by Beth Lewis
‘If there’s one thing your daddy was good at, John Royal, it was lying. He told me all the things I wanted to hear. He said he’d take me to Paris, France, and he’d kiss me on top of the Eiffel tower. He said we’d go to Mexico and California and we’d lie on beaches and swim in that clear blue ocean water. He said he loved me and he’d give me everything and anything if I would be his lady. All those promises just to get my panties off and have his way. He wasn’t a man …’
She trailed off, as if the memory caught her up and swept her away. A second later she returned, eyes brighter, smiling again.
‘None of them were men. Except my bad boy. He made the Buchanan name mean something in this town. He was the only one who didn’t come to the parade and see me. Eddie Buchanan. Nineteen and raw. He was beautiful. He was movie-star-James-Dean beautiful, and my God, he wasn’t like any of those other boys. Eddie was real man.’
Momma’s eyes went glassy, lost in the past, while here, in the present, the squirming feeling in my gut kept getting worse. This wasn’t the story she told. This wasn’t the way she told it.
‘Momma,’ I said, ‘why are you telling me this?’
‘You’ve got to know, John,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to know why it is what it is.’
‘Why what is?’
The house was silent but for the sound of running water. The bath would be nearly full now but I didn’t want it any more. I forgot about the pain in my face, my side, the ringing in my left ear. My skin was chilled despite the heat. Momma’s words, her tone, the mud on her feet, it all put maggots in my belly.
‘I tried to get Eddie to notice me back then but he never even looked my way,’ Momma carried on. ‘I thought, there’s a man who wants more out of this town than any of those football boys. There’s a man who can make good on all his promises. Eddie didn’t go to pep rallies or homecoming or the prom. He went to car shows and cattle auctions and he watched people. He figured out what made them open their money clips and handed it to them at a good price. I thought, if I’m going to hitch my wagon to any man in Larson, it should be the man who one day is going to run the place.’
Momma raised her free hand in a slow flourish, the sleeve of her robe slipped down, showed a faint red smear on her wrist.
‘And now I have. It only took me seventeen years,’ she said, and brought her hand back down to her lap, the smear covered.
Red lipstick?
You know it’s blood, Johnny. Maybe Momma caught the cut on her arm.
Maybe.
I hated the way she spoke about Bung-Eye like he was a good man. It didn’t sound right coming from her mouth. This woman was some other mother, some new form of monster I’d never seen and it terrified me.
‘He doesn’t run the town,’ I said, tried to put that red mark out of my head. ‘Sheriff Samuels, he’s in charge.’
Momma laughed. ‘Bless you, baby. I raised a simple boy, didn’t I? You could learn something from Eddie about people. Eddie’s got all of Larson’s big boys over a barrel. The mayor, Samuels, the pastor, even pompous Wakefield. Roy Easton too. Boy, I could tell you stories about all of them that’d turn your hair white. Especially Wakefield.’ She whistled and shook her head. ‘That man’s a snake in a linen suit, a slithering eel, always has been, even in high school. But they’re all scum. You know it wasn’t just Roy’s son parking on the tracks that sent that man over the edge. He had a mountain of debt to my Eddie and the price of corn wasn’t what it used to be.’
My Eddie. That hurt worse than a boot to the face.
‘Eddie’s got to make sure all those rich sons of bitches get what they want and keep coming back for more. It’s all secrets in this town and those men have dark ones they want to keep hidden. First they pay Eddie for their pleasures, then they pay him to keep their wives, their voters, their congregants from finding out. It’s been going on for years. I told you, Eddie knows people.’
My head swam, dizzy, sick. I stood up, ignored the pain shooting through my side. ‘Stop it.’
My ears buzzed from her words. My vision blurred. Did she know about Wakefield? About Mary Ridley? Did she know it was me who caused that bastard to take Jenny? Did he pay for the privilege? Did he pay Momma? Too many pieces. Too much horror. My head couldn’t put it all together so it focused on something else. The house. Too quiet except for the running water. The bath would be full now, I should turn the tap off, lift the plug, but I didn’t move. Jenny was a fitful sleeper. All these nights I’d spent in the family room I’d heard her moving around, but now there was only quiet, only my heartbeat fierce in my ears and Momma’s cruel tone. It was as if Jenny wasn’t even here. But I’d seen her, asleep in our bed. Hadn’t I?
