If These Trees Could Talk

by Brian W. Smith

  As usual, Milton was the only child who didn’t have a pencil. His eyes darted around the room, eventually stopping at Josh—and the perfectly sharpened pencil that lay on his desk. When he thought Elizabeth wasn’t looking, Milton reached over and grabbed Josh’s pencil. Josh looked at the thug, but his vision was obstructed by the sight of Milton’s clinched fist which was positioned less than six inches from his nose. “You’d better not tell. If you say somethin’ I’m gonna beat you up at three o’clock.”

  “You’re gonna do what?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Nothing.” Milton sheepishly replied.

  “Give the pencil back to him,” she commanded, and then walked over and gave Milton a pencil. It wasn’t as shiny as the one he’d just taken from Josh, but it was serviceable.

  When Elizabeth turned around and walked towards her desk, Milton looked at Josh and gave him the universal, ‘I’m gon’ kick your ass’ sign. The aspiring juvenile delinquent was a veteran at non-verbal threats. He cracked his knuckles and then spread his fingers. Moments later, those extended fingers curled and turned into an air tight fist. He then positioned his fist next to his face and slowly touched his mouth, his nose, and both of his eyes. He squinted, grimaced, and even clutched his stomach and pretended to be pain—giving Josh a preview of the position he was going to be in when the end of day school bell rung.

  After being forced to deal with the drama in his house earlier that morning, and then witnessing the theatrical performance put on by Milton, Josh stood a better chance of spotting Dutch filling out a job application than passing that spelling test. He was only able to correctly spell five out of the twenty words.

  Elizabeth studied Josh’s paper and then looked at the child. The teacher in her was obligated to take the test results at face value, but the mother in her told her that something much deeper was bothering the boy.

  At the end of the school day she watched the kids as they left class. She wondered why Josh was slow to stand up when the school bell rang, but quickly figured out what was happening when she noticed Milton smacking his clinched fist in the palm of his other hand.

  “Josh, come here sweetheart.” She reached out and put her hands on each of his shoulders—kneeling low enough to make sure they were having direct eye contact. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Josh replied, staring at his feet.

  Elizabeth took her index finger and thumb and grabbed Josh’s chin. She directed his head upward. “Josh, it’s okay to talk to me. You know you didn’t do good on today’s test—don’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You usually do much better. Is it because Milton was bothering you?”

  Josh tried to look down again, but Elizabeth’s fingers wouldn’t let him. “No ma’am.”

  “Is it because of something at home?”

  The child’s eyes begin to fill with water. Elizabeth so desperately wanted to shake him and make him spit it out, but she knew she couldn’t. Two years earlier she had a child in her class displaying the same disposition and aloofness Josh exhibited. She pushed the child to reveal the source, and when the child’s parents discovered she was trying to goad the child into a confession they contacted the school Principal, and accused her of harassment. Elizabeth was suspended for her actions. The child’s family relocated to another city weeks later.

  “Look, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just know that you can talk to me about anything.” She wrapped her thick arms around the boy and swallowed him in her bosom. “Do you want me to bring you home?”

  Josh thought about the beat down that awaited him just outside the main entrance of the school. He wanted no part of it. “Yes ma’am.”

  “Fine. Have a seat while I gather up my things and we will leave in a few minutes.”

  Josh was silent during the drive home the same way he was silent earlier that morning while riding with his mother. Elizabeth tried to make small talk, but to no avail. She pitifully shook her head every time she looked at the child.

  The McDonald’s golden arches could be seen from two blocks away. She’d watched Josh a few times during lunch, and noticed how quickly he often scoffed down his lunch; a clear sign that a child is under nourished. She wasn’t sure what type of meal awaited the boy, but her maternal instincts told her it wasn’t nearly enough.

  “I sure am hungry,” she commented, and then glanced over at Josh to see his reaction. “Are you hungry Josh?”

