In The Absence Of Light

by Adrienne Wilder

  I grabbed up the first sheet of plywood I could get my hands on.

  “Hang on and I’ll help you.”

  Together we loaded up the last item on my list.

  Berry handed me the end of the tie-down. “So you decide what questions you want to ask yet?”

  “I’ve only heard him talk about Jenny and Lori. He said she raised him.” I ran the strap through the eyebolt on the side of the bed. “When I asked him about his parents, he didn’t answer me. Do you know where they are?”

  “Dead, I suppose. Or run off. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened to them except maybe Lori.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  “No one ever saw them, so I’m pretty sure they weren’t local. Lori just showed up one day with Morgan in her arms. I think he was two, maybe three.” Berry rubbed his chin. “He wasn’t older than four. Couldn’t have been.”

  “She just showed up with a toddler?”

  “Yup.”

  “And no one asked questions?”

  “Sure, they did. She just didn’t give no answers.”

  I propped an elbow on the edge of the truck bed. “Where do you think she got him from?”

  “Don’t know. Really don’t care.” He locked the strap in place on his side.

  “Has anyone ever tried to find out?”

  “Are you kidding? Small town like this? Gossip is less of a recreation and more a civic duty. He’d been legally adopted. The names of the parents wasn’t available. She didn’t snatch him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I guess it sorta was. “Does he have anyone to look in on him?”

  Berry snorted. “Morgan don’t need no looking after. Trust me. That boy has his life together better than seventy-five percent of this town.”

  “It’s just…” I was doing it again. Yet I couldn’t stop myself.

  “It’s hard.” Berry took off his ball cap and reshaped the bill. “A lot of people who don’t know him think the same way you do, and a lot of people who do know him have a hard time accepting him. Even when they saw what Lori started with. It’s amazing, you know. How he’s gone from a little boy who didn’t hear or see you, even when you talked right at him, to a self-sufficient, educated adult.”

  “Jenny said people thought he would never walk, talk, or even read and write.”

  “And Morgan proved everyone wrong. He’s always proving people wrong.” Berry watched the front of the store for a moment. “Sad to say, I was one of those people. I think the only one who ever had faith in him was Lori, but she was as stubborn as a team of mules.”

  “Did anyone help her?”

  “A little here and there. But Lori wouldn’t let anyone handle Morgan. She quit her job keeping house for some rich family she’d worked for since she was twelve and spent every waking moment with him. But she didn’t coddle him. Oh, no. She had expectations, and she patiently waited for him to meet each one.”

  “How did she afford to stay home with him?”

  Berry scrunched up his face. “Not sure to tell you the truth. She got money from somewhere. She weren’t rich or nothing, but she didn’t want for anything and neither did Morgan.”

  “What about the scars on his face?”

  “Morgan was in a relationship years ago.” Berry slapped his ball cap across his knee. “He moved off with the guy. Dillon, I think was his name. Morgan was barely seventeen. No one heard from him until the hospital called.”

  “Was Dillon the reason why Morgan was in the hospital?”

  Berry frowned. “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dillon was abusing him. One day, it went from bad to worse.”

  “Why didn’t he leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did he get away?”

  Berry fumbled with the end of the tie-down before tucking it between a couple slats of wood. “He didn’t. Neighbors complained about the stereo playing loud all night. When the super showed up, no one answered, he let himself in and found Morgan.

  “All I know is it was bad and Lori wouldn’t elaborate. Honestly, though, I don’t even think Lori knew for sure how serious it was until she saw the aftermath.

  “Lori. She didn’t cry when her momma died, or her daddy. She didn’t cry the day Tom Daniel’s horse kicked her in the arm and broke it in three places. Wasn’t a doctor in town back then. Was three days before she could get someone to take her to the hospital. Even the day she saw the mess Dillon had made of her boy she did not cry. She just picked up the pieces and went to work to make it right.

  “She wasn’t just strong, Grant. She was made of iron. Her willpower could move mountains, and by God, it did.” Berry took a few measured breaths. “Nope. She never cried. Not until she brought him home and the doctors told her she needed to put Morgan in an institution because he would never come back. I was there. I saw. It was only one tear, but it might as well have been a river.”

  “What do you mean he wouldn’t come back?”

  “He turned into that little boy again. The one who didn’t see you or hear you. He just wiggled his fingers through the sunlight. They said it was the trauma. He shut down because of the terrible things that man did to him and went away where he would be safe.”

  “But he got better.”

  “Yeah.” Berry nodded. “He did.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Because Lori refused to accept any other outcome. She shut herself up in that old homeplace on Maple and sometimes months would go by before I saw her. When she did come to town, Morgan was always with her and she was never ashamed of how he acted. She just went about her shopping, incorporating Morgan into the routine just like she did when he was young. And every time she showed up in town, he’d gotten a little better, until one day he was riding his bike and working at Toolies.

  “She loved that boy, Grant. She loved him so much she lived when she should have died.”

  “Was she sick?”

