by Cole Savage
Then Cole said, “Mom, does you have the Cancer?”
“Cole, how do you know about Cancer?”
“Lots of my friends at school have moms and dads that have the Cancer.”
“Oh my goodness, sweetheart. I had no idea”.
“Listen, boys. Just in case something happens to mommy, I asked your father if you could spend the summer with him, you know, getting to know him— stuff like that. Your daddy is a good man, and If you don’t like it there, you can come back home at the end of summer break.”
Nicki tried to hold the tears, but it was obvious that her emotions were on a breaking point. The mere thought of watching the boys get in a car with their dad, a man they’d never met, was too much for her and her voice started to crack, gasping for air. Tyler was crying, and he seemed angry. He puckered his lips, crossed his arms and said, “I’m not going to live with dad, and Cole isn’t either. Home is with you. If you’re really, really sick, we can help you get better.”
Nicki’s tears became a waterfall, so she wiped her eyes with both hands and tried to speak, “Tyler, Mommy is dying. My sickness, whatever it is that’s making me sick… Well, you don’t get better from it.”
“Everybody gets better, Mommy,” said Cole.
“What do you mean, you don’t get better?” Tyler said, tears eddying in the corner of his eyes. Cole looked catatonic, breaking blades of grass in his hands. Looking away, a Doe sipping cool water from the edge of the river caught his attention. He looked over and changed the station in his head, focusing on the Doe.
“Mom are you saying you’re gonna die?”
“Oh my God, Tyler,” Nicki said looking Tyler in the eyes. She pressed his cheeks, his eyes were glassed, so she turned her head so the boys wouldn’t see her eyes and wiped the tears with her forearm. She leaned over to Tyler, she put her arms around Tyler and Cole, and for the moment she was unable to speak. She turned her head and used her palm to clear the haze from her eyes. Her breathing was labored and her frame was shaking. The boys were crying, full tears now, so she gathered her composure, leaned over and held her boys, bringing their heads into a tight huddle. Silence ensued, the sound of sniffles drowned the noise of the slow-moving river.
They sat for several hours crying and talking. Nicki cut the tension by talking about their dad, breaking out an occasional tortured smile. In the distance, to the West, a bolt of lightning struck the top of a mountain and turned a pine tree into a torch against the blackening sky. Together they watched the daylight fade to grey as dark clouds rolled in like a thundering herd, waiting for the electricity to jump in the clouds again. Drops of rain began to patter the ground and river, so they picked up their picnic and ran to the van, Nicki covering her hair with the table cloth.
They went home two hours before twilight, to pack the kids for the inevitable trip to Morgantown. That night Nicki laid with the boys until they fell asleep. She got up quietly, walked to the front porch where Karen was quilting a blanket, and sat next to her, where they discussed, and cried about the day’s events
Tyler opened his eyes and said, “Cole, you awake? Cole. Cole, wake up.”
Cole finally opened one eye. “Tyler, I’m tired.”
“Cole, I’m not going to live with dad. We need to stay here and help mom get better… If we pray a lot, I know God will make her better. That’s what Reverend Harlon said. We just have to stay here and pray. We can’t help mom if we’re living someplace else.”
“Tyler, dad’s coming in two days to pick us up. What do you reckon we can do?”
“I just need to know that you’re with me… I don’t want to do this without you. Remember brothers for life.”
Tyler held out his hand, Cole reciprocated with a wrestler’s handshake and said,
“Brothers for life.” Tyler patted Cole on the head and said quietly. “Now go back to sleep. If Momma hears us she’s gonna to take a switch to us.” Tyler gave his brother a hug and looked for the back of his eyelids.
The next morning the boys got up early to help with the chores. Nicki was cleaning the house with the impending visit of Kyle looming the next day, and she seemed excited about seeing Kyle after ten years. She had always been attracted to Kyle physically, and constantly thought about what their life would’ve been like if Kyle hadn’t been such a shit back then. When she talked with her friends the same questions always came up. Was it possible that Kyle could be loyal to one woman? Did Kyle have a girlfriend? Would he still find me attractive?
