Once There Were Sad Songs

by Velda Brotherton

  Shadow lay against the side wall, scribbling with a stub of a pencil. He didn’t hear her until she scrambled inside and let the flap fall behind her.

  Startled, he folded the paper and stuck it away, gazed at her. “What… Where you come from?”

  “You and I,” she said very softly, “are going to win this game and show those boneheads a thing or two. And in the morning, when the sun comes up, we’re going to have us a hair-cutting good time.”

  Even as Mary Elizabeth spoke, she wondered how she could possibly have come up with such a scheme. Almost as if she had joined the kids in play and given up the mantle of an adult.

  Shadow stared at her for an instant, then chuckled under his breath. “Ma’am, do you know what that crazy Cajun’ll do if you beat him at his own game?”

  “Surely not kill me.”

  “No, but you could wish he did.”

  “But I thought this was a game. Games are supposed to be fun, not deadly.”

  “Tell that to Lefty, you see him first. Otherwise, run for your life.” He glanced around, as if he expected the Brillo-haired man to spring out of the dark corner. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure. You don’t have to do anything but be quiet and let me hide under that stuff over in the corner if either of them comes to check.”

  He regarded her closely, and she had a sense that there was much more to him than his disjointed speech and distant demeanor.

  “I can do that,” he finally said.

  “Good.” She crawled into the corner and wrapped herself up in a sleeping bag that smelled of Steven.

  When she opened her eyes, a silvery dawn outlined the tent window. Shadow lay curled in the far corner, snoring softly, his book lying open in one hand. She crawled to the doorway and peered out.

  ****

  Steven sat on the edge of the table and glared into the bed of gleaming coals. He badly needed a cup of coffee. Across the lake the horizon paled to a muted pearlescence and smothered the night’s stars.

  Where in God’s name had the woman got to? And where was Lefty? Suppose he had her, or she was wandering around lost, or had fallen into a crevice and couldn’t scream. Shit, what a mess.

  Though he’d intended to remain awake when he made his way back here, it was entirely possible that he had slept, hunched there beside the dying fire, for an imperceptible memory of dream fragments lingered. Sometimes he had terrible dreams, at other times they were completely ridiculous and unfathomable, and at yet other times he actually went back to places he’d been, to take part in the gory scenes from his past.

  He wanted to be rid of those images, he truly did. He wanted to grow out of them, shed them like an old skin. It was some sort of weakness that kept him from making another life free of the haunting of that time in country. Other men returned, put it behind them, dressed up in a suit and tie, and reentered the world as if nothing untoward had happened. But he just couldn’t put it all together, and now, after all this time, had stopped trying. It didn't matter anyway.

  Even if he could go back and live it all over, it wouldn’t make a difference what he did. Nothing would change. Mama would die, Jennie would leave him, and he would try very hard for a lot of years to atone for his evil deeds so he could face his own death and get it over with. But there were always more debts to pay. The sorry part was he could do nothing but die to atone.

  The first rays of an early morning sun flashed across the lake, touched him with warmth. He came to his feet, scanned the clearing, peered toward the woman’s tent. No one, no sound, nothing. What the hell had happened to her? To Lefty?

  He shouted, first for Lefty, then for Shadow. How could the woman pull such a dumb stunt? She must’ve spent the night out in the woods alone. Or maybe Lefty found her and... No, he didn’t want to think of that. The man could be so cruel, had no compunction or conscience. He’d leave if they weren’t so bound together by guilt and bitter gratitude. Each lived because of the other, cursed that fact, then went on about their business of destroying each other.

  Getting no reply, he started toward the ratty tent where he supposed Shadow slept. Before he reached it, Lefty sauntered out of the woods rubbing his eyes, a dumfounded look on his face.

  At least he was alone. “Where you been?”

  “Same at you. Where she be?”

  “You don’t have her? Come on, man, stop playing. This is serious. She could be lost or hurt.”

  “What you care, man? She nothing to you.”

  “I care because I care, dammit. You haven’t seen her?”

