Rounding Third (25 page)

     “I never
noticed that.”

     “That’s
because my father beat it out of me. If he saw me doing anything he thought was
girlish, he would get the belt. One day, I was about thirteen, so Mat must’ve
been eleven, and I crossed my legs at the knee, instead of the ankle. We were
just watching TV--football--one of the few things besides Bible hour and the
Republican Convention we were ever allowed to watch--and I crossed my legs. I
barely knew what happened. My father grabbed me, yanked my pants down, ripped
off his belt and started in. It was brutal. I was screaming, asking what I’d
done, and he just kept whipping me and whipping me. I had blood soaking my
underwear and running down my legs. Finally Mat couldn’t take watching it
anymore and grabbed my father’s arm. No one had ever interfered with one of his
punishments before and he went berserk. He grabbed Mat and turned on him. He
beat him and beat him, and I was too scared to stop it. He smacked him a few
times with the belt--the one caught him full in the face--that scar Mat has
next to his ear is from the buckle.”

     Rob
could barely keep his eyes on the road, trying to also watch Josh pour out his
story.

     “He
dropped the belt and started punching and punching; it was awful. And I didn’t
have the guts to do anything. My father’s right, I’m a pussy. Mat would take
that beating for me, and I didn’t have the guts to step in for him.”

     “You
were a kid. A scared and beaten and bloody kid.”

     “I
should’ve done something.”

     “You
couldn’t. Obviously Mat doesn’t blame you.”

     “He’s
still willing to risk pissing off my father to come see me. I was his hero, if
you can believe it. He was in the hospital for two days after that beating. I
can’t look at his crooked nose--broken by my father, that mashed-up lip--or
that scar and not want to cry. You always tell me how cute I am. Can you
imagine how cute Mat would be if my father had kept his hands off him? He’s had
his nose broken a few times by my father. You always say how cute it is that I
smile down on one side instead of up. What I never told you is that my father
hit me so hard when I was about twelve, I cut my mouth on my teeth so bad I had
to get stitches inside my mouth. It did nerve damage. I can’t raise the right
side of my mouth.”

    
 “So every time I mentioned your smile, it brought back those memories?
I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Josh sniffled.
“I liked that you even liked all that was wrong with me.”

“You never had
him arrested?”

     “Get
real. My father would always tell the hospital we hurt each other, ‘boys will
be boys,’ ‘they did it wrestling,’ whatever. A teacher reported it in Minnesota.
My father took a demotion at work so he could move. That’s when we went to
Wisconsin. He beat me bad because he thought I told.”

     Rob made
a sudden right turn and drove into the cemetery and stopped behind the Fyfe
mausoleum. Rob put the car in park and turned to hug Josh. “I’m so sorry.”

     “Easy,
easy,” Josh pleaded.

     “Sorry,
I just wanted to hug you so much. My poor baby.” Rob kissed both of Josh’s
cheeks and then gingerly touched his lips to Josh’s still swollen lips. “No one
will ever hurt you again, I promise.”

     “I wish
you could protect me forever. But I’m not sure anyone can.”

     “If I
can, I will. I love you, Josh.” Rob was surprised how easily he was now saying
those words and how right they sounded. Josh tenderly touched Rob’s face and
neck. He still had not said the words, but Rob got the message. He watched as
Josh suddenly winced. “The ribs?”

     “Yeah.”

     “We need
to get you home, get you some pills and a nap.”

     “Yeah.”
Rob reached to start the car. “Wait,” Josh added.

     “What?”

     “Lean
over here again.”

Rob complied and
Josh leaned forward and kissed Rob long and hard, his sore lips pressing onto
Rob’s. “That hurt, but it was worth it. As bad as things are right now, I’m
lucky to have the best brother and the best friend in the world.” He stroked
Rob’s hair. “I’m sorry I almost hurt you. I didn’t even think about you when I
tried to...” he couldn’t say the words... “I’m sorry. You mean everything to
me, and if I ever doubted I had a reason to live...” again he couldn’t finish
the thought.