Nicki was on the front porch singing a George Strait song, beating a rug with a tennis racket, watching as weeks of dust wafted up into the air, when the boys came out to help.
“You boys are acting real suspicious…What’s going on in that head of yours, Tyler?”
“Just trying to help, Mom,”
“Just trying to help, Mom,” Cole mimicked.
Nicki stopped swinging that racket for a moment and stood back, away from the dust that created a nimbus cloud of dust that hung above the house. She looked the boys straight in the eyes. “You’re not gonna make trouble for me while your dad’s here, are you?”
“Nope,” said Tyler.
“Nope,” said Cole.
A car coming down the gravel road caught their attention, so the three of them looked in unison, down at the hedgerow to see Karen’s station wagon coming back from town. The windmill in the front yard was spinning, a loose door on the woodshed was banging, and the distant thunder in the mountains retreated behind the jagged tips of the Appalachians.
“Help Grandma with the groceries, boys”. The boys hopped the front porch railing as Karen came to a screeching halt by the woodshed that sent gravel flying. Trent had rebuilt the woodshed that Tyler burned further from the house, in case Cole got an inkling to follow in his older brother’s footsteps. Karen walked up the steps to the porch, where Nicki was beating the rug, and sat on her rocker. She had a small bag in her hand, a bag Nicki recognized immediately from the five and dime.
“What did you buy, Momma?”
“I bought a little something for you, honey. “Nicki took a seat on the front porch swing, and Karen handed her the package.
“Momma, I don't need anything,” Nicki said reaching into the brown paper bag.
“I know you don't, honey. I thought you might want to look your Sunday best when Kyle comes tomorrow.” You could hear Nicki snicker when she pulled the lipstick out of the bag.
“Momma, tomorrow is no different than any other day; you know we don’t have money for these kinds of impulsive buys. You need to go back to the five and dime and return this.”
“I just thought, well you know, you haven’t seen Kyle in ten years.”
“I have no interest in Kyle that way, Momma. Besides, you know this isn’t my style. I don’t need lipstick to impress any man. All I gotta do is put on that strapless dress with the pretty yellow flowers and give them that smile… You know the smile, Momma?”
“You’re right, honey.”
“Momma, you have to quit trying to marry me off. I can take care of myself and I have no interest in a man who can’t take care of his own kids.”
“Nicki isn’t that why Kyle is coming?”
“Yeah, I guess, but that doesn’t excuse what he’s done.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon tidying the house, and Nicki got the boys to bed early—she knew Tuesday would be a big day for all of them. She went to bed late that night pondering all the questions she wanted to ask Kyle, wondering if he looked as good as he did in school. She also speculated about Tyler and Cole’s motivation that day. What were they up to. She knew those boys well, and they had been too cooperative with the chores.
CHAPTER 8
TUESDAY
Tuesday morning Nicki slept in. All night she stared at the ceiling, until the morning shadow slid across the window. She laid awake and stared at the digital clock on the dresser, processing things. Kyle said he would be in town around two p.m., and Nicki wanted to talk
to him before he met the boys, so they agreed to meet at McCoy’s around two-thirty. Nicki spent the rest of the morning making sure the house was clean, laundry was washed and hung on the line, while Momma drove to Harrisonburg with the boys to get groceries and a filter for the vacuum cleaner— so she was glad she had the rest of the morning to get ready for Kyle. Nicki spent some time on the front porch swing, reflecting on her life, things she could have done differently, and around one-thirty, she put her dress on and heard Momma’s station wagon coming down the gravel road. The boys scrambled out of the car, and Nicki stepped out onto the front porch to greet Karen. Nicki was brushing her hair when she noticed Karen struggling to get out of the wagon, carrying a smoke. Karen leaned against the car trying to catch her breath, and Nicki stepped off the front porch to help her when she noticed the boys bringing the groceries into the house, expeditiously, and uncanny. Bewildered, Nicki thinned her eyes. She put her hands on her hips and guffawed at them. Karen looked over at her and said, “Oh, my. Don’t you look like the prom queen right now.”
“Thank you, Momma.”
“Ain’t you worried that dress is so tight you’re gonna squeak when you walk down the road.”
