversation with Froggy's mom and revealed to him Froggy's real name which he liked as much as I did.

De name irie, mon. Fe trut', mon, you never was no frog in de firs' place, he said to her. I-and-I know dat. Bone know dat too. You a rose, mon. Like de famous Rose of Rose Hall in Jamaica, de 'oman who kilt all she deadly enemies an' she lovers wi' obeah him got from Africa. Gone from bein a Froggy to bein a Rose, mon, an' dat de way fe come to know I-self more properly and move more to de true depths of I.

He smiled down into her somber face and said, Excellent! which was an expression he'd picked up from me and was using now whenever he could fit it in which was cool because I'd been picking up a lot of little phrases and words from him and needed to feel useful to him once in a while in exchange. Although I knew that his way of talking was much more interesting than mine of course and he was only being polite. Still, I always got a little hit when he said things like Ex-cellent! and
Yes-s-sss
!

I told him how I'd agreed to send Rose back to her mom in the morning and he looked a little skeptical at that with one eyebrow cocked and his lips pressed together and didn't say anything one way or the other. It's for the best, I said.

Mus' be, he said.

You think so too, don't you, Rose? I asked but it wasn't really a question and she knew it. She just nodded up and down like she was obeying me instead of saying what she really thought.

Check it out, I-Man said then using another one of my trademark expressions and meaning for us to view the fireworks. They were really filling the sky now and it looked like Star Wars or something, more like the birth of the planet than the nation with these huge blasts like supernovas going off and spreading out in circular waves of red and orange and purple and then
boom-ba-booms
in long spine-rattling chains. Great draping clouds of smoke hung down like gray rags and you could see the bright roofs of the whole town spread out below and the trees of the lakeside park all lit from above like from flares and out on the lake you could see the fireworks reflected off of the water where way beyond in the darkness was the city of Burlington, Vermont. And if you squinted you could see the Vermonters' fireworks going up into their darkness too. Further down along the shore on the far side of the lake you could see the fireworks from the smaller towns and harbors and boatyards and on the near shore to the south along the New York side of the lake there were fireworks going off at Willsboro and the people of Westport were shooting rockets into their version of the same darkness as we had over us. And even inland back up by the Adirondack Mountains we could see the pale yellow glow and the red and blue and silver pulsations of the fireworks from Lake Placid and over in Keene where I figured Russ must be watching with his Aunt Doris and Uncle George and his cousins, and back along the valley in Au Sable where they were shooting off their fireworks at the ballfield I knew my mom was in the stands with some of her friends from work maybe or my grandmother and all saying
Ah-h-h
! and
Oh-h-h
! when the rockets went up and splashed the bright beautiful colors across the darkness. And my stepfather was probably there too, although I knew he'd be hanging around with his beer buddies in their plastic and aluminum folding chairs talking about teenaged pussy and putting down kids generally while he kept an eye peeled for a cheek-shot under some girl's cutoffs or a glimpse of kiddie tit and thought his ugly thoughts without anyone but me knowing them and me far far away, and all he could hope was for me to be dead or gone forever.

Early the next morning I woke up before Rose and I-Man and took a little string bag that'd come with onions in it originally and filled it with stuff for Rose to take with her, a clean tee shirt and Mr. Ridgeway's wool sweater in case the bus was cold and some miscellaneous food, mostly fruits but a jar of Ital stew and a couple of pieces of dreadnut pudding too. I didn't know how long it was going to take to get to Milwaukee by bus, two or three days maybe, a long time anyhow and she'd be hungry so I figured she'd enjoy having the kind of food with her that she was used to and that way wouldn't have to go into any bus stop restaurants if she didn't want to because those places can be creepy for a little girl late at night.

I also put some extra cash into the bag. I wrapped in a sock the small bills I had from yesterday after buying a pack of cigarettes plus another fifty which I was thinking might possibly end up buying her a few new dresses but probably wouldn't. Still, it was worth the gamble.

Pretty soon I-Man was up and had a fire going and breakfast was ready, hard-boiled eggs and bananas and Zion juice and then Rose was up and wearing her traveling clothes which were her old red dress nice and clean and her sandals and a Montreal Expos baseball cap that I-Man'd given her a few weeks ago and I'd shown her how to curl the brim and wear it in back so it looked cool. We all ate very quickly without saying much until it looked like it was around eight and I said, Well, let's go, Rosie, and I handed her the bag.

Rose, she said. Don't call me Rosie.

No sweat, I said and explained to her about the money in the sock, how it was hers and no one else's and she should use it any way she wanted or needed to and not to give it over to anybody not even to her mom although I was thinking especially not her mom.

She said thanks and all and then I-Man came over and gave her a long hug and a kiss on each cheek like she was his daughter going off to visit relatives for the summer and in a real low voice he said to her, One love, Sister Rose. One heart. One I. Heartical, mi daughter.

