They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “Come in,” she called through the door.

  He pushed open the door. Mrs. Garrison was sitting at her desk behind a stack of papers.

  “Yes, John?” she asked.

  “I caught this kid trying to escape,” he said rather proudly.

  “It’s not ‘escape,’ John, it’s ‘run away.’ Thank you. You can go back to your duties now.”

  He nodded his head and began to back out the door. He backed right into the dormitory lady, who was coming in behind him.

  “Ow!” she hollered.

  He had stepped on her. I started to giggle, but it faded quickly. I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to laugh right at this time.

  “Sorry, Rose,” he said, then disappeared out the door.

  “Well?” Mrs. Garrison asked me.

  “Well, what?”

  “Don’t ‘well what?’ me,” she snapped. “Where were you going?”

  “Uh…” I wiped away a runaway trickle. “I was trying to find Mark,” I mumbled.

  “Mark? Who’s Mark?”

  Before I could answer, Rose interrupted. “That’s the boy who got sick yesterday afternoon.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Garrison said. She moved some papers around her desk. “Rose, would you ask Margaret to come in, please?”

  She nodded her head and left.

  I wondered who this Margaret lady was. Was she going to be the one to punish me?

  “Sit down,” Mrs. Garrison said. She pointed to a chair near her desk.

  I sat. I pulled my wet laundry bag closer to me.

  “Oh, there you are, Margaret,” she said.

  I turned and saw the nurse who gave me the lollipop.

  “This young boy was trying to slip out to see—”

  “Yes, Mrs. Garrison. Rose told me.”

  “I thought it would be better if you talk to him.”

  “My, but you’re wet,” she said as she crouched down on the floor in front of me.

  She attempted to take the laundry bag from me, but I pulled it back.

  “Don’t be frightened,” she said. “I just wanted to get these wet things out of your way.”

  I pulled it back again. “Can I put it on the floor myself?” I asked.

  “Sure, if you want to. I wasn’t trying to take it. I was only trying to make you comfortable.”

  I placed the laundry bag by my foot. I was still very nervous about what the punishment would be. I was hoping they wouldn’t take Doggie away from me. I had to know.

  “Are you going to take Doggie?” I asked.

  “Doggie? Who’s Doggie?”

  “Oh, gosh,” I said. I hoped I hadn’t put my foot into it and told them about Doggie without having to. “Oh, he ain’t nobody.”

  “Is he your pet?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Is he in the laundry bag?”

  I thought maybe I’d just make believe I didn’t hear her.

  “Is he?” She smiled.

  I nodded my head yes.

  “Well, you don’t have anything to worry about. We’re not going to take him away from you. Can I see him?” she asked nicely.

  “You promise you won’t take him?”

  “I promise,” she said. She placed her hand over her heart.

  “All right,” I said. I reached down and undid the string on the bag. I lifted out Doggie.

  “Oh, he’s cute,” she said. “But he’s soaking wet.”

  “He fell in a puddle.”

  I still didn’t know what the punishment was going to be, so I asked, “Are you going to hit me?”

  “Hit you? Of course not. I just want to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me? Is that all?”

  “Listen, son. Your friend was very sick. He had a bad heart.”

  “Is he going to be away for years and years?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid your friend has died. He…”

  I know she was still talking to me, but I couldn’t hear her. Pins and needles ran all over my body. My lips felt light and my hands felt funny. The floor came rushing up at me.

  “He’s going to faint.” A loud voice boomed in my ears.

  “Are you all right?” I kept hearing over and over again like an echo in a long tunnel.

  I wanted to answer the voice, but I couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come. I tried to see who was talking to me, but the room was all black.

  Suddenly I was jolted by a sharp pain deep inside my nose, somewhere behind my eyes.

  “Mark!” I screamed. The words finally came. I blinked open my eyes and tried to pull from somebody’s grasp.

  “Shhh, now. Lie still,” Miss Margaret said.

  I was lying on the floor of Mrs. Garrison’s office. Miss Margaret was wiping my forehead with something. Doggie was clutched in my arm. She put a white thing under my nose. I jolted back again. It was the thing that burned my eyes.

  “Let’s get him into my office,” Miss Margaret said.

  I was lifted as though I weighed nothing. I was floating out of her office and down the hall.

  “Mark,” I whispered over and over. I was hoping what she said wasn’t true.

  I was placed down on a white bed with a soft pillow. I saw Miss Margaret above me.

  “Is Mark dead?” I asked.

  “Shhh. Try to get some sleep,” she whispered.

  I started to cry. I brought Doggie up to my face and cried into him. Miss Margaret moved him aside and lifted me. I pressed my face into her stomach and cried. I stayed in Miss Margaret’s arms for some time. A million thoughts ran through my mind. Mark was dead. He was gone. He was never ever coming back. He’d be like Midnight, buried somewhere in the ground, all cold and alone.

  “I’m going to give you something to make you sleep,” Miss Margaret said.

  If Mark was dead, I thought, would he be with Midnight? I wish Sal were here. He’d tell me. I thought about what he told me about Midnight: “All that really matters now is that he knew you loved him, and he knew you were his friend.”