“You made the dress, Momma. What do you want me to do?”
“I think you should wear it, honey. Give them boys in town an early Christmas present. None of them will have any trouble seeing the top of your Christmas tree.”
“Not now, Momma. You know I don’t have many dresses. And quit saying Christmas Tree as a reference to my woman part. This isn’t 1890.”
“That dress is so tight, honey, if you put a quarter under it your ass’ll squeeze the eagle till it screams and cries mercy.”
Nicki guffawed at her and returned to the porch.
“Momma, you made this dress.”
“You were sixteen, in high school, when your ass could still fit through the front door.”
“Momma don’t ever say such a thing when people are around. You promise.”
“Honey, I thought you only wore that pretty yellow dress on special occasions?” Karen said following her.
“I’d say this is a pretty special occasion, Momma… Kyle is about to take my kids for the rest of the summer, maybe the rest of my life,” Nicki said, “and you know me, I like to give the boys a little eye candy.”
“You look beautiful, honey… I’m sure that sum-bitch is going to take one look at you and wish he’d never walked out the door.”
“Momma, Kyle didn’t walk out. You know I gave him the boot.” Nicki said, reaching for her purse on the table. She picked it up and looked at Karen.
“Momma, I’m gonna walk... I don’t know how long we’ll be, so can you can fix supper for the boys? I’ll call you when we head this way.”
“Have fun, sweetheart.” Nicki wore her sandals and carried her pumps. She walked across the gravel drive and headed south, toward town. The rain from last night’s storm was still dripping off the woodshed roof, and the dew shining off the windmill had steam rising with the thermals. The light was dying in the trees, the windmill was getting a workout, spinning against a horizon that looked as though the clouds were dissolving and running over the mountains, but it was hot now. Heat waves blurred the distance as Nicki hit Main Street.
Tyler and Cole were all-American kids who simply went against the grain of adults as all kids seemed to. They shot B.B guns at animals and cars driving by. They stole things from people’s porches, and during the summer months they ran around the streets till all hours of the night, when they were supposed to be sleeping at neighbor’s houses. They also went door to door selling raffle tickets for prizes that didn’t exist. Anyone who has ever raised a child, or been in the presence of one, understands the crushing boredom that unlocks great powers of resourcefulness for kids like Tyler and Cole who spent half their time locked in Karen’s woodshed as punishment for misdeeds. Trent used to say that the creative brains of the boys, frolicked in unreal playgrounds. Sometimes the Devil’s, sometimes the playground of the Angels.
The boys asked Karen if they could run down to the Devlin’s to spend the night, and she said yes. The Devlin’s lived three blocks away and had a boatload of kids (Karen would always say). Before they left, Karen made them pull weeds from the flower beds, after eating a spam sandwich, which they wolfed down. Karen made a mental note about how cooperative the boys had been the last couple of days. Cole walked out the front door, but Tyler went out the back where Karen could not see him carrying two backpacks.
Tyler packed bread, peanut butter, crackers, small bags of oatmeal, and instant rice that Karen stored in the pantry. Karen also kept a stash of licorice in her nightstand next to her bed, so Tyler took a few sticks of licorice, but not enough that Karen would miss. They weren’t allowed to touch Karen’s candy. They also took one of her small cooking pots to boil water, and Tyler also brought a hunting knife that Nicki had bought for his birthday. It had a leather-sheathe with a belt loop attached, that Tyler put on his belt. Tyler had never gone hunting but always fantasized about warding off wild animals with the knife. They checked their inventory while Karen was next door at the Stills house chewing the fat with Granny Stills (Karen would always say). The boys put the items in their school backpacks, including a change of clothes, a lighter, two spoons, a plastic bowl, and a compass they didn’t know how to use. They struggled to stuff the items in their packs and set them in the woodshed where Karen wouldn’t find them. Karen never went to the woodshed during the winter to fetch wood— that was a task reserved for the boys, and now it was summer, so no one would be going in the woodshed, lest the boys misbehaved, and Karen took a switch to them.
