They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “I don’t have no choice, Stacy,” I said. I looked into her eyes. The edges of her lids were lined with tears. So were mine. “I made the mistake once of forgetting it all could end tomorrow, and I paid for it.”

  “How?”

  “It ended, and it hurt twice as much.”

  We sat on the bench as a light rain started to fall. At first we didn’t move.

  “We’re getting wet,” she said.

  We left the bench and dashed toward the school. We stood in the doorway.

  “When do you have to go?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  I brought her wet hand up to my lips and kissed her fingers. There wasn’t anything left to say. Jerome had told me when you feel it, say it. But I couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come. They were there, but I couldn’t get them out.

  The rain let up and we walked. I took her to her house.

  “I’ll write to you,” she said.

  I nodded my head.

  “And if we see each other next summer,” she said, “that will be wonderful.”

  “And if we don’t,” I said, “I’ll know from how much I miss you just how special you are to me.”

  She kissed me, then ran into the house.

  The pins and needles faded after a few minutes and I could walk. I passed Clarence’s shack and heard the music. I leaned my head against the side of his door and cried.

  I went straight to bed when I got home. I took Doggie from under my pillow and hugged him. “You never let me down, do you, Doggie?” I whispered.

  I guess I moped around a bit for the first few days. Jerome didn’t say anything to me. He sort of knew something was wrong, but he didn’t say anything.

  When I was back to being myself a little, he talked to me.

  “You’ve grown up a lot,” he said. “Love will sometimes do that to you. Even more than questions.”

  “Do you really think so?” I asked.

  “I do,” he said. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, you seem to be taking it all right.”

  “She went away.”

  He made a face like he was sorry.

  “There’ll be others,” he said. “Stacy is just the beginning.”

  “Do you think I feel real love for her?” I asked.

  “Sure you do, don’t you?”

  “How come it’s different than what I feel for Mom or Sal or Doggie? I love them too.”

  He laughed. “Love comes in all sizes and shapes. You’ll see. Did you ever tell her you loved her?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Can’t get it out yet, can you?”

  “No.”

  “You will,” he said, “and when you do…” He paused. “You’ll know what it feels like to say it, and you’ll never stop. It becomes a habit.”

  Jerome didn’t talk much after that day. He got sick a few days later. I called a number that was put by the phone in case of an emergency. His doctor came from Bellevue Hospital. She made arrangements for Jerome to go back.

  “I’m gonna miss you,” I said. “Please come back soon.”

  “I will,” he mumbled. “I promise.”

  I laid my head by his arm as the men prepared to take him.

  “Promise me something,” he said.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Promise me you won’t stop asking questions.”

  “I won’t stop.”

  “Good. And if it all goes wrong for you, don’t give up. Hang in there.” He closed his eyes.

  “Jerome,” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “To feel what I feel for you is to have a brother, and to be able to tell you about it is to be one.”

  “Simple, isn’t it?” He smiled.

  The men lifted him onto a stretcher and took him.

  I lay in bed with Doggie. I cried out all the tears I had. There were none left. I was tired. I had given Mom her medicine and she was trying to sleep. Walter and Gene were watching television. George was out.

  “Mom is taking it badly, Doggie,” I said. “I never saw her cry so much.”

  I heard Walter go into Mom’s room.

  “Jerome is gonna die,” she screamed. “I just have to lie here and take it.”

  I heard a crash. I leapt from the bed and ran into Mom’s room. She had cut the weight, letting it fall to the floor.

  “Oh, gosh!”

  “Grab that rope,” Walter said.

  He tried to retie the weight. Mom was screaming. Chills were running all over me. I was scared.

  “Give her another pill,” Walter said.

  “Do you think I should?” I said. “I gave her three already.”

  “Three!” he snapped. “I gave her two.”

  “I gave her four,” Gene said.

  “Did you?” Walter asked.

  Gene nodded his head.

  “Oh, my God!” he cried. He ran from the room, dropping the weight back to the floor. He called the police.

  “Keep her awake,” he said. “The police are on the way.”

  “Will she die?” Gene asked.

  “God! I hope not,” Walter said. He ran from the room. “Keep her talking,” he yelled.

  “Mom, talk to me,” I said.

  “Yes, dear. Is Jerome dead?” she asked.

  “No, Mom. He’s not gonna die. He promised.”

  “I know. I promised things too, and I couldn’t keep them,” she cried.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “You tried.”

  “No one thinks I tried. They all blame me for what’s happened. I tried to make a good home, but I couldn’t do it alone. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Gene asked.

  “Nothing. Go see if Walter needs you.”

  “Walter needs me?” Mom said. “Walter doesn’t need me. Walter doesn’t need anyone. George only needs drink, and Larry…” She cried. “Oh, Larry! Why did you go away again?”

  “He didn’t go anywhere. He’s at work.”

  “No, he’s gone. I know he’s gone. You’re all gone. I’m alone. I can’t do it alone.”

  I couldn’t help finding more tears. I talked and cried at the same time. “You’ll be all right, Mom. You’ll see. You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll help you.”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “I tried to keep everyone together. I didn’t want my children to grow up hating each other, but now they do. I lost them.”

