Family Thang

by James Henderson

  And the pain! Gut-wrenching pain! Eyes-watering pain! Tongue-biting pain! Doubling-over-in-public pain! Am-I-having-a-heart-attack pain?

  But no more. Today he was taking matters in his own hands. Why suffer when relief was right around the corner? Or, in his case, in the adjacent county, Drew County, where he’d made an appointment with Doctor Cobb, the only gastroenterologist in a fifty-mile radius.

  After Doctor Cobb’s secretary told him that she could squeeze him in as a walk-in at four o’clock, Sheriff Bledsoe ran to his cruiser. Emergency lights flashing, sirens wailing, he sped down Highway 82, eighty-…ninety-…one hundred-miles-per-hour… It was a quarter till four. At one hundred-miles-per-hour he would arrive at the doctor’s office with minutes to spare.

  Yes indeed, relief was less than twenty miles away. Doctor Cobb, he hoped, would prescribe the purple pill he’d seen advertised on television. He couldn’t remember the name, but the commercial, where several people stood next to a bubbling lava pool agonizing they weren’t made aware of the pill earlier, replayed in his mind.

  Apparently acid indigestion was serious business.

  He flew past a hitchhiker walking east, back to town. He looked in the rearview mirror and slowed down… A female in her pajamas carrying a pillowcase.

  A nutcase.

  Only a nutcase would hitchhike in this heat. Leave her be, the pain in his stomach told him. She’d be nearing town when he got back from his appointment.

  “Fiddle faddle!” he cursed, bringing the cruiser to a stop. When he drove back, the hitchhiker was sitting in the shade of a sycamore tree, inspecting her feet. He exited the cruiser and approached her with a hand on his weapon. Closer, he saw blisters on her feet. Her hair and the Bugs Bunny pajamas she had on dripped sweat.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am.”

  Ruth Ann looked up. “Hello, Sheriff. Mighty hot out here, ain’t it?”

  “Ruth Ann,” astonished. “What you doing out here?”

  “Sitting in the shade for a spell. Asphalt hot enough to cook an egg.”

  “Yes, it is.” He remembered his talk with Shirley. “Did you and Lester have a fight?”

  “No, no, no. I decided to take a walk. To keep up circulation.”

  “Barefoot? In your jammies?”

  “Don’t knock it, they keep you cool.”

  “What’s in the pillowcase?”

  “Just a few things I’m donating to Goodwill.”

  He extended a hand. “C’mon. We’ll sort this out in the car before one of us have a heatstroke.”

  Ruth Ann gimped to the cruiser. “I’m glad you stopped. You’d be surprised the number of people slow down, look at you crazy and keep going.” She got into the backseat and fanned herself with her hands. “Man, this air feels good!”

  “You want me to take you home?”

  “No, no, no! Let me cool off a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

  “You know I’m not letting you walk the highway. Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

  “Now is a good time as any to get your polygraph test over and done with.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe suppressed a burp. “On hold right now. Problems with the machine. Tell the truth, did you and Lester get into a fight?”

  “No, Sheriff. I’ve told you already we didn’t.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were taking a walk to improve circulation, no shoes, the hottest day of the year, and you have a new Expedition parked in the driveway. You keep lying to me we’ll go have a little talk with Lester.”

  “We had an argument. Lester didn’t hit me.”

  “He wouldn’t let you get your shoes?”

  “I’m sure he would have. I just, you know, I just wanted to leave. Didn’t think to get my shoes.”

  “Legally speaking, you and he are married, what’s his is yours and yours is his. If you want to go back and get some of your stuff, you’re within your legal rights. I’ll go with you, make sure everything is peaceful.”

  “No thanks, Sheriff. Very nice of you, but I’d rather not.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe started to speak when a black Dodge Ram stopped directly behind them. “Speak of the devil.”

  Lester exited the truck, an overstuffed plastic garbage bag in each hand, and approached the cruiser.

  Sheriff Bledsoe got out to intercept him. “How you doing, Lester?”

