My sister Karen thinks he hides his feelings, that he’s learned to bury his emotions or he’d go crazy in this job. Because no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make his customers happy.
My feeling is, he doesn’t have any feelings. Maybe he had some a long time ago, but his father froze them out of him. As his father did to him, as his father did to him.… It goes back so far, who do you blame? Maybe I’m the one who’ll have to break the chain, so I’ll have a chance with my own kids someday, to be all the things that my dad can’t be: warm and loving and understanding.
A lot of people are buried with their wedding rings. I wonder if I’ll ever get married.
I miss my sister. She’s the only person who understands what it’s like around here. She ran away from home when she was eighteen, into a lousy marriage. Her husband’s a jerk. They’re always broke. But she’s got two little kids and she feels stuck. My father has never forgiven her for leaving. He says, “She made her own bed. Now let her sleep in it.” My mother sends her money on the sly.
I want to leave too, but my mother begs me not to, because then she’d be alone with him. They never kiss or touch. They don’t even argue. Why does she stay here? My mother’s not crazy. Or maybe she is, I don’t know.
I’m worried about Jennie. Gabe’s death is going to kill her. Once she told me: I couldn’t live without him. That’s ridiculous, I said, but she wouldn’t listen. When it comes to loving Gabe, she’s so stubborn.
I called her house a while ago. “We don’t know where she is,” her mother said, crying. “She must’ve heard me on the phone.”
We agreed that she probably needs some time alone. Mrs. Harding said she’d give Jennie my message as soon as they found her.
I used to wish I were Gabe. I used to wish he were my brother. Gabe had it all. Now he’s got nothing.
I better go splash cold water on my face. My dad would get mad if he caught me crying.
10
Gabriel McCloud
I feel so stupid. I have nothing to say. But I have to write 250 words.
I feel so stupid. I have nothing to say. Let’s see that’s 28 so far only 222 to go.
Dear Mrs. Sanders,
Hi! How are you! Well, not much is new here so I’ll sine off.
Yours Truely,
Gabriel McCloud
You should see the SHADOW MAN comic sometime. I just got the new one. They sell them at the liquor store. That dude is so cool! He looks at people with those big spooky eyes and they lissen! That would come in handy around my house you can’t get a word in thier allways screaming. Usally two people so nobody hears what the other ones saying. There just shouting. Its like Madison Swquare Garden there. Just kidding.
I’m at the library now but I have to go soon I’m working part time at the mill. We make coffins and pallets and planter boxes for flowers. My boss sucks but I can use the money my truck guzzles gas and it needs some work but old trucks are still the best.
Thanks for the info about the junior college but after gradation I’m going to work full time at the mill. I can’t wait. Not that working at the mill is so great but at least I get payed. School just seems like a waste of time (no offence.) I mean its okay for people like Jennie but I’m not that type I like to work with my hands and stuff. I could maybe work in my dad’s body shop but he’d probly drive me crazy.
272 words! That’s all folks!
SHADOW MAN
Gabriel:
If you put as much time into your writing as you do into counting words, you could be another Hemingway!
I think the junior college offers classes in auto mechanics.
Interested?
C.S.
11
Jennie Harding
He’s dead.
I know he’s not coming to get me. There’s no use pretending or making up stories. But when I hear the words Gabriel’s dead inside my head, my mind starts running down this long dark hallway, and all I can think is, No no no, we’ve got so many plans, we could be so happy—
Dear God, please help me. I am so alone. I am trying to feel you with me. I am trying to feel Gabe’s love. The sun is hot, but I cannot stop shaking. I am shaking so hard I could fall off this rock and drown in the ocean and no one would know.
My parents don’t want me to go out with Gabe. They think he’s a bad influence on me. As if I am a blank wall and Gabe is graffiti. We fight about this all the time.
“He’s a very nice boy. We’re not saying he isn’t. But anyone can see that he’s got problems.”
By problems, my father means Gabe’s family; his blood. The alcoholism and the violence. Mr. McCloud used to get real drunk and beat the boys until he passed out. Sometimes their mother hid them in the woods. She’d hang up a red rag meaning Stay Away. When it was safe to come home, she’d take it down.