She nodded like she understood and then took my hand and we walked off leaving I-Man standing behind us at the fire watching. We got about halfway across the field and I turned around and looked back and saw him still standing there with his hands down at his sides and all of a sudden a thought entered my mind that was like a radical thought and completely unexpected. At the same instant I-Man raised both his hands to the heavens as if giving praise and thanks to Jah, like he knew my thought.

Wait here, I said to Rose. I'll be right back.

I ran back to the schoolbus and rushed inside and grabbed my backpack and shoved all my loose clothes and other items inside it like the flashlight and CDs and my stuffed bird with Buster's money that had been hanging around on my mattress and came back outside with it.

I-Man had this wide smile on his face when he saw me and his hands on his hips. So, Bone, you goin to trampoose off to Milwaukee Wisconsin wid Sister Rose. Dat be real irie, little brudder.

No, I said. Not that, man. She'll be okay without me. No, I think I'm gonna go home too. Like Rose. I need to see
my
mother too, I said. You know what I'm saying?

Irie, Bone. Dat be real irie, he said but he could use that word irie a hundred different ways just like he could use the word I and this was almost sarcastic mixed with a little sadness and surprise.

I didn't know how to answer him so I just said, Thanks. Thanks for everything, I mean. You really taught me a lot, man. That's actually why I think I can like go back home now. On account of what you've taught me. I think I can face my mother and my stepfather even and figure out what they want me to do and like do it. I just
got
to go there, man, I said to him like it was an explanation and maybe it was. Me and Sister Rose are sort of alike, I told him.

Brother Bone and Sister Rose, he said.

One heart, one love, right?

Yes, mon. De trut'. One I.

You want the rest of Buster's money? I said and reached into my pack for my woodcock and the roll of bills.

No way, mon. Keep it. Dat fe you own self, mon. I-and-I can make plenty money pushing carts at de market, he said grinning and he showed me a handful of quarters which I guess was all he really needed out here, especially with me and Rose gone.

Well, thanks, I said. I reached out my hand and we shook hands in a power grip and then I was running back over the field toward Rose and this time I didn't look back because I was afraid I'd start crying if I did.

I didn't think of it until we actually got there but me and Rose must've looked a little weird that morning at the Trailways station, Rose in her Little Orphan Annie dress and Expos cap and me in one of I-Man's trademark Come Back To Jamaica tee shirts and the baggy cutoffs I'd made from old Mr. Ridgeway's lime green pants with the red anchors on them and the both of us walking on I-Man's fantastic homemade tire sandals. Plus in those days I was into wearing like a doo-rag on my head made out of one of those red farmer's handkerchiefs that I found one morning in the Sun Foods parking lot and took it home and washed it up and dried it and I-Man showed me how to tie it around my head the same as a lot of cool black dudes do for keeping their hair from burning red in the sun, he said.

No problem for me, I told him since my hair was already on the reddish side anyhow.

But I-and-I got to have a lid fe protect him brain from de sun, he said, an' to heat it up fe when de air come cold an' wet. White man or black man, de brain be de key to de whole structure of I-self, an' if it not too hot an' not too cold, it be cool an'jus' right, an' de res' of I-structure be cool an' jus' right as well, no matter how de sun him go an' him come.

At first I thought the doo-rag made me look like a cancer kid covering up his baldness on account of my head being big for my body which was kind of on the scrawny side but then I got into it like I was a Crip or a Blood from L.A. only the white kid from Plattsburgh, New York version and after that I almost never took it off day and night. Plus it went pretty good with my crossed bones tattoo I think which I liked to show off by doing many small tasks with my left hand that I used to do with my right. I-Man said using the off hand was good for me anyhow, that it'd improve my mental balance. So when I bought Rose's ticket to Milwaukee I naturally held out the money with my left hand and the ticket guy saw my tattoo and said, Nice tattoo, kid, real sarcastic, and then, Jesus, you kids today. I was gonna say something like fuck you, man, but didn't since it meant the guy didn't give us any shit after that because basically he didn't want to look at us like he would've if he'd felt sorry for us instead of pissed at my tattoo.

It was maybe an hour while I waited there beside Rose on a bench for the bus to Albany where she'd switch for the Chicago bus and after that she'd have to change again for Milwaukee. She was real quiet and nervous and I hoped she wasn't mad at me or anything but I didn't know how to ask if she was without sounding stupid or making her worry about what she was doing even more than she already was so I just sat there and didn't say anything either, until finally the bus pulled in from Montreal and a few minutes later they announced all aboard for Albany.