  “Cancer. The doctor wanted her to go into the hospital and do that chemo treatment, but Lori refused. She said Morgan needed her too badly. So she kept going. And going. About a week after Morgan started his job at Toolies, she let go.” Berry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Everyone thought Morgan would—you know—go away, but he didn’t. He sold the old homeplace to pay her hospital bills and moved to the one he lives in now. Rebuilt it and himself.”

  “And Dillon’s in jail?”

  “Yup. He deserved worse, but seven years was the best they could do.”

  Berry was right. Dillon did deserve worse. But even death was too easy a punishment. There were far more suitable ways to extract penance for what he’d done to Morgan.

  I’ve seen the results left behind by debt owed to private lenders. Even the toughest men crumbled under the kind of torture the monsters could deliver. I’d never imagined myself capable of that kind of cruelty.

  I guess I was more of a beast than I’d ever given myself credit for. Because if I’d been given the chance to get my hands on Dillon, I would have started with pulling out his toenails and ended at his teeth. I would have broken every joint, severed every finger.

  And when I was bored with his screams, I would have shoved an ice pick in his gut, pulled up a chair, and watched him slowly bleed out.

  Berry cleared his throat and forced a smile. A patch of skin on one cheek was still shiny.

  “So what about you?”

  I still had questions about Morgan, but Berry had already relived enough. “Not much to tell. Born and raised in Alabama, got kicked out when I was sixteen, went to Chicago, never looked back.”

  “What’d you do in Chicago?”

  “I moved people’s valuables when they sold or bought them, or when they just plain old wanted to relocate to the beach home or winter cottage, here in the US and abroad.”

  “Musta been good business. Jessie’s cousin said you paid cash for the Anderson house.”

  I laughed. “Nice to know small town news still moves
fast.”

  “Even faster now, thanks to cell phones. Otherwise it would take at least two days for the gossip to get around. Now, I practically get text alerts on the hour every hour.” Berry grinned. “So why’d you quit your obviously successful shipping company?”

  There was a tone to the question that made me wonder how much Jenny had told him. “Got tired of it.”

  “Never knew a man who got tired of money.”

  “It wasn’t the money. It was the people. I got into the business when a handshake was more binding than a three inch legal document.” When men did business and didn’t dig graves. “The tides changed and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—change with it.”

  Berry nodded like he understood. “Well hopefully you find happiness here in Durstrand.”

  The only place I had intentions of looking for happiness was that long stretch of virgin beach where the water was so blue you could see the treasures hidden just below the surf. And yet the usual anticipation I felt when I rolled my fantasy future through my head didn’t happen.

  It was only when I went back to thinking about Morgan my heart took on a subtle flutter.

  I got in the truck. “Thanks for all your help.” And answers. I didn’t say it out loud, but I think he saw it in my eyes because his smile trembled.

  “Any time.”

  I started the truck and gave it some gas to warm it up. Berry walked over, and I rolled down the window.

  “I meant what I said about being happy here. I think if you allow it, you’ll even find someone to love.”

  ********

  The parking lot at Toolies was almost full. It was still early, even for a small town, so the dinner crowd hadn’t quite moved out and the drinking fans hadn’t moved in.

  I pulled around the back where there was more parking. Morgan’s bike was propped up against the rear door. I exhaled a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  The bar was full so I took up a booth that hadn’t been cleaned yet and pushed the dirty dishes to one side. Then I plucked a few napkins from the dispenser and used them to clean up crumbs and spilled coffee.

  A waitress walked up. “There are some clean booths over here.”

  “This is fine.”

  Her smile faltered. “Are you sure? We’re pretty backed up. It may be a few minutes before one of the busboys can clean it.”

  I took ten dollars from my wallet and handed it to her. “Whenever is fine. Just make sure it’s Morgan.”

  “You must be Grant.” With that, she walked away.

  A family of five left and a familiar bar groupie wandered in with his girlfriend. They parked it at the counter.

  A few booths up, two men with high-dollar haircuts and very nice suits stood to leave. Durstrand sat between Maysville and Alto. Both were a metropolis of corporate offices and high-end living. In just the few months I’d been here, traveling businessmen had become a frequent sight. And since Toolies was the only place offering fresh cooked food on the main stretch of highway, it was no surprise a lot of people stopped.

  The two suits didn’t speak to anyone and left money on the table. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when they walked by. I turned, but they were already out the door and lost between the neon glow from the sign and the night.

  Just two businessmen. That’s all.

  The young people near the jukebox parted ways, clearing the view across the room. Morgan stood in the doorway to the kitchen, talking with my waitress. He didn’t appear to respond to what she said so I was surprised when he headed my way.

  He cleaned the dishes with the efficiency achieved with practice but with careful precision found in people who took pride in their job. He stacked each plate, lined each glass along the edge, and filled them with silverware. When the plates were clear and the used napkins piled on the plates, he wiped down the table.

  Morgan put the bin in the booth across from me and slid in next to it.

