by JJ Liniger
“The better question is, what took me so long?” I took a breath, feeling the bruising against my ribs. I moaned and opened my eyes. “At first, I thought maybe Mom and Dad were busy. You know, life… But, deep down I knew something wasn’t right. It’s not normal to be that supportive of your child never coming home.”
Alex nodded and shifted the bag to the other side of my face. His mouth remained closed, but his eyes, instead of angry, appeared sad.
“I saw him,” I whispered.
“Who?”
“My dad.”
He looked at the ground and frowned.
“Do you know how long he’s been like that?”
“Too long.”
I rolled my eyes and instantly wished I hadn’t. A long groan escaped my mouth.
Alex continued. “Sorry, I don’t have an answer for ya. I don’t remember when.”
“Over a year?”
He nodded.
“Jeez…”
“Closer to three.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Al, how’s this possible?”
The metal door opened with a loud creak. “They’re home. I suggest you guys do the same so I can close up.”
I frowned, wanting Alex to acknowledge my question.
“Thanks again, Sheldon. Help me get Trev up and we’ll get out of your hair.”
I wanted an answer, but saw Alex rub his sleepy eyes and yawn. Shelly grabbed my other arm and, together, they helped me to my feet. My face wasn’t the only part of my body that took a beating. My stomach and ribs had received equal attention.
We’d been sitting on the floor for about an hour, and my wounded body didn’t appreciate movement. Another labored breath and I found my balance, walking to Alex’s monster black truck.
“You know, it’s going to be embarrassing if I can’t get inside,” I said.
“Wouldn’t want ya to be bested by your 50-year-old mom.” Alex smirked.
He tried to lighten the mood, but for some reason the mention of my mother’s age surprised me. She appeared older. Sitting by my father’s side wasn’t good for her. It was killing her, too.
Thankful for my long stride, I stepped in the truck without much help and sat against the red leather. The sack of ice plunked in my lap. Though the swelling had decreased, I didn’t want to risk a repeat and lifted it to my face. I grimaced against the coolness.
“Once we get home, I’ll find ya some pain pills,” Alex said. His truck roared to life, and the tires crunched against the gravel lot.
“Thank you.” I closed my eyes, leaning against the headrest. “Why did Shelly call you?”
“I’m the go-to guy around here. Durin’ the day if there’s a problem, most people call your mother. At night, or if it might put somebody in jail, then they call me.”
“No police?”
“Nothing local. We’re in Lubbock County, so it would be either the county sheriff or state patrol. Neither come here unless they have to.”
“Have you had to arrest anyone?”
“I’m not an officer, so I can’t officially. And there isn’t much crime. Those who are left take good care of each other.”
“What about assaulting me? That’s a crime.”
He shrugged.
For some reason, when the truck stopped in front of a yellow, single-story house I felt surprised. Of course, Alex no longer lived in the broken-down house I’d grown up next to. He had a place of his own. I blamed my raging headache for my lack of logic.
Leaving the beast, Alex and I walked to the front door which he unlocked, and we entered his dark home. I followed him closely, not wanting to run into anything. I couldn’t see much, only the outlines of typical living room furniture.
“I hope ya don’t mind bein’ on the couch. It’s all I can do for tonight.”
“It’s fine. Thanks. But, uh, where is it exactly?”
He chuckled and offered his elbow, the same gesture he used for my mother.
“Just point to it.”
His arm stretched toward a dark corner of the room. After three slow steps, I took another faster and collided with a low table or piece of furniture. One of the few parts of my body that wasn’t already bruised managed to acquire a mark.
“Come on, Al. You could’ve told me.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
“Jerk.”
“There’s nothing else. Take it easy and I’ll be back.”
With a sigh and arms outstretched, I found a soft, lumpy surface. I ran my hands along the fabric in inspection and found a full-length couch and sat in the middle. After a few minutes, Alex returned with a pillow and blanket under one arm and a glass in hand.
“Here’s water and ibuprofen.”
“You’re a saint.” Taking the glass and pills, I swallowed them quickly.
“Get plenty of rest, my friend, you’re gonna need it.”
If that was supposed to make me feel relaxed, it didn’t work, but I was beyond tired. He would explain himself tomorrow because I wasn’t leaving without answers.
◆◆◆
Sunlight streamed in, piercing my eyes. Mini-blinds covered most of the window, I assumed in an attempt to let me sleep. I appreciated the gesture. I’d experienced one of the craziest dreams of my life and felt thankful to leave it all behind. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and winced. Sitting up from the couch, I groaned in pain. Getting my rear kicked wasn’t a dream.
Looking around, I noticed nothing covered the dark green walls or coffee table I had bumped into the previous night. Maybe, he was packing. A vague memory surfaced of Alex telling those gathered at the football stadium that he’d be leaving Becton. It was the only piece of information that surprised the crowd.
I recognized a pale green recliner which had belonged to Alex’s family and saw a plaid loveseat which matched the couch I sat on. My legs stretched out in front of me.
