If These Trees Could Talk

by Brian W. Smith

  Josh walked inside and looked around the dimly lit front room. Dutch was nowhere to be found. He looked down the hallway and saw the bathroom door closed. He walked over and put his ear up against the bathroom door, and heard Dutch rustling some newspaper and straining—he was definitely doing #2.

  “Josh is that you out there?”

  Josh wasn’t expecting Dutch to call out his name. His heart started beating so fast he thought it was going to explode. “Umm, yeah.”

  The newspaper rustled some more. “Take your ass in the room and get started on your homework! Personally, I don’t care if your little dumb ass ever do your homework, but I don’t wanna hear your mama’s mouth.”

  Josh walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A six pack of beer was staring back at him. Josh grabbed the beer and walked outside. He crossed the street and stood in the open lot. The cold beer cans started perspiring, leaving Josh’s sweaty palms even wetter.

  Dutch emerged from the bathroom and walked straight towards the refrigerator. It was a few minutes before five o’clock and he was about to get ready to watch his favorite show, Jerry Springer. “Where in the hell is my six pack of beer?” he yelled. When Josh didn’t reply he walked over to the boy’s bedroom door and shoved it open. “Boy, I know you hear me talking…” Josh’s absence made him pause. “Josh! Josh where you at boy?”

  Dutch left Josh’s room and walked outside on the front porch. “Josh, boy I know you heard me calling you. Did you touch my beer?”

  Josh and Dutch locked eyes. He held up a can of beer and slowly poured the contents onto the ground.

  “What the fuck,” Dutch mumbled. “Boy, you don’ lost your damn mind! Bring me my damn beer!”

  Josh didn’t move. He tossed the first beer can on the ground, and then opened another one and commenced to pouring the beer out. He felt his courage growing, as if all his fears were being dumped with the beer suds forming in the grass.

  Dutch stood there dumfounded. For years, all he had to do was look in Josh’s direction, and the child would scurry like a roach. This was unchartered territory for him. He was being blatantly defied, and for a second, he really didn’t know how to react.

  He looked around the porch for something to use on Josh’s backside. “You little fucker! If you don’t bring me my beer right now, I swear I’m gonna beat you so bad your mama ain’t gon’ recognize you!”

  “Fuck you!” Josh shouted, holding up a middle finger after tossing the second empty can to the ground.

  Dutch’s eyes got as big as the headlights on his truck. “You know what, I don’t need nothin’ to beat yo little ass. I’ma use my hand.” He walked down the stairs stating his intentions. “When I catch you I’m gon’ beat yo ass, and then I’m gon’ give you somethin’ else that’s gon’ really make it hard for you to sit down.”

  “You ain’t gonna do shit!” Josh shouted.

  Dutch stopped in his tracks. It was like someone had shot him with a stun gun. He looked around to see if anyone else was out there. “What did you just say boy?”

  Josh was roughly forty feet away. He started walking backwards slowly; steadily pouring the contents of the fourth beer can onto the ground. “You heard me. You ain’t gonna do shit to me you big faggot!”

  What happened next was like the scene at a track meet. Dutch went into an all out sprint. He literally ran out of his slippers. Josh turned and started sprinting towards the trees. He turned and saw Dutch catching up fast. He wasn’t sure if the two beers he held were slowing him up, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He yanked the beers out of the plastic rings that kept them attached and flung both beers at Dutch. The first beer flew over his head and the second beer smacked him on his left shin. It was enough to make Dutch break his stride momentarily, but he kept coming.

  By the time Josh made it to his normal entry point behind the shed, Dutch was less than ten feet away. Josh needed the trees help, and they didn’t let him down. Dutch wasn’t six feet into the tree line before he was as lost as a skin head at an N.A.A.C.P. convention. All of the branches looked identical. He came to a complete stop and turned full circle as he tried to get oriented.

  “Josh, you’d better come here boy! I’m tellin’ you now boy, I’m gon’ hurt you like never before when I catch you.”