  Josh looked up and saw the McDonald’s sign outside the car window. He then thought about walking in his house and seeing the remaining ravioli cans empty and sitting on the counter or in the garbage can next to the kitchen counter. Visions of eating another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, usually on stale molded bread, made him frown. Sinking his teeth into a Big Mac seemed like a much better option.

  “Yes ma’am.” He mumbled, opting to look out the window rather than at his teacher.

  “Great. I like Big Mac’s! Do you like Big Mac’s Josh?”

  “Yes ma’am. I like the sauce they put on it.”

  Finally, he uttered something other than, ‘yes ma’am’. I’m making some progress. I’m gonna find out what’s wrong with this child if it’s the last thing I do. “Well sweetheart, if you want a Big Mac then that’s what you’re gonna get.” She flashed a warm smile and rubbed his shoulder. “Do you want to eat it here or do you want me to go through the drive thru and then take you home?”

  Josh pointed at the car in front of them. “The drive thru.”

  Not wanting to force the issue and cause the boy to withdraw, Elizabeth acquiesced. She purchased the burgers and drinks, and then drove the remaining three blocks to Josh’s house. His street—which was really a dirt road—was the last street before the wooded area doubled as the county line.

  “Is this your street?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She turned and slowly drove down the road. There were three houses on the short block—all on the right side of the street. The only things on the left side of the street were the foundations for two other houses. Located at the rear of one of the lots, next to the tree line, was the old shack Josh disappeared behind whenever he snuck away to go and meet Stevie.

  “What happened to those houses?”

  “They got blown away when we had that tornado last year.”

  Elizabeth corrected him. “They were blown away.” She then quickly flashed a smile to let him know that his misspeak didn’t warrant any punitive action.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  The first house they encountered looked vacant.

  “Does anyone live there?”

  “No ma’am. My friend Carlos used to live there, but he had to move when his daddy got a new job. That house is empty too. We are the only people on this street.”

  Elizabeth shook her head slowly. A pensive look dominated her face as she sized up the situation. She slowed in front of his house. Dutch’s old pick-up truck sat in the front yard on cinder blocks. The house looked like it hadn’t been painted in twenty years. The area in front of the house that was once filled with lush grass was now dominated by dirt, covered with tire tracks, and had patches of oil stains.

  “Are your parent’s home?”

  “I know my mama ain’t here because her car is gone. She said she had to work a double shift tonight.”

  “What about your dad…is he home? I’d like to meet him.”

  “I don’t have a daddy. My mama’s boyfriend Dutch lives with us. I know he ain’t home because he usually have the front door open when he in there watching t.v. When the front door is closed I know he ain’t home.”

  “Oh…okay.” She looked at the rickety front screen door, and then back at Josh. Frown lines streaked across her forehead. “Are you okay with being here alone?”

  “Yes ma’am. I like it this way.”

  “Why is that?”

  Josh unbuckled his seat belt, grabbed the door handle, and pulled it upward. He opened the do
or and started to exit the car. “I just do…it’s more peaceful.” He got out of the car and then closed the door. “Thanks Mrs. Tharp.”

  “You’re welcome baby.” As she watched the boy walk up the dusty trail that lead to his front steps and then into the house, she was overwhelmed by a feeling that she’d just allowed a helpless child to re-enter an environment where love was fleeting and dysfunction ruled.

  Chapter 4

  Josh walked inside and went straight into his bedroom. He threw his book bag on the bed, and then placed his hamburger bag and drink on his bedroom dresser. He was confident he was home alone, but he wanted to check the house to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to be ambushed by an intruder. Or even worse—Dutch.

  Convinced the house was his to enjoy without any adult interference, Josh turned on the television and DVD player. He popped in his favorite movie, Star Wars. Although the movie was created more than thirty years before his birth, the thought of a world in a far off galaxy fascinated the daydreamer. He grabbed his hamburger and drink, and readied himself for a joyful evening.

  As the credits rolled on the screen two hours later, Josh searched for the sequel to the original Star Wars in the DVD rack. If it hadn’t been for the chime on the wall clock mounted above the television he would have forgotten his appointment with Stevie.