There were only a few other people getting on with her, a couple of air force guys and a little old lady saying goodbye to her son and daughter-in-law it looked like. The old lady was normally white for someone her age but her son who kept his arm around her to show her he still cared while he watched the clock for her to leave was the whitest guy I'd ever seen, short pure white hair and beard and eyebrows and eyelashes, pale blue eyes, pink skin, like he had a pigmentation deficiency disease or something and his tall skinny wife looked like that movie actress with the short hair, whatzername Jamie Lee Curtis but the little old lady seemed nice enough so I was hoping she was going to Chicago or maybe even all the way to Milwaukee too and could kind of help take care of Rose.

Get a seat next to Grandma, I whispered to Rose and then I walked up to Mister White and said loud so he and Jamie could hear, Be careful now, sis, and remember what Pop said about don't talk to strange men or anything.

She traveling alone? Whitey asked. He was wearing raspberry pink pants and a white polo shirt which didn't help to cut the glare. Also he had a diamond stud in one ear which was cool but definitely not normal. The wife was wearing this long jean skirt and a striped tee shirt and a duck-bill cap that said Mountaineer on it and looked fairly normal so I was more drawn to her than him but he was obviously the boss.

Yeah, she's alone, I said. Going home to Milwaukee, to be with our mom. I live with our dad.

No kidding, he said. Where's your dad?

Drives a schoolbus. Can't be here this early, so I'm seeing her off.

Too bad. Then he said to the little old lady beside him, Mother, maybe you can keep an eye on the little girl. At least as far as Albany. Be good company for you too, he said smiling down at her and it was like he'd taken her off a leash the way she went forward toward Sister Rose already talking and in deep grandma mode after weeks probably of feeling old and in the way around Mister White and the wife.

That's the moment I chose to back off and then slip away and head quickly out to the street before I started to cry or worry too much about what was going to befall Sister Rose when she got to Milwaukee and had to reunite with her mom.

Maybe ten minutes later I'm standing out there on Bridge Street with my thumb in the air and this flashy new silver-colored Saab Turbo 9000 stops and it's Whitey and Jamie Lee Curtis. Jamie's driving and Whitey goes, Hop in, kid, and I jump into the back seat and we're off. A minute later we're out of town headed west into the mountains aiming toward my old town of Au Sable on the way to where they lived in Keene, it turned out. We were out on 9N yakking about this and that, me and Whitey mostly because his wife was really into the driving. I think the Saab was hers and brand new or something because of how it smelled and out of the blue I asked them if they knew the Ridgeways up on East Hill Road in Keene and they both said oh yeah, sure.

Nice people, he said and she laughed like maybe they weren't.

Yeah. I used to work for them, I said but I don't know why, the words just popped out like marbles. It was like I wanted to confess or something.

You did, eh? he said. Doing what?

Oh, mostly yardwork, raking grass and cleaning out their swimming pool and so forth.

So you've been there, Whitey said sounding suspicious. I wondered did he hear about the break-in and all that.

Yeah, but mainly I was only helping out a friend of mine who worked for them regular, I said back-pedaling like mad.

Is that so? Whitey said. And who might that be?

You probably wouldn't know him. He lives in Au Sable, except for when he lives in Keene with his aunt and uncle. Russ Rodgers is his name. Friend of mine.

Oh, we know Russ! the wife chirped and Whitey shot her a look like keep out of this and I'm thinking oh shit I've blown it, the guy is on to me somehow and he knows more than I thought or else he knows stuff I don't. Russ's probably been busted and confessed all and told everyone about me to keep from going to jail himself. He probably even said I was involved in stealing all the electronics and the fire. Suddenly I was incredibly pissed at Russ not for confessing but for copping a plea like that and at my expense too. He should've taken his punishment like a man and not ratted on a friend.

You know Russ? I said. No kidding. How is ol' Russ? We kinda had a falling out actually. I haven't seen him in over a year and in reality to tell the truth I only helped him out there at the Ridgeways' one or two days. Way back last summer, I think. In the spring maybe, before the Ridgeways came up from wherever they live.

Connecticut, Whitey says.

Yeah, Connecticut. How're they doing, the Ridgeways? Nice people, I understand.

Oh, fine, fine, he says.

We were coming into Au Sable then and I said to drop me off wherever, right there by the Grand Union'd be fine, so the wife pulled
the
Saab over and I got out and pulled my backpack out and shut the door when the guy, Whitey, he leans out the window and says, What's your name, son?

Bone, I said.

Bone, eh? What's your last name? Who's your dad?

My last name's different from my dad's. On account of being adopted, I said and I gave him a wave and said see you around and started walking off in the opposite direction real fast. No more questions, man. I heard the Saab start up and after a few seconds I turned back to make sure they were definitely on their way and the car was maybe a hundred feet down the road. I saw then that it had Connecticut plates. It was them, the Ridgeways, I suddenly realized and then in a flash I remembered seeing pictures of them in the house with tennis rackets and horses and with their kids and even with the little old lady they'd just been putting on the bus.

