by D. M. Pulley
The golden sky reeled overhead as he staggered away from the cabin, sobbing harder than he could ever remember crying. There was nowhere else to go. The grass seemed to fall away from his feet as he stumbled past the barn. He didn’t want to look where he was going. He didn’t care if he crashed into the corncrib. He didn’t care if he fell in the well. In fact, he’d rather he did.
“Jasper?” It was Wayne calling his name somewhere behind him.
He didn’t want to see Wayne. His eyes stayed shut as he plowed away from the voice. He couldn’t stop the stream of tears and snot and spit running down his face. He couldn’t keep from wailing. His feet stumbled over a tree root, and he crumpled down into a ball. No one.
“Hey.” Wayne shook his shoulder. “Hey, kid. It’s alright. Shake it off. You’ll live.”
Wayne’s warm hand made everything worse. He jerked away from it.
“Jeez. He didn’t use the crop, did he?” Wayne pulled his hand away. “He only used that on me once, but that was for giving Millie too much horse tranquilizer. It about killed her.”
Jasper shook his head and sobbed. “Go away.”
“I’m supposed to come get you for dinner.”
This made Jasper go quiet. He wiped his face with his shirt. “What?”
“Ain’t you hungry?”
“But there’s no place for me. They don’t want me.”
“Don’t be stupid. Ma wasn’t sure you was coming. Pop said you might just spend the night in the tractor shed.”
The tears wouldn’t stop. “That’s where he wants me then.”
“No, he don’t. It’d be better if you cleaned yourself up and act like you took it well. That’s what I do. I pretend like it’s all okay with me, and pretty soon it is. You know?” Wayne tousled his hair. “You can’t let a little whupping break your back.”
“But he didn’t whup me,” Jasper sniffed. “He didn’t even say anything.”
“You told him?”
“Yeah. I told him everything, and he didn’t do anything. He didn’t even . . .”—Jasper had to fight back a sob—“. . . look at me.”
“Shit.” Wayne sat back in the grass next to him and nodded. “No wonder . . . Maybe they just want to let your own dad handle it. Maybe Pop feels out of place doin’ it himself.”
“He hates me.”
“He don’t hate you, dummy. He’s the one that told me to go check on you.”
“Really?” Jasper wiped a long string of snot onto his arm.
“Yeah. Now let’s get you cleaned up. C’mon.”
Jasper sat silently all through dinner, waiting for his aunt or uncle to say something about a punishment. He had handed the note to Aunt Velma when he’d come in the door. She’d taken one look at his swollen face and put the note in a drawer. Jasper couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. He just kept his head down while his aunt and uncle talked about the weather and the coming harvest over the food.
After dinner, they all listened to the radio. In between the Lone Ranger and The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, the governor came on the air to announce stiffer punishments for illicit drug use and trafficking under something called the Boggs Act, but all Jasper could hear was the thundering silence of his uncle.
At bedtime, Aunt Velma poked her head behind the curtain to say good night to Wayne. Jasper’s heart leapt when she also said good night to him. He had to steel himself from whimpering, Do you still like me at all? Do you wish I was gone?
As she was closing the curtain, he managed to say, “I’m sorry, Aunt Velma.”
She stopped and looked at him with watery blue eyes. “I know.”
When the lights were off and the house was silent except for the crackle of the fire in the woodstove, Wayne sat up and whispered, “Hey, Jas?”
“What?”
“What did Cecil say that made you so mad?”
Jasper didn’t know how to answer. He still didn’t know what hussy meant, but he knew he’d be betraying his mother if he said it again.
After a long silence, he whispered, “Nothing.”
CHAPTER 17
Did they ever hit you?
Jasper’s father didn’t come back that Saturday morning.
After lunch, Jasper stole away into the barn to read more from his mother’s book under the guise of feeding the goats. Just as he pulled the diary from its new hiding spot, his uncle’s voice came booming from the doorway.
“Hey, Jasper?”