  Lefty spread his stubby fingers and gave Steven a smart aleck salute. “In my pocket, man.”

  “Then where…?”

  “Did you look in her tent?”

  Feeling a bit stupid, Steven gazed across the way and cursed. Of course, she’d simply crawled in there and went back to sleep, leaving them to play their asinine game without her.

  Relieved, he trotted along the path and without hailing her threw back the unzipped flap to find nothing but an empty sleeping bag and open suitcase, clothes folded neatly inside.

  Where was she?

  Lefty came up at a trot. “She here?”

  “Nope.” Steven looked around. “Where the hell did she get to?”

  “We gotta get outta here, man. Now. Pack our shit and ride off on them hogs.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Shit, know what they’ll do to us when she turns up missing and we’ve been here and she been here, her stuff all around like this? You know how that goes. They’ll think we done something to her. Two old wore-out hippies and a black man. This is Arkansas, man. They don’t waste no time on them amenities such as trials. Come on, let’s split.” He grabbed Steven’s arm in an iron grip, shook him.

  Angry and frightened, Steven flung his hand away. “No. I’m going looking for her. She probably got lost in the woods is all. Out there wandering around, she could be all the way the other side of the lake by now.”

  “Or she could be at the local cops telling them how we dragged her around, man, half the night. Maybe even cry rape. You know how women are. They do that shit. You know it, man, good as I do.”

  Steven came close to believing that, but not for the same reason Lefty did. It would serve them right if the woman drove out of here and reported the three of them as a menace to common, ordinary folk. After all, they were. But he glanced toward the parking lot and saw her car, where it had been since she arrived. If she left, she did it on foot, and he didn’t believe that. No, she was lost, and he had to find her. God only knew what could happen to her, out all night in just that flimsy nightgown and no shoes. At best, she’d be well gnawed on by bugs and scratched up by brambles.

  Again, Lefty tugged at his arm, but Steven shoved him away, then eyed his friend. “If you’ve done anything to that woman, you’d better tell me now, ’cause I intend to look till I find her.”

  Receiving no reply, Steven strode off toward the surrounding thickets.

  Lefty trotted along behind. “I ain’t seen hide nor hair of her, I swear. You ain’t letting this bitch get to you, are you, ole son? Cause if you are, man, I need to set you straight. Women are worthless. A fact, if you’ll think about it, that you are already painfully aware of. Their goal in life is to make an ass out of a man, kick him when he’s down, and walk away laughing. Ain’t none of ’em any different. Specially not her.”

  Swallowing a retort in partial agreement with Lefty’s assessment of women in general, Steven kept walking. She had to be here somewhere, and he intended to find her, even if she was set on making an ass of him.

  ****

  Hidden behind the tent flap, Mary Elizabeth scratched a bite on her arm and watched the two men scurry around looking for her, arguing about what to do. It served them right. Maybe she’d let them off the hook or maybe she’d wait while they thrashed about in the woods a while searching for the poor lost schoolteacher.

  In the meantime,
she crawled over to awake Shadow. He lay sprawled like a kid, one hand curled beside his cheek. Ebony skin stretched taut over a regal bone structure, he reminded her of a young Sydney Poitier, and she wondered where he was from and how he got mixed up with these hoodlums. He wore no more than the others, ratty cutoffs and battered sneakers, no socks. Asleep he looked like a beautiful, bruised child.

  While she gazed down at him, his eyes snapped open and startled her so that she jumped backward and covered her mouth to keep from crying out.

  With a sheepish grin, he unfolded and went to the tent opening.

  Still on her knees, she crawled after him and gazed over his shoulder.

  Lefty slouched at the table, glaring defiantly at the lake, burned orange by the rising sun. Steven was nowhere in sight. Nothing stirred, not even the leaves on the trees. A vague smell of smoke from the smoldering fire wafted through the quiet morning air.

  “Don’t want to go out there till Steven come back,” Shadow whispered. “That Cajun gonna be real twisted when we bust out of here. Steven can keep him in check.”