  “Here’s some more of her shit!” Lester said, throwing the bags to the ground, huffing and puffing as if he’d run a marathon. “Everything else b-b-b-belongs…” He started sniffling like a cat trying to dislodge a fur ball, and then he let loose, crying loudly and miserably. “…b-b-b-b-belongs to me!”

  “Hold on now, Lester.”

  Lester pointed at Ruth Ann, staring at them through the back window, wide-eyed.

  “Did you use a rubber?” Lester shouted at her. “Did you use a damn rubber?”

  Ruth Ann quickly turned face front in her seat. Lester charged for the car. Sheriff Bledsoe grabbed him by the waist just as he was reaching for the door handle.

  “Lester! Lester! Lester!” Sheriff Bledsoe clamped him in a headlock. “Lester, calm down!”

  “Okayokayokay, Sheriff!”

  “I’m going to let you go. If you try it again I’m going to arrest you. You understand?” He released him. “Are you okay?”

  Still crying: “I’ve been scratching ever since she left. Ask her did they use a rubber. Tell her I want my momma’s ring back, too. She ain’t worthy of it!”

  “Lester, you’re working yourself in a frenzy. Calm down.”

  “She ain’t no good, Sheriff! Fucking that sorry, no-good Eric Barnes!” Hyperventilating: “I know she has a damn coochie disease! Ask her did he use a rubber.”

  “By God, Lester! Calm down! The first thing you need to do is calm down. Take a deep breath and hold it, okay? Do that for me, please.”

  Lester held his breath for a split second and exhaled nasally.

  “Now don’t you feel better?” Sheriff Bledsoe said, though Lester continued crying, snot and tears flowing at an even pace. “Whatever she did it’s not worth losing control over, is it?”

  Lester strained to respond, couldn’t, hiccupping and crying.

  Sheriff Bledsoe patted his back. “This is going to take time, Lester. Try not to—” Before he could finish, Lester bear hugged him, crying on his shoulder. A wet sensation spread down his back.

  “S-s-s-sh-sh-sh-she… d-d-did me… w-r-r-r-rong…. S-s-s-s-sh-sh-sheriff!”

  My God! My dear God!

  If only he’d followed his first mind and kept going. Someone would’ve stopped and given Ruth Ann a ride into town. This very minute he should have been walking into a drugstore with the prescription for the purple pill in hand. He glanced at his wristwatch. A quarter after four. Geez!

  “Lester… Lester, why don’t you go home and rest up. Later on, after you’ve relaxed a bit, call someone, a relative, your pastor, one of your friends.”

  Lester continued crying.

  What if, Sheriff Bledsoe thought, a state trooper drove up? And here I am on the highway letting a man cry on my shoulder.

  A trucker drove by in the opposite lane to avoid coming too close to the vehicles on the shoulder, rubber-necking, a curious look on his face.

  Sheriff Bledsoe pried Lester’s arms loose. “Go home, Lester. Go home, take a hot bath and relax. In a few days this won’t seem the end of the world.”

  Lester wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Dirty bitch brings out the worst in me.”

  “No need for name-calling. Just go home and relax, for Pete’s sake. All right? If you think about doing something crazy, call me first. Understand?”

  Lester nodded and pressed two fingers against his right nostril and blew phlegm to the pavement. “O-okay, Sheriff, I will,” extending the same hand he’d used to blow his nose.

  Sheriff Bledsoe declined the shake. “Just go home, Lester. Don’t forget what I told you.”

  Lester stared
malevolently at the back of Ruth Ann’s head, then got into his truck and drove off.

  “You think he’ll be all right?” Ruth Ann asked the moment Sheriff Bledsoe got into the cruiser.

  “I hope so. He’s pretty tore up now. Does he have anyone he can commiserate with?”

  “His mother and his sister. I doubt if he’ll talk to them, though.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe pulled the stick into drive. “I’ll check on him later. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “My mother’s. Sheriff, don’t forget my stuff. My pillowcase, too.” He pushed the stick back into park and started out to retrieve her belongings. “One other thing, Sheriff?”

  “What?”

  “You got snot all over the back of your shirt.”

