Tender as Hellfire (16 page)

“I don’t think nothing makes any sense,” I whispered, feeling my hands shaking at my side. I turned away a little as my mother squinted and then placed the glass eye back in the box.

“I know that’s how it feels sometimes, hun. There are a lot of things I don’t think I’ll ever understand about your daddy dying. All we can do is try to remember him and accept what we don’t get.”

But I knew. I knew it was surely a sign of something.

I felt her lips kiss the side of my cheek as she turned and disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear her begin to cry all over again. The green glass eye sparkled along the bottom of the box, shining and calling and kind of speaking to me, and then, right then, right there I made a plan. I took that glass eye out of the box and made a plan to escape all the things that tied me to trouble. All my things would not end up in a cardboard box. I was not about to wind up like my old man. I ran into my room and dug under my bed for all the stolen girlie mags and cigarettes I had taken from my older brother or boosted from the gas stations and convenience stores all around town. I dumped some of them on my older brother’s bed and the rest I heaved into the trash. I snapped every cigarette at its middle, then threw them all in a black plastic bag and emptied it all in the dumpster a few lots away. I stood there outside the green metal box, eyeing all my mess, staring down at the glossy mold and all the things I’d done when people like French and my mother and Jesus and my teachers told me not to. I’m sure you might say that my old man’s green glass eye was only some sort of coincidence, and so everything I did that followed was some sort of mistake too, and I’d agree, but I guess I felt that a change in the heart doesn’t always have to rely on the truth; more than likely it’s something you just really want or need to believe. I looked down there at all the bad things I had done, smoking stolen squares and reading nudie magazines, and once again I felt like nothing had really changed at all. And so I dug down in there in the trash and saved one nudie magazine and one broken cigarette in case I had been foolish and found out all that talk about redemption and hope was just wishful thinking and I had been wrong again. I kept the magazine and the broken cigarette in my bottom drawer, with my collection of vinyl wallets from Aunt Marie and a shark’s tooth and a scapular and some shotgun shells and the green glass eye from my old man.

After dinner, I read through all my books and studied as hard as I could for my goddamn exam, but French said I shouldn’t worry about it, that it was not going to be that kind of test. Which was fine, because nothing I read over felt like it would settle in my head. Finally, my mother whispered me off to bed and gave me a kiss goodnight and turned off the light and shut the door and I thought about that green eye just sitting in the bottom of that drawer. I laid awake worried about how I would do on test and what it would mean for me if I didn’t do so well. I wondered if my dad had been around what he might have said to me. He’d probably just say do your best and don’t let anyone call you a quitter. I guess then I really began to think. I guess, lying there, I realized that all those things about my dad that I felt, all those ideas that he had been unlucky, or doomed, or worse, that my older brother and me were going to end up like him, might have been wrong. All the things that had gone bad were because of me. Me and my older brother had done what we had done and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but our own.

I listened to my brother’s breath as he fought to sleep.

His throat sounded sore and dry. His chest sounded full of weight. I climbed out of my bed and stood beside his bunk and watched him as he slept. His face looked tired and sad. His face looked just like my dad’s. In that moment, right after midnight, I was sure in my heart that both of us were going to be okay.

I could hear an animal crying somewhere in the night and I took it as some sort of sign. Right in the dark, I stood there beside his bed and folded my hands and made a prayer and mumbled it to myself until I was sure the both of us had been genuinely saved.

Tomorrow was Friday, the day of my test.

Tomorrow would come and nothing would be the same.

hell’s fire has arrived

The bed above mine burned while I was asleep. I woke up and stared at a cloud of gray smoke blossoming from the top bunk. I pulled myself out of bed and watched as my older brother lit another cigarette. He was lying on his back. He was staring at a tiny spot on the ceiling somewhere above his head. His eyes looked old and tired. His one eyebrow had begun to finally grow back; a black line of hair had sprouted through the thick scab running from the base of his hair to a point right above his nose. He took a long, meaningful drag, then blew a cloud of smoke from his nose, keeping the cigarette clenched between his gray lips. He caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye and offered a smile that was grave and full of mystery.

“Go on back to sleep,” he mumbled. “It ain’t even dawn yet.”

“I can’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Why’s that?”

“Today’s my test. I think I’m gonna fail it.”

“You ain’t gonna fail it. You’re probably the smartest kid in that goddamn class. This whole damn town is stupid as hell.”

I shook my head. “I dunno. I still think I’m gonna fail.” I looked down at my bare feet. “Maybe I can just run away. Hide out in some boxcar for a while.”

“You could, but it wouldn’t change a thing.”

“What do ya mean?”

“You can’t change the way you are. You always worry about all the stupid things.”

He let out some more smoke through his nose and turned on his side, staring right at me. The cigarette was clenched between his lips as his face became very stern and serious.

“If you still think there’s really such things as ghosts and the Devil and curses and all of that, well, you’re a goddamn fool.”

He turned away and ashed his cigarette on the blue blanket beside his head. There were still a few hours left before I had to get up so I crawled back in my bed and pulled the covers up over my head and kept my eyes shut and finally fell back asleep.

When I heard the
RRRrrrrrring
of the alarm going off, I flew out of bed and made my way into the bathroom and washed my face and got dressed, and by the time I sat down to eat some breakfast, my brother was gone already. There was no cereal bowl in his place. No crumbs or spilled milk where he always sat.

“Mom, where’s Pill?” I asked.

“He said he had to get to school early. Had to study for a test.”

I nodded to myself and finished my cereal and glass of juice and got my things ready and stepped out the door for the worst day of life. My mother stopped me and kissed me on the top of my head.

“All you can do is your best. Now go on and make us proud, Dough,” she said, and I realized this was her way of saying I was going to be all right.

I marched through the dust to school by myself, watching my lonesome shadow cross the flat gray space of the empty road. I made it to school and took my seat and just sat there dreaming of what a horror that test would be. Lottie wasn’t in school again and that worried me some too. Then, before the bell rang, I heard from Mary Beth Clishim that Lottie and her sister had gone to live with their aunt in Aubrey. I didn’t know what to think. I guess I felt good that they had gotten away and wished I had gone too.

After an hour or so, a woman with red hair named Miss Anne came and got me. I looked around the classroom, feeling embarrassed, then followed her, not even noticing all the nice freckles on the lady’s pretty face. My whole stomach was tied in knots. We went down to the learning resource room, which I had never been to before, and Miss Anne started explaining all the different kinds of tests I would have to take, but I wasn’t really listening. We got right to it then. At first, there were some puzzles and drawings, mostly shapes which I had to figure out the pattern of, those kinds of things. And then Miss Anne would say a sentence and I would have to choose a word to fill in the blank. And then she had some drawings, some of animals, even, and she would ask me to point to certain things, to see if I could follow directions, I guess. Then came the words which I did not know. I got frustrated but Miss Anne said I was doing very well, which, of course, I didn’t believe.

After lunch, which I had to eat by myself down in the learning lab, there were more tests, some with more pictures, some with words, some with math. I don’t think I did so well on the math. At the end of it, I closed my eyes and felt like lying my head down on my desk and just letting myself fall asleep. But I didn’t. I finally noticed the freckles on Miss Anne’s nose and asked her, “How did I do?”

“I think you did very well.”

“Did I pass it?”

“Well, we found out some very interesting things today. You scored very high in intelligence.”

“I did?”

“You did. But we just have to figure out why you’re having such a hard time following directions.”

“I have a hard time listening. That’s what my mom says.”

“Well,” Miss Anne said, “I want you to know that we’re going to get you some help. You’ll be just fine. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I thanked her and she walked me back down to the classroom where I sat waiting another hour for the bell to ring. When it did, I grabbed my jacket and hurried outside. For some reason, my eyes felt hot with tears. I ran off, down to the culvert, hiding behind the tall, dry weeds. I don’t know why I felt like crying, but for a little while, I kind of felt happy. Happy that the test was over and happy that the lady said I was going to be all right.

After sitting down by the irrigation pipe for a while, chasing a leopard frog, catching it, then turning it loose, I was feeling so good that I decided to walk right past my house and down the two lots to Val’s silver trailer to share the good news. I was stopped still in my tracks when I saw her screen door hanging from broken hinges. There were no records playing inside. There was just the sound of the broken door swinging in the frame. I dashed up her gray steps and pressed my face to the lopsided door and whispered her name.

“Val?”

Her long white legs did not appear. There was no cloud of cigarette smoke rising from the sofa, no familiar click of her high heels against the dirty floor. But her front door was almost wide open. I peeked my head in and didn’t see anybody moving inside. I glanced around at the red sofa, the Oriental screen. I looked down and saw her blue lamp broken on the floor. Two of her kitchen chairs were upturned on their sides.

“Val?” I called again.

But there was still no reply. I stepped on inside, trying not to breathe. My heart was pounding in my ears. I just knew that something terrible had happened. The broken vase and the chairs looked dead, lying there in their places. The door thrown off its hinges swung back and forth a little with the wind. The blue shades were drawn. I spotted one of Val’s black stockings lying alone along the middle of the floor. I spotted the other stocking a few feet away, balled up in the hallway. “Val?” I said again, but there was nothing. My whole heart felt empty. My hands were kind of shaking at my side. I listened hard and heard the sound of water dripping from her bathroom. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. And then I saw her thin shadow moving down the hall.

“Val?” I called once more.

But her lips didn’t utter a sound. I gasped as my poor Val stepped into the light.

“Oh, Dough. Don’t look at my face. Please, honey, don’t look at me right now,” she whispered.

I felt my lips turn still and dry. All the blood in my veins went cold. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

“Please don’t stare at me, baby. Don’t stare at my face.”

Beneath each of her eyes were two black lumps and her soft lips had been split. There was a shiny red mark on one of her cheeks which looked like it had been made by someone’s teeth. She was wearing a heavy black sweater and loose blue jeans. And none of her bare skin was showing. She was hiding in the dark, holding her hands over her face.

“What … what happened, Val?”

“Please, Dough.”

“But what happened?”

“It was that man,” she whispered. “That man came by again last night and did this to me.”

No. My teeth rattled in my head. No.

“The deputy?” I asked, clenching my fists at my side. I could imagine his empty gray face. I could imagine his voice and all his lies, the sight of him rearing his hand back to smack my older brother, but now it was Val he was holding.

“Who, Mort? Of course not. Mort … he’d never do that. It was that man, Henry, that cowboy with …”

The man with the sandy-colored Stetson hat. The cowboy with the bone-handled knife.

“What happened?” I asked.

“They caught him right away. They got him last night.”

“What are those?”

There by her feet were two yellow and black suitcases, old and worn. They looked packed up tight and ready to go.

“I’m going away. I’m taking a trip to visit my sister. I need to … get away for a little while.” “When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know yet. I told Mr. Letts he could rent out the trailer until I come back.”

“But what about us? What about Pill and me?”

Val came over and kissed my forehead with her bruised lips. “You’ll always be with me in my heart. You’ll always be with me.”

“But we need you, Val. We don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, I know, but I have to. I have to get away now.” Her dark eyes were twinkling with tears. She opened her mouth to mutter something else, but no words came out.

“But we love you …” I cried.

“I know. I love you too …” Val’s face crinkled up into tears. “I … I’ll miss you both.” She covered her eyes and turned, disappearing into her bathroom.

As clear as a skull wound, there it was. Val was moving. My poor, sweet Val was already gone. I glanced around at her nice red sofa and the black screen and those lacy stockings lying there by themselves, and then I felt myself getting ill, so I ran to our trailer and straight to my room and laid down in my bed, feeling the tears I had been fighting against all day burning along my face.