Momma reached out to me, caught my wrist. ‘Please, baby. You have to understand why it had to happen this way.’
My breath ached in my lungs. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving, Momma. I’m leaving this town and I’m taking Jenny so you and Bung-Eye can do what you want if you like him that much. Jenny’s not happy here.’
‘That little bitch wouldn’t be happy anywhere,’ Momma snapped. The monster surged forward, forcing her to her feet, her face a finger-length from mine. ‘You know what she told me tonight? That ungrateful bitch, after all I’ve done for her. She said, “Momma, I’m not staying here another minute. I’m going to Washington to find Eric and you can’t stop me.”’
Momma laughed like the devil was sat in her throat.
‘Then she went over there.’ Her hand shot out, pointing to the cabinet.
The baseboard was loose. I went to it, pulled it free, reached my hand under and found nothing. No matchbox. No ninety-four dollars.
‘Where is it?’ I rose to my feet, red heat pulsing through me. ‘Where is it, Momma?’
‘She took it. She wanted to leave you here, John. She wanted to leave us both to be with that man.’
My heart hurt, as if a hand was reaching into my chest and wrenching, twisting. Leave me? Jenny was going to leave me? She took all that money I earned for us both and left me.
I couldn’t make sense of the words. It couldn’t be true. Yet I knew, in the deep, dark pit of me, that it was. She’d left. She’d abandoned me. My sister. The person I loved more than all other people. My head split, ached, like shards of bone were lodged in my brain.
I looked at Momma. Wanted her to tell me it wasn’t true, that she’d gone after her like she did last year and brought her home. She stood there on her muddy feet, clutching her robe together. Sweat sheened her forehead. Why was she holding that robe right up to her neck? It wasn’t to keep a chill off. She looked so small then. Her hair loose and wild, a shade of dull blonde she hated. Her hair was nothing compared to Jenny’s vibrant gold.
Jenny’s gone.
But she’s asleep upstairs.
Go and see, Johnny boy. You know what you’re going to find.
I rushed upstairs, two, three at a time, my legs and side screaming at me to stop. Water pooled on the landing but I didn’t slow. I splashed to the attic steps and left wet footprints on the wood. Without stopping, I barged in the room, went right for that ugly blanket and pulled it clear.
Pillows. Cushions.
No Jenny.
Inside me, a tornado of black birds raged from my centre, outward, pulsing, swarming, bigger and bigger. I ran back downstairs and found Momma standing by the cabinet, my AMX Javelin matchbox in her hands.
‘I wouldn’t let her take this from you,’ Momma said and handed me the box, still full. ‘You earned this, baby.’
I took it in my shaking hands. The wings beat a cacophony in my ears. ‘Momma, where’s Jenny?’
‘She’s done her part for this family and that’s the end of it.’
‘What part? What are you talking about? Did she run away again? Where did she go?’
Momma tilted her head, looked at me like I was an idiot. ‘Do you have any idea what a girl like her, with those wide puppy eyes and skinny hips, is worth in this town?’
Momma stroked my arm but I didn’t feel it. She smiled, and there in her eyes, pride. I wanted to vomit. Spill all my insides over the floorboards.
She lifted my chin, made me look in her eyes, and said, ‘Eddie knew what they would pay for her. He’d had offers. And when he told me how much … well. Who can say no to that? Finally, I thought, something that girl is good for. She wanted it, you know, she said as much with those short dresses and bare legs, running all over town.’
My gut clenched, the maggots writhed in my stomach and the birds began to feast. The ringing in my left ear turned to white noise, as if muting the world, a defence against what I was about to hear.
‘You knew?’
Momma stroked my swollen cheek and I felt my tears beneath her palm. ‘Oh, baby. My beautiful boy.’ She leaned in and kissed my forehead. The monster, the darkness, flickered in her eyes and showed Momma again for the briefest moment.
She let out a sharp gasp as if the real Momma knew what was going on. Knew, and couldn’t believe it.
