The River's Edge

by Tina Sears

  He hesitated. “Let’s go, then. I want to get back before dark.”

  We followed him out the door to the station wagon.

  Wendy sat up front while I sat in the back. The ride was quiet. I had noticed during the week that Uncle Butch didn’t talk much. He turned on the radio, which was playing oldies. I didn’t know most of the songs, so I busied myself by looking out the window. The sun was setting, turning the sky pink, and the clouds looked like they were made of cotton candy.

  He kept checking his rearview mirror every couple of minutes, looking at me. Smiling at me like he was watching a private movie and I was the movie star. All that was missing was the buttery popcorn in his lap. I got a major creep vibe from him. I’m glad Wendy came along.

  Blowing the horn, Uncle Butch yelled at the car in front of him. “Get out of the way, you old bag!” He swerved the car into the next lane, passed the Cadillac, and almost cut the driver off as he swerved in front of her, muttering under his breath. The only thing I could make out was, “Too old to be driving, hag,” and a lot more words like that.

  After fifteen minutes he turned down a one-way street. He navigated to avoid the pot holes, taking the curves just right. I could tell he travelled this road many times before.

  “We’re here.” He turned off the motor and it kicked over once and died.

  We walked up the steps and entered the kitchen from the side door. The house was dark and smelled of rotten onions. I heard the click of a light switch and gradually everything came into focus. The onions were on the counter in a pool of goo.

  “It stinks in here!” Uncle Butch carefully picked up the mesh bag and threw it in the trash. He lifted up the phone mounted on the wall and dialed the number that would connect me to my mother. I would have looked around more, but the rotten onion smell was burning my eyes. Wendy went into the other room and turned on the television. Uncle Butch disappeared upstairs to where the bedrooms were.

  I counted the rings. I knew how sad and alone she was. I thought of the day she left me here and I felt tears welling up behind my eyelids.

  After five rings, she finally answered the phone. “Hello?”

  I took a deep breath of air. I felt like I had just burst through the surface after being underwater for too long. “Mom?”

  “Chris, is that you, honey?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. What took you so long to answer? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I was in the other room, lying down. I didn’t hear the phone at first, that’s all.” She sighed as if collecting her thoughts.

  I had a whole list of things to tell her about, but all of her sadness seemed to be vibrating through the phone line, so I said the thing I was thinking the most. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Are you having a good time?”

  How was I going to tell her that I was having the time of my life like she said I would? “Yeah, Mom. I’m having fun. Every morning we go down to the river and—”

  “Christina Maria. I don’t want you near the river. It’s dangerous. Do you hear me?”

  “Aw, Mom, it’s perfectly safe. All of our friends go down there, too.”

  “It’s not safe. Some of those currents can be pretty strong.” I could hear the worry in her voice. “Is everything else okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ve even made some new friends. I went to the dance, too. I even danced with a guy. His name is Reds.”

  “I told you, sweetie. You’re going to have a great time.”

  “I know.” I didn’t feel much like talking about all the fun I was having when she was so far away and alone, not having fun. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. Just concentrate on having a good summer, okay?”

  “Okay.” But I didn’t want to concentrate on me when I was so worried about her. Who was going to take care of her when I was so far away? The bruises I felt inside were back and blood dry. “When can I come home?”

  “Soon, honey. Soon.” I heard a catch in her voice, a gasp for air. I knew she was crying. I felt sick to my stomach, just like on the day she left.

  The rotten onions made my eyes burn so I closed them. I opened them a few seconds later and Uncle Butch was standing in front of me, like he was listening in on the conversation. His arms were full with a basket of clean clothes, a bar of soap, and a bottle of shampoo. A faint after-shave smell drifted in with him.

  He put everything down and reached for the phone. “Don’t hang up. I want to talk to her.”

  “Uncle Butch wants to talk to you,” I said.

  “Okay, put him on. Bye, honey.”

