Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  “I’ve already got that part down,” Nathaniel said. “How’s my brother?”

  Sheila nibbled one of her nails. “Can we go for a walk? Please?”

  “Of course. I’ll get Arthur and Zero so they can—”

  “No, just us. I’ll make sure Star is watching them. Okay?”

  “Yeah,” Nathaniel said, feeling uneasy.

  He went to put on his shoes and returned to find Sheila waiting for him at the front door. They strolled in silence for two blocks before she finally spoke.

  “I know your brother was rough on you growing up—”

  “Abusive,” Nathaniel corrected. “Sorry, but I won’t pussyfoot around it. He straight up abused me.”

  Sheila didn’t challenge this. She merely nodded. “How did it start?”

  “Slowly,” he said. “Then it escalated. Why? Has Dwight been hitting you?”

  She looked him in the eye. “Never. Not once. I wish that were the issue, because at least I can defend myself.”

  “Arthur,” Nathaniel said, his voice hoarse. “He’s hurting Arthur.”

  Sheila’s face crumpled, but she managed to hold back the tears. “Dwight was always the disciplinarian, but lately he’s been taking it too far. When he’s drunk, I’m scared to leave Arthur alone with him. I won’t even use the bathroom without taking him with me.”

  “Dwight’s been hitting him?” Nathaniel demanded. “More than just spanking?”

  “I found bruises.”

  Nathaniel spun around, heading back down the sidewalk.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To fucking kill him!”

  Nathaniel felt hands on his arm, trying to hold him back. Sheila wasn’t strong enough to stop him, but her next words halted him in his tracks.

  “I don’t need another violent hot head! I need your help!”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Nathaniel said, turning to face her, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t even help myself growing up! What am I supposed to do for your son?”

  “I don’t know,” Sheila said, tears spilling from her eyes. “It’s worse than you think. Someone called Child Protective Services. They’re going to take Arthur away.”

  Nathaniel stared at her for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her until she stopped sobbing. “Tell me everything,” he said. “We’ll get this figured out, I promise. They won’t take Arthur away.”

  Sheila collected herself and spoke. “One of his preschool teachers noticed. Arthur spilled juice all over himself, and they took his shirt off to get him cleaned up. Dwight had grabbed him too hard a couple of days before, so he had bruises. They asked me about it, and I told them the truth, that his father was too rough with him, and that it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “You can’t promise that,” Nathaniel said. “Not with Dwight.”

  Sheila continued her story. “CPS showed up at our house later that week. The caseworker wanted to look around, so of course I let her. She seemed satisfied, but while we were talking, your stupid brother came home drunk. I’m not sure if she could tell. He mostly ignored us and went to the bedroom to pass out. Who does that? Who finds Child Protective Services in their home and goes to take a nap?”

  “I’m sure she noticed,” Nathaniel said. “At the very least she smelled it on him. I’m not trying to upset you more. We need to face the facts so we can plan.”

  Sheila nodded. “The caseworker asked for character witnesses. I gave her your number. Have you…?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “My phone hasn’t been charged. Doesn’t matter. I’ll call her myself. What else?”

  “She asked me to sign a release for Arthur’s pediatric records, which I did.”

  “Will she find anything there?”

  Sheila shook her head. “No.”

  “Good,” Nathaniel said, because he hated the idea that Arthur had been hurt enough that he needed to see a doctor. “I won’t help you hide what’s going on. I hid my own abuse, and that only perpetuated it. You need to leave Dwight. It’s the only solution.”

  “I’m ready,” Sheila said. “I don’t love him anymore, and I don’t want him around Arthur.”

  “Then tell the caseworker that.”

  Sheila swallowed. “I’m scared. Of Dwight. Of what he’ll do when he finds out. What if he hurts Arthur? I can’t watch him all day. What if he takes him out of preschool and runs off somewhere?”

  Nathaniel thought about it, neck muscles tensing. She had reason to be frightened because Dwight had always found underhanded ways to retaliate.