‘I wish I could have given you more,’ she said. ‘I wish your sister were more like you, than like me. You’re so sensible, so strong, not like her. But I did my best, John, only ever my best for you both.’
‘Momma,’ I couldn’t speak more than a whisper. ‘Where’s Jenny?’
Her other hand slipped from her robe. It fell open at the collar.
I closed my eyes and let the tears fall over my raw cheeks. I rested my forehead on Momma’s and let her hold me. I cried out the pain in my chest. A low, animal noise I didn’t believe came from my throat. I reached for her robe, pulled the belt loose and saw it all.
From her neck to her knees, the white nightgown was soaked with blood.
‘What did you do?’
My throat and chest and lungs and all my muscles tightened and all I could do was stand there and cry and oh God, oh God, why is there so much blood, Momma? Why is there so much blood?
‘I had to baby, for us.’ She took my face in both hands. She kissed my cheeks and pressed her head to mine.
‘Jenny was going to go to Clarkesville and tell the sheriffs there about Eddie and then she was going to run off. She was being so selfish, don’t you see that? She didn’t care what it would do to me. It was only a few times with Wakefield and, from what I hear, he was a gentleman about it. I was surprised he even asked for her, she was young for him, but who can tell with men like that? She’d have made us good money and learned a lesson. Besides, the way she carried on with Darney, Eddie said she was enjoying herself. Made for the work, he said.’
The smell of the blood, of the whiskey on her skin, of the mud on her feet, it made my head swirl and throb. ‘You didn’t … oh God … please, Momma …’
Momma stroked the back of my neck, her rough hands scratched at the sunburn. ‘If I’d let her tell anyone, they would have taken him away. I’ve waited seventeen years for Eddie Buchanan and that little slut,’ the sharpness in her voice cleared the fog from my head, ‘would have taken him from me. Like she took my beauty, my body. She took my life. She wasn’t going to take my Eddie too.’
I pushed away. She’d let the monster win. She’d given up and done something so terrible that my real Momma couldn’t face. Real Momma would never have hurt Jenny.
My eyes scanned the family room, the kitchen, searching for anything that would tell me what to do, just tell me what to do. There. On the floor, a thin line of blood led through the kitchen, and out of the back door.
‘Where’s my sister?’ I almost shouted.
Momma looked down to her feet. Black mud. The nearest water. Three Points.
I ran.
I didn’t care about the pain in my cheek or my side. I was flying through the corn, through the brush and dry grass. All around me, darkness, but I knew my way. No stars or moon shone above now, they were dead, their life snuffed out. But I saw through the blackness, through my momma’s words. Those words weren’t real. They were all lies and Jenny would be standing on the island, waiting for me to take her to the ocean. That was it. It had to be it. The monster was dangerous, hurtful, a liar, but not a killer.
My legs and arms worked like pistons, pushing me on and on. My lungs, my muscles, my heart burned with the effort. I was fire. I was streaming flame through the fields and all I could think was please, please let it be lies, please let the blood be nail polish like it was before. Please, please, don’t let her be gone.
I passed a stand of trees, the last barrier between me and the island and saw them. The birds. Black and ragged on every branch and fence line. The world bristled with them and they were here for me. I skidded, fell, felt a rush of quiet. They waited, watched. Their wings didn’t move, not like when I’d burnt the rotten corn. Then they’d twitched and cawed and scratched their claws as the maggots and rot were consumed. Now they perched like statues, terrible gargoyles staring down at the scene.
I walked those last few steps to the irrigation channel, through the water, the mud, up onto the island. Saw what they saw.
A shape in the dark.
Still and silent as the birds.
‘Jenny?’ I said. ‘Jenny? Don’t be Jenny. Don’t be Jenny.’
The tears came again and I screamed into the night. My body wasn’t mine any more. It was fire, it was dynamite about to blow. This couldn’t be real so I couldn’t be real. I was a bird. Oh God, make me a bird, let me fly away from this, let me soar and forget.
I dropped to my knees, pressed my face against the dirt. Breathed out a cloud of dust. Tasted earth. Make it not real. It’s not real. Nothing is real. For a brief, wonderful moment I didn’t know where I was, why I was. Then I looked up. Saw her. There’s her shape. There’s her hair.