“Uh. Yes, sir?” Jasper nearly dropped the book. He half turned, hiding it against his oversized pant leg.
“Whatdya say you come with me and Wayne down to the creamery? Might be an ice cream in it for you.” From the doorway, his uncle didn’t seem to notice the thin volume pressed to his flank.
“Sure! Okay.” Jasper forced a bright smile. In truth, he was thrilled his uncle was still speaking to him.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” His uncle waved him over.
There was no chance to tuck the book back where it belonged. His uncle watched Jasper drag his feet to the door as the boy’s mind searched for a place to stash it. Uncle Leo finally turned to grab one of the full milk canisters next to the door, and Jasper stuffed the book into the pocket of Wayne’s hand-me-down overalls, praying the legs were wide enough on his small frame to hide it.
“Get the lead out, boy!” Uncle Leo barked over his shoulder. “I need you to lower the hitch for me.”
“Yes, sir!” Jasper scurried past him with the book swinging from his hip. His uncle didn’t seem to notice.
After loading twelve milk canisters into the back of his uncle’s truck, the three of them piled in and headed the four miles down Route 25 to the Burtchville creamery. Jasper and Wayne rode in the open bed the whole way. The wind whipped past them at fifty miles an hour, and every bump in the road was a carnival ride as they both fought to hold on. By the time they arrived in Burtchville, Jasper was laughing.
The creamery was just a giant warehouse with a bunch of refrigerated holding tanks and a few storage sheds in the back. Uncle Leo pulled his truck up to the receiving dock, and Wayne and Jasper hopped out.
“Don’t wander too far, you two. Meet me back here in twenty minutes.” His uncle walked over to the booth and talked to a short, hairy man about his delivery.
“C’mon! Let’s go see what new baseball cards they got over at Calbry’s.” Wayne grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the warehouse and down the street.
The sidewalks were crowded with farmers and their families out collecting the weekly supplies. Just outside the doors to Calbry’s General Store, two women with long black hair and tan skin were sitting behind a card table covered in beaded necklaces. A hand-painted sign that read “50 Cents” hung from the edge of the table next to another sign that read “Will Work for Food.”
Jasper stopped on the sidewalk to read the signs. The older woman smiled at him and beckoned him toward the necklaces on the table. Next to the jewelry lay a small photograph of a teenage girl with long black hair. A small hand-painted sign below it read: “Do You Know Who Killed Me?”
Jasper read the words again and studied the girl’s face. The feeling that he’d seen her before crept into his head. Her eyes. They’d been sad. She’d been standing in the doorway.
“You know her.”
“Huh?” Jasper blinked up into the weathered face of the older woman. Her lips were set in a frown.
“You knew Ayasha.”
Jasper took a step back, shaking his head.
“No necklaces today, thanks!” Wayne told her with a broad smile and pushed his cousin through the door.
“Wait. Who are they?” Jasper asked.
“Ladies from the Indian reservation. Don’t mind them. They just want your money. They’re always sellin’ stuff.”
“But it said a girl was killed.”
“I don’t know anything about it. Do you? C’mon. Pop will be cashin’ out any minute.”
Jasper let his co
usin drag him by the arm into the store but looked back over his shoulder at the two women.
Do you know who killed me?
The rest of the afternoon was spent collecting bars of soap, thread, needles, and a new gasket for the tractor from the various shops in town. That and the biggest ice cream cones Jasper had ever laid eyes on. He was still licking the chocolate from his lips when they pulled back down Harris Road around dusk.
A familiar truck was parked at the end of the drive as Uncle Leo’s headlights drew nearer. The shadow of a man was hunched over the steering wheel. It was his father.
Uncle Leo cut the engine and climbed out behind Wendell’s truck. Wayne cranked open the passenger door and glanced back at Jasper still glued to his seat next to the gearshift. “Don’t worry so much, kid. It’ll be fine.”