  “Bye, Mom.” Those two little words sounded so permanent, and I felt lost and alone. After I handed him the phone I sat down at the kitchen table.

  “So, tell me about Peter. Have you heard from him?” Uncle Butch asked.

  My ears perked up. But Mom called my dad Pete, not Peter, so it sounded strange to me. One of my mom’s favorite expressions was “Oh for Pete’s sake.” When I was little, I always thought she was talking about my dad. I was so naive.

  “Divorce?” my uncle shook his head and turned away from me, lowering his voice, but I still heard. “We don’t come from a family that gets divorced. Mama drilled that into us. No divorces in the Morgan family. Besides, I never trusted that man . . . moving you so far away from family . . .”

  Wait . . . What? I’ve never heard her use the D word before. My heart started beating fast. Why didn’t Mom tell me he called!

  I was mad.

  I was scared.

  What would happen to us now? Now that she knew for sure that he was never coming back. That was her last hope. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What was going to happen next? I really needed to get back home to her.

  A few minutes later, Uncle Butch hung up and turned to me. “I guess you heard.”

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not the end of the world though.”

  Maybe not for him, but it was for me and Mom. My throat squeezed and made my voice crack. “I need to talk to my mom again.” My heart was breaking, just like my family was. I tried to hold back the tears, get rid of the lump in my throat.

  I got up from the table and walked toward the phone. But Uncle Butch blocked me with his arms. I tried to get around him, but he folded his arms around me in a huge bear hug. I tried again to get away, but it was like a freight train was in my path.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s going through a hard time right now.”

  “But, I need to talk to her.” My body tensed. I was sobbing so hard that my body was shaking. “Right now!”

  He hugged me tighter, trying to keep me together, but it felt like he was squeezing the life right out of me.

  “Calm down, everything will be okay.”

  “No, it won’t!” I said, crying into his chest.

  Wendy walked in. “What’s the matter?”

  He finally let me out of his bear grip. “Chris just found out her dad wants a divorce. She’s just a little upset, that’s all.”

  That’s all! He said it so nonchalantly. My whole life was falling apart. I had just been abandoned by both my parents and he thinks I’m just a little upset!

  “I’m sorry, Chris. But I’m glad you’re here. Maybe I can help you take your mind off of everything,” Wendy said sisterly. I unclenched my teeth.

  I thought of my friend Lisa back home. Since my family didn’t go to church, I didn’t know much about religion, so when Lisa talked about God, I listened. She was the most religious person I knew. She once told me that God never dealt you more than you could handle. Now that my parents were getting a divorce and I was so far away from home, I disagreed.

  Chapter Six

  The Garden

  I WOKE UP the next morning and the sun was painting the entire room yellow. I flipped on my side to face the wall and I buried my face in the pillow to block
out the light. I didn’t feel yellow, I felt black, like my heart.

  It would be another week before I could talk to Mom. I thought about her last words to me before she drove away: “Be brave.” So that’s exactly what I did. I got up and faced the day, knowing I was one day closer to getting home.

  Since it was Sunday and my aunt and uncle were home, we didn’t dare chance going to the river. Besides, it seemed like we were just one step ahead from getting in trouble. Everything we did was against the rules. So instead of going to the river, we decided to go to Crazy Mary’s house to visit the cats again.

  After lunch, we packed a baggie full of leftovers for the cats to bribe them out of their hiding places.

  I wanted to do something nice for Crazy Mary, so I looked around the yard and my breath caught when I saw the deep purple pansies swaying in the breeze. I walked over to Aunt Lori’s flowerbed and brushed my hand over the velvety flowers. They were perfect. They were pretty and they were also my favorite color. I knew I had to share them.

  I plunged my fingers underneath a bunch of pansies and scooped them up. The earth felt cool and damp. I put them in an empty flower pot lying on its side next to the garden. As I scooped up another bunch, my finger caught the edge of something sharp, and I jerked away quickly. A tiny line of blood spiraled down my pinkie. I looked at the hole where the flowers had been and saw something reflecting the sun.

