by Lincoln Cole
“Do I have to play with Jenny?” Bethany asked, pulling Jason from his thoughts.
“What honey? No, no you don’t have to play with Jenny,” Emily said, “but it would be nice of you. She doesn’t have a lot of friends.”
“She’s weird,” Bethany said. “Everyone at school says she’s mental and that’s why she doesn’t come most of the time.”
“She’s just different,” Emily said. Bethany shrugged. Jason saw her legs hanging above the car floor and kicking absently at the air. Beth was rocking back and forth.
Whereas Jason liked spending time in the car, Beth hated it. She hated sitting still. No attention span.
They drove down the street, watching the snow fall and listening to the wind whistle around the outside of the car. Their town was small. The landscape surrounding it was mostly farmland. The house where Adam lived was only a few miles away, but it was still a ten minute drive on the slippery roads.
“How was school?” mom asked. Jason glanced up and saw his mom’s eyes in the mirror. She was asking him.
“It was okay,” he said. ‘Boring’ and ‘pointless’ were two extra descriptors he didn’t bother adding.
“You guys probably won’t have school tomorrow,” Emily said, still trying to get them to interact. “Not if the snow keeps falling like this.”
“Uh huh,” Bethany said, still kicking her legs. “That’s what my friend Tracy said. My friend Tracy said that we should go to the park…”
Jason found his mind wandering again. He decided he was going to rename his main character. Using his own name was decidedly too arrogant, especially for the main character. Maybe a side character, one the reader wouldn’t really remember. Or even a villain. That could even be fun, to be the villain in his own story. But not the main character.
The car turned onto the driveway leading to the White house. The snow was a little over an inch deep now and not slowing. It was falling faster, if anything.
They piled out of the car and made a beeline for the house. Even Bethany didn’t stop this time. The snow was coming down too hard, layering everything in puffs of white. The door opened as they approached, spilling yellow light onto the snow covered front lawn. It served to highlight the flakes hovering in the air in a way that was disorienting.
Jason found it to be distinctly beautiful, watching the flakes blown by the wind every which way. Each flake special, different in its own subtle way from all of the others. Magical.
“Sorry we’re late Grace!” Emily said as the door slipped closed behind them. Jason brushed the snow off his coat and began unzipping. “I forgot about your invitation.”
“Oh, it is no issue,” Mrs. White said. She helped Bethany take off her coat and then began hanging them on a rack. After Jason’s coat was taken care of, he began the laborious task of removing his boots. He wouldn’t dare risk Mrs. White’s ire by keeping his boots on and tracking mud or snow through the house. “I trust you made it here okay through that dreadful snow?”
“The roads were slick, but empty,” his mom said.
“Ah. Well the food is ready as soon as you all are.”
“That’s good because we are starving,” Emily said, and they both laughed.
The children were ushered into the living room where they saw Edward and Adam sitting beside a knee high table doing homework. They were close to the hearth where a fire was blazing merrily along. Jason could feel the visceral heat as the logs crackled and popped. He loved that sound.
The room was very crimson. Jason had only been here a couple of times before, usually with Rickie. A circular rug dominated the floor and the walls matched it with a deep wine colored hue. A mounted ten point buck loomed over top Mr. White in his reclining chair. He was busy reading a newspaper, turning pages with a sharp flick.
Jason’s father always read the paper first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee, but Mr. White liked to read his in the evening with his pipe or a cigar. Blue smoke drifted lazily out of a meerschaum pipe held in his right hand. He glanced up as they came in and smiled.
“Ah, Emily,” he said. His eyes were dark and in the dim room the firelight flickered off his glasses. The rims were very thin, which Jason knew meant they were expensive. “I’m glad you and the kids could make it.”
“We almost didn’t,’ Emily said. “The snow is really coming down.”
“We made pot-roast,” Mrs. White said.
“Damn,” Rickie muttered. Bethany giggled and mom glared at them both.
“That sounds lovely,” Emily said.
Mrs. White turned to her husband. “Robert, are you nearly finished?”
“Just one more article, dear, and then I’ll be ready to eat. Perhaps you could set the table?”
Mrs. White smiled and nodded, turning back to Emily. They started walking back toward the dining room, and Mrs. White said: “So I heard you were thinking about buying a new car?”
“Yes, Calvin has been having trouble getting ours to start for a few weeks now.”
“It’s new though?”
“We only just bought it,” Jason’s mother agreed. “But we might need to trade it in and get something else.”
“Not one of those dreadful foreign cars, I hope,” Mrs. White said, rounding the corner. “I couldn’t imagine you in one of those…”
They drifted out of ear shot. Rickie dropped down next to Adam on the floor and they engaged in a hushed conversation. Probably about dumb stuff. They knew not to be too loud for fear of bothering Mr. White.
Bethany sat on the couch next to Edward and leaned over to read his homework. “We learned that last year,” she declared in a proud whisper. She followed that up a few seconds later by pointing at his paper and saying: “you got that one wrong.”
Jason watched both groups for a few seconds and decided neither was inviting him to join. They weren’t very interesting anyway. He instead followed his mother into the kitchen.