Tyler caught up with Cole a hundred feet down the gravel road, headed towards Main Street and eventually the river, not the Devlin’s house like they told Karen. Leaving Orchard Street and crossing Main, they passed the last house before town. Outside of the blue house, where the Lionel’s lived, ten-year old Sue, wearing a neutering nightdress and clutching a doll, was hit by the strangeness of the little procession treading its grim way across the edge of her two-acre yard, on a voyage that communicated no sense, whatsoever, of the pit-falls that awaited the boys. The boys crossed Main and receded into the bank of the Potomac, running with their heads low because they knew Nicki was in town talking to the man who’d left them when they were young. Town square was a quarter of a mile to the west, so the boys went across Main and onto Blue-Gray Ave, headed East, away from town.
CHAPTER 9
Kyle stepped up on the sidewalk at McCoy’s looking around, glancing down Main Street. A shiver went through his body that gave him a sense of déjà vu. He smiled and whispered under his breath, this feels right. A vision he had banked in his organic hard drive years ago. Kyle, it seemed, maintained a recitative pattern and hadn’t bothered to question himself about a form of immorality that went way beyond his unfaithfulness to Nicki. Shame and dishonor were his ethos, and he flew it over his head like a flag— self-loathing his new Bridge partner.
Having arrived early, he opened the door and took in the scent of the place, an odor that became the sum of his memories. Standing by the door looking in, things he had said, things he had done or felt in this place, flooded over him. He walked in absorbing the familiarity of the place—the place where he and Nicki had spent so much time— McCoy’s, an old Brick and mortar building. He looked around and saw the jukebox still sitting in the back of the place, next to the bathrooms, and Almost Paradise was playing. There was a lone patron at the bar drinking suds and watching reruns of West Virginia Football. Kyle meandered through the bar killing time, looking at the photos on the walls. Pictures of miner’s and the timeless R&R Mine. One wall was dedicated to pictures of miners killed in cave-ins over the years. He took a deep breath and sat on one of the many wood chairs strewn about the old wood floor. The floor was original— weathered, stained, and marred with countless splits and holes. Looking around, he sighed deeply, where the smell of cigarettes and cheap li
quor permeated. He closed his eyes and his mind returned to a place Kyle missed profoundly—where peanut casings littered the floor. Kyle looked up at the television to see which one of his games they were replaying and noticed that the back of the bar hadn’t changed over the years. He could still see rickety shelves holding an array of liquor bottles— mostly whiskey and moonshine. The bar was dimly lit (probably so you didn’t see who you are going home with), and the stools hadn’t changed over the years. The proprietor still had those unsteady (sit if you dare), shaky, wood stools that stood the test of time. Nicki was running late, so, apprehensive about the reunion, Kyle went to the bathroom to freshen up, and flickering through his mind at this moment of abdication, was the fear of being rejected after waiting so long for his potential moment of acquittal; praying time had healed her wounds and softened her heart. A man, who over the years, had shed bitter tears from the innermost fissures of his heart by any recollection of his past sins that led him to this desolate place of isolation, and laying outside the orbit of his moral obligation, lay the philosophical discipline that enabled him to regard the inescapable pain that followed the loss of his wife, as the avenue for his atonement.
Nicki hit Main Street with a deep understanding that Kyle was here today by the power of many wishes on many evening stars. It was overcast and she was grateful. Despite the graying sky it was blazing outside. So hot her hair was sticking to the back of her neck. She lifted the hair off her neck so it wouldn’t frizz on her short walk to McCoy’s. A few minutes after two she stepped up on the sidewalk in front of the Rexall drug store, next to McCoy’s, and stood in front of the glass. She pulled the lipstick Karen had bought her from her purse and used the glass front of Rexall’s Drugs as a mirror to freshen her face and change her shoes. She hesitated then placed the lipstick back in her purse without using it. She took it back out and gently applied it to her wind damaged lips. She tightened her lips together and blew a kiss, a pinched expression that reflected in the tinted glass. She placed her hands on her hips, turned sideways and ran her fingers along the flatness of her stomach. Old man Harlow, the proprietor, must have liked it because he came through the door of the drug store and bowed. “I’d love to take you to prom, Nicki.”