  “Look at that,” I said, digging out the flash of light with my fingers.

  “What are you doing?” Wendy asked.

  “Looks like I’m digging up glass.” Another piece sparkled, and I plucked it from the earth with a trowel that lay beside the garden. “Look at this. It’s a bottle.” I could barely make out the label of the clear broken bottle, but I could tell it was whiskey. I tossed it aside and covered the hole I had just made with some soil from around the other flowers. No one could even tell where I’d dug.

  We got to Crazy Mary’s house, and I took the flower pot full of pansies up the steps to the cement containers. Wendy waited on the road while Paige followed me. It felt weird being all the way up on the porch, but I had an important mission to do. I was just a few feet away from the door where I had last seen Crazy Mary, and I moved with caution. I put the flowers down and turned my attention to the two containers on either side of the porch. I pulled and tugged at the weeds, but they resisted my efforts. They had lived in those pots a long time.

  Finally, I got the weeds out and dug a hole in the dirt with my hands. Then I placed the pansies in the hole and spread the dirt back around them. I looked at my handiwork. It sure did spruce up the place. I thought it was the least I could do for Crazy Mary since she was letting us visit the cats.

  Mom loved flowers and each spring, we planted pansies in our front yard. I missed doing that with her. She would call what I did a “good deed,” so I felt a little better about all the Rule Breaking I had been doing. I hated disappointing her. I couldn’t wait to talk to her again and tell her all about Crazy Mary and Oreo.

  My hands were filthy, so I rubbed them on my shorts to wipe the dirt away, but that didn’t do much good. Who was I fooling anyway? There were the girls like me, and then there were girls like Julie. I was never a painted nails kind of girl.

  I didn’t want to ruin the moment by staying too long, so I turned to Paige and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  The door cracked open with a swoop. Crazy Mary peeked out from behind the door that separated her from the world. The fragrance of lilac swept out. She was the most dignified woman I had ever seen. She was carrying a tray with three glasses on it. “Would you like some lemonade?” Her voice was like baby oil. Clear and smooth.

  Well, this was a shock. Not wanting to be rude, I said, “That would be great, thank you.”

  I walked toward Crazy Mary and took a glass of lemonade. I reached my hand out but I saw how dirty it was and pulled it back quickly.

  “There’s no shame in dirty hands,” she said kindly. “It shows that you’re a gardener. A friend to Mother Earth.” She was taller than I had imagined, and thinner, but not in a frail way. She placed the tray on the porch rail.

  I picked up a glass. “Thank you.”

  “How about you, sweetie?” she asked Paige. “You want some lemonade?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Paige picked up a glass and smiled big, pushing her tongue through her missing front teeth, and then took a big sip. “Thank you.”

  “What about your friend over there?” she asked, pointing to where Wendy stood motionless.

  “I don’t think she wants any,” I said, sipping on my drink. “She’s my cousin Wendy.” I touched Paige’s shoulder. “And this is my cousin Paige.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re new around these parts.”

  “Yeah. I’m here visiting my family.”

  “So, Butch Morgan is your uncle?”

  “Yeah,” I said shyly.

  She nodded. “The flowers sure do look pretty. Thank you. It’s been a long while since I’ve had visitors.”

  I drank my lemonade.

  “I notice that you come most days to feed the cats.”

  I got excited. “I named the kitten Oreo.”

  “Oreo? Good name. A good solid name.” She smiled a wide smile and adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders. She pushed back a loose strand of her hair.

  “And I named his mother Midnight.”

  “Midnight is a good name for her. When she hides under the porch she is hard to find. She just came back from the vet.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked, concerned.

  “Oh nothing, honey. I just didn’t want her to have any more kittens. I try to keep up with as many of these strays as I can. When I can get a hold of them, I call someone from the local vet to come get them to be spayed or neutered. Midnight, as you call her, had eluded my grasp for some time.”