“…agree completely,” his mom was saying. Both women had a stem glass in hand filled with a yellow golden liquid. Wine. He’d tried it before, but it tasted like juice that went bad. He knew that one day he would have to learn to like it—all writers did—but for now he was satisfied with soda pop or water.
His mom turned when Jason entered. “Jason, could you set out the silverware?”
He shrugged and grabbed a handful of forks off the counter. The plates were already set—they were thin with flower decorations—and a vase of plastic yellow roses sat at the center. The dining room was entirely different from the living room, lighter in color. More inviting, less homey.
He knew from the last time he’d been here that as Mrs. White brought out the trays of food, she liked to replace the vase in the middle with the entrée. She didn’t like to leave the center of the table empty and wanted everything to be symmetrical. Personally Jason didn’t care. Food was food. At home they usually ate in the living room and watched TV. But if Mr. White didn’t bring it up to his wife as strange, neither would Jason.
He finished setting the forks out on top of the napkins and headed back toward the kitchen. Then he hesitated, turning back to the table. He counted the settings, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. No, just what he’d thought. He headed back into the kitchen.
The women were still talking and laughing, but they both stopped when they saw that he had a question. Mrs. White tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Yes dear?”
“Why doesn’t Jenny eat with us?”
The smile vanished. “Oh…what?”
“There are only enough spaces for us. Last time I came over with Rickie she ate up stairs. Why won’t she eat downstairs with us?”
A flash of panic crossed Grace’s face.
“No…no honey,” Mrs. White said, looking to Emily for help. “She wants to…”
She clearly didn’t know what to say. Jason found that odd.
“She doesn’t like us?” Jason asked.
“No, not that at
all. She just doesn’t like to eat with strangers.”
“Oh,” Jason said. That didn’t make sense. They weren’t strangers. He’d been over for dinner a few times now, but Jenny never ate downstairs. Mrs. White would always take a plate quietly to her room, and then she would smile when she returned. But it was a fake smile. No one talked about it. It was like they didn’t want to talk about it.
It was like Jenny was the creature in the attic.
“Is she in trouble?” he asked. Sometimes when he got in trouble his parents would send him to his room. Maybe this was her punishment. But even that seemed farfetched. What would they have to punish her for?
“No…” Mrs. White said. She was speaking slowly and her voice was high. She set her wine glass down. “She’s not…”
“Then why won’t she eat with us? Can she?”
The two women exchanged a look. Even Jason could tell that it was awkward. There was something wrong here. Something he was missing. “I mean she can,” Mrs. White said. “We’ve been working on it for a while, and she can occasionally eat at the table, she just doesn’t like to sit still. But I suppose…I mean if you don’t mind…”
“Oh no,” Emily said, “not at all. Not one bit. It would be no trouble at all if she ate with us.”
“Really? I don’t want to impose. She’s gotten quite a bit better but she still…”
“Oh it’s no imposition at all. By all means,” Emily said. She turned to Jason. “Jason, be a dear and set out another plate and napkin and I’ll grab another chair.”
“Sure,” he said, grabbing the plate and heading back to the dining room. They set up the last placement and he finished setting out the spoons just as the rest of the group filed into the dining room. Mrs. White headed upstairs to retrieve her daughter.
Mr. White was hitting the back of his pipe against the palm of his hand to knock the cake loose as he walked in. He glanced in the bowl of his meerschaum pipe, nodded in satisfaction, and slid it into his pocket.
Mrs. White reappeared. Jenny was in tow wearing a blue dress with white flowers. Her hair was messy. Neither she nor her mother looked very happy.
Mrs. White guided Jenny to the last two chairs and helped her into one. Jenny sat down, folded her arms, and blew out a deep breath.
“Let’s say grace, Grace,” Mr. White said. Then he and his wife exchanged a glance and smile, the same they did every time Jason had come over for dinner. They thought of it as an inside joke, Jason knew. He didn’t think it was very funny, but they were pretty old.
Everyone grabbed the hands next to them and bowed their heads. Jason closed his eyes, grateful that the pot roast wasn’t on the table. He could ignore the salad without so much as batting an eyelash, but he had to admit the roast smelled pretty enticing in the kitchen.
“Heavenly father, we thank you for the meal we are about to share. And for the friends you have delivered us on this fine evening. We thank you—”
Jason heard a snigger and his eyes popped open. Mrs. White, he saw, had a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and Mr. White was resting his other hand on the table. Both of them still had their eyes closed.
Jenny, on the other hand, was grinning and playing with her salad, moving it around on her plate with her fingers. She didn’t seem too concerned that she was interrupting the prayer.
“—for the chance to do your works, here, and so that we might have gainful employment—“
Jason preferred it when his father prayed. Calvin Greenwood thanked God for food, family, and occasionally he’d offer a prayer to the dear baby Jesus as well. Emily didn’t find that so funny, but Jason always thought it was.
“—in these trying times. We thank you for the continuing happiness that we find—”
But Mr. White sure did know how to ramble on during these things. Jenny didn’t seem particularly interested in eating her food, but she was enjoying playing with it.
