The Scales

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The Scales Page 2

by Paul Sating


  “What did I tell you about the next thing that needs to fall out of your mouth?”

  Jerrod retreated. Serenity wanted to shake her head but didn’t dare move. “The both of you are way too old for us to be having this conversation… again. You do not go out there, got it? There is nothing at The Scales for you but trouble. Don't you remember Chancey Hoskins?”

  Everyone remembered Chancey.

  Chancey used to live in their neighborhood. A boy who didn't have a single remarkable thing about him, he became a legend nonetheless. For most parents, Chancey was a tragedy. To Ida, his sole purpose in life was to serve as the cautionary tale for the rest of Rotisserie's children. He'd gone to The Scales with his father, whom he hadn’t seen for weeks because of divorce. It was a bonding trip, his father later said, but instead of growing closer, Chancey never came home.

  He was climbing on a pile of rusted equipment when he slipped and fell, impaled by a jagged strip of twisted metal. Chancey's father swore his son didn't slip, but that something pulled him into the crevice.

  Regardless, Ida stressed the danger behind Chancey's tragic story. Again. What was next? A parable about not talking to strangers or taking chocolate from men in vans? Leaving for college would be the end of Ida’s oppressive mothering.

  “We found something.” Guilt forced out the admission.

  Ida blinked. “Found what?”

  Serenity rocked on her feet. How could she put words to what she didn’t understand?

  “Porkchop found an…animal in a dune. It hunted her, Ma,” Jerrod said.

  Serenity closed her eyes and grimaced, waiting for her mother’s reaction. Stupid Jerrod!

  “What?” Ida’s yell reverberated down the hallway.

  Serenity involuntarily backed away. “We don’t know what it was, Ma. But we’re okay. We weren’t hurt, so it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal? The two of you acted like you’d seen the ghost of your Nanna when you rolled up in here. Don’t tell me this isn’t a big deal!” Ida rolled her top lip under her bottom, her fire stoked. “What did you see?”

  How do I explain…that? A quick look at Jerrod confirmed he was as lost as she was.

  “Whatever it was, it was massive,” Serenity croaked.

  3

  “I still don’t understand what you’re asking me.” The deputy behind the desk ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and then offered it, palm up, at them.

  Serenity’s mother moved closer, standing in front of him like she was cornering a skittish stray.

  The Big Bone County’s Sheriff’s Department intake room was sparsely decorated, like being inside a large box. A metal desk, painted light beige to pass it off as anything but metal, filled half the room. Three folding chairs, padded with cheap leather that had aged and ripped long ago, occupied the rest of the small space.

  Ida squinted at them out of the corner of her eye as if she didn’t trust them not to fall apart. Jerrod stood in the corner, as far away from Ida as the tiny room allowed.

  “I’m asking you,” Ida said, “what you will do about this.”

  Serenity couldn’t believe her mother would talk to a deputy sheriff as if he were one of her children. She’d talk to God the same way.

  To his credit, Deputy Rodgers remained calm, leaning back. “Ma’am,” he said cautiously, “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you want us to do something about, so I can’t tell you what we’ll be doing."

  Ida sighed, drawing all eyes before crossing her arms. “These children saw something at The Scales, and I want you to investigate. How is that not clear?”

  “Oh, it is clear,” Deputy Rodgers replied. “Very clear, indeed. But it will be difficult to get the sheriff to sign off on it when you’re not able to tell me what we’re supposed to go looking for. You understand my position, I’m sure.”

  “There’s a few things I’m sure of and it starts with—”

  “But that’s just the point.” Serenity jumped in before Deputy Rodgers decided he’d had enough of her mother. “Like I’ve been telling you. We don’t know what we saw. We just saw—"

  “Something,” Jerrod finished from the safety of the corner.

  Deputy Rodgers’ eyes softened; he spread his hands out to the side in a pleading gesture. “Mrs.—”

  “Miss,” Ida responded sharply.

  “Miss.” He scanned his notes.