And then it came over me like a huge wave of cold water from the Arctic Sea and I felt really sorry for the first time that I had done so much damage to their house and burned all their antique furniture and shot up the picture window and used all their food and stuff and left it a mess. I wondered if they had a clue who they had given a ride to and I decided they did. They weren't stupid. I wondered if Mr. Ridgeway'd noticed that my cutoffs were originally his green pants with the red anchors or if he'd recognized the backpack I'd stolen from them and knew that practically everything inside it was his, the woodcock and the gun and the clothes and the sleeping bag and the cook kit and the flashlight and the classical music CDs. The only thing I owned that I hadn't stolen off of them was the roll of money, and that I'd stolen off of Buster. What a stupid wasteful thieving little bastard I've turned out to be, I thought as I walked out to the edge of town and crossed the bridge and came up to the light blue mobile home where my mom and stepfather lived and I used to live with them.

My old dirt bike was out back by the deck getting all rusty and it looked almost like I still lived there. Nothing was changed really, at least on the outside so I just walked up onto the deck to the back door like I'd been sent home early for screwing up at school again and tried the door as if expecting it to be unlocked and it was which surprised me some since usually when my mom and Ken were at work they locked the doors and left the key under the mat.

Inside the place was really all messed up with beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays and furniture out of place and the TV busted and on its side and dirty dishes and glasses everywhere like the bikers had been living here not my mom and her husband Ken. The place smelled of wicked ripe BO and stale beer and old food and cigarettes like they'd been partying for a week. It was weird. In the past they were capable of really getting lifted at times and staying there for whole weekends and longer and forgetting all about me but usually they sobered up by Monday and cleaned up the place and went to work and so on like regular citizens. This was so unusual that I stood at the door and for a few seconds wondered if maybe they'd moved out but everything was theirs, the furniture and kitchen stuff and even Ken's beer can and mug collections although they were spread around and not lined up like little soldiers the way he always told Mom to keep them when she dusted and cleaned the shelves and me if I even touched one.

I put my backpack down by the door and then I thought of ol' Willie and started looking around calling, Here, Willie, here, Willie, c'mon out, Willie, and when I walked through the breakfast nook into the livingroom there's my stepfather Ken standing at the hallway that leads from the two bedrooms in back. He was in his bright blue bikini underpants and a tee shirt and looked pretty fucked-up like he hadn't shaved or showered in a week and he even had a boner.

I was just looking for Willie, I said.

No shit. Willie's dead. What the fuck are
you
doing here? What the fuck are you doing
alive,
for chrissake?

Willie's dead? How?

Killed by a car. Right out front. Who knows? Who the fuck cares.

I
care! Who hit him? You?

Yeah, sure,
you
care, he said coming into the room and standing there in the middle of the mess while he scratched his stomach and looked all over and finally found a crumpled pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. Maybe I hit him, maybe I didn't, he said. Point is, he was standing still when he should've been running. He rummaged through the cigarette pack and pulled one out and lit it and inhaled slowly and for a few seconds just looked at me like he didn't quite recognize me and then he said, So what's the story, morning glory?

Whaddaya mean?

You been having plenty of fun? That's some outfit you got on.

You ain't exactly Ralph Lauren yourself, I said and he kind of laughed at that.

We never bought the story about you being dead in the Video Den fire, y'know. Especially after they only found the one body and a few weeks later your little buddy turned up at his auntie's in Keene. So where've you been all this while? Peddling your ass in New York City? That's what all you little druggies do, isn't it? Head for Times Square and sell your ass to rich old cocksuckers with AIDS and then come home to Mama to die.

Sounds more like something
you'd
like to do, I said. Where's my mom?

At work. Where I oughta be, he said and he sighed and sat down on the sofa and put his bare feet up on the coffee table and I saw that he didn't have a hard-on anymore. Well, Chappie, I am glad to see you, he said. No shit, I am. I'm sorry for being such a hardass there. It's just, there's been a lot of people upset since you disappeared. Especially your mom. Your grandma too. And me too, believe it or not. Even me.

Yeah, well, I've been fine, I said. Living with friends is all. So what's happening, Ken, you guys been partying? I said and kind of waved my hand at the debris and he smiled and told me he'd been laid off at the base a few weeks ago because the Democrats were going to close it and the first ones to get let go were always the building services people but my mom was pissed at him for that and some other things beyond his control and not worth mentioning and they'd had some fights, he said, and then she'd moved in with my grandmother for a while. He guessed he wasn't much for housekeeping and I said yeah, from the look of things. He seemed like a real sad sack flopped there on the couch surrounded by his filth and even though he was still the same guy he'd been before, still in pretty good shape for his age which was around forty I think, he seemed older and softer and sadder like he'd finally received some bad news that he'd spent his whole life trying to avoid.