From of the corner of my eye, I noticed something fuzzy peer over the side of the couch. It was the top of a head with hair an unusual pale red color. The child remained still, and I wondered if she knew I had spotted her.
“Hello,” I whispered.
She jumped and blushed at being caught, standing slowly.
“Hi.” Her hair cascaded down her shoulders. She appeared tall and lanky with Disney princesses scattered along her gown.
“Did you just wake up?” I smiled and wondered if it looked as crappy as I felt. I might be scary to her.
“Dad let me sleep in.” She giggled and climbed over the armrest of the couch and settled on her knees next to me.
“That was nice of him. He’s a good guy.”
Her grin stretched over her pretty face. Blue and green swirled together to create her eyes and her rosy cheeks dimpled. Her petite finger inched to my face and my pupils followed her movement, leaning back.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Yeah, but not too bad.”
“It happens to me too.” I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion and winced. She continued. “I fall down a lot.”
“Oh, you didn’t get your dad’s agility, huh?”
“What’s agility?”
“It means you can shift directions easily and quickly. How old are you?”
“Nine. How old are you?”
I chuckled. “Thirty one.”
It was the longest conversation I’d had with a child. This little one had a charming personality, reminding me of her father. It helped me to remain comfortable despite pain threatening my temples.
“Hey Hannah-Banana, ya need to leave him alone,” Alex said, stepping into the room.
“Daddy!”
She abandoned me. Flinging herself in Alex’s arms, he caught her and held her close. “Sorry man. She’s my social butterfly.”
“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.”
Alex sat his daughter down. “I need to go. By the time I get back you’ll need to have your chores done.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“If y
a want breakfast, ya better go gather those eggs.”
“Oh yeah!” Like a pint-sized tornado she ran and twirled her way out of the room. I understood why she fell a lot, hearing the sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor from her slamming into it and several thumps of her bumping into walls.
I turned back to laugh with my friend, but found the front door closing behind him. The throbbing in my body provided motivation to search for medication.
I walked slowly down the hall, passing two closed doors. At the end, I found the laundry room. With each step my ribs ached and my head throbbed. After discovering the water heater, the next door brought me to the garage. Stacked boxes aligned the side. I began to close the door when a backpack caught my eye.
A black handle was pulled up from the bag with camouflage material and duct tape stretched across the top with the words “Becton Poison” in red marker written in Alex’s handwriting.
Would this give me the answers I came for?
Alex had to know what had happened.
Opening the backpack, I found two thick three-ring binders. I pulled one out and placed it on a red tool box. Inside I saw hand-written and computer printouts of historical events. Flipping through the pages, I noticed tabs dividing articles into specific ancient communities including the Cyprian area, the Roman Empire, Europe, and Americans.
What did these events have to do with Becton?
I flicked the “Rome” tab and read from The Historical Journal published from Cambridge University. The entry described an archeological inquiry into thousands of deaths associated with a strange disease prior to the fall of the Roman Empire. They tested skeletal remains and found they exhibited excessive levels of lead.
I had heard the theory of Rome’s collapse being from dirty water, but thought it had been disproven. The next article supported what I believed. On each document someone had written notes. “Too simple” written in Mother’s handwriting. I frowned at the growing list of secrets she had kept from me. Someone else scribbled, “Aelia Pulcheria,” but I didn’t recognize the messy penmanship or the name.
Turning to the next tab, I read the articles, but it was boring and didn’t have as many hand-written notes. I skimmed through the next pages reading only the headlines and written notes. There were at least three different styles of writing with one being the most knowledgeable. The author had the ability to connect one historical tragedy to the others.
This wasn’t getting me closer to knowing what happened here. Maybe the “Americans” tab would give me answers.
It focused on an unknown disease around the time Christopher Columbus discovered America. School taught me the Natives mostly died of smallpox, but that wasn’t until twenty-five years later. Historian Gonzalo Fernandez estimated the island’s inhabitants to be 250,000-300,000. Within 56 years that number dwindled to fewer than 500. He contributed some of the deaths to harsh conditions and the slave trade, but most of them from the brutality of Columbus and his men.
Could the same strange disease which crumbled these places now be in Becton?
The throbbing in my body refused to be ignored any longer. I’d find some medication and come back. I placed the binder in the backpack and planned to look at the other one when I returned. With each step to the living room my aching body protested.
“Damn, my head hurts,” I mumbled.
“Good thing the kids are outside or I’d be washing your mouth out with soap,” said a familiar but annoyingly feminine voice.
Kids? There’s more than one?
Her casual tank top showed a generous amount of cleavage partially covered by straight blonde locks.
“Hey! My eyes are up here.” Tiffany placed one hand on her hip and glared.
“You have eyes? I hadn’t noticed.” With somebody else I might’ve apologized for being caught staring. She was an attractive woman but, I’d rather her not know I thought so.
“Tiffany, what are you doing here?”
“I would’ve asked you the same, but Alex already told me this morning. To answer your stupid question, I live here.”
