As
I look back at my youth, I remember the summer days seemed to hold onto the
light with clenched fists much longer that it does now. But darkness would
still eventually push daytime into night and that’s when the ‘Mother’s
Commandments’ would take over. I think its rule #3 that said, “You’d better be
in this yard when the street light comes on.” It was right behind ‘Never lie’
and ‘Never steal’ but before “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something
to cry about.”
After
the homework was finished, the chores of the day completed and moms and dads
settled in for an evening of Gun Smoke, the kids were let loose upon the town,
pretty much free to do as we wished as long as we obeyed the commandment. As
twilight began to stretch across the empty streets of Wakenda small groups of
children would gather into their respective cliques. The boys of our end of
town, which mostly was just us brothers in one yard and the girls, again mostly
sisters, would gather in another. But this hot August night had something
different going on. There were some new faces in the girl’s group, a couple of
friends from out of town visiting their grandparents.
As
you can imagine, this was a rare occurrence and word spread quickly throughout
our little village. We had to act fast to show our warrior skills. Time was of
the upmost importance. We didn’t want any rival tribes from the other side of
town invading our space. It started off simply enough. The boys raced each
other down the length of the block. The losers, usually me since I was the
youngest, followed along behind the winners as they strutted back to the
starting line to begin a new race. A few races passed and it became evident
that the same people were going to win every time. But this fact must have been
lost on the girls because they stuck their noses in the air and turned away,
uninterested in the ways of men.
It
seemed we needed a new strategy. There was an old apple tree in the yard across
the street. Its apples were never much good for eating but they made descent
projectiles. So we chose up sides for a friendly game of ‘see if you can hit
the other person with an apple and make him cry’. Kind of like dodge ball…only
with small green apples.
Ah,
we had their attention now. As the smell of sweat and testosterone hung heavy
in the evening air, they crossed the yard to join in the games. Before long,
they were throwing apples at us boys as we ran across the street and jumped
into the ditch in a true display of our physical prowess.
Suddenly,
my brother disappeared into the ditch and never returned. At first we yelled
out to him, calling him various feminine body parts and heckled him for his
lack of manly appendages. Then panic set in as he still had not climbed up from
the ditch. A frantic search, found him lying in a puddle of blood at the bottom
of the ditch, his knee cut open to the bone by a hidden brick. The blood was
still pouring between the fingers of his hand as he clenched his knee. Our
sisters all flocked to him. They ripped his shirt to make a bandage. The new
girl hugged his neck and kissed his cheek.
He
smiled at us as we carried him to the house. The emergency room gave him 27
stitches and he had to walk with a crutch for a month. But he had won this
summer’s prize. All hail Chief David.
“Let me tell you when God created boredom he was thinking about this dinky ass podunk. It’s August the 15th and it must be a 100 degrees in the shade. There’s nothing to do but sweat, cuss and spit. I guess I can hope for a car to drive by, crash into the grain elevator and explode into flames. That might liven things up a bit. Maybe someone will make a wrong turn off the highway. Who am I kidding, there’s no reason for anybody to even drive by. “
Now – Boredom means something different in this new century. If there’s not a new PlayStation game, a blockbuster movie, high speed internet, 300 channels on cable, or whatever technological shit our kids covet, then they’ll just go cry to us mommies or daddies and we’ll run right out and buy something just to shut them up.
We follow the
highway out to the Belcher creek turnoff and cross the train tracks. A full
moon hangs high in the cloudless Missouri sky as we approach the bridge and
stop right in the middle of the gravel road. The only people that use the
bridge anymore are a few farmers and there’s no way in hell they’re going to be
out at 11 O’clock at night.
A line of cars
pull in behind us and everyone cuts their engines. But the music from a dozen
radios still drifts through the air. I
step out of the car and gaze at the stars. I’m thinking that it would sure be a
great night to go hunting instead of pounding somebody’s head into the gravel.
Besides, I really don’t dislike Marvin. Hell, we had spent many summer days
fishing down at the ‘Pits’ or hunting rabbits together on old man Bailey’s
land. Besides, me and Beth were pretty much done with each other anyway. But
still, you can’t just go around asking another man’s girl out and not expect
some consequences.
Leroy and Jimmie
walk up and down the road telling everybody to shut off their radios and
headlights. Every now and again I can see them lean into a window and take a
drink of whisky or a toke from somebody’s joint. At about five till, everybody
starts making their way toward the bridge. It’s starting to look like
homecoming on a Friday night with the headlights from Jimmie’s car spotlighting
the arena. Some of the guys are cutting up, pretending to be boxing. Most of
the girls have pushed their way to the front and are leaning against the cars,
making sure they get a good look at the gladiators of the night. The crowd has
pushed in close and I’m drawing a lot of confidence from there murmurs. I peel
off my shirt and throw it on the hood. I can’t keep from smiling a little as some
of the girls start whispering about how big my shoulders are.
I can feel the
crowd starting to get a little antsy and I’m beginning to think that Marvin
isn’t going to show when a set of headlights turns the corner on the other side
of the creek and heads toward us. The red corvette stops just short of the
bridge and the door opens. The dash light reveals Marvin, with Beth practically
sitting on his lap like some bitch dog in heat. I start walking toward the
center of the bridge while Jimmie and Leroy hold back the crowd.
Beth follows
along a few steps behind Marvin. She’s wearing a tight black blouse and leather
skirt and puffing on a Virginia Slim. It gives me a little pang of longing as
she looks at me with those blue eyes.
Marvin takes off
his shirt and hands it to Beth and she goes on past us to join the crowd. I
chuckled a little at the sight of his pasty white torso. A quick thought comes
to my mind that he must have some Albino blood in him or something to be that
white. Why haven’t I ever noticed it before? Maybe it’s the way the car
headlights bounce off him. He looks a lot smaller than I remember from gym
class too and I start to feel a little sorry for him. I must admit the desire
to break his nose is beginning to fade.
But he walks
right up to me and spits into the dust at my feet and some of the anger comes
back. But I still can’t get as worked up as I was with the crowd egging me on
earlier.
“So I hear you
said city boys like to suck cow tits and have sex with sheep.” He said.
“Well, I say a
lot of things but I don’t remember saying that.” Marvin looks puzzled, like I
just took away his reason for being here in the first place.
He’s just
standing there not knowing for sure what to do next. So I point my finger at
his chest and say, “It was bull cocks and sheep dogs…City Boy.”
Marvin’s face is
getting red and I can see him double up his fist looking for the right time to
throw a punch. But he still isn’t sure if he wants to be the one to start it.
Someone yells
from the crowd, “You already took his girl Marvin…now take his teeth.” I swear
it’s Leroy’s voice.
“You know city
boy, you probably should go on back home and take your tramp with you before you
end up getting hurt.” I tell him.
Marvin replies
with another spatter of spit, only this time aimed right at my chest. I give
him a little shove, surprised at how easy it was to knock him back a step.
Marvin steps forward and takes a swing at me. I side step it fairly easily and
we walk circles around each other a few times…sizing each other up. Jimmie and
some of the other guys are yelling at me to knock his head off. So I take a
swing at him, not really wanting to hurt him but just letting him know I mean
business.
Marvin is a hell
of a lot faster than I realize and ducks it easily then pops me one in my right
eye. It hurts like hell and I know the swelling is going to come soon. I really
misread him. The next few blows don’t really make much contact but then I see
his left drop a little and I plant one on his ear. That makes him step back a
little and I can see that it’s blood red. I charge him and land a couple of
good hits. One bloodies his nose and another busts his upper lip. I start
feeling pretty proud of myself and I give him a couple more jabs thinking he’ll
back down. That’s when I see his right hand coming.
It’s headed
straight for my jaw. Everything is moving in slow motion. I watch it coming at
me, my mind is telling my body to get the hell out of the way but my body is
saying…screw you. I feel my head snap back and my legs are having trouble
keeping me upright. I can feel the blood running down my face and taste it in
my mouth. A few seconds seem eternal before my vision starts to clear. I think
he’s in shock that he hit me so hard because he’s not pressing me, so I take
advantage of it. I go after him again and I can feel a few of my jabs have some
effect. Then my right hand connects to his chin and I have him down on his
knees, staring up at me through two swelling eyes. I step back a little and
spit blood off the side of the bridge into the water below. I’m thinking how
nice it would be to jump in and let the water cover me with its coolness.
Marvin regains
his footing and we circle each other again. I throw a few more punches but they
have nothing to them. Suddenly, Marvin drops his guard and I prime my arm for
the kill shot. But I don’t want to deliver it and I think he knows it so he
drops both hands to his sides and he’s just standing there. I’m listening to
the jeers coming from the crowd. I see a little quiver run through his entire
body and he shakes his head slightly. He lifts his hand toward me. I realize
that I want nothing to do with the whole damn thing anymore either so I take it.
I stare at him, as he walks back to his car and gets in on the passenger side. Beth closes the door and runs around to get in on the driver’s side. Her ass swinging in her tight skirt and tits heaving in her blouse. I can tell, she’s about to cry and I can’ help but wonder if anybody really won. Maybe it makes no difference but I think I’m going to miss her.
His heart was formed from the black gumbo that filled the space between heaven and hell
It
was a cloudy and rain soaked day when they lowered Eddie into his 8’ x 3’ x 6’
eternal home. The entire town was in attendance. Most people were still stunned
at the news that our star athlete was dead. To listen to them talk, he was a
saint. More like a God among men, a Messiah sent to us to deliver us to the
Promised Land reserved for those who could call themselves ‘State Champions’.
Every business in town
was closed and every man in town who wasn’t at the funeral was gathered down at
Pappy’s bar. They sat around mourning in their own way, like men without pride
tend to do, over beer and whisky. While every woman in town was busy frying
chicken or making a casserole for after the funeral. All of them crying like
the very heart and soul had been ripped from the town itself.
On the pulpit, Reverend
Delkes was proclaiming that, “God has stretched out his arms and pulled young
Edward James Walters to walk eternally at his side.”
Tears streamed down Momma
Walter’s cheeks. William, Eddie’s father, stood by her side. Teeth clenched and
jaw set so as to show no emotion. Eddie’s sister Mary stood beside them both,
swaying back and forth like the Holy Spirit had entered her body and took
possession of her. The boys wept because they knew any hope of their winning
now was being covered with black gumbo. All the girls cried because they knew
he was their best shot of getting out of this town.
But you and I know the
truth Janice. You and I know what really happened so many years ago. We know
that bastard got exactly what he deserved. But your soul is still tied up in knots
from his hands and I will live with the blood on mine and gladly give more. If
only I could move the clock backwards for you. To that Friday before he ripped
away your innocence.
He
loathes the city with all its bright lights, glitzy neon signs and noise that
makes it impossible to think. It seems to demand every second of his attention,
always screaming at him, “Focus on me and don’t you dare look away.” Yet, it
has never offered him anything in exchange for his obedience, except a
headache.
He is an open field of wildflowers, a tree lined ridge, the coolness of a slow moving creek, a dog at his side and a pole in his hand. He needs the softness of grass under his feet. He is a country boy.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Jerry Brotherton 