  “What are we going to do?” Sheila asked.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Nathaniel said. “I’ll talk to Dwight. And then I’ll talk to this caseworker.”

  * * * * *

  Nathaniel consulted with one of Marcello’s lawyers, familiarizing himself with a number of potential outcomes. Then he called the caseworker, Michelle Trout. She was helpful, her tones friendly, but what she said set off warning bells.

  “Normally I’d be okay with conducting this interview over the phone, but for this particular case, I think it’s best if we talk in person. Let’s make an appointment.”

  Nathaniel agreed, which left him only two days to deal with Dwight. He didn’t hesitate. That evening he ate a heavy meal, then went to Sheila’s home. They lived in a trailer park, and even though the neighborhood wasn’t stellar, she had done her best to provide a good home. Arthur was still feeling wary of men in general. Nathaniel tried to hug him anyway, and did the same to Sheila before entering the living room where his brother was watching a game.

  “They’re showing this on the big screen down at Shady’s Pub,” Nathaniel said.

  Dwight sat upright, registering surprise. All his drinking was finally catching up with him. Dark bags sagged beneath the once brilliant blue eyes, and his physique, while still hefty enough to be intimidating, wasn’t as firm. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Bored out of my mind,” Nathaniel replied. “Did you hear me? The same game is playing at Shady’s. Grab a drink with me?”

  Dwight narrowed his eyes.

  “My treat,” Nathaniel prompted.

  A hungry grin spread across Dwight’s face. “Let’s go!”

  Arthur was nowhere in sight as they left the mobile home. Sheila didn’t ask where they were going or why. She probably assumed Nathaniel planned to talk some sense into his brother, but of course that wasn’t possible. Talking would solve one problem tonight. Just not in the way she expected.

  The drive over to Shady’s was tense for Nathaniel, his instincts demanding he keep a constant eye on his brother. He couldn’t do so while watching the road. Luckily he’d chosen a bar that was close. “Since when do you care about sports?” Dwight asked.

  “I don’t,” Nathaniel admitted. “I love a good beer though, especially on tap.”

  “And that made you think of me?”

  Nathaniel glanced over at him. “They say drinking alone is a sign that you have a problem. Easy solution, right? I don’t know about you, but I plan on getting shitfaced.”

  Dwight narrowed his eyes. Then he barked laughter. “Let’s get our drink on!”

  Nathaniel relaxed a little once they were sitting at the bar. Having cold mugs in their hands gave them something to do, and his brother was still into the game, eyes on the screen. Nathaniel matched him drink for drink, glad he had eaten so much at dinner when Dwight suggested they do shots. Nathaniel kept them coming, managing to skip a few without his brother noticing. Not that it helped much. He wasn’t used to drinking heavily, and his head was already swimming. He decided to make his move while still capable.

  “I hear you’ve been a little rough on Arthur,” he said.

  Dwight turned his head, slowly, in Nathaniel’s direction. “Is that what you’ve heard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, we don’t want him growing up a pussy, do we?”

  “You mean gay?” Nathaniel shrugged. “You beating the crap out
of me didn’t help much.”

  “Nope.” Dwight knocked back another shot. “I did my best anyway.”

  “That’s not why,” Nathaniel said, gesturing to the bartender with an empty beer mug. “You couldn’t have known I was gay when we were kids, but you still hurt me every chance you got. That used to puzzle me. For a while I thought there might not be a reason. Then I figured it out. I’ve known for years.”

  Dwight’s bloodshot eyes bored into him. “Okay, genius. What’s your big theory? What did they teach you up in Yale?”

  “Actually it’s what I learned in Warrensburg. Funny how Gramps is tall, and I’m tall, but you’re not.”

  Dwight scoffed. “And? I’m still big enough to kick your ass!”

  “We don’t look much alike, do we? Like two sides of a coin. My hair is light, like everyone else in the family. Mom is blonde, dad has brown hair, even our grandparents on either side don’t have black hair. Only you. I wonder where that comes from? You’ve got blue eyes—”

  “Like Dad,” Dwight said.