That’s not Gabe’s fault. He didn’t choose his family. My parents have even tried to bribe me. “We’ll send you back east to a wonderful school,” they say. “You can stay with Aunt Ruth and Uncle Henry.”
They’re afraid every time I go out with Gabe, sure that the phone will ring with news that I’ve died. They’re over-protective; I’m their only child. I try to please them, but it’s my life.
They must be going crazy with worry. I should have left a note this morning, but what could I have said? I’m going to meet Gabe. Where? In heaven? Am I going to kill myself? I couldn’t have imagined that before this morning. But I never knew breathing could be so painful, that life could change so much in one second, one day.
Tears are rising from my heart to my throat. If I start, I will never stop crying. My tears will flood the oceans and cover the mountains.
Oh, brother, Gabe would say if he were here.
I must pretend that he is here. I must close my eyes and see him. Nothing bad has happened. He will hold me tight. I can feel him all around me. I love you, Gabe told me; I will love you till the day I die.
Lying on my back, all I see is blank blueness. The sea whispers in my ears. How can I believe that Gabe is up in the sky now when I know he’s probably at the funeral parlor, being dressed in the suit he was supposed to wear to high school graduation? We picked it out together. He looked so handsome. Then he decided to drop out. Don’t drop out, Gabe! I begged and pleaded. Don’t quit school! How can you be so stupid?
He punished me for saying that. He wouldn’t see me. I heard that he was going out with Susie Richards. My parents were ecstatic. I was dying inside. But Gabe came back to me; he always comes back. None of this is real. I’m at home in bed, dreaming. Or maybe it’s a year from now and this is only a bad memory. Gabe is in bed beside me, holding our baby.
Oh, Gabe, I was so scared, I say. I thought I’d lost you.
You’ll never lose me, honey girl. He smiles at me and gently sets the baby on my breast.
Such a beautiful little baby. Still inside me, our secret. Lying here in the sun, I put my hands on my belly and feel the butterfly flutter of the hidden heart. Our son or daughter, sleeping like a seed.
Gabriel would never go away and leave us.
12
James Wilkins
This is the tree that killed Gabe. You can see where the truck hit. The bark’s scraped off. There’s broken glass all over the ground. Otherwise you’d never know that something bad had happened here.
I had to come see it for myself, to see if I could, I don’t know … believe what’s happened. I mean, I know he’s dead. I’ve seen his truck. But it’s like knowing the world’s just hanging in space. You can’t fit the thought in your head. It’s too big.
Ten hours ago we were at Logan’s party and I told Gabe, “I’ll drive you home.”
“The hell you will!” He freaked out. “Get away from me!”
He has this thing about his truck; it’s like his wife or something, and nobody else is taking it for a spin.
“Give me the keys, man.” I grabbed at his pocket. He whipped around and tried to kick me. People laugh
ed; they thought we were kidding. Most people can’t tell when he’s wrecked; he hides it. Gabe always had a bad case of pride.
He called me a few choice names and split. It didn’t mean nothing; we’ve had worse fights than that. Gabe’s been my best friend since second grade.
When I got to school this morning and they told me what had happened, I had to leave right away, I felt sick. It felt like the top of my head was blown off and my brain was a cold wind.
People called me at home and said: You better lay low. Gerald’s looking for you.
Like I’m shaking in my boots. Like I’m scared to death. I know Gerald, I know how dirty he fights. It’s hilarious, him acting like this is all my fault and he’s going to kill me for killing his brother. When the fact is, he hates Gabe, he’s jealous of him, because everybody loves Gabe and everybody hates Gerald because Gerald is a low-down dirty dog.
I hope he finds me. I’m ready for him. I feel like hitting something. Hard.
