The River's Edge (10 page)

Freckles got within arm’s reach, and his dad struck him on the
back of his head and shoved him up the path. Freckles stumbled to his knees. As
he was getting back up, his dad kicked him in the gut. Freckles brought his
legs up to his stomach, moaning.

He finally got to his feet.

His dad called him a sissy and slapped him across the face. “I
knew you were stealing cigarettes and whiskey from me boy. Now get home.”

Freckles didn’t even look at us as he started up the path.

His dad followed him then stopped and turned
around to face us. “The rest of you better get home too, before I tell your
parents.”

After Freckles and his dad disappeared, we gathered together like
a swarm of angry, nervous bees that had been kicked out of their hive.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I hope Freckles is
okay.”

“Me too,” Wendy said.

“Wow, his dad’s pretty pissed off,” Reds said.

“I hope he doesn’t tell our parents,” Owl said. “We would all be
in big trouble.”

“We better go,” Julie said.

Wendy and I ran back to the cottage. We were
in bed, pretending to be asleep when Aunt Lori and Uncle Butch got home.

I didn’t know what would come next. It seemed like we were always
just one step in front of getting caught. Everything I did since I arrived was
breaking rules. I thought about how good I was back home. I wouldn’t dare break
the rules, but now I was a bona fide rebel. I just kept following Julie’s lead,
and her path was leading me right to Hell and further away from my mom.

Chapter Eleven

Heart of
Darkness

SATURDAY MORNING BROUGHT the promise of rain as the elephant gray
clouds rolled in. After I got dressed, I went to the porch where Wendy and
Paige were.

“Girls, set the table please,” Aunt Lori said.
“And Wendy, your father wants to talk to you before you leave the cottage
today.”

“What about?” Wendy asked, but we already knew
the answer.

“About last night. You disappeared, didn’t tell us where you were
going, who you were with. We had to get Karen to babysit Paige and—”

Wendy cut her off. “Is Dad real mad?” I could tell she had asked
this question many times before.

Aunt Lori stroked Wendy’s hair and smiled sadly. “He’s mad now,
but by the end of the day he will calm down. Especially since I’m making his
favorite cake.”

I heard Uncle Butch stir in the master bedroom. “Lori, bring me
some aspirin and a glass of water.” His voice was slow and hoarse, and I knew
from last Saturday that he was hung over. We finished breakfast without a word
and went into the living room. Paige followed us and we played cards quietly. The
alcohol ate at my stomach like a fungus on bread.

I felt some sort of impending doom.

Wendy whispered to me. “Don’t say anything about last night. Let
me do all the talking.” Fear crept over me as I sensed the trouble we were in.
“No matter what, don’t admit to anything.”

Paige looked up from her cards ready to speak, but Wendy cut her a
look and stopped her from talking.

A half hour later we got bored, and Wendy and I went into the
kitchen. Aunt Lori was bent over looking into the oven, checking to see if the
cake was ready.

“Can we please go outside before it rains?” Wendy whispered to
keep her father from hearing.

“No, he wants to talk to you before you go
anywhere today. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.” She removed the cake
and put it on the counter, then flipped the dishtowel across her shoulder and
swiped the loose strands of hair from her face.

We went back to the living room where Paige had set up the
Monopoly Board.

“Aw, Paige, I don’t want to play that,” Wendy said.

“Okay, but I might slip up and tell Dad that you’re keeping
secrets.”

“You little brat.” Wendy slammed her fist down on the board,
waited a minute, and then picked up the race car. “Okay, you win. Are you happy
now? Forcing people to play with you.”

Tears threatened Paige’s eyes, and I quickly jumped in. “I like
you, Paige. You’re not forcing me to play with you.”

Paige smiled at me and stuck her tongue out at Wendy. Trying to
keep the tears from falling, I added, “Hey, y’all know that song by War?”

“What song?” Wendy counted her fake money, put it into piles by
denomination, and tucked it under the game board.

“C’mon, you know.” I sang the words, “Why can’t we be friends . .
. ?”

Paige tilted her head like a lost puppy and Wendy continued to
count.

“Y’all know it.” I continued to sing until they picked up the beat
and the words. Singing with them actually made me feel like I truly did have
sisters.