I’d blame my slow response on my injuries, but I had seen her twice before and never noticed a ring on her finger. But, there was a gold band and round diamond in all its glittering splendor. The jock and the cheerleader wouldn’t shock anyone else but me. What did he see in her?
“I guess, I’ll be going,” I said.
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Alex has the truck. It’s our only vehicle.”
I frowned and followed her to the kitchen. The small space had solid cherry wood cabinets and gray granite counter tops that matched the stainless steel appliances. Bright yellow walls and flowers finished off the decor.
I stretched my back and groaned as my body resisted the movement.
“You look like crap.” She scowled.
“I feel like it, too. Actually, like another four letter word but I wouldn’t want you to get the soap.”
She opened the refrigerator and searched inside, giving me a nice view of her rear. “I appreciate your discretion.”
“That’s a big word, did you learn it by yourself?”
Peaking over the top of the open door she gave me the bird. I guess as long as it wasn’t said it didn’t count.
“Creative.”
“Shut up!” She slammed the refrigerator closed with a package of biscuits in hand. “I was told specifically to ‘be nice’ and offer you Aspirin and a shower if you want. Don’t make me change my mind. I can only handle so much—” a toddler wailing through the monitor speaker cut her off.
The noise made me jump.
Tiffany sighed, left the biscuit can on the counter and bolted down the hall.
The pill bottle laid on its side on top of a letter from Lubbock National Bank. Was Becton so run down that it didn’t have its own bank? It used to be along main street not far from the Town Hall. Yesterday the streets were dark, and the business appeared abandoned. It would suck to drive over twenty miles for money.
Opening the nearby cabinets, I searched until I found the glasses. I filled one and swallowed the needed medicine. I wanted to go back to the garage and read from the binder but couldn’t risk Tiffany catching me. Dirt and blood spattered my jeans and shirt, therefore the offered shower sounded great.
The kitchen window looked out into the backyard. A mini-version of Alex hung upside down from a branch of a solid oak tree. Three kids, really? His adorable sister, Hannah, skipped below with a basket hanging from her elbow, doing her chores like Alex reminded her to do. I had a feeling we’d be having scrambled eggs for breakfast.
“Second door on the right!” Tiffany yelled from the room closest to me.
I followed her directions and entered. Sitting on the counter, were clothes I assumed belonged to Alex. I looked in the gold framed mirror to see my own reflection.
It wasn’t pretty, but the ice had worked, preventing it from being a complete blackout. An obvious shiner would be around my left eye for at least a week, on my right the pale green bruise should heal a day or so sooner. Removing my ruined clothes and washing the grime from my body felt great. The hot water, in contrast, burned against my wounds. I scrubbed as quickly as sore muscles would allow.
A loud pounding on the door, soured the moment. “Hurry up! You aren’t the only one who needs it.”
“Alright!” I slammed off the water and dried. Alex being a little taller and leaner, his clothes felt tight on me. I yanked on the fabric to make it fit better.
I opened the door and was met with Tiffany’s fist in the air ready to give it another pounding.
“Move!” She glared and shoved her toddler into the bathroom.
“You’re welcome,” I muttered.
Back in the kitchen, eggs and bacon were portioned on tiny plates with crumbs scattered from little messy eaters. My stomach growled.
“Want some?” Hannah asked, offering a plate. Part of the biscuit had broken
off, giving the impression a child-sized bite may have been taken out of it. However, with my need for food, I quickly dismissed the thought.
“Yeah, thanks.”
I joined her at the table. She opened C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and read. The pages turned with great frequency which surprised me despite knowing it was a children’s book.
“Are you actually reading?”
“Yes. Mom taught me to read when I was three. This’ll be my second time to read them.” Though I’d never say it out loud, her mother was smart. Maybe borderline genius.
“The whole series?” I asked.
“Of course,” Hannah said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Apparently, more than Tiff’s pretty face had been passed down to her daughter.
“Huh,” was all my tired brain could muster up at the moment.
“Brilliant response,” Tiffany mumbled. She grabbed the plates, cleaning up.
I sighed, feeling trapped. So much to figure out and I couldn’t do that here.
“Did Alex say when he’d be back?” I asked.
“No.”
“What if something happened while he’s gone?”
“We have it worked out.”
I had a moment of doubt, remembering her in a red Chevy truck. Logic said she was telling the truth otherwise, she’d have gotten rid of me sooner.
She continued, “There’s a neighbor at the end of the street. I can borrow his truck if I have an emergency. Unfortunately, getting you out of my house doesn’t qualify. I already tried.”
She plunged the dishes through the bubbles rising in the kitchen sink. The vigor she used holding the sponge against the smooth plates indicated her frustration wasn’t with the mess in front of her.
“Hannah, you need to pick up your room. You have your dolls and clothes scattered everywhere.”
“After I finish this chapter,” she countered.
“Take your book with you. Continue once your room is clean.”
Hannah frowned, but didn’t argue as she left the table.
I ate the last of the biscuits. “I’m sure you can find somebody who thinks getting rid of me is worth their time.”
“You have no idea.” Her eyes rolled up in her head before settling back on me in a glare. How were women able to do that?