“How was your test, honey?” my mother called from the kitchen.

I lifted my face from the slippery pillow and let out a cry. “I find out next week …”

I could hear my mother stepping down the hall toward me and my brother’s room, then she was stopped by French’s soft voice.

“Give the man a little time alone to just sit and think,” he said. I could hear my mother place her ear against the bedroom door. I could nearly feel her lips on my cheek. I prayed to God that she wouldn’t come in. After a moment or two, she walked quietly away, though I could still hear her whispering to French out there, maybe starting to cry, but then I just buried my head under my pillow, laying there, hoping I might die so I could just end all this grief once and for all.

About an hour later, though, my mother did come in. I looked up and saw the pleasant shape of her face. In the half-light, her eyes were blue and bright. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried not to look upset.

“Dough, honey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied as best as I could.

“Val said you came by and were pretty upset.”

“I said I’m fine.”

She patted me on my head. “Do you want to talk about it at all?”

“No. I don’t wanna talk about it ever again.”

“Okay, darling. Okay. Dinner’s ready if you wanna come out. French and I aren’t going anywhere tonight. We’ll be right out there if you want to talk, okay?”

I nodded and turned back on my side. I suddenly imagined all the lousy things that had already happened in my life: My dad dying. Us leaving our home. Moving here. Getting in trouble in school for things I never did. The Chief looking right through me. El Rey’s moving away. Getting caught for starting that fire. Snitching on my brother. Lottie’s old man. Her sister’s baby dying. That glass eye. Taking that awful test. Having to see Val all like that.

I sat up and looked out my window and I realized the worst part of it all was how lonely I felt without my older brother, Pill, because he still wasn’t really talking to me and he had always been there to help me get through it all, to tell me some dirty old joke or punch me on the arm and let me know that I wasn’t alone. But now I was.

I looked out my window and stared at the night setting in. My older brother would be coming home from work soon. He’d be walking right across the road by himself, maybe whistling, smoking a cigarette, hating the way the trailer park looked, with the mobile homes stacked so tight beside one another, the exact same way I hated it seeing it every day I came home. It made me very worried suddenly, thinking about him. It made me very scared that he’d never forgive me and I’d go on being lonely forever.

I decided I had something I had to tell him. I had to tell him about Val. And how sorry I was. I wanted to say how awful I felt for ratting him out, and for some reason I just couldn’t wait any longer. I had to find a way to make him want to talk to me again.

I pulled myself out of my bed and stepped into the hall, then put on my older brother’s hooded sweatshirt and made for the front screen door. There was my mother and French curled up beside one another on the sofa.

“Whatcha doing there, pal?” French smiled, tapping the silver top of a beer can. I shrugged my shoulders and found the dog’s brown leash.

“I’m gonna go take Shilo for a walk and wait outside for my brother to come home.”

He stared at me and nodded. “That’s sounds awful nice of you.” He winked at me, then turned his head back around to watch the TV. My mother smiled, resting her cheek against his square shoulder.

I stepped outside, snapping the leash onto Shilo’s collar. The night was cool and the sky was becoming black. I looked back through the front window and saw my mother’s and French’s heads resting beside one another, then I smiled to myself. Seeing the two of them like that made it seem like everything might be okay.

I walked down past the end of the lots to the field, then laid down on my back, staring up at the dark blue sky, holding that dumb dog close, watching the gray road for my brother’s shadow. I knew that sooner or later it would come shrugging from out of the blackness and straight into the circles of light, and then I would apologize and he would say it was all right. I laid there a long time, running my fingers under Shilo’s neck, scratching its soft white fur, searching for chiggers or fleas or ticks. Its skin was smooth and soft and nearly pink. That dog just rested beside me, breathing against my face, looking at me with its one blue-black eye. We laid there together waiting for a long time.