My legs were cramped so I stood up and stretched. Paige put a
finger to her mouth. I heard Uncle Butch bumping around in his bedroom.

We were quiet as mice trying to avoid the mousetrap. But no matter
how quiet we were, we couldn’t avoid him forever. Finally, Uncle Butch
appeared. He was wrapped in a white bathrobe with his bare chest and legs
exposed. His wide frame blocked the doorway. “Wendy, Chris, come here. I want
to talk to you.”

He cleared the doorway, but only as Wendy pushed past him. I was
afraid he didn’t have anything on underneath his robe and I didn’t want to find
out. I felt awkward and hoped his belt was cinched tight enough around his
waist to keep his robe closed. Paige followed us quietly into the kitchen. I
didn’t see Aunt Lori anywhere.

“I don’t like when you disappear without telling us where you’re
going or who you’re with. We looked all over for you two at eight, and you were
nowhere to be seen.”

We said nothing.

“Know what else? We didn’t see any of your friends, either. You
know better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t. You’re grounded until I tell you
you’re not.” His voice was loud and authoritative.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong, honest.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”

“Because I knew you would want me to babysit Paige and—”

“That’s no excuse. I also don’t want you hanging around that
river, especially at night.”

“We weren’t down there, honest. We were in the
game room.”

Wendy told a boldface lie. I held my breath, not wanting to be
part of it.

“Is that true?” Uncle Butch asked me.

I was still as a statue. “Yes.”

“You’re getting too big for your britches, young lady. From now
on, you will tell us where you’re going.” He finished by pointing his big
sausage finger at Wendy’s nose, almost touching her face. He held it there for
a couple of seconds, daring her to move.

She stood, unflinching, but as much as I was afraid, she was
brave.

He moved his hand from her face. Only then did I breathe. Paige
remained quiet.

We crept back into the living room and sat on
the floor. Paige followed us. We played Monopoly until it was dinner time.

“Butch, come help me stuff the chicken with these herbs,” Aunt
Lori called from the kitchen.

Rosemary hung in the air. It smelled like Thanksgiving, reminding
me of family. I remembered what my mom said on the trip. “He’s the only family I’ve
got left.”

I could see the kitchen table from where I was sitting, and I
watched as Uncle Butch put the chicken in a pan. He yanked its legs apart and
spread them wide while jamming and stuffing the small cavity with over-large
hands. Then he tied the legs together with roasting string.

After he stuffed the chicken he went on to the porch, which was
fine by me. He was the darkness that kept us down all day. He wore the darkness
like my mother had at times, the times she felt lonely, although I was in the
room with her.

At dinner, Wendy set the table while I got the milk. Aunt Lori
followed us to the porch with the roasted chicken and put it on the table, then
walked to the couch to pick up the newspapers that had collected there.

We heard a sound, like a baby crying. Aunt Lori went to the door
to investigate.

“Oh my gosh, what’s that on the step?” she asked.

With noses pressed to the screen, we could make out a closed
picnic basket on the front step, bound in twine. Aunt Lori opened the door and
picked it up. She raised the lid, and Oreo poked his head out and meowed.

“Well, would you look at that? I wonder where this came from.” She
unfolded a handwritten note. It read, “Thank you.”

“Oreo!” I took the basket from her and two green eyes peered out at
me. “This is the best surprise ever!”

“Can we keep him?” Paige asked.

Uncle Butch harrumphed. Everything was quiet for what seemed like
eternity. “If that cat messes up in here, out he goes.”

I got a shoebox from Aunt Lori and put torn newspaper inside of it
for a makeshift litter box. Then we let Oreo wander around to get used to his
new surroundings while we ate dinner. The whole time we were eating, I was
trying to figure out who had delivered the basket, but I knew in my heart that
it was someone on behalf of Mrs. Weaver.

Cleanup was fast so we could get back to Oreo.

“Who wants cake and ice cream?” Aunt Lori asked.

“I do,” the three of us echoed. Oreo would have to wait.

Everyone had cake and ice cream, except for Uncle Butch, who was
happy with his beer.

He looked up from the newspaper. “What are you doing, young lady?”
His question was directed at Paige. We looked up from our cake and ice cream,
confused. “What do you call this?” He pointed to her glass of milk. He waited
for an answer, but Paige just gaped at him, frozen. “How many times have I told
you to finish your milk? It’s a sin to waste when children in other countries
are starving to death.”

“I don’t want the milk. I want cake and ice cream. Besides, it’s
warm.” Paige said.

I didn’t know if she was stubborn or stupid. I held my breath.

“I don’t care if it’s warm, finish your milk.”

“Why?”

“Because, I’m the adult and you are the child, and you do what I
say.”

“I won’t drink it.”

“You will drink it, or you won’t eat your
cake and ice cream.”

No one moved. The Stare-Down began.

Paige picked up her fork and took a bite of
her cake. She was a weird little nut to crack. I didn’t know what would come
next.

He put the newspaper down and shook his head in disbelief. He
raised his bear claw as if to strike, but Paige remained silent. Then he picked
up the glass of milk and poured it over her head. She had liquid white hair
dripping down her face. Calmly, she wiped her face with her napkin and took
another bite of cake. She spoke volumes with her silence. She became a princess
wearing a crown of milk, and in my mind, I bowed down to her then.

“That’s it.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her up from the
table, and forced her toour bedroom. “Stay in there until I tell you
that you can come out.”

On his way through thekitchen he grabbed another beer from
the refrigerator and stormed back onto the porch.

“I’m going to drive Chris over to the house so she can call her
mom,” he said, after a few minutes.

I looked at the clock. It was a little after six.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Aunt Lori looked at him, then
at his beer.

His gaze seemed to burn through her. He challenged her with his
posture, his eyes. “Why not?”

She lowered her eyes from him. Then turned away and started
cleaning the plates, scraping them into a brown paper grocery bag that served
as the trash.

“Can I go?” Wendy looked hopeful.

“No, you’re on restriction, young lady.” He turned to me. “Let’s
go.”

As bad as I wanted to talk to my mom, I was equally reluctant to
go by myself with him to the house. He looked at me differently when he was
drinking. I felt his eyes on my skin like steam in a shower. I climbed into the
station wagon and looked back at Wendy. Wendy’s eyes looked more haunted than
my heart. We waved to each other until I couldn’t see the cottage anymore. She
blurred at the edges and the same feeling came over me as when I said good-bye
to my mom.

MORE THAN THE rain loomed. My heart was burdened by what my future
held. As if on cue, the bruised sky ruptured and angels everywhere began to
cry. Fat droplets of rain flattened against the windshield and streamed down
the glass, blurring the oncoming traffic momentarily between the rhythm of the
wipers. Uncle Butch tight-knuckled the steering wheel as he caressed the edges
of the wet, winding road. It felt like fifteen hours instead of fifteen minutes
to get to the house. Lightning scarred the sky and a crack of thunder followed
as we pulled into the driveway.

The house was dark and hot. Uncle Butch pushed
past me and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “It sure feels good to be home.”

He popped open the can, chugged the beer, and slammed the empty
can on the kitchen counter.

“Aw, that’s good,” he said and burped. He
grabbed another one. “Maybe you’d like to go upstairs and take a long, hot bath
before you call your mom. It’s a luxury we don’t have at the cottage.”

I felt uncomfortable in his presence, especially when he was
drinking. I learned how to count the beers Uncle Butch had each night, and
tonight he was on number seven. There was a darkness that crawled up inside him
with each beer.

“No thanks. I’m going to call my mom now,” I said and picked up
the receiver. I waited until he was out of the room before I dialed the number.

It took three long rings before I heard my mother.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

“Hi, Chris. It’s so good to hear your voice again. I sure do miss
you.”

“I miss you too.” I took a deep breath. “Mom?”

“Yeah, honey.” She sounded so tired.

“I was wondering.” Another deep breath. “When can I come home?”
The edge in my voice was clear.

“What is it, honey? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, but . . .” How was I going to tell her I knew about the
divorce? I eased into it. “Have you heard from Dad?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s complicated.”

The sadness in her voice vibrated through the phone. It made me
want to cry. I took a few more deep breaths to shake the feeling.