“—in our day to day lives,” Mr. White said. A moment of silence followed, and Jason thought he was finished.
And then: “And lord, we ask that you give us the opportunity—“
Jason decided that if Mr. White made it into one his stories as a side character, he would be the annoying preacher that didn’t know when to stop during sermons. Maybe he would preach to Christians up in the cosmos. Or some new religion.
He’d probably have to die too.
“—to show you our love, as you have shown us yours in your works. We pray thee, God, to watch over us and protect us. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.”
“Amen,” the rest echoed, minus Jenny. Jason didn’t really understand the Holy Trinity—how could God also be his own son as well as a ghost?—but kind of figured it wasn’t one of those things that got easier to understand as he got older. He also sort of figured that after a while he would just stop caring.
Jason was almost finished with his salad when the flowers disappeared, followed closely by the appearance of the pot roast. It was almost too much waiting for his food. He smacked his lips as the plate was set down and promptly dug into the meat. A bowl appeared to his right loaded with greens beans. He heaped a portion on his plate and continued passing, and then did the same with mashed potatoes.
The table grew quiet. Jason focused on his food. It was delicious. He’d never say so, but it was way better than his mom’s cooking.
Everyone else seemed to think so, too. A minute passed with the only sounds being mouths working over their food and the clatter of silverware. There was also the occasional: ‘could you pass me the…” followed by a flurry of bread and bowls.
Another minute passed as the meal evaporated. Jason’s only regret was that Mrs. White portioned out the food perfectly. The pot roast was gone, the mashed potato bowl empty, and the bread basket held only crumbs and edge pieces.
The frantic pace slowed down as people transitioned from starving to full. Mr. White grabbed the last bits of bread and used them to soak the gravy off his plate. The sound of chewing disappeared, replaced by contented sighs.
Jason picked up his plate to lick it. His mom gave him a look, one of her ‘you were raised better than that’ looks, but Jason chose to pretend like he couldn’t see her. Rickie, on the other hand, started scraping his spoon across the bottom of the plate to get the last bit of gravy. Jason found the sound to be obnoxious.
Suddenly Jenny started screaming.
Everyone froze.
Mrs. White put her arm on the little girls shoulder. It was promptly shoved away and the girl screamed louder.
“Quiet her down,” Mr. White said, raising his voice to get over his daughter’s screams.
“She doesn’t like the scraping sound. The doctor said she was more sensitive to—”
“I don’t care what she’s sensitive to,” Mr. White said, reaching a hand over and clamping it on his daughter’s mouth. “No daughter of mine—”
Mrs. White’s eyes went wide. “Robert, don’t you dare put your hand over her—”
Mr. White cursed and jerked his hand back.
“She bit me,” he said, sounding astonished.
I would have too, Jason decided.
Silence descended over the room, thick with anticipation.
And then Hell erupted.
Jenny began banging the table and screaming, knocking the half empty pitcher of juice over. It stained the white tablecloth and began spilling onto the floor.
“Goddamn it!” Mr. White shouted.
“Robert!” Mrs. White said again. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in—”
“Would you shut up?”
“Mom! Why is she—?”
“I told you we needed to be harder on her.”
Jenny started banging the table. A glass fell free, landing with a crash on the floor as broken shards went flying.
Rickie whispered something in Adam’s ear and they both burst out laughing.
Bethany covered her ears with her hands, shouting for her mother.
> And Jenny kept right on screaming.
“Robert, don’t you dare—!”
“I don’t care what that doctor—”
“No daughter of mine…”
“Robert!”
Mr. White picked Jenny up, yanking her away from the table, and started carrying her toward the stairs. She was struggling, kicking and screaming, and her face was a mask of anger. Mrs. White chased after him, her voice high pitched and energetic.
“…is going to—“
“Robert she is not like normal—“
“—misbehave at dinner and this is why I told you—“
“—children she needs to be treated differently and cared for—“
“—she has to eat in her room…”
They headed up the stairs, feet thudding quickly on the landing. No one moved at the table, watching the parents exeunt with their daughter.
A door slammed shut upstairs. There was more shouting, but Jason couldn’t make out the words anymore. A moment slipped past.
And then another.
“That…” Rickie said slowly.
Uh oh, Jason thought.
“…was…”
Don’t do it!
Rickie was grinning, as he shouted: “Awesome!”
***
Back at home they were quickly ushered through the nightly routine. Brushing their teeth and putting on their nightclothes. The attitude around the house was decidedly somber. Rickie just wanted to go to sleep, and that was okay with Jason, but he found that once he was in bed his mind was racing.
A few hours later he heard the door open as his mom peeked in on them. She did that a lot, especially when they were younger. He was ten now, and he figured she only checked on Bethany nowadays.
He sat up:
“Mom.”
A second passed, and then the door opened further, spilling light into the room.
“Yes dear?” she asked. She looked sad, surrounded in a halo of light in the doorway.
“Why did Mr. White carry Jenny upstairs? It wasn’t her fault, it was Rickie’s.”