           
“Josh, do you love me?”

    
“I don’t know. I mean, I think so.” Josh looked down. “I’m not sure what love
is. My parents told us they loved us and then beat us. They’d preach about
God’s love. The God who’s going to send me to hell for eternity for being who
He made me. I’ve never heard your parents tell you or Meg they love you, but
they don’t have to. So if I told you I loved you, I’m not sure whose version of
love that would be.”

    
“It can be ours, if you want.”

     For the
first time since that horrible Thursday, Josh had really smiled and Rob began
to hope that the worst was behind them. 
         
         

Josh took his
pills and went to lie down. Rob made sure his mother was at work and then returned
the gun to its drawer, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he did so. He felt so
guilty about even having taken it, he was tempted to wipe the prints off before
he closed and locked the drawer. 

Rob walked into
the sun porch and as quietly and gently as he could, slid onto the bed next to
Josh. He intended only to stay a moment, but he was awakened by Meg whispering
in his ear. “Bobby, wake up.” He grunted, unsure where he was but knowing he
was sorry to be waking from the most peaceful sleep he’d had in a week. “Bobby,
now!” his sister hissed. He wanted to tell her to get lost, but as he came more
fully awake and felt Josh’s warmth next to him, he snapped awake. Meg
whispered, “I let you sleep as long as I could, but mom will be home any
second.”

Rob quickly slid
out of the bed so as not to disturb Josh and tiptoed out of the room behind his
sister. He gingerly closed the door to the converted porch. “Thanks, Meg. That
was close.”

“Yeah it was. You better watch it.”

“I just lay down for a second.”

“When I got
home, I just peeked in to see how Josh was doing and saw you two.”

“Thanks again.
You’re the best.”

She smiled.
“You’re lucky I like you and Josh.”

“You just don’t
want him thrown out before you can accidentally catch him in the shower.”

Megan slugged
her brother in the stomach just as their mother walked in. “Nice to see that
some things don’t change,” she said in a voice she was forcing under control.

“Something
wrong, Mom?” Rob asked as they turned toward her. Her face was set, her jaw clenched
and even though she was trying to joke about the horseplay of her children,
there was no joy on her face. 

“I, uh, I am,
uh...”

Rob took a step
toward his mother. He couldn’t tell if it was anger that was taking form. Meg
stepped back as though from a strange dog.

“I was debating
if I should tell you, but shit, after everything else that is happening, and
you’d know soon anyway...I got fired today.” Rob could tell from Meg’s gasp
behind him that she was as shocked as he was to hear a swearword from their
mother. “I drove down to Marion to see the Warren G. Harding Memorial. I’ve
heard about it since I was a kid and today I drove there. I just had to get
away. It’s a beautiful memorial to one of the worst presidents this country’s
ever had.”

Rob had never
seen his mother in this state. A spontaneous trip the Warren G. Harding
Memorial was not something his mother would ever do. 

“Fired? Why?”
Rob asked numbly.

“On the drive I
came up with a long story to tell you kids and your dad, but as I walked in, I
decided you should know the truth as much as it sucks.” Again Meg gasped at her
mother’s choice of words. “Do you want my version or his version?” When neither
of her children answered, she said, “Mr. Trent’s excuse was that I had missed
too much work since ‘the incident.’ In reality, he got a few phone calls from
some of his customers wondering why he allowed people to work there who
harbored known homosexuals. People who go to--what was it you called it--that
cracked-out church...”

“Whacked-out,” Meg
corrected without thinking. The incongruity of it caused them all to
laugh. 

“Oh my God.”
Josh’s voice startled them all. He was so white, Rob wondered if he would
simply keel over. “My God,” he repeated. “This is all my fault.”

All of their
shoulders slumped as they watched Josh try to shoulder the guilt. His weak
frame couldn’t bear the weight and he staggered to a chair and sat down. In
that moment, with time standing still, Rob realized he had never seen anyone in
his family ever sit in the antique, high-backed wooden chair that had stood for
the duration of his lifetime next to the fireplace. Rob wondered if they were
even allowed to sit in that chair. He also wondered where that chair came from,
if it belonged to his grandparents or great-grandparents. His mind was swimming
with thoughts of ancient furniture because the one thought clanging in his
head--and what his mother’s news might mean for Josh--was too much to process.