  Gosh, I hope so, I thought. I wish now I’d told Mark I loved him, even if people don’t go around saying those things. Mark didn’t know I loved him.

  Miss Margaret stuck me in the arm with a needle. It pinched a little, but I didn’t cry. There were no more tears left inside me. I wanted to think about Mark, but I couldn’t. I started to fall headfirst down a dark and endless well.

  The days that followed were lonely ones. I stayed to myself. I took Mark’s angel off his cabinet door and put it on mine. I sat in the same spot in the yard where Mark and I used to sit. I thought about him, about how happy he was for just a little while.

  The days ran into weeks and the weeks into months. I never made another friend because I didn’t want any. The kids called me “Dummy” and “Weirdo” ’cause I never talked. I just had nothing to say, and nobody I wanted to say it to. I had Doggie. He loved me and he wanted me. And the lady in the hall was right. If I was wanted by anyone, I wouldn’t be in here.

  I was in the dining room one afternoon. We were having spaghetti. Remembering it was Mark’s favorite, I looked over to chair seventy-two. There was another boy there, but it didn’t matter. I only saw Mark. I saw him smile and push his glasses back on his face.

  “Jennings Burch,” the lady called from the doorway.

  I stood up and pointed to myself. She gestured for me to come to her. The room was so quiet as I crossed over to her, only my footsteps could be heard.

  “Get your things,” she said. “You’re going home.”

  Her words cracked the silence of the room like a whip. Goose bumps ran all over me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Is Sal here?”

  “No,” she said. “I think his name is Walter. He’s your brother.”

  “Oh.”

  As I reached the dining-room door, I turned back to look at chair seventy-two. I didn’t see Mark. I saw the boy who now owned that number. He was staring at me. All the kids were staring at me. Thei
r faces were drawn and blank, but I could read their thoughts. I knew every one of them was wishing he was me.

  13

  “Was it awful?” Walter asked.

  “It’s a prison,” I said.

  He tightened his grip on my hand at the word “prison.” Walter was lucky. He never had to know what one of these places was like.

  I looked back over my shoulder toward the building and the memory of Mark. Some people were walking by. A man with his dog on a leash and a lady with an armful of bundles. I wonder if they know what’s in that building and, if they do, I wonder if they care.

  As soon as we boarded the train and took our seats, I took Doggie out of the bag. I let him look out the window.

  “You still got that ratty thing?” he asked.

  “He’s all I got,” I said.

  I looked over Doggie’s head as the train sped through the tunnel.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said.

  That was a kinder way of saying “Dummy” or “Weirdo,” I thought. I wanted to talk, but it was hard to find words. I had been silent for so long, I was getting used to it.

  “Jennings, are you there?” Walter asked with a smile.

  “Yes,” I laughed, “I’m here.”

  “For a moment I thought you might have left me.”

  “No. How’s Mom?” I asked. I wanted to ask about Sal too, but I was afraid of the answer. I was afraid he might not be around anymore.

  “Not very well. She’s in traction.”

  “Traction? What’s that?”

  “Well, that’s hard to explain.” He paused to find the words. “I’ll describe it to you. It’ll sound awful, and it is awful, but it’s important. It’s necessary to keep her back and neck in one place until it gets better. All right?”

  “All right.”

  “She has a brace—that’s a metal thing—around her chin. It’s connected to some ropes to hold her head toward the top of the bed. Okay so far?”

  “Okay.”

  “Then she has some belts around her waist, hips, legs, and feet that are attached to some other ropes to hold the rest of her toward the bottom of the bed. Attached to those ropes are weights.”

  “Weights? What are the weights for?”

  “That’s the traction. The weights pull her back and neck straight so she heals better.”

  “Oh, gosh!” I said. “That does sound awful. How long will she be like that?”

  “A long time,” he said. “A very long time.”

  “Will she stay at home?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. If he said no, I really would be a lifer.

  “Larry came back.”

  “He did?” I perked up.

  “He shouldn’t have bothered,” he said dryly.

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “He’s a drunk like George and the old man.”

  “Is he?”

  “He’s changed.”

  Gosh, I hope not, I thought.

  “Walter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the old man you mentioned my father?”

  “Uh…” He hesitated.

  “I know he’s alive. Will you tell me about him?”

  He thought about it, then said, “He’s a drunken bastard!”

  We rode in silence for a while.

  “That’s it?” I said.

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought there was more.”

  “No, there’s no more. He’d rather take a drink than to see his kids have food, or clothes, or a place to live.”

  “Did you ever meet him?”

  “Meet him? I lived with him. So did you, but you don’t remember him. It’s a good thing, too.”

  “Why?”

  “He beat everyone up all the time. Never kept a job. He didn’t have any education. He’s a bum. George and Larry are following him right into the bottle. They’ll end up just like him.”

  “George works,” I said. “He helps Mom with money. Doesn’t that make him different?”

  “No! He’s still a bum. He didn’t have to quit school. We could have stayed in the Bronx. Things would’ve worked out. And maybe better, too.”