My heart shattered. My mind shattered. I was pieces, fragments, seeing all of it and none of it at the same time.
I knelt beside my sister. Ignored the red blackness pooling around her, ignored the flies buzzing around her. I held her. Felt her weight. Felt the wetness of her blood soak into my t-shirt. Told her that it would all be okay.
‘I’ll protect you, keep you safe forever,’ I said into her hair, the smell of her lingered in my nose, my mouth, I could taste her.
Her eyes were closed and with my fingertips, I lifted the lids. Even in the starless night, they shone blue and brilliant. Such beauty in her eyes and it was still there. Momma hadn’t found that. Hadn’t stolen it. They were her last beauty. I closed my sister’s eyes and she was sleeping.
I don’t know how long I knelt there. For seconds. For hours. Forever.
Light. Soft, glowing, like sunrise, but it couldn’t be. I looked up or down, I don’t know which way but I saw her. Jenny. There she was, standing over herself. I’d closed her eyes and let her go and she’d come back to me. A bright, golden light emanating from her skin like she’d captured the sun and swallowed it whole. I blinked at her in the dark, asked her if she was real and she said she was. I remember taking her hand and walking back to our house. The body on the points was not my sister and so I left it, for the birds, for the insects, for the sun to dry and turn to tinder. My sunshine, my sister, walking with me in the cornfields, said she’d wait for me in our room. Jenny told me to be quiet when I came in because she was so tired and wanted to sleep for a week. I said I wouldn’t make a sound and she smiled, and kissed me on the cheek.
Her light left me at the back door.
The house felt empty and full at the same time. It felt like the world outside was gone, fallen away into the abyss and there was just me and there would always be just me. I knew the sun wouldn’t rise again in my house.
Only one sound found my ears. A humming. A tune. From the bathroom. ‘Crazy’, by Patsy Cline. My momma’s favourite song.
A river ran down the staircase but I didn’t care. The wood might warp but it would dry and everything would go back to normal. And that’s what I wanted. Everything back to normal. Me and Jenny and our momma, all together, all safe as houses. That’s all I want, all I’ve
ever wanted.
At the top of the stairs, Momma’s tune became clearer and she sang the words with it. The bathroom door was open and I went in.
The tune stopped and Momma, in the steaming tub, looked around at me and smiled.
‘Hey, baby,’ she said and reached out for me.
I let myself go to her. I knelt beside the tub like I was taking communion. Oh, Holy Father, forgive me. Forgive us all.
I wanted to ask why she’d done it, why she’d done that to Jenny. But I knew any answer would be too hard for me to hear. I was broken. She had broken me. I couldn’t feel anything. I was kneeling beside her, her hand playing in my hair, and I was trying to pray. But there was no God in this house any more. She’d driven Him away and replaced Him with Bung-Eye Buchanan. A man she loved and hated and would do anything for.
I raised my eyes to her. The water tinged pink from my sister’s blood. The smell of strawberries.
‘You’re so quiet, John. And what a mess you are, we’ll have to throw that shirt out. That stain will never clean,’ Momma said, but it wasn’t Momma. The words were soft and kind and I always longed for that tone but it was the monster saying them, trying to trick me. She closed her eyes, began to hum.
My hand rose by my side, dipped into the water, found Momma’s chest. My mind didn’t understand what it was doing, my body followed primal orders. The skin felt different than it used to, it was tough and hard beneath my touch. The monster made flesh. It had finally done what it always wanted to do. It had taken Jenny from me and here it was, right in front of me, tired and weak and beneath my hands.
‘John,’ the monster spoke but I chose not to hear it. ‘John, what are you doing?’
The monster’s claws grabbed my arm but I was stronger.
‘John! John! Stop!’
Then the water swallowed it up, cut the voice out of its throat.
I pressed hard on its chest until I felt it hit the bottom of the tub. Both hands pushing, straining, keeping it under.
Its arms and legs thrashed and soaked my t-shirt. The bloody water splashed on the floor, joined the lake on the landing, the river on the stairs. I moved one hand to its throat, squeezed and stood and bore down with all my weight.