  He removed his earbuds but didn’t lift his head. His wayward hand creeped up, and he tried to hold it down. After a moment of fighting, he gave up and flicked thoughts in my direction.

  “Your feet doing better?”

  His shoulder twitched.

  “Did you let a doctor look at them?”

  Morgan tipped his face up at the light and wiggled his fingers close to the bulb, making shadows on the table. He chased them with his free hand.

  I rested my arms on the table. “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest, and the curtain of blond waves slid into place.

  “I feel like I should apologize, but I’m not sure how.”

  The small jumps and stutters assaulting his muscles calmed, and his hands sank into his lap.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. I wasn’t sure how to react. You know, to the tics. It threw me off. But I like you. A lot. And I think that messes with my head more than the… I’m sorry, you know. I’m sorry that I lack the ability to understand.” I scrubbed my face.

  Morgan sat motionless.

  “Will you say something? Anything? Even if it’s fuck off, I never want to see you again.” And if my heart broke, it wouldn’t have surprised me.

  Morgan cocked his head to the side, turning it just enough to part his bangs. His gaze was distant. Or maybe he was staring into the parts of the world I’d never be able to see. Places most people would never be able to see.

  Because they just weren’t gifted enough.

  “Please, Morgan, I—”

  “I get off work in half an hour.” He picked up his bin and went into the back.

  The waitress reappeared with her ticket book in hand. “Decide what you want?”

  Had I?

  I guess in thirty minutes I was going to find out.

  ********

  I’m willing to bet, if I’d had a stopwatch, it would have ticked off the thirtieth minute just as Morgan opened the back door to Toolies.

  He pushed his bike over to the truck. I got out and helped him put it on top of the wood and tie it down.

  The poor lighting in the back parking lot eliminated any chance I had at catching a glimpse of his face, and left the rest of him shadowed in slaps of gray. Now that I knew how precious a gift it was for Morgan to meet my gaze, I was desperate to have him look at me.

  I was even more desperate to touch him.

  He said nothing, so I said nothing, and that nothing continued after I turned out on the main road and on Water’s Way.

  When I slowed to look for his street, he said, “Keep driving.”

  There were no street lamps this far out of town, only the occasional house with a front porch light. Sometimes they were close enough to the road to break the darkness, but mostly they just fed the shadows.

  Several more miles down, there was only the headlights leading the way to nowhere and the dash lights to assure me we hadn’t fallen into an ink well.

  The road narrowed, and the pavement ended.

  What began as a county maintained road turned into a washed-out gravel strip, half hidden by waist-high dried grass. The untamed trees along the shoulder hung low enough for the branches to claw the roof of the truck. Those disappeared, and a pasture edged with barbed wire flanked us on both sides.

  The gravel road ended at a cattle gate. It was open, and Morgan didn’t tell me to stop.

  Creaks and groans rose and fell as we rolled over the lumpy earth. Grass brushed against the undercarriage. The perpetual sigh followed us another mile.

  “Stop here,” Morgan said.

  I did.

  “Turn the truck off.”

  I did.

  “The lights.”

  I hesitated.

  “Please.”

  I thought I knew what darkness was until the night swallowed us whole, leaving absolutely nothing. I hoped to see a few stars, but cloud cover had erased them.

  The steering wheel in my hands assured me we hadn’t ceased to exist. “Is there a reason why we’r
e out here?”

  Fabric whispered against fabric and the old vinyl seat squeaked. Morgan quit moving, and once again I was left to question whether or not I’d ever been real.

  “When I was nine,” Morgan said, “I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Lori emptied out the extra bedroom and put a mirror on the wall. She even installed a railing that went all the way across the room.

  “We had a small TV and a VCR, and she built a shelf in the corner to sit everything on. Every week she’d check out instructional tapes, and any movies with dancers from the library, and I’d watch them over and over.

  “I followed the dancers on the video. I did everything they did. Just like they did. I practiced and I practiced.

  “Lori saved up some money so I could take real lessons at a small private school in Alto. They made you do auditions to get in, and it was a thirty-mile drive one-way. Sometimes they’d run late, and you’d have to go home and come back. It took three trips before it was my turn.”

  Morgan laughed a little. “I wasn’t even nervous because I’d watched those videos every day. I’d practiced every day. I knew the moves perfectly.

  “I was the best.” Silence reigned until Morgan sighed. “But they denied my application before they even let me show them what I could do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they couldn’t see me.”

  I hated to admit my ignorance, but I didn’t have a choice. “I don’t understand.”

  “The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”

  He was right. The light did blind people. I knew firsthand just how misleading it could be. Switch a few parts, tuck a masterpiece in a load of half-assed art, and people wouldn’t give it a second glance.

  In Morgan’s case, the light had let me see the tics, the muscle spasms, and his strange movements, and I’d been distracted by them. The dark took it all away and left me sitting next to a person, not a behavior, a human being, not perceived defects. Someone insightful, quick-witted, determined, generous, kind, and armed with a wicked sense of humor.

  Someone definitely smarter than me.