  He got out, slamming the door behind him, wondering would he dishonor his badge if he kicked her out and made her walk.

  Chapter 27

  The phone rang and rang. “Pick up the phone,” Leonard said into the cell phone. “I know you’re there, pick up the phone.”

  He knew Victor was back in Chicago because he himself had left the answering machine on. The ringing continued. He folded the cell phone.

  Already he was desperately missing Victor. What if Victor sought solace in the arms of his ex, Dwight. The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

  If he and Victor didn’t get back together, what would he do? Go back to dating? A risky proposition in itself. Liars, players, whiners, haters, baiters, all dressed up in pretty packages, but not one worth the pain and trouble.

  Could he roll the dice again and find another Victor? Honest, compassionate, intelligent, handsome, responsible and faithful.

  He thought he heard something and went to check on his mother. She lay in bed snoring, the sheet covering her entire body. He could scarcely detect her chest rising and falling.

  Mother, he mused, still believed covering up the monsters would overlook you. He closed the bedroom door and stepped into the kitchen.

  His mother was another reason why lately he felt so uneasy. He didn’t believe, couldn’t believe, she was capable of murdering anyone. Yes, but she keeps confessing to murder! He wondered if profound grief could convince someone they had murdered a loved one. If Victor was murdered, he could imagine blaming himself, but seriously doubted he would start confessing he’d killed him.

  The damn gopher poison in her closet didn’t help matters, either. Not one bit.

  He made himself a cup of coffee and stepped out onto the front porch. Heat worms wriggled from the street and roofs of neighbor’s homes. Patches of dead, sunburned grass spread throughout the front yard. As usual, the neighborhood, comprised mostly of senior citizens, was quiet. A sewage odor wafted from the paper mill, less than five blocks away.

  Why am I still here?

  His home was in Chicago, where his job was, where the love of his life was. Why had he so casually let Victor walk out of his life?

  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, spread it out on the top step and sat down.

  The money! The reason I’m still here.

  Sheriff Bledsoe had warned him not to leave town—an empty threat; he hadn’t murdered his father. He took a sip and said, “The damn money!”

  Someone, Shirley most likely, could have looked after his mother had he gone back to Chicago with Victor. In fact, his mother seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  An impulse: get up, pack your stuff and catch the next flight to Chicago. No, he couldn’t. Leave now and all the time he’d invested here would have been for naught. And why run to Chicago only needing to return a few weeks later to sign the papers for his share of the money.

  There’s a such thing as a fax, you know.

  No, he would wait. If Victor went back to Dwight, then to hell with him.

  A cruiser pulled up in the driveway, and Leonard remembered he was scheduled for a polygraph test.

  The back window rolled down and Ruth Ann poked her head out. “Leonard, is Shirley here?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe got out and opened the door for Ruth Ann.

  “Sheriff Bledsoe,” Leonard said, “I’m ready for the polygraph test.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe ignored him, opened the trunk and retrieved two garbage bags and a pillowcase and tossed them on the driveway, splitting one of the bags. Then, without so much as a good-bye, he got into the cruiser and sped off.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Leonard asked Ruth Ann. “PJ’s in vogue now?”

  “Have you seen Shirley today?”

  “Saw her earlier. Why?”

  Ruth Ann hobbled up to the porch and sat beside him. “Momma in the house?”

  “Asleep.”

  Ruth Ann combed back her hair with both hands. “Whew! It’s been one hectic day.”

  “You’ve recovered miraculously from your heart attack, haven’t you?”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “Nothing. Just yesterday you were in the hospital, a heart attack, allegedly. Now you’re on your feet…” He took a sip of coffee. “…running from Shirley.”

  “Who said I was running from Shirley?”

  Leonard worked his gaze from her blisters to her eyes. “Shirley.”

  “What else did Shirley say?”

  “Not much.” He took another sip. “She mentioned something about you jumping out a window and running when she came to your house.”

  “Was she angry? I mean, really angry?”

  “Well,” Leonard said, drawing the word out, “I guess you can say she was angry. A more accurate description, stark-raving pissed off.”