  “But nobody knew it wouldn’t work out too well, did they?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he said.

  Again we rode in silence. I leaned my head into Doggie and closed my eyes.

  “Education is the most important thing you can have,” he said.

  I sat up.

  “If you have that, it’s yours. Nobody can take it away. You can make a place for yourself, and nobody can hurt you.”

  I looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead. He was talking to himself. I put my head back down on Doggie and closed my eyes.

  We came out of the subway at Elmhurst Avenue. I remembered seeing or hearing that name somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where it was.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Oh!” He laughed and tapped his hand against his forehead. “I forgot to tell you. We moved.”

  “Moved? Where?”

  “Here. Elmhurst.”

  “Elmhurst. Is that near St. Michael’s?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. I registered you into St. Bartholomew’s.”

  “Where?”

  “St. Bartholomew’s. It’s just a few blocks from here. You’ll like it.”

  “I liked St. Michael’s.”

  “Well, it’s too far.”

  “Gosh. I liked St. Michael’s.” I pouted.

  “Right here,” he said. He was pointing the way into a huge apartment building.

  “Here?”

  “Apartment 5G. It’s on the fifth floor.”

  The building was beautiful. Fancy gold lettering above the door read “Wingate Apartments.” He used a key to open the lobby door. He walked to the right, and I followed. He climbed a few steps and stopped.

  “What are we standing here for?” I asked.

  “We’re waiting for the elevator.”

  “Elevator? Like the one in Macy’s?”

  “Well, it’s not as big as the one in Macy’s.”

  “Can I tell the man the floor?”

  “There is no man. It’s automatic.”

  “What’s automatic?”

  “You just push a button and it goes by itself.”

  “Without a man?”

  “Right.”

  “How does it know where to go?”

  “It’s automatic.”

  “Oh, gosh,” I said. “We’re back to that again. Can I push the button?”

  The elevator door opened and we stepped in.

  “Push five,” he said.

  I was amazed at the elevator going all by itself. It stopped at the fifth floor. We got out.

  The apartment was very big. There wasn’t much furniture, so maybe it just seemed big. Off the front hall was a kitchen and a living room. There was nothing in the room but a couch and the television. They looked lost.

  We walked down a long hall to a back bedroom. We passed the bathroom, a closet, and another bedroom.

  “Is Mom in there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  We went into the back bedroom. It looked like a dormitory. There were two single beds, a double-deck bunk bed, and an army cot.

  “Who sleeps there?” I asked. I pointed to the army cot.

  “You do.”

  “Oh, great!” I said.

  “You won’t think it’s so great when you try it,” he said. “And don’t…”

  I plopped down on the cot and it collapsed.

  “…plop down on it,” he tailed off.

  We laughed. He helped me put it back together.

  “When can I see Mom?”

  “When she wakes up. Now, let me give you some of the rules.”

  He told me a nurse would be in three times a week to bathe Mom. I had to make sure I was home to l
et her in. I was never to touch the bed, never to tell Mom bad things or complain to her. And I was never to turn off the light.

  “Do you understand?” he asked.

  “Why can’t I turn off the light?” I asked.

  “Because she’s afraid of the dark.”

  I took Doggie from the bag and placed him on the cot. “Where is everybody, Walter?”

  “Well, Gene is still away. I’ll get him on Friday. George is working, and Larry’s out. I have to study now, so be quiet.”

  I wanted to ask him about Sal, but again, I was afraid of the answer. I cautiously sat down on the cot and lifted Doggie.

  “Hi, fella,” I whispered. “We got a whole bunch of new stuff to get used to.”

  “Stop whispering!” Walter snapped.

  “Walter?” Mom called out. Her voice was low, sort of muffled.

  Walter jumped to his feet. I stood up.

  “Can I come?”

  “No, stay here.”

  I sat back down and hugged Doggie. “I hope I can see Mom soon,” I said.

  “Jennings,” Mom called.

  I looked around the corner of the door to see if it was all right to see her. Walter motioned for me to come in.

  Mom was all covered up except for her head. Walter was right when he described how she looked. She looked awful. The tears welled up in my eyes as I got near her. She was staring at the ceiling.

  “Jennings,” she called again. The brace around her chin prevented her from opening her mouth all the way. That’s why her voice sounded muffled.

  “I’m right here,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t see you,” she said. “I can’t turn my head.”

  “I’ll come closer, all right?”

  “Don’t touch the bed,” Walter said.

  I got as close as I could.

  “That’s better,” she said. “How are you, dear?”

  I couldn’t talk. The tears would fall if I did, and I didn’t want to break the rule about upsetting her.

  “Don’t cry, dear,” she said. “I know I look terrible, but I’ll be all right.”

  “I’m not crying,” I said as I backed out of range and wiped my eyes with Doggie. I stepped back to her.

  “Are you going to be my little helper?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “That’s good. I’m going to need someone I can depend on. Walter can teach you how to feed me. Do you mind helping me?”

  “Of course not. I’ll help you.”