  The policemen pushed me aside.

  “Outside, son,” one of them ordered.

  I backed out through the door. Two ambulance men came rushing down the hall. Walter pulled me close to him and folded his arms around me. He had Gene holding on to one of his pants legs. They wheeled Mom past us.

  “Is she dead?” Gene asked.

  “No,” a policeman said. “She’ll be all right.”

  He called Walter over to one side to talk to him. He kept looking over his shoulder at Gene and me. I knew what was coming. I went into the bedroom to be with Doggie.

  “I can’t take much more of this, Doggie,” I cried into him. I hid my head under the pillow.

  Walter nudged me. “Jennings,” he said softly.

  “Go away!”

  “I can’t,” he said. “You have to go.”

  “I don’t want to!” I screamed. I brought my head from beneath the pillow. “I don’t want to!”

  Walter sat on the bed and held me. “I’ll come for you just as soon as they let me,” he said.

  I got to my feet and went to the closet. I took my laundry bag out. I started to stuff some things into it. Walter left the room. He knew there wasn’t anything else to say. I kissed Doggie and put him in on top of my clothes. I took a piece of paper from Walter’s desk. I wrote Sal a note.

  Dear Sal,

  Please come for me and Doggie. We need you.

  Your son,

  Jennings Burch

  I crumpled up the paper and threw it in Walter’s wastepaper basket.


  “Come on, Doggie,” I said as I lifted my laundry bag.

  14

  We sat in the dark shadows on a wooden bench in the precinct station house. Gene was half-asleep lying up against my side. His feet were pulled up. I’m glad now that Stacy went away. It would be awful for her to be waiting somewhere for me to show up, and I didn’t. She’d understand, I know, but it would hurt.

  “Gene Burch,” the policeman behind the desk called out.

  There was a lady standing in front of the high wooden desk. She was here to take Gene.

  “Come on,” I said.

  I got Gene to his feet.

  “Where’re we going?” he asked.

  “You have to go with that lady.”

  We started to approach her.

  “I don’t want to go with her. I wanna stay with you.”

  “Can we stay together?” I asked anyone who would answer me.

  “I’m afraid not,” the lady said. “We only have room for him at the moment.”

  “You can go back and sit down,” the policeman told me.

  “I want to say good-bye first.”

  “I ain’t going!” Gene yelled.

  The lady took his hand.

  “I ain’t going!”

  I crouched down to talk to him. “Look, it won’t be for long,” I said. I didn’t believe myself. “I’ll see you real soon.” I kissed his cheek. His tears were salty.

  He was crying too hard to form the word “good-bye.” He went with the lady. I watched through the blur of my tears as he left. He kept looking back at me to stop her, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything I could do. I sat back down and took Doggie from the bag.

  I curled up facing the back of the bench. I drifted off, thinking about Mom and Jerome. I wonder if Jerome had known things would get worse. He had told me not to give up. That’s easy, I laughed to myself, to say “I won’t” before it happens.

  I was awakened by a policeman.

  “There’s a lady here from Child Welfare,” he said.

  I sat up and cleared my eyes. I swung my feet to the floor and lifted Doggie. I put him in the bag.

  The lady took me out to a car. She didn’t ask me my name or anything. I guess she already knew everything she wanted to know.

  After an hour or so of riding in silence, we stopped in front of an old red brick building. There was some ivy growing up one side near the door.

  “Are we in Brooklyn?” I asked.

  “No, Yonkers,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  She was cold and abrupt. I knew she wasn’t going to say “Have a good time” when she left. She pushed open the front door. The hall was dark, but she knew exactly where she was going.

  She brought me through the darkness to an office. She switched on a light.

  “Sit there,” she said. She dropped a folder she had tucked under her arm on the desk. She left.

  I sat on a rickety old chair and waited. The room was painted the same light and dark green. Who paints all these places? I wondered. They must have millions of gallons of green paint.

  A lady in a dark blue dress pushed open the door.

  “Oh!” She was startled. “I didn’t know anyone was here,” she said.

  “I’m here.”

  “Well,” she said as she stepped behind the desk and picked up the folder. “Let’s see who you are.”

  I could have told her who I was, but by the way she spoke, she didn’t seem to want to know who I was from me.

  “Burch Jennings,” she said. “Burch surely is a strange first name. What kind of name is that?”

  “It’s my last name,” I said. I smiled weakly.

  “Oh! Well, let’s get you settled, Jennings.” She put out her hand for me to take.

  I got up and took her hand. She brought me through the same darkness to a dormitory. She brought me to a bed and left me. It was too dark to see my number, so I didn’t know who I was. One number is as good as another, I thought. I’ll find out tomorrow who I am.

  I felt around the side of the bed and found a cabinet. I opened it up and took out pajamas. My bed was against the wall, near a window. The window had bars, of course, and their shadows crossed my bedcover.

  I changed into the pajamas and put my things in the cabinet. I put Doggie alongside the pillow. I climbed into bed.