Outside, Uncle Leo was talking at the driver’s side window to his father. Jasper’s guts knotted up. He didn’t want to get out of the car. It wasn’t just the whupping he was about to receive; it was the fact that his father hadn’t come to see him the week before. It was some of the things the detective had asked his uncle. It was the idea that his mother had hidden the car deep in the woods where she’d hoped no one would find it.
“Come on, Buck Rogers.” Wayne pulled him down out of the truck. “Time to go to the moon.”
Jasper’s feet hit the ground like they were made of lead. His father was still sitting behind the wheel of his borrowed truck. The barn loomed darkly in the other direction, and Jasper considered making a run for it. Wayne tugged on his arm, but his feet wouldn’t move.
Uncle Leo came around the hood. “Wayne?”
“Yeah, Pop?”
“Time to head inside, Son.” Uncle Leo’s eyes fell on his nephew for a few moments before he turned to the house.
Wayne patted Jasper on the shoulder and then followed his dad into the cabin.
Jasper’s legs were rubber as they made their way around the bumper. Wendell’s head was resting on the steering wheel as he approached the driver’s side door. It was like looking at a total stranger. His father’s gray hair was worn thin at the top, and he looked smaller than Jasper remembered.
He heard himself say, “Hi, Dad.”
His father lifted his head from the steering wheel and looked at him with pale eyes. They were heavy and tinged red. “How’ve you been, Jasper?”
“Okay.” He studied his feet, swallowing all his questions about his mother. Children should be seen and not heard.
“Your uncle tells me you’ve had a little trouble at school. Is that right?”
Jasper kept his eyes on his shoes. “Yes, sir. I was fighting in the school yard.”
“How big was the boy?”
“Huh?” Jasper looked up with a scowl.
“Was he smaller than you?”
“No, sir. He was bigger. Cecil’s in sixth grade.”
“Why’d you hit ’im?”
“He said some things.” Jasper debated confessing the horrible things Cecil had said. Your mama’s a hussy. He couldn’t say it. “He just wouldn’t leave me alone.”
His father nodded. “Can’t blame you too much then, but you did break the rules. Didn’t you?”
Jasper forced a nod.
“If I don’t whup ya, your uncle’s gonna feel like he has to do it. He’s already doin’ too much.” His father sighed and hauled himself out of the truck.
“But . . .”
“No buts, boy. Come on. Let’s just get it over with.” His father grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the barn. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’ll be worse if Leo does it.”
The tremor in his father’s hand vibrated up Jasper’s arm. The old man’s foot hit uneven ground, and he staggered a bit off balance. He’s drunk, Jasper realized. It took his father a solid minute to get the kerosene lamp lit in the barn. By the time the light went on, Jasper was furious and convinced he could take the wobbly old man in a fight.
“This isn’t fair! That boy was picking on me. You always told me you got to stand up to bullies.” That was true. When the bigger boys had stolen his milk money, his dad had acted like it was Jasper’s fault. He’d even showed him how to make a fist.
“Bein’ a man ain’t easy, Jasper.” His father was struggling with shaking fingers to take off his belt. “Even when you do the right thing, sometimes you gotta pay.”
“But it’s not fair!” None of it was.
“Who told you life was going to be fair? Huh?” his father growled. “What do you know about fair? You got a roof over your head and food on your plate and people lookin’ after you. You think everybody’s got that? You think I had that? You don’t know how good you got it! You think you’re the only one’s ever lost somethin’?”
Jasper felt himself shrinking. “No.”
“Now you broke the rules. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that. The law’s the law.”
“The law?” Jasper thought of the detective and felt his anger return. “You know what the law said last week? Huh? A police officer came here Monday. He said they’d found her car buried in the woods. He said Mom’s missing! They think there might’ve been a crime! He said it might be your fault!”
“What?” Wendell lowered the belt and grabbed Jasper’s arm in his fist. “Who said that? Who?”
There was a fiery red alarm flashing in his father’s eyes, but Jasper could hardly see it through the tears streaming down his face. The man hadn’t come to see him in two weeks. “A detective from Detroit. He wanted to know if you ever smacked her around.”