They say the funeral’s on Monday. Gabe would hate that, lying there while everybody stares at him. He wants his ashes thrown off a cliff into the ocean. We were talking about that one time. Actually, he didn’t say ashes; he said throw his body out the back of his pickup. And he wants it at sunset, with the sky all bloody, and one of those—what do you call them?—bagpipes playing. Gabe’s Scotch and he likes the sound of those things. To me it sounds like something being strangled.
But he won’t get no ocean or bagpipes. All he’s going to get is the funeral parlor, and those geeks are going to make him look like someone I never knew. I went by there on my way here and they wouldn’t let me see him. They said he wasn’t ready. Like he was going on a date or something! He’s dead! What the hell do I care what he looks like? He’s practically my brother. I’ve seen Gabe every which way there is; naked and laughing, and sick and drunk, in a blue tuxedo, and with his mouth bashed in, so there’s no way he could look that would blow my mind. Except for how he’ll look when they get through with him.
I’m supposed to work Monday afternoon. If I go to the funeral, that butthook will dock me or say I might lose my job. So what. I hate that place. Gabe got me on there. He’s the only thing that keeps me going because he jokes about it and flips off the boss.
Gabe’s going to be planted in one of those coffins. Wouldn’t it be weird if he or I had made it, and someone had come up to us that day and said, Guess who’s going to end up in this box!
No way, we would’ve said. No way that’s going to happen.
I don’t care if I get fired, ’cause I’m leaving town. Maybe go to Reno or San Francisco. I’ve been working on my Harley, getting it all fixed up, almost like I knew this trip was coming. I’m not taking anything with me, ’cause there’s nothing to take; nothing I can’t find someplace else. Except Gabe, and now he’s gone. Oh, man, it’s so crazy. I’m standing here looking at the glass on the ground, sticking my fingers in this gashed-up tree. Too bad I’m not one of those TV preachers. I’d call out: Lord, please heal this tree! And time would go backward and the bark would jump on, and Gabe’s truck would fly down the road in reverse, all the way back to Logan’s party. It would be different this time. Gabe wouldn’t get so drunk. Neither would I. I’d trick him into giving me the keys. He’d be mad as hell when it was time to leave, but I wouldn’t care; he’d still be alive.
If only we’d left sooner. If only we hadn’t gone. I keep going over the whole thing in my mind, trying to figure out how it couldn’t have happened, and this whole stupid thing is just something I imagined. But that broken glass keeps winking at me.
13
Gerald McCloud
I went downtown a while ago and looked at Gabe. They’re getting him all fixed up, with his hair combed wrong and makeup on him. He didn’t look too happy. He used to always be laughing, like life was some big comedy show.
Looks like the joke’s on you, little brother.
Seemed funny to see him lying there, helpless. With not even the strength to raise his head. Who knows what those faggots have been doing to him. I cornered fatso Donny and said, “Keep your hands off my brother, fruit.” His eyes were all wet and red.
Nobody’s ever going to get their hands on me. When the party’s over, I’m gone. Think I’ll stick around and get old like Frank? I hated him, but I was proud of his strength. If he couldn’t fix something, he’d break it. He’d tear that sucker apart. A lamp or a transmission, you name it. Especially when he was hitting the sauce.
He stopped drinking two years ago when he almost killed Gabe; pulled a gun on him right there in the kitchen. He’ll probably start again. Gabe was always his favorite. Everybody always likes Gabe the best. Even Jerry Dean. I could tell by the way she looked at him. Dancing with him that night at the bar. She made me look like a fool. I straightened her out later. I didn’t hit her that hard; her teeth were already loose. All she eats is Coke and candy. Anyway, I wouldn’t have had to hit her in the first place if she hadn’t been acting like a slut.
I went by there this morning and she said, “You must be happy now!” and slammed the door in my face. That bitch. Everybody always feels sorry for Gabe, like he’s the only one that matters. I’ll tell you something: He had it good. By the time the old man got to him, he’d worn himself out on me and David.
I saw Frank kill a cat when I was little. Threw it into the wall and broke its neck. And he shot this puppy right in front of me and David ’cause when he called the puppy, it ran to David. David cried, but I didn’t. No tears from me. I wouldn’t give the old man nothing.