  “Oh, good. I’m glad nothing’s wrong with her.” I finished my lemonade and put the empty glass on the tray. “Thank you, Cra —uh . . .”

  “I’m Mrs. Weaver. And you’re welcome, my dears. Don’t be strangers, hear?”

  “Okay, Mrs. Weaver,” I said.

  I took Paige’s hand and we walked down the steps together. I looked back and waved goodbye and then she disappeared back inside the house. I knew then that she wasn’t crazy after all, and couldn’t wait to rub it into Wendy’s nose.

  DINNER WAS A testament to Aunt Lori’s good cooking and we ate heartily. After my dad left, Mom didn’t cook much, so Aunt Lori’s home cooking was a welcome change.

  “How was your day, girls?” Uncle Butch asked. He slurped coffee from his “World’s Best Dad” mug.

  “Fine,” I said and took a bite of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “Chris dug up a broken whiskey bottle from the garden,” Paige tattled.

  Uncle Butch chuckled. “Yeah?”

  “I think it was a whiskey bottle,” I said.

  “That sounds about right, Chris. You have just discovered your grandfather’s secret whiskey garden.” Uncle Butch shoved in a big forkful of meat.

  “Did Grandpa grow whiskey?” Paige asked with amazement. It was cute. I didn’t need to wonder if I was that naive when I was six. I knew I was.

  “No, Paige, you can’t grow whiskey in a garden,” Wendy said, looking at her dad for reassurance.

  “That, my dear, is true. You can’t grow whiskey in a garden. A whiskey garden is just a garden your grandfather created. Whenever he wanted to drink, he would tell your grandmother that he was going to work out in the garden. Instead, he went outside to sneak a drink because Grandma didn’t allow any spirits in her house. To hide the evidence, he buried his bottles in the yard.”

  “Did Grandma ever find out?” I asked.

  “I think she turned a blind eye on a lot of things that went on in those days. She was a peacekeeper, not a fighter,” Aunt Lori said.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Mom how much I’d been learning about my relatives. I�
��m not sure if she was going to like what I was finding out.

  “Did my mom know?” I asked. I had never seen her take a drink.

  Before Uncle Butch could answer, Bob came banging out of his cottage with a beer in hand. “Hey, Butch, hey girls,” he said, walking up to the screen porch.

  “Hey, Bob,” Uncle Butch said, pushing his plate away. He went to the refrigerator and got a beer, then grabbed his cigarettes from the table and met Bob outside.

  We left them to their secret gardens and cleared the table. Without him in the cottage, I relaxed. I liked being part of the women with my cousins and aunt. I liked being part of something separate from my uncle and his gruff, overbearing presence. When he was around, he smelled hot, like sweat, and now beside Aunt Lori, I smelled the coolness of her, like lavender.

  After he left, Aunt Lori hugged my cousins. She always seemed to be touching them lovingly, making sure they were okay. Then she looked at me and opened her arms. I walked over to her and tucked myself into her embrace, taking to her like a baby bird taking to a worm. I felt safe in her arms. She was as light as Uncle Butch was dark. I wanted to borrow her angel’s wings and fly away home.

  Chapter Seven

  King of the Mountain

  MONDAY MORNING ARRIVED with a surprise after breakfast. While we were on the porch, Reds and Owl showed up. I looked around for Julie, but she was missing in action. It was just the two of them, so things were looking up. They both had a towel thrown over their bare shoulders and wore bathing suits. Owl raised his hand in a meek attempt to wave.

  “Hey,” Reds said. “Want to go to the pool with us? It’s opening day.”

  “I guess so,” Wendy said.

  “You won’t even have to swim with the fish,” Owl said.

  I chuckled. I hardly ever heard Owl speak.

  “Yeah, but is it okay with your mom?” I asked her.

  “Mom?” Wendy yelled to Aunt Lori, who was in the kitchen.

  After a few seconds she appeared on the porch and noticed Reds and Owl standing outside. “Oh, hello, boys.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Morgan,” they chimed.