  She shuddered at the idea of tangling with the volatile man. “Steven went to look for me.”

  “In the woods?”

  She nodded.

  Shadow shrugged. “Well, I hate to go out there, but I won the game, didn’t I?”

  “Well, not exactly. I’d say I won the game, if you really consider the facts.”

  He gazed at her with some admiration. “Maybe we can just holler up ole Steven, get him to come a-running before that crazy Cajun can stretch our hides out between the trees.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that literally.”

  “You never know,” Shadow said.

  She hoped he was pulling her leg a little. “You do it, then.” She gave him a timid shove, and wished she could have gone to her tent to put on some clothes. The gown had streaks of mud along the hem and small, jagged rips where she’d caught it on brambles during her flight the night before, and a gathering of stick-tights against one hip that kept pricking her skin.

  Shadow hunkered partway inside the door as if that might protect him, and cupped both hands around his mouth, letting out a yahoo that set her ears to ringing.

  Lefty came off the bench like he’d been stung, and at the same moment an answering shout echoed from the woods. Shadow replied, and before Lefty could do more than stare in their direction to see what was going on, Steven burst into the clearing.

  With an even more horrific war whoop Shadow dragged Mary Elizabeth from the tent and leaped high into the air, fists doubled above his head.

  She stood there in her nightgown, arms crossed over her breasts, glancing longingly toward her tent. Maybe they’d allow her to get dressed before the execution.

  Lefty spouted a round of curses that even a sixth-grade teacher had never heard. Steven stared at her and laughed so hard he couldn’t speak.

  Shadow let out a whole string of monstrous, hair-raising whoops. “We win, we win, we win.”

  When Lefty could finally control his speech, he bawled at Shadow. “You treacherous little fart. Shut the fuck up. You wasn’t even playing, last I heard.”

  Beaming, Steven said, “In the tent, right under our noses.”

  She couldn’t help grinning back at him, as if they were co-conspirators. “I win, and winner cuts the loser’s hair, is that right?”

  A hand grenade might as well have dropped in their midst. The results of her statement reminded her of when she and her brother and cousins had played statue. Because of the frozen poses and abrupt silence, she felt more relaxed, and turning slowly, eyed each man, right up to and including the erratic Lefty.

  He made a gagging sound. “She ain’t cutting my hair. This was ’tween you and me, Steven. You know that.”

  “Don’t get your balls in an uproar. She ain’t cutting no one’s hair.” Steven eyed her with a stubborn set to his chin. “Bad enough she cheated.”

  “Cheated? I didn’t cheat. I played your game by your rules. Just ’cause you weren’t men enough to beat me, now you want to renege? Some sports you guys are.” She felt as if she were really getting into the spirit of this game, at long last. That came from winning, she was sure.

  Shadow held his middle and laughed so hard tears ran down his cheeks. “Soon as I can walk,” he gasped, “I’ll get the shears. You-all wait right…” He couldn’t finish and staggered toward their camp box.

  “Where’s he come off with that southern crap? Hell, he’s from Dee-troit,” Lefty grumbled.

  Caught in the midst of such odd jocularity mixed with violence, Mary Elizabeth fumbled about for a better understanding of the alien lifestyle of these three men. Though she didn’t belong here, she was involved in their escapades. And this was, after all, what she’d been looking for. An alternate way of looking at life. However, this was a bit too alternate for her taste. As far removed from her fundamentalist existence as she could get. A surprising urge assailed her to fit in, to belong, even to this wild bunch.

  “You mean I can just chop that braid of his right off?” she ventured, looking from one man to the other. “What about the sideburns? They’re really out of style. What do you think, Shadow?”

  All three paused and grew still, as if she had intruded where she wasn’t wanted. She let her glance slide from the mercurial and glowering Lefty past the taciturn Shadow, who winked, and on to Steven, who obviously didn’t know how to react.

  “I didn’t make no deal to let no woman bald me, no, sir,” Lefty said. “And she ain’t a-gonