Blood Brothers (20 page)

That was it. All he could stand.

In all their years together, he’d never
struck her. Never. But when she’d said that, he had no choice. Or
if he did, he couldn’t see it at that moment. He hit her hard. Too
hard, entirely.

The smack bounced off the walls and back to
Michael’s ear drums sounding like a firecracker on the 4th of July.
Stephanie’s head snapped to the side, like a rag doll yanked from
the hand of a child.

Silence fell like a suffocating blanket. And
remained there. Time could’ve stopped. Michael couldn’t even hear
the ticking of his watch.

Slowly, as if it caused tremendous pain,
Stephanie straightened her neck, her head, her face becoming level
again. The point of impact was evident. Like a writing storm, the
strawberry cloud of the slap spread across her tanned cheek.
Except, though, that wasn’t right. Stephanie was incredibly tanned
from using their personal bed at home, but she did not look bronze
now. She was pale, deathly so. Her skin was white, like that of a
china doll. Sweat beaded across her brow and her bottom lip
trembled.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Not by a
long shot.

Her eyes. The stern tilt of her chin.
Defiance, but that of a broken variety.

The flame did not tower, but the flame burned
still.

“You might as well say goodbye, Michael. Say
goodbye to me and Christal. To both of us. You’ll be lucky if you
get an invitation to her high school graduation. You don’t deserve
her.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” He was
calmer now, his heart beating slower and slower, returning to
normal.

“The same way I knew you’d been cheating—for
sure, without a doubt. The same way I know that you’re more evil
than I ever thought possible.”

Michael turned his palms upwards, as if
saying, “What?”

Stephanie had been frowning. Now, that was
changing, turning upside down, as it were. Slowly. When she was
smiling, beaming actually, she said, “Carrie.”

Michael thought she was speaking to him, as
if giving a name to his mistress. Then he knew better.

The door to his office slowly opened and in
strode an all too familiar figure.

Yep, things had certainly gotten worse. Much
worse.

Then

Jerry and Bobby ran away like scalded dogs.
Michael wanted to close his eyes, for this all to be a dream. But
he couldn’t. He just watched them run away, relishing the looks on
their faces, relishing their fear. He lay on the ground, the cold,
hard asphalt killing his back, until they were not only gone from
his sight, but until his ears could no longer detect the wonderful
sound of their sneakers smacking the ground—the extraordinary sound
of retreat. And this time, it wasn’t him doing the retreating.

Only then did he glance up at his savior. A
tall, skinny kid. Dark hair mussed up with bangs half-covering his
eyes. He still held the bat, but not as a weapon anymore.

“Having a bad night?” he grinned.

Michael couldn’t help himself, he giggled at
that, a definite understatement if he’d ever heard one.

The boy reached down and Michael let him give
him a hand to get his feet. Standing, the kid was almost a foot
taller, but nowhere near as wide. This didn’t mean much, since most
of his weight was muscle, not fat. He pulled Michael all the way up
without exhibiting the slightest bit of effort.

When Michael was standing, the boy didn’t let
go of his hand. Instead, he pumped it. “I’m Jerry, Jerry Garrett.
Well, really it’s Jerusalem, but,” he stammered for a moment,
“nobody calls me that.” For a second Michael couldn’t believe his
ears. This kid, Jerry, was asking him not too call him by his real
name. It was astounding. Michael wasn’t asked much of anything; he
was more accustomed to being told.

He almost forgot his manners. “Michael Cole,
glad to meet you.” Leaning to the side, searching out the alley to
make sure his enemies hadn’t skulked back, he added, “Really
glad.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jerry said. He said it so
freely, so easily, Michael couldn’t believe it. He said it as if it
was nothing. Just like he hadn’t smashed Bobby’s arm and cracked
the bat over Jerry’s head. To Michael it was something. Something
big. Something unexpected. Something…cool.

“So, you live around here?” Jerry asked.

“No,” Michael said simply. If his feelings
could be trusted, he was on the verge of making a good friend, a
very welcomed friend, and he had no intention of ruining it by
telling him he was from the trailer court. For some reason, people
from town looked down on the ‘trailees’—believe it or not that’s
what they were called. Michael didn’t completely understand why,
they just did. “I was just out for a walk.”

Jerry nodded as if he understood
completely.

“Well, you got anything planned?”

“
Planned? When?”

“For right now, fella. Got anything going
on?”

Michael almost blurted that yeah, he had
something going on. Heading back home and taking his medicine from
his old man for sneaking out. Thankfully, he was able to control
his mouth this time.

“No. Not really, why?” he asked
cautiously.

“Well, I just moved here. Me and my dad. I
thought maybe you could show me around the town.”

Shock is a powerfully disabling emotion. It
clamps down on you like the jaws of a great white shark and refuses
to let go. Never having been much of a stutterer, Michael now found
himself getting hung up on a word as soon as he started to speak.
“A-A-Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Jerry laughed. It wasn’t one of
the ‘making fun of you’ ones, no, it was more like the ‘You’re
crazy, kid, you’re really crazy’ kind. And Michael liked that, he
liked that a lot. “Of course I’m sure, Mike. Heck, it’s not even
ten, yet. No school for another two weeks. I need to take a look
around, see the sights. You know what I mean?”

“Yes.” Michael had never moved anywhere. His
earliest memories were right here in this small, god-awful town. A
town that laughed so hard it would probably spilt its side—if it
had one—when you were down and if no one were looking, it would
probably give you a good kick, to boot. But, the prospect of
showing Benedict to this kid, to Jerry, the boy who, while he
probably hadn’t exactly saved his life, did in fact, save him from
a very bad experience, it thrilled him for some unknown reason.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to. Just thought
it’d be kind of neat to check it out at night. Creepy, you
dig?”

Michael had to think fast. Here was the
opportunity he’d been waiting for, for so very long. Someone
offering him the hand of friendship. Was he really going to let
this pass? Sure, he made it fine on his own, was quite used to it
really. But everyone gets lonely from time to time, some more than
others. And the way he handled Jerry and Bobby, man that was
great!

“No, that’s all right. I know my way around
pretty good.” This seemed to make Jerry very happy. “There’s a lot
to see, really, especially at night.” He didn’t feel like sharing
the fact that nighttime was when he felt the safest walking the
streets.

“All right, Mike. Let’s get moving.” And he
did. Long, powerful strides. Michael hurried to catch up.

“By the way,” Michael said, “you got any gum?
My mouth tastes like shit.”

They both roared at that one. It was the
beginning of more than a beautiful friendship. It was the beginning
of a monumental one.

And that first night was an indication of
things to come. Michael couldn’t ever remember having so much fun,
especially in the company of another person. When it was all said
and done, it was easily worth the beating he got when he finally
made it back home the next morning, well after the sun came up.

From the alley, they went deeper into the
heart of town. Jerry had already seen the courthouse, and he had
good reason. His father, Gerald Garrett, was filling in for the
mayor—interim, Jerry called it—since Mayor Hinkle’s heart attack
last month. As a former state attorney general, if locals had a
problem with it, they didn’t say anything about it—or so Jerry
said. He learned a lot about Jerry that night. A whole lot.

Gerald had been a single parent, and Jerry an
only child. His mother, Lisa, had died during childbirth—not
Jerry’s but a second child. Sadly, the baby hadn’t made it either.
It was sad stuff, but Jerry, while speaking solemnly enough as they
traveled the dark landscape, kept it as matter-of-fact as possible.
All that just made Michael like him even more. It was something to
be a good person after having a good life, but it was something
else entirely when your life was shit, but you still came out
smiling.

Gerald had already told his son that he hoped
to run for the mayor’s seat in a permanent position. Michael wished
him the best. But when talk turned to his own family, Michael piped
down. Jerry, taking that as a sign, changed the subject. Although
Michael didn’t say anything about it, he noticed that Jerry had
picked up his vibe and relieved not to have to dream up some Ozzie
and Harriett lie, he mentally presented Jerry with another gold
star.

“So what do guys do a round here for
fun?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Mike, where do you take girls, where
do you sneak beers and smokes?”

“Oh,” Michael began. He didn’t know where to
go with that. He’d never taken a girl anywhere. As for smoking and
drinking, he’d gotten his fill of that, in a voyeuristic way, from
being around his folks. “I’m not sure.”

Jerry looked at him, puzzled. They were past
Main Street now, over on Dukakis in front of the Five and Dime. Two
benches sat sentinel in front of the old landmark store. Jerry made
use of the time spent sitting to tie the laces of his shoes. “You
mean you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Michael was sure that Jerry meant no harm.
Didn’t mean a thing by it, actually. But that didn’t keep the shame
from brightening his cheeks.

“Wow, Mike. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I
just figured y’know…”

“It’s all right. Truth is I don’t have a
girlfriend and I don’t have any friends. It’s not a secret. Truth
is, you’ll probably find out all about it on the first day of
school. You’ll hear all kinds of jokes about me. ‘Mikey, Mikey,
he’s so dykey’, ‘Tubby, the Incredible Walking Turd.’ I know, not
very funny, but it doesn’t stop them from saying it,
regardless.”

Jerry said nothing. Looking up, he regarded
Michael for a few moments. To Mike, it seemed a lifetime.

“That’s not very nice,” he finally said.

“No. It’s not.” Michael walked to the rear of
the bench. “If you don’t want to be friends I understand.”

“Don’t want to be friends? What are you
talking about?”

“I mean you’re starting a new school. Being
buds with someone like me won’t make it very easy. I mean no one
likes me, not even the teachers.”

“Oh, come on. Teachers like everybody. Even
if you don’t like them back. It’s like their job.”

“You don’t know the ones at Benedict.”

“Anyway, that shit doesn’t matter. It really
doesn’t. So you just going to stand around talking shit, or are we
going to go have some fun?”

That was a very easy question to answer.
Whether or not Jerry ditched him like the plague on the first day
of seventh grade, they were together tonight. And Michael planned
to live it up. And that they did.

From the Five and Dime, they moved westward.
A few shops and stores were still open, they skirted around those.
Even though it was still summer break, kids shouldn’t be out
roaming the streets that late at night unattended, or at least
that’s what the grown-ups thought.

A few blocks over was the Longhorn bar. The
only such place in town, it was a popular stopping point through
the week and mandatory for most folks on Friday and Saturday
nights. Michael and Jerry didn’t dare try to sneak in. The penalty
for that would be too severe too stomach. Instead they crept around
the back and hid between dumpsters listening to the music. Jerry
pulled a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket and offered one to
Mike.

“No, thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t smoke.”

“Ever tried?”

“Yeah. Who hasn’t?” That wasn’t entirely a
lie. Several years ago, before he knew better, he’d filched one of
his mom’s Marlboros and a lighter. Out behind the trailer, while no
one was home, he lit up. It was awful. Terrible. Nauseating. His
eyes watered and his stomach roiled. But that wasn’t the worst. He
coughed so hard he was scared he would rupture something—either in
his lungs or his throat. And it only took him two drags to reach
that point. Michael couldn’t imagine smoking more. Yet, he was
hesitant about turning Jerry down flat. It wouldn’t take much
prodding for him to change his mind.

“Come on. Just try it. If you don’t like it,
I’ll never ask you to do it again.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it, Mike. I swear it.”

Turned out, it wasn’t as bad as he
remembered. It was worse. Michael didn’t only turn green; he turned
asparagus, jade, and chartreuse.

“Oh man, you look like a Martian.” Both boys
cracked up at that, Michael almost choking for his part. “I guess
you don’t smoke.”

Michael snubbed his cigarette out on the
asphalt underfoot. They continued sitting for a while, Jerry
smoking, Michael not. They listened to four or five songs like
that. For the sound to be coming so clearly through solid
cinderblock walls, the sound system had to be one mean mother.

After smoking two Camels, Jerry was ready to
go.

“Where to next?”

“Uh,” Michael started thinking. He checked
his old Casio and saw that it was almost eleven. “Hey, I know
somewhere cool.”

“Well, you going to tell me or do I have to
guess?”