  “Dorsey.” Her biting comment saved him the time but not the blushes.

  The deputy’s shoulders slumped. Serenity understood. Her mother had served up an ego shot, her accuracy as true as ever, and it looked like the deputy felt the jab.

  “Miss Dorsey, I can’t go looking for ‘something’, but” —he dared to hold up a finger before she could launch into a rant— “what I can do is send a patrol car out to The Scales in the morning and see if we can come up with anything.”

  “You can’t go now?” Jerrod asked.

  Serenity rolled her eyes. “It’s dark, stupid.”

  “Enough, young lady!” Ida said.

  Heat rose from Serenity’s throat, extending to her earlobes. She was an adult and getting ready for college. What adult was talked to like that? None. That was the answer. Her friends never complained about their mothers treating them like this. The message was clear. Serenity, your mother is a bitch. She didn’t disagree.

  Ida stared, but there was no way Serenity was opening her mouth. They’d come here to get assistance from the sheriff’s department only for her to be humiliated. Besides, it would give Jerrod ammunition to torment her later. Her mother was as impenetrable as Jerrod was obnoxious. Neither of them was interested in changing.

  “Your sister is right, son,” Deputy Rodgers said. A low growl came from where Jerrod slouched. “We can’t go out there tonight. That far from the town it gets real dark. I promise, we’ll get going at daylight.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Ida asked.

  “Go home. Wait. We’ll follow up with you in the morning.” With that, he shuffled them into the narrow hallway and toward the lobby before holding open the glass door. “Have a good night,” he said to brighten the dark mood.

  Ida harrumphed in response.

  The same chairs as in the intake room lined the walls here. All were empty at this hour.

  Except one.

  Ida and Jerrod didn’t take notice of the man sitting off in the corner, underneath the thick LCD television hanging from the wall. Some program was on, but she didn't notice which one. The room’s only occupant demanded her attention, sparking a reaction deeper inside. A feeling. A connection that pricked at her, like an itch in some deep portion of her brain. She didn't recognize him. He looked rough, dirty, not the type of person she’d come across in her routine. The man’s unwashed gray hair fell to his shoulders. A spotty beard blotted his face. His brown wool blazer might be older than she was and had to be miserable to wear in these temperatures. The waiting room was stuffy enough to make her uncomfortable in a tee-shirt and jeans. But the man didn’t look bothered. In fact, he appeared more comfortable than anyone should be in one of those chairs.

  As they made their way past, Serenity and the man looked at each other as if no one else existed, both heads turning to follow the other. Crooked, brown teeth filled his mouth as he smiled. What should have been a pleasant gesture made Serenity twitch.

  His piercing stare followed her. Serenity yanked her gaze away, tracing the lines of the linoleum floor tiles.

  She pushed Jerrod, wanting to escape the waiting room, get into the car, and to get the hell away from the station.

  They rushed into a cloud of gnats. Jerrod swatted at them, blocking her path, so she shoved him. “Move!” She struggled to hide the panic in her voice.

  “Calm down,” Jerrod snapped, still swatting. Two of the three poles were unlit, and the surviving light flickered and buzzed as if it wanted to join its cohorts in whatever afterlife non-sentient beings enjoyed. The poorly lit parking lot only cemented her discomfor
t about the creepy, old man and the events at The Scales. Sheriff deputies being nearby did nothing to quell her escalating fear.

  Her throat squeezed in from the sides, nearly cutting off the ability to draw breath. Her heart thumped against her breast strong enough she swore her shirt was moving from the force.

  For the first time in a long time, Serenity wrapped her arm around Ida, and risked a small smile when her mother embraced her back.

  4

  A voice, unfamiliar and with deep bass, woke Serenity. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up quickly, expecting to find herself anywhere but her bedroom. But she was in her own bed and that was a man’s voice that woke her. As she listened, muffled voices drifted down the hallway. Serenity groaned, squinting against the invading desert sunlight filling her room. Morning had come and so had someone else.