He made me tough. That’s the one thing he done for me. Nothing can hurt me, or if it does, I’ll hurt it right back and make it stick.
Wait till I get my hands on James. I’ll keep driving around till I find him. Thinks he can mess with my family like that. He should’ve drove Gabe home. He should see my mother. I’d like to drag him over there and say: Look at her face! She won’t talk to me, you bastard! She’s never going to be the same again!
Nothing will ever be the same. That stupid Gabe can’t hold his liquor. Give him a few drinks and he acts like a fool. He’s just like David. I can take it or leave it. Booze ain’t the only way to get high. Pills are better. If the cops stop you, you can swallow the evidence. I sat in jail one time on ten tabs of acid and a bunch of speed and nobody could tell. Frank came down there and bailed me out, then we get outside and he acts like he’s going to slug me. So I gave him a little tap to remind him: I ain’t a kid anymore. I want respect.
The only person I can really count on is my mother. Or I could before this happened. I mean, I always knew she loved Gabe the most, because he was the baby and everybody made a big fuss about him. But my mom always acted like she loves me too. Now she don’t say nothing. She just stares straight ahead, and when I ask her something, she looks like she don’t even know me.
I’m going to tell James: You didn’t just kill Gabe. She’s dead. You killed my mother. I’m going to make him pay for all the damage he’s done. People think they can mess with you and walk away.
James won’t be walking when I’m through with him.
14
Carolyn Sanders
Maybe this assembly will calm the kids down. Gabe’s death has burst their protective bubble. If he can die, it can happen to them. No wonder they’re so sad and angry.
The school nurse is talking to them about drinking and driving. Beth means well, but she oversimplifies; she makes alcohol sound like a splinter. Pluck it out and the problem’s all gone. Unless you’re an alcoholic like Gabe. Most people didn’t see him that way. They thought he just drank a lot of beer, like half the senior class.
The coach is glaring at me from the back of the hall. Decker was dead set against this assembly. We got into a screaming match in the principal’s office. He said, “You’re trying to make a hero out of a cheap little punk!” I could’ve punched him.
I said, “Gabe wasn’t a hero and he wasn’t a punk. He was a hometown boy and these kid
s loved him. You didn’t like him because you couldn’t make him jump.”
The coach hates my guts too. He thinks I’m a bleeding heart liberal. He thinks talking about feelings and problems is stupid. Got a problem? Here, bite on this bullet. He’d had trouble with Gabe’s brothers and holds a grudge.
My introduction to Gabe was in freshman English. I thought he’d be like David and Gerald, whose idea of making their marks was carving their names into desk tops.
Gabe was different. He was funny and bright. He spoke up in class and liked to make people laugh. Which was classic, because his home life was so tragic. Over the years, I’ve met with his parents several times. I preferred talking to his mother, although she’d always defend him. You couldn’t have a discussion with Francis; you’d have a fight. He thought that school was a waste of time and that I was a prime offender.
I’ve just asked the kids to share some memories of Gabe. Hands are waving in the air. “I remember the time Gabe,” Ray Jackson begins, and all the girls are smiling and crying.
The more people talk, the worse I feel, as if all those words were landing on my chest. I can feel the kids watching me. They know I’m upset. That scares them. They want me to tell them that everything will be all right. In class I had them write down their feelings. One of them asked me, “Does spelling count?”
Not for much. “Not today,” I said.
After ninth grade, I didn’t have Gabe again until this year. At first he seemed to enjoy the class. I helped him with his reading and writing. He had some kind of a learning disability, so I recommended testing. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said. His parents never responded to the letters I sent them.
He was smart enough to realize he was wasting his life and not smart enough—or strong enough—to change. Gabe had so much potential. That drives teachers crazy. We all hope we’re inspiring the next Curie or Einstein. We can hear the Nobel Prize acceptance speech: “I want to thank my teacher.…” I knew Gabe was special, and he liked that I knew that, and he hated it too. He hated me for pointing out the difference between who he could be and who he was.
Shadow Man Page 3