  “I gotta go meet Stevie,” he muttered. Josh went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet underneath the sink. He pulled out a plastic grocery bag and put his McDonald’s bag inside.

  I gotta make sure Dutch doesn’t see this McDonald’s bag when he comes home. He’s gonna get mad if he knows I had a hamburger. He just wants me to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches everyday while he eats all the good food. If I had powers like a Jedi, then he couldn’t make me eat anything I don’t want to eat.

  He wrapped the McDonald’s bag inside of the plastic garbage bag, and then shoved the plastic bag inside of the larger garbage bag next to the counter—making sure it was at the very bottom and on the side pressed against the counter so that Dutch couldn’t see it when he looked at the garbage bag.

  Stevie wants me to bring a shovel. I’ma look in the back shed to see if we have a shovel. I saw Dutch using a shovel last week, but I don’t know if it was his. I wonder what time he’s coming home. I wonder what kind of shovel Luke Skywalker would have used. It would probably have a laser on it! I gotta hurry up and find that shovel before he comes home.

  Josh found an old rusty shovel in the corner of the shed in their backyard. The shovel was taller then he. It looked like an old splintered stick with a corroded iron plate at the end. It would have to do. He didn’t want to be late.

  Following his usual path into the woods he eventually came to he and Stevie’s meeting spot. He was disappointed to find that Stevie hadn’t arrived yet.

  I wonder if he’s coming. I gotta hurry up and get this shovel back before Dutch comes home. A slight breeze caused the leaves on the trees surrounding him to bristle. Josh did a complete turn looking in every direction to make sure someone else wasn’t out there. When he finally completed his turn, Stevie was standing right there.

  “Man you scared me!” Josh shouted. “Where did you come from?”

  “I came from the way I always come from. Why are you looking around like that?”

  “I thought I heard somebody in the bushes.” Josh’s eyes continued to dart around, never remaining fixated on any one spot for more than a few seconds.

  “I see you found a shovel.”

  “Yeah, I found one in the shed. It’s kinda old though.”

  “So. We can still use it.” Stevie grabbed the shovel and examined it.

  “Where is your shovel?”

  “I couldn’t get to it. Bennie put a lock on the tool shed. We’re gonna have to use this one.” Stevie gave the shovel back to Josh. “You start digging over here and I’ma try to find a board or something to use.”

  They spent the next hour digging non-stop. Josh’s pants were covered in dirt. His hair was filthy too.

  “Man, we’ve been diggin’ for awhile and this hole ain’t even deep.” Josh said in protest.

  “I know. We got a little more to go.”

  Josh glanced up at the sky. The sole clean part of his shirt sleeve was used to wipe his brow and face. “The sun is goin’ down Stevie. We ain’t gonna finish in time. I gotta go home before Dutch comes back.”

  “He ain’t home yet?”

  “No. When I got home from school he wasn’t home. We’re gonna have to finish tomorrow.”

  “So you at home all by yourself?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I come to your house for a little while?”

  Josh was surprised by the question. He always fantasized about going to Stevie’s house, but he never thought Stevie wanted to come to his. Truth be told, he was embarrassed to bring anyone to his mouse and roach infested house.

  “Why you wanna come to my house? You got the fancy house.”

  Stevie, normally talkative, became quiet. He looked at the ground and kicked a few clumps of dirt. Without looking up at Stevie he gave his reason. “Because I think he’s gonna do it to me again tonight. He got some towels out of his car. He don’t use the towels in the bathroom when he touches me—he be using the towels he keep in the trunk of his car.”

  The hairs on the back of Josh’s neck stood up. He’d noticed that Dutch did the same thing. He empathized with his friend, but he feared what would happen if Dutch came home and caught one of his friends in their house—a black friend at that.

  “But, if I let you come to my house, Dutch gonna…”

  “…just for a little while. Til, Bennie go to sleep. He was drinking that liquor he always be drinkin. If I stay away long enough he’s gonna fall asleep. Then I can go and sneak in my room.”

  Josh was petrified of what might happen if Dutch found a Black kid at their house, but he could also feel Stevie’s pain. He carried Stevie’s presence with him when they were apart so he reasoned he might as well bring his best friend to the house. “Come on. But you can’t stay long. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

  “I’m not gonna stay long…I promise.”

  The two youths made their way to Josh’s house. Josh had never stayed in their secret spot that late, so finding his route home was a slight challenge. He used the shovel to knock down the brush until they emerged from the tree line.

  “That’s my house over there. Don’t look like Dutch made it home yet.”

  “Cool, let’s go.” Stevie could hardly contain his excitement. “I’ll race you.”

  The two boys ran across the open field that separated Josh’s house from the trees. Stevie won the race. Josh finally caught up. “I couldn’t run fast with this shovel.”

  “You can’t run faster than me anyway. I could beat you even if you didn’t have that shovel.”

  Josh accepted his friend’s assertion without protest. “C’mon, let’s hurry up and go inside.”

  He opened the front door slowly. The house was somewhat dark. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. Stevie followed so closely they were all but joined at the hip.

  “I’m hungry. What y’all got to eat?”

  Josh opened the refrigerator. A six pack of beer, a half gallon of milk, and a carton of eggs occupied the top shelf, other than those items, there was nothing obstructing their view of the refrigerator’s back wall and light bulb.

  The trusty peanut butter and jelly was in the usual slot—nestled against the side rail.

  “All we got to eat is peanut butter and jelly. My mama didn’t go to the grocery store yet. She supposed…”

  Stevie cut him off. “That’s fine. I like peanut butter and jelly.”

  Josh took the spreads out of the refrigerator, and grabbed the loaf of bread that sat on the counter.

  “Where y’all keep the knives?”

  Josh pointed. “In that drawer.”

  They retreated to Josh’s bedroom and closed the door
. Josh locked the bedroom door—something he rarely did since Dutch had forbade him from locking his door. But Dutch wasn’t home so in an act of defiance he locked the door—he even gritted his teeth as he turned the lock. Within seconds, slices of bread were sprawled across the bed being slathered in the spreads, smashed together, and then devoured. Josh pulled out his shoe box filled with baseball cards and they talked and giggled the way little boys are supposed to.

  Ann Marie watched Dutch pull his pants up. She’d loved him since they were in high school. And she’d been sexing him every chance she got post graduation. In fact, her five year old daughter, Susie, whom she’d allowed the world to believe was the child of her high school boyfriend Jasper, was really Dutch’s baby. “Why are you leaving?”

  “Ann, don’t ask me that stupid ass question. You know I gotta leave. Charity thinks I’m working on a motor with Old Man Kelly.”

  “I know that, but she ain’t even home yet. She ain’t gonna be home ‘til the morning.”

  “I gotta make sure that boy of hers eats.”

  “You need to be tryin’ to make sure your own child gets somethin’ to eat.” Ann Marie’s tone was flippant. She punctuated her statement by shifting on to her side and facing the other direction. She angrily pulled the covers from down around her waist up until they covered everything but her nose and eyes. “I’ll bet Charity wouldn’t care if you were there to take care of her son if she knew Susie was really your daughter.”

  Dutch zipped his pants and put on his socks. Ann Marie stared at the bedroom window wondering why she continued to participate in this love triangle. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she was totally unprepared for what happened next.

  Like a predator pouncing on its prey, Dutch jumped onto the bed, flung the covers back, and grabbed a handful of Ann Marie’s hair. “That’s the last time you’re gonna threatin’ me like that.” His mouth was pressed against her ear. He spoke in a whisper, but his words were as audible as they would have been had he been using a microphone. “I dun told you before, if you ever tell Charity about Susie, I’ma slit your fuckin’ throat. I’ll do it and you know it. Don’t fuck with me woman!”