  “But not like Mom. You look nothing like her at all. That must sting, because I know you love her. She’s the only one in this family who hasn’t given up on you, right? When’s the last time Dad offered to get you a job or spent time alone with you?”

  Dwight’s lips curled back, revealing his teeth. “You really need to shut your mouth!”

  “I figure you’d always known, deep down inside. Or maybe you still have a few fuzzy memories. Remember when Mom’s hair used to be black? Except it wasn’t her. Not my mom. Yours was a junkie who didn’t want you, so she ran off and probably ended up dead in a gutter somewhere. It’s true! Mom told me. My mom. You just wish she was yours. Hell, you wish you were me!”

  The bartender had just set two full beer mugs on the counter when Dwight grabbed one and smacked Nathaniel across the face with it. That hurt. The mug didn’t shatter, but it did tumble to the floor. Nathaniel nearly joined it, but he managed to grab the bar to stabilize himself. “When you look at Arthur,” he struggled to say, blinking away the beer from his eyes, “when you see his blond hair, does it remind you of me?”

  Dwight slugged him, his aim poor, his fist connecting with Nathaniel’s forehead, but the force was enough to knock him off the stool. Relying on old habits one last time, Nathaniel balled up on the floor, trying to protect himself as Dwight started kicking. He could get up and fight back, but doing so tonight would ruin everything. Instead he prayed that someone in the bar was feeling heroic. He was in luck. Two guys hauled Dwight away from him, but his brother was twisting and growling, trying to break free. That is, until the bartender leveled a shotgun in his direction. Don’t mess with Texas.

  Nathaniel stayed where he was, listening to distant police sirens draw near. Even when the officers swarmed into the bar, he remained on the floor, not resisting when they handcuffed him too. “He just attacked me out of the blue,” he said as one of the police officers shoved him into the police cruiser. His brother was placed in another. Nathaniel watched as the police spoke to different patrons. Eventually one of the officers returned to the cruiser where he waited and opened the door.

  “How are you feeling?” the officer asked.

  “Bruised.”

  “I mean are you sober enough that I can take off those cuffs?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re not going to try anything stupid?”

  “No, sir.” Nathaniel rubbed his wrists when he was free. “Thanks.”

  The officer looked him over. “You two are brothers?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t want to press charges.”

  “I think it’s best if I do,” Nathaniel said.

  The officer looked surprised. “You know he’s out on parole, right? I’m not sure how the parole officer is going to handle this, but you’ll only make it worse for him by pressing charges.”

  “Sounds better than him going home to beat up his kid again.”

  The officer spit on the ground, then searched his eyes as if assessing how serious Nathaniel was. “I’ve got two kids of my own.”

  “Then you understand what’s best for them.”

  The officer nodded. “You’ll have to take a ride down to the station with us.”

  “Whatever I’ve got to do.”

  * * * * *

  Nathaniel sat in a small office, the walls covered with posters about child welfare or foster care. Most of them were happy and colorful, but he doubted many people who visited this place felt cheered up by them. He wasn’t feeling so great himself. He sat across from a woman with long brown hair, high cheekbones, and an open expression. Michelle Trout. She looked him over, no doubt taking in the nasty bruise on one cheek and the red mark on his forehead caused by Dwight’s ring.

  “Okay,” Michelle said, looking down at the papers on her desk. “Nathaniel Courtney.” Then she looked up again, stared, and shook her head. “Sorry, but I have to ask. What’s with all the…” She gestured at her own face with a pen.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “You want to know the honest truth about Arthur’s situation? His father—my brother—is a violent man. He was abusive to me while we were growing up, and it sickens me to see signs of him treating his own son that way.”

  Michelle started scribbling notes, her expression somber. “When did you first become aware that Arthur was being abused?”

  “Only after the incident you’re investigating. The bruises on his arms. Nothing happened before that, because I know Sheila wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

  “You’d be surprised what some mothers tolerate,” Michelle said. “Just because she didn’t tell you about other incidents, doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.”

  “Does she strike you as dishonest? Or as a bad mother?”

  Michelle finished writing and glanced up. “No. She was truthful about what happened, or we would have taken Arthur with us that day. I’m more concerned about the father.”

  “Good, because she needs to stay with her son. She’s a perfect mother. The only bad decision I’ve ever seen her make was marrying my brother.”

  Michelle nodded sympathetically. “Unfortunately, that can be a pretty big mistake and can have a detrimental effect on the child’s environment. Our goal is to help keep children safe, and if one of the parents is a liability—”

  “She’s leaving him.”

  “Did she tell you this?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Well, no.”

  Michelle took a deep breath. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I hear promises like that all the time. People will say anything to keep from losing their children. Who could blame them? But it makes my job harder because I have to decide who is being truthful and who isn’t. You’re right that Sheila seems like an honest woman, but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a weak spot when it comes to her husband.”

  “Dwight is out of the picture,” Nathaniel said. “You probably know he was out on parole. The other day he was arrested for attacking me, and I’m pressing charges. He hasn’t gone before a judge yet, but he’ll be sent back to prison. There’s no chance that he won’t.”

  Michelle held up a hand to stop him so she could keep taking notes. She had a lot to write down, so he turned his attention to the walls again. A framed degree caught his eye. Nathaniel squinted to read the issuing university’s name. He chuckled quietly when he saw where it was from. Michelle raised her head.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just noticed the degree. My grandparents live in Warrensburg. Small world.”

  “Small town,” Michelle replied. “I grew up there.”

  “So did my mom.”

  “Really? What’s her name?”

  “Star Courtney. Actually back then her last name was Denton. Do you know her?”

  Michelle shook her head. “Afraid not.” She started writing again and paused. “Actually, that does sound
familiar. Did she ever live in Kansas City?”

  “Yeah, for a while.”

  Michelle spluttered laughter. “Yeah! Okay. I didn’t know her personally, but I definitely heard of her.”

  Nathaniel scrunched up his face. “I don’t like how that sounds.”

  “Not like that,” Michelle said, waving away his concern. “She was sort of dating someone I knew, and that person was also dating… You know what? Ask her. I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it.”

  “You mean Victor?” Nathaniel asked, his heart thudding. “Victor Hemingway?”

  Michelle’s jaw dropped. “How in the world did you know that?”

  “My mom still talks about him sometimes. You knew him too?”

  Michelle regained her composure enough to answer. “Yes.”

  “What was he like?”

  Michelle thought about it. “Cool. He was very cool.”

  “How so?”

  She scrutinized him. “You’re awfully interested in who your mom used to date.”

  “I’m really into our family history,” he lied. “Victor was obviously important to her, but she’s biased, so I’m wondering if he really lives up to the legend or not.”

  “I guess so,” Michelle said. “Yeah. People at school talked about him like he was a hero. Once he stood up to one of our worst teachers. More than that, actually. He shoved him up against the blackboard for giving other kids a hard time. He was definitely a legend in that regard. The Victor I knew was different. A little aloof, and very weird, but thoughtful. Always kind. Did things his own way. The sort of person you still think of as the years go by.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid he’s not with us anymore.”

  “Suicide,” Nathaniel said. He felt the conversation should end there, out of respect. Then again, he wouldn’t have another chance like this. “You described him as aloof. My mom said something similar recently, about how he was alone at the end of his life.”

  Michelle frowned. “We tried being there for him as much as possible, but he didn’t make it easy. What happened still haunts me, but we all make our own decisions and have to live with the consequences. I’ve seen the end of more than one life, and without trying to sound morbid, we either die alone or we—” Her voice cracked a little, so she swallowed and tried again. “Or we die in the arms of the person we love most. I know what I would choose for myself.”