  I lay back against the pillow in a sitting position. I heard the usual night sounds, a cough, a sniffle, and a cry. The blanket was heavy and itchy, and not necessary. It was hot. I pushed the blanket down toward the bottom of the bed. I smelled pee. Funny, I hadn’t smelled it when I first came in. Maybe I’m getting used to these places. I slid down beneath the sheet and hugged Doggie.

  “I’m sorry, little fella,” I said. I kissed his nose. I pushed him under the pillow for safety and closed my eyes. I thought about Clarence playing his harmonica, or harp as he liked to call it. If I lay real still, I could almost hear him.

  I was awakened by a sharp pain to my stomach. I popped open my eyes and sat up. There was an ugly kid with his fists clenched standing alongside the bed. Three or four other kids stood nearby. I slipped my hand beneath my pillow to feel Doggie. He was there. It was morning, and for some reason this ugly kid hit me.

  “What do you want?” I snapped.

  “Who’s the toughest kid in here?” he growled in a raspy hoarse voice.

  His brown hair was all ratty and stuck up in every direction. He had a scar that ran from the top of his forehead, across his left eye, down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. He frightened me.

  “Who’s the toughest kid in here?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  That was the wrong answer. He hit me flush in the mouth, cutting my lip. Blood spurted all over my chin and pajama top.

  “Who’s the toughest kid in here?” he said. He was now more determined than ever.

  I thought back to the Home of the Angels and Butch. I drew back my right foot, then shot it forward. I caught him full in the stomach. I heard the gush of air leave him. He doubled up and fell to the floor. I leapt from the bed, bringing the sheet and blanket with me. I dug my feet into him as I landed. He was much bigger than me, so I took every advantage. I covered his head with the blanket, then tried to get him into a head lock. His fist came from nowhere and struck me on the top of the head. I saw stars. Before I could shake the starry feeling off, he was on me. He pinned me to the floor. I brought my legs up behind his head and grabbed hold of him. I pulled him backward toward the floor. We rolled and wrestled around the floor and under the bed.

  “What’s going on here?” a lady shouted.

  She grabbed me by one of my sideburns and lifted me straight up. She did the same to him.

  “You again!” she huffed. “Don’t you know how to do anything but fight?” She was apparently talking to him.

  “And you!” she said. “If this is how you’re going to begin your stay with us…” She paused to catch her breath. “…you’re in big trouble.”

  I said nothing. I glared at the kid who started it all. He glared back.

  “See me after you dress!” she said. “The two of you!”

  I went about putting my bed back together. I took my clothes from the cabinet and put Doggie inside. I crouched down to talk to him.

  “I’m in trouble already,” I whispered.

  I took my things and went into the bathroom. The scar-faced boy and his friends were there waiting for me.

  “Who’s the toughest kid in here?” he said again.

  He sounded like a broken record. I looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t met everyone yet.”

  “Well, I am!” he said in his toughest voice. He jammed his thumb into his chest on the word “I.”

  “Maybe you are and maybe you’re not,” I said. I took off my pajama top.

  Redness flushed into his cheeks. He started to change into his clothes. I continued to do the same.

  “What’s your name?” he mut
tered.

  “Jennings,” I said. “And that’s my first name!” I jammed my thumb into my chest on the word “my.”

  “I’m Ronny,” he said. He extended his hand to me.

  I was surprised. We shook hands. He smiled and I smiled back.

  We stood in different corners of the dining room through breakfast. None of the kids poked fun or laughed at us. If Ronny was the toughest kid in here, they knew he wouldn’t be in the corner forever. As far as I was concerned, they didn’t know anything about me at all, except that I took on the toughest kid in a fight. I had a funny feeling about that. I hoped I wasn’t going to get a reputation as a bully. But it was good knowing kids were afraid to tease you.

  After breakfast the dormitory lady yelled at us. She was dressed in the same dark blue clothes as the first lady I saw the night before. I guess that was their uniform. She took us to the playroom and left us.

  The playroom looked like every other playroom I was ever in. Shelves of toys and games, tables and chairs, and glass-paneled doors leading to the courtyard.

  All the kids stared in our direction as we came into the room, but nobody laughed.

  “Let’s go outside,” Ronny said.

  We stepped into the gray-stone courtyard. If I didn’t know I was in a different place, I’d think I was in Brooklyn. The high wire-mesh fence had the same barbed wire running along the top of it. As we crossed the yard, the kids parted in front of us. There was something to being a bully, I thought. Nobody would ever bother you. But then, what good is it to have kids being nice to you only because they’re afraid of you? We sat down beside the fence.

  “How’d you get the scar?” I asked.

  “I fell off a train.”

  “You fell off a train?” I gasped.

  “Yeah. I was runnin’ away from a home in Texas. I hitched a ride on a train and fell off. I gots two hundred stitches.”

  “Oh, wow!” I said.

  I showed him where I got stitches. He thought it was a neat scar.

  “I saw Texas in the movies,” I said. “Are there really a lot of cowboys and Indians there?”

  “Naaa. That’s just movies. There ain’t none of that stuff in Texas. It’s just a regular place.”

  “It must be nice being in a home in Texas,” I said.

  “You been in these homes long?” he asked.

  “Yeah, pretty long.”