  Josh quickly realized that he’d given Dutch the slip. Although he knew he was taking a big risk by getting too close to Dutch, he knew he needed Dutch to come deeper into the woods. So, without giving it much thought, he decided to give Dutch more incentive to chase him.

  “You ain’t gon’ do nothin’ to me! When I go home I’m gon’ tell my mama what you been doin’ to me. And then I’m gon’ go tell the police what you been doin’ to me. I ain’t gonna have to worry about you no more because you gon’ go to jail.”

  Dutch’s ire went to another level. He’d been to prison enough times to know that there were two groups of people that didn’t stand a chance on the yard: snitches and child molesters. He ran in the direction of Josh’s voice. “You ain’t gon’ say nothin’ to nobody because I’m gon’ kill you…you little bastard! And then I’m gon’ kill your slut mama!”

  Dutch burst through the bushes and found himself in the middle of Josh and Stevie’s meeting spot. Josh stood a few feet away – right next to the bush where Stevie stashed the knife. Dutch looked around at the setup. “What in the hell is this? You got yourself a damn apartment out here. So this is where you’ve been disappearing to all the time.” He looked at Josh, and started walking towards the frightened child. “Since you like to hang out in these woods, this is where I’m gon’ teach you a lesson at.”

  The snapping of a branch caused Dutch to stop and turn around slowly. “Who’s there?” he asked. “Ohhh, I get it. You be out here with that little fucker you had in the house the other night. Well, bring your ass out here—you can get some too.”

  Dutch squinted as he tried to see if someone else was out there. That was the last conscious act he would make. The sound of the shovel smashing against the back of his head resembled the crack of a baseball bat when it makes solid contact with a fast ball. The handle shattered into several pieces. The rusty metal piece fell to the ground right next to Dutch, who had dropped to his knees—blood gushing from the back of his head.

  “The shovel broke Josh!” Stevie shouted. “Get the knife!”

  Josh stood there in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Dutch fell on his stomach and then rolled over on his back. Moans escaped his mouth. He tried to contain the bleeding by clutching the back of his head, but all that did was transfer the blood from his head to his hands.

  “Josh, get the knife. It’s in that bush!”

  Josh snapped out of his trance long enough to do as he was told. The knife seemed longer than his arm. He watched Stevie stand over Dutch—taunting him. “Bring me the knife Josh!”

  Dutch shook his head and raised his blood stained hands. “I’m sorry,” he managed to mumble.

  “It’s too late to be sorry,” Stevie barked, watching the monster grasp at the wind, and then fall backwards. “Bring me the knife Josh!”

  Josh walked over and stood next to Dutch’s leg. The huge knife blade shimmered when the rays from the setting sun hit it. “All of those years you hurt me,” he mumbled. “I kept tellin’ you to stop, but you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m, I’m sorry….Josh.”

  “No you ain’t! You said you were gonna kill my mama! Well, you ain’t gon’ kill nobody now!”

  Overcome with rage, Josh kneeled down and plunged the knife blade into Dutch’s chest. He repeated the act a dozen times. The blood that spattered didn’t stop him. He was determined to exact revenge on his molester.

  Stevie just stood and watched. A devilish grin appeared on his face. Every few seconds he’d survey the trees to make sure no one was watching. The scene was gruesome—the last place you’d expect any fun loving boy not even tall enough to ride a rollercoaster to be hanging out at. But,
it was their reality. They exacted revenge, and as far as Josh and Stevie were concerned, it was long overdue. The only witnesses to the murder were the humongous trees that surrounded them. But the trees were their least concern. Those trees couldn’t talk.

  Chapter 6

  After running a few errands, Elizabeth decided to indulge in her one guilty pleasure—a Caramel Mocha Latte. The satisfying drink was a clear violation of her diet, but there was no one around to deter her from getting it so she went into Starbucks to buy the Venti size.