  “Damn! What time did she come here? What did Momma say? Did she upset Momma?”

  “She didn’t come here. Mother didn’t say much, and yes, Mother was upset.”

  “Damn! Back up. What you mean she didn’t come here?”

  “She didn’t come here. We were at Robert Earl’s house.”

  Ruth Ann took the cup from him and sipped. “Don’t you believe in sugar? Shirley called a family meeting to discuss my business?”

  “No, not exactly. Your business wasn’t the main reason why Mother and I went there.” He waited till she put the cup to her mouth. “We rushed over there because Shirley was pressing Robert Earl for a gun.”

  Ruth Ann spat the coffee out and started coughing. Leonard patted her hard on the back.

  “I’m… okay!” Ruth Ann said. “Wh-why did she want a gun?”

  “Aw shucks, Ruth Ann. You can’t pay Shirley any attention. You know how she carries on when she thinks someone done her wrong. She’s liable to say anything, the first thing pops in her head.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Why she want a gun?”

  Leonard took the cup out of her hand, took a quick sip, and handed it back. Ruth Ann took a sip, and Leonard said, “To bust a cap in your slimy ass. Her words, not mine.”

  Ruth Ann started coughing again, but this time Leonard did not pat her back. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “How could you, Ruth Ann? You know Shirley worships the ground Eric walks on.” She stared at the sidewalk, speechless. “She worshipped you, too. She’s devastated. The two people she loved the most betrayed her. The least you can do is apologize to her.”

  “And get shot!”

  “I don’t think she’ll shoot you. I really don’t. A day or two she’ll cool off. She’ll still be pissed, but by then she’ll have come to her senses. Then you should go to her and apologize. She won’t accept it at first, but she needs to hear you say it. You know how she is.”

  “I most certainly damn do! Remember when Robert Earl shot her favorite doll with a BB gun?” Leonard shook his head. “Maybe you were too young. I remember. She hit him in the mouth with a baseball bat… two weeks later!”

  “Is that how Robert Earl lost his teeth?”

  “I guess, I’m not sure. All I know, Shirley doesn’t cool off, not the way normal people do. She has to hurt someone
, spill blood, expose guts, break bones, then she cools off!”

  Leonard laughed. “Ruth Ann, she was just a kid then.”

  “Damn that! I’ll apologize later, next millennium!”

  “Robert Earl didn’t give her a gun.”

  “She may have gotten one from someone else.”

  “I doubt it,” chuckling.

  “Leonard, if she were gunning for you, I doubt you’d be so amused.”

  “I would not have slept with her man.”

  Ruth Ann snorted. “Oh, really? How can you be so sure?”

  Leonard stared at her, not blinking, his face instantly hot. “Fuck you!”

  “I’m sorry, Leonard, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  Leonard stood up. He didn’t want her near him another second. “I guess you’ll be staying here,” he whispered, tempering his heat.

  “If you don’t mind?”

  “It’s not my house.” If it were his, she wouldn’t be allowed on the lawn. He started for the door.

  Ruth Ann got up. “Leonard, wait. I apologize. I don’t want you mad at me, too. Sometimes I open my mouth before I think.”

  “My being gay is the great equalizer, isn’t it? Correction, the great dehumanizer. Isn’t it? Stab your sister, your only sister, in the back, yet that pales in comparison to my sexual orientation?”

  “No. You’re reading too much into what I said. I was being flip. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m going inside. There’s soap and hot water in the bathroom. You stink!” He stepped inside, slamming the screen door in her face.

  An hour later, his mother still asleep, Ruth Ann rumbling around in her old room, Leonard’s face remained hot, had actually heated up several degrees.

  He’d tried to cool off and simply couldn’t. Of course he’d heard worse, had been called worse. Yet any comment on his sexuality by a family member, especially Ruth Ann, burned him to no end.

  He tried to redirect his thoughts to something positive, but “Oh, really? How can you be so sure?” kept playing inside his head. He picked up a book, couldn’t complete the first paragraph, and tossed it aside.