“If I ever what?” his father roared.
“Smacked her around!” Jasper shouted back. Suddenly, the detective’s accusations didn’t seem so outrageous. All their screaming fights. Her teary eyes the morning she’d left Jasper alone on the farm. He wrenched his arm free and gave his father a running shove. “Did you? Did you hit her? Why didn’t you tell me about the car, huh?”
The old man sputtered, “Why you little—”
Jasper shoved his staggering father again and screamed, “Where is she, goddammit? What did you do with her?”
Wendell grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him to the ground. The man’s hand crashed into Jasper’s face with a blinding white pop.
CHAPTER 18
Did they ever leave bruises or marks?
Pain pounded his temples with each beat of his heart. A steady vibration hummed all around him. Jasper blinked his eyes open and saw nothing but black. The smells of cigarette smoke and gasoline worked their way into the back of his mouth. A beam of yellow light passed overhead, and he felt his body lurch forward as the rumbling beneath him slowed. He must’ve dozed off.
Jasper tried to sit up, but the pain in his head kept him on his back. The brakes squeaked as the vehicle pulled to a full stop. He was curled up on the bench of the truck. Down on the floorboards, his father’s worn boot let off the brake and stepped on the gas.
The truck picked up speed again, and another streetlight blew by. The shadow of his suitcase sat on the floor beneath him.
“Just sit and wait here,” his father had told him after dragging him to the truck. They were the first words either of them had spoken since it happened. Jasper had sat in the front seat too dazed to even cry until Wendell came back with the bag. He set it down at the boy’s feet without a word.
The suitcase lurched forward as his father’s boot laid on the gas.
Jasper was leaving the farm. He’d been praying for it for weeks, but now it wasn’t clear where they were going. His father still wasn’t talking. He might not ever talk to him again.
Tears welled up as the horrible scene replayed in his head over and over again. The words he’d screamed. His father’s furious eyes. His father’s hard smack, rattling his teeth. He didn’t have to reach up a hand to feel the swelling around his left eye. His father had hit him. He’d screamed in his father’s face, and the man had hit him hard.
His father had never hit him before.
/> Afterward, his father had just stood there gaping at him. That look. That deflated, disappointed, utterly devastated look brought tears to Jasper’s eyes as he lay there next to the man.
A chill clung to his inner thigh. Shame washed over him when he realized his pant leg was wet. He wanted to die.
The truck lurched to another stop. His father cut the engine. Wherever they were going, they’d arrived. Jasper feigned sleep as his father opened the driver’s side door. Wherever it was, he didn’t want to go.
A panicked thought ran through his head. Orphanage.
For a few blessed moments, Jasper was alone in the truck, hoping against hope that his father would change his mind. He’d said terrible things. He’d accused the man of hitting his mother and doing God knows what else. He’d gotten him so angry his father had revealed a side of himself Jasper hardly knew was there. You think you’re the only one’s ever lost somethin’?
Wendell Leary was an orphan. Jasper’s mother told him that once after one of their fights. His father had lost both his parents when he was just a boy. She’d been drinking and muttering that they were meant to be together because of their broken hearts, but Jasper didn’t understand what that meant. His father had never spoken of it before.
No doubt his father hated him now. He would be happy to be rid of him. Jasper rolled onto his side and buried his face in his hands. His left eye felt like a ripe plum about to burst. It was the eye of a monster.
Jasper fought back a sob and prayed that his father would forgive him. The passenger side door wrenched open.
“Time to get out, Jasper.” His father’s voice was hoarse.
Jasper shook his head, still hiding his face in his hands.
“Stop foolin’ around, Son. Let’s go.”
His father pulled him by the elbows until he was sitting up in the seat. A wave of nausea came and went at the sudden movement. Jasper tried to blink his eyes straight. His left eye didn’t match his right. Everything pulsed with red.
Out the window, he saw a familiar sign. “Carbo’s Bakery.” He blinked twice, but it was still there. They were home.