“I need to
leave. I’m causing you all too much trouble...” Josh said so quietly they could
have passed for his dying words.

“No,” she
repeated. “I’m not going to blame the victim. I thought about this all day.”
Mrs. Wardell walked to Josh and put a hand on his shoulder, the weight of which
seemed to cause his head to drop to his chest. “Think about what you just said.
Do you really think he’d give me my job back anyway? Would I want it back?
True, Mr. Wardell and I never asked for any of this, but now that it’s here, we
can’t put things back the way they were. This town won’t forget. It can’t
forget. I was an outsider here myself. Do you know how long it took me to get
accepted?” Rob watched as his mother took Josh’s head and pressed it to her
stomach. “If Josh leaves, it’s not going to be because this town forced him
to,” she said with such determination that even Josh couldn’t question
it. 

     Dinner
was prepared by his mother with much more than the usual help from Meg and Rob
and even Josh, who sought to spare her as much work as possible, although when
they tried to insist she go sit on the porch and relax she said, “I have to do
something to keep from going crazy. Let me help or I’ll be taking another trip
to see Warren G. Harding.”

     Mr.
Wardell took her news with a clenched jaw and just nodded. It wasn’t until
after dessert--pudding made by Josh and Rob--that Rob remembered Josh’s things
still scattered on the backseat of the car.  

     Meg
joined the boys on the trek to the car, parked out of sight of the road, on the
grass behind the garage. They were now putting both Wardell cars inside and had
started locking the doors. Rob planned to clear space inside for Josh’s car.

“What a mess.”
Meg shook her head at the heap of clothes and other things scattered over the
seat and onto the floor. She folded each shirt as she picked it up and handed
it to Josh. Picking up one shirt sent a baseball bouncing to the floor of the
car. She picked it up and looked it over as she handed it to Josh.

“My lucky
baseball!” he said as he handed the shirts to Rob so he could take the ball. I
can’t believe Mat thought to pack that.”

“That is so
sweet,” Meg said. “Please tell me your brother isn’t gay. If I can’t have one
Schlagel, maybe I can have the other.” Meg picked up the next shirt and
recoiled from it, “Ewww!”

“What’s wrong?”
Rob asked, shouldering her away from the open car door.

“There’s
something gross in there.”

Rob carefully
lifted the shirt. The remains of a now-melted Reese’s Cup slimed out. “Mat gave
you a candy bar,” he laughed. 

As the oozing
mess sploshed on the ground, Josh said, “Reese’s. My favorite. I guess we
should have emptied the car sooner.” 

“Looks like. I
hope mom can get the chocolate out of this shirt. Let’s see if it got on
anything else.”

Other than one
dab of chocolate on the pair of jeans, the rest of the clothes--some underwear,
socks, and a pair of gym shorts were all okay. At the bottom of the heap there
was also a photo of the Schlagel family, conspicuously minus the parents. Josh
handed the baseball back to Meg to hold the photo. Josh’s one good eye was
fixed on the portrait. Meg made an effort to restack the clothes Rob was
holding to have something to do to avoid embarrassing Josh with her stares.
“Let’s see, Brewers, Packers, Brewers. I see a pattern in these T-shirts,” she
kidded.

“My favorites,”
Josh smiled.

“You have the
sweetest brother in the world,” Meg said.

“Ahem!” Rob
cleared his throat in protest. 

Meg slugged her
brother in the stomach. “Mine is okay and he does have the best taste in
friends.”

Rob handed the
pile to Meg, “I’ll pitch the candy bar in the trash.”

By the time Rob
got in the house, Meg had put Josh’s clothes in the drawers of Nonie’s antique
dresser with the carved flower drawer handles and Josh was trying to find the
perfect spot for the family photo on top of the dresser.