  As with most small towns, six degrees of separation was alive and well. In a city the size of Iron Town, it was more like three degrees of separation. Elizabeth stood patiently behind a woman who couldn’t make up her mind whether to purchase a Latte or Cappuccino. It wasn’t long before the woman’s indecisiveness started to get under her skin.

  Damn woman, just buy something. Elizabeth folded her arms and tried to focus on the product menu posted high on the wall behind the counter. When she’d read everything on the menu twice, she decided to take her protest to another level. She cleared her throat a few times to alert the indecisive lady ahead of her that there were customers standing in line behind her patiently waiting. When that didn’t work, and it became clear that the woman couldn’t have cared less about holding up the line, Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and checked her missed calls.

  Stella Gardner, the town gossip, entered the store. She knew everything about everybody. She was the type of person whom people loved to talk to when they were looking for the juiciest town gossip, but avoided like the plague when she set her sights on their business.

  “Hey Charity,” Stella said.

  “Hey Stella,” Charity replied over the roar of the blender. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Just trying to enjoy my day off. “

  “I hear you.”

  “How are you doing? How is Josh doing?”

  The mention of the name Josh caused the concerned teacher to look up.

  “He’s doing fine. Getting taller by the second.”

  “I’ll bet. What grade is he in now?”

  “He’s in the fifth grade.”

  So, that’s Josh’s mom. I can never get a good look at her when she drops him off in the morning. She looks real young—probably 25 or 26 years old at the most. But I thought Josh told me his mother worked at the hospital. Well, she can’t be making much money working here so she probably has two jobs.

  The slow poke at the front of the line finally ordered and then stepped to the side. Not one to roll eyes or be overtly aggressive, Elizabeth employed the passive aggressive tactic of quickly moving forward before the woman was completely out of the way. Any eye rolling came from the slow poke—it was clear she’d gotten the point.

  “I’d like a Caramel Mocha Latte…venti.” She paid her money and then moved to the side. She watched Charity mix her drink. When Charity called out the drink, Elizabeth approached the counter and said, “Thank you, I needed this.”

  Charity smiled politely and started prepping to prepare the next drink order. The observant school teacher knew she couldn’t let this moment pass without saying something. She plowed through visions of Mr. Benjamin and his spineless ways. If he was standing there he would surely tell her to be quiet and leave the woman alone. But, the Uncle Tom wasn’t there to run interference, so she decided to throw caution to the wind and seize the moment.

  “Charity?”

  “Yes.”

  “Charity Caldwell?”

  “Yes. Do I know you?”

  “I’m Mrs. Tharp.”

  Charity looked confused. She even tilted her head slightly the way a dog does when trying to figure out the odd gestures humans make. “I’m sorry, I can’t place the name.”

  “Mrs. Tharp…your son Josh’s teacher.”

  Charity’s confused look turned into embarrassment. “Oh…Mrs. Tharp! I apologize—I didn’t recognize you.”

  How could you recognize me—you’ve never come to meet me or even called to speak to me about your child’s performance. “That’s okay. I recognized you. I see you every morning when you bring Josh to school.” A few moments of awkward silence ensued. “I know you’re busy, but will you be able to talk to me for a few moments about Josh.”

  Charity looked at her co-worker, the line of customers, and then her wrist watch. She was ill prepared to discuss Josh with his teacher in the school environment, a counseling session in the middle of Starbucks was definitely inappropriate in her mind. But, how do you tell your child’s teacher you don’t want to talk? How do you decline such an invitation without looking like an unconcerned parent; especially, after missing all of the open houses and Parent Teacher meetings during the previous three years? She couldn’t; so she reluctantly accepted.

  “Umm, I’m not scheduled to take a break for another ten minutes.”

  “That’s fine—I’ll wait.” I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to talk to me even if it means I have to sit in this place for another hour. Elizabeth took a sip of her latte and sat down in a lounge chair located in the corner of the coffee shop. Charity looked like she wanted to run out the back door.

  Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes. Charity must have glanced over at her two or three times a minute; hoping the pesky teacher would get tired of waiting and leave. But she underestimated Elizabeth’s persistence. The woman was ready and waiting.

  Charity finally stopped searching for reasons to prolong the impromptu meeting and walked over. “I’m sorry it took so long, you never know what the crowds are going to be like in here.”

  Whatever, you could have come over here ten minutes ago. You’re trying to avoid me because you and I both know something is going on with your son. “That’s okay,” she replied and then sipped her coffee. “I had some time to kill. My husband is just going to have to get up off his rump and fix his own food this evening.”

  “Well, I only have a few minutes,” Charity replied, nervously fidgeting. “So, how can I help you?”

  “I just wanted to tell you about a few of my observations. I had planned on telling you at the parent/teacher conference last month, but I didn’t see you there.”

  “No, I couldn’t make it that night. I have two jobs. When I clock out here I’m usually rushing to get to the hospital.”

  Your child’s education is more important than the six dollars an hour you are earning at this place. You could have taken an hour out of your coffee making schedule to come and check on your child. “Trust me, I understand. I held down two jobs all four years I was in college. I know how hectic things can get. Please sit down—this shouldn’t take long.”

  Charity sat down in an adjacent chair. She looked more nervous that a child who’d just been summoned to the Principal’s office.

  “I’ve noticed some things.”

  “Like what? Is Josh being disruptive in class?”

  “No, he’s not disruptive at all. In fact, he’s probably the most well mannered child I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching.” She could see Charity exhale slightly. “His behavior isn’t what concerns me. It’s the things he doesn’t do that I find a little disturbing.

  “But, before I get into his actions I want to say that he is trying very hard in class. He doesn’t always comprehend some of the lessons immediately, but after I give him a little personal attention, he eventually catches up. He does need to read more at home—I’ve noticed that his reading isn’t as fluid as it should be at this point. He also needs to work more on fractions when he’s at home. Math rules never change; therefore, repetition is the key. The more problems he works on, the better he will get at solving them.” She noticed Charity glancing at her watch—now the passive aggressive approach was being utilized on her. She knew she needed to hurry up and get to the point before the opportunity slipped away. “My bigger concern at this moment is his reclusive nature. I really don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay at home?”

  “Excuse me,” Charity a
sked, clearly taken aback by the question.

  “I noticed that he is somewhat reclusive. I also noticed that he limps sometimes. I’ve even seen him wince when he sits in his seat.”

  “So what are you saying Mrs. Tharp?” Charity asked defensively.

  Oh well, I’ve opened up Pandora’s Box so I might as well go all in. “Ms. Caldwell, I’m saying that my instincts tell me something is bothering Josh. Whatever it is, it’s definitely mental. I’m also wondering if it’s physical.”

  Charity’s voice went up an octave. “What?” Patrons in the store turned and looked over at them. Nosey Stella, who was sitting at a table just a few feet way, nearly fell out of her chair as she struggled to hear their conversation.

  “This is just a gut feeling, but he said something the other day when I brought him home…”

  “You came to my house?”

  “Yes, Josh didn’t tell you? I brought him home the other day. He was hungry so I stopped at McDonald’s and bought him a hamburger. It was no problem I enjoyed doing it. It gave me a chance to talk to him.”

  “No, it gave you a chance to snoop!” Charity remarked. She looked over at Stella. “Stella, I’m trying to have a conversation. I know you want to eavesdrop, but you’re really starting to get on my nerves!” Stella immediately grabbed her purse and newspaper and darted out of the place. Charity then looked at Elizabeth and commenced to letting her have it. “And you—why are you snooping around my house?”

  “Like I said, I was concerned about Josh and wanted to have an opportunity to speak to him alone. I know you may think it was somewhat inappropriate, but I believe it was beneficial. It helped me learn a little more about him. In fact, it was something he said when he got out of my car that prompted me to approach you today.”

  “What did he say?”