  She stretched, listening. It wasn’t like Mother to have guests, ever, but it was especially strange to have someone this early in the morning. Still, that wasn’t the strangest part. As Serenity slipped out of bed and threw on one of her ex-boyfriend’s baseball tee-shirts that reached to her knees, she realized who the visitor was and mumbled an insult at his expense.

  Jerry Johnson, otherwise known as ‘Dad’ to Jerrod, was home.

  A million possibilities for his visit combated the equivalent emotional buzz in her chest. Did he need money—again? Was he upset about some new girlfriend and expecting Ida to provide relationship advice? Standing behind the protective barrier of her bedroom door, scratching her stupid mosquito bite, Serenity paused before reaching for the handle. Seeing him was not something she wanted, ever, especially not after the night they’d just had. But she couldn’t hide in her room all morning. Breaking the wall with the initial conversation would tell her why he was here and maybe facilitate his leaving.

  As she reached for the door handle a light knock sounded from the other side.

  “Porkchop,” Jerrod whispered. “Pop is here.”

  She quietly opened the door, allowing Jerrod to slip in. “Ew.” She turned away. “Can you not run around the house in your underwear?”

  He looked down. “What? They’re boxers. They don’t show anything.”

  She wanted to throw up. “It’s nasty.” Serenity gave him a wide berth as she closed the door. Leaning her ear against it, she tried to pick up on any clue that their parents were aware their children were awake, but the mumbled words continued without breaking their rhythm.

  “What do you think he’s doing here?” Jerrod whispered behind her. Serenity’s awareness of his current state of dress made his proximity uncomfortable. He was such an idiot.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You think they're getting back together?”

  Serenity scoffed. Jerrod could be so juvenile. How he’d made it through two years of college was a compliment to his adaptation skills or a condemnation of the school. “Right after he breaks up with all of his girlfriends, Mother can take him back.”

  “He doesn’t have—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” Serenity snapped. “I’m trying to listen…plus, you know he does. Stop lying.”

  “I’m not—”

  Yanking the door open, nearly hitting her brother, Serenity strode into the hallway. Jerrod wasn’t going to stop defending their wayward father and their parent’s conversation was a better use of her time. That meant seeing the last person on earth she wanted to deal with.

  The voices stopped. Serenity’s bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor filled the house. She imagined her father sitting in the recliner, his recliner, he would say, as if nothing had ever changed.

  Jerry didn’t disappoint her.

  Ida moved to Serenity, wrapping her in an awkward embrace. Serenity pulled away, glaring at Jerry with rage surging through her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Serenity!” Ida said, but the reaction was lukewarm.

  Jerry Johnson looked at her squarely, sitting in his throne—a king and his castle. At least he had the sound judgment to not lay back and sprawl out like he used to.

  “Your mother told me what happened yesterday,” he said. Pressing his hands to his knees, her father stood and opened his arms. “Can I get a hug?”

  “No.” It came out as icy as she’d intended it.

  “Serenity Marie!” Ida slapped her palms against her legs.

  “No, no.” Jerry’s eyes steadied on hers. “I understand. She’s still mad at me. She’ll grow out of it.”

  How much trouble would I get in for slapping him?

  Nothing had changed since she last saw her father, that much was obvious. This man didn’t know remorse. What could she expect from someone who insisted on buying Cadillacs when he couldn’t pay child support? Sad. As Serenity studied his face, she saw nothing approaching regret or shame. How she was the only one to see his shameless self-interest was beyond her.

  “I’m just here to help.” Jerry’s faux-altruism beamed in a bright smile from half his mouth. She boiled at the act. “Your mother told me what you think happened last night.”

  “It happened,” Serenity said.

  A smile oozed across Jerry’s face. “Porkchop, I know you two believe you saw something. You were always good for a tall tale. But, well, what your mother told me—”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Yet your mother says neither of you could explain it to the sheriff's deputy last night,” Jerry countered.

  “I believe the kids, Jerry,” Ida spoke, but meekly.

  His head dipped without looking at her. “I know. So, what do you say? Feel like taking a ride out there?”

  “They are not going back.” Ida interrupted Serenity’s own response.

  “You asked me over to help and now you don’t want me to?” Jerry plopped down in his chair, slapping its arms. “Why did you call me then?”

  That’s how it always was. There was one way to address any problem or challenge, and that was 'Jerry’s way'. From her earliest memories, his demeanor was one of unquestioned authority. When he would disappear for a weekend, he came home unbothered by her mother. Of course, how could she? He was king. Everyone did what Jerry said. Solutions were simple as long as they aligned with what he saw as appropriate.

  Ida crossed her arms.

  “I want you to help the children,” she said. “They don’t need to go back out there. They weren’t supposed to be there in the first place!”

  “Oh, Ida.” Jerry disregarded her with a flick of the hand. “What are kids supposed to do in this town? Honestly, I don’t know why you never moved out of here after we split up. This place has nothing going for it.”

  Serenity ground her teeth. He was so clueless. She couldn’t be around them while they danced in this power struggle. Serenity went to her room and changed, slapping on sliders to avoid even one more minute of the pair arguing.

  No one noticed until she walked past them and pulled the front door open. Three heads turned.

  “I’ll get the Gator and pull it around front,” she said between clenched teeth. Yanking the door behind her, it slammed with an unintended whump. She hoped it would end their pointless bickering but would more likely earn her an accusation of tantrum throwing.

  She tromped to the all-terrain vehicle, her flat shoes thwacking her soles. If returning to the Scales with her worthless father was the way out, she’d take it.

  5

  The Gator bounced down the embankment and started the awkward climb up the other side of the human-made structure, the last unnatural development until they reached The Scales.

  Serenity dreaded going back to the place where this all started. But satisfying Jerry Johnson’s needs would get him out of her hair. Right now, she couldn’t ask for anything more. Jerry had a way of wearing people down until he got bored and moved on.

  It sucked sitting this close to him. He told her to move over when he finally decided to stop trying to win an argument with Ida. As soon as he physically returned, the old rules were rein
stated. Without the distraction of driving, Serenity fought to find something to distract her from entertaining his need to dictate conversations. Riding in the bed, Jerrod remained uninvolved. He wouldn’t serve as a good distraction anyway.

  The desert rolled by at an excruciating twenty miles an hour. As if reading her thoughts, Jerry broke the silence. “Why hasn’t your mother gotten someone to look at this piece of junk?”

  Serenity didn’t bother turning toward him to answer. “Well, I don’t think it was a priority. She doesn’t use it, and money is tight.”

  “But you kids do,” Jerry said. “She can’t be having Junior cooped up in that house all day. He’s a boy; he needs to have fun while he can.”

  “Jerrod is twenty,” Serenity snapped, “And needs to help around the house because mother works two jobs to support us. Judging by you, he has plenty of time to play when he gets older.”

  Serenity’s head almost hit the dashboard when Jerry slammed on the brakes. The dark skin covering his knuckles turned lighter from his double-hand grip on the steering wheel. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he said. “I’ve got half a mind to backhand you.”

  She covered her fear with a tight smirk. “I’ll bet you do.”

  Jerry’s cheeks bulged as he clenched his teeth. Jerrod watched through the mesh cage window. He might as well be in another world for as much attention as he was getting from the pair in the front seats.

  Discordant desert wind pushed across them, the only sound disrupting this test of the wills. Serenity didn’t want to give in. Jerry’s eyes bore into hers, now it contained only them. Even Jerrod melted into the unobtrusiveness of the desert.

  Doubt crept over her, resolve melting even as she clung to it. No matter how tightly she held, how doggedly she refused to give in to him, it continued slipping away. Slowly. Until it was gone completely.

  She saw it in his eyes, that flicker of cockiness. He knew he was winning. “I’m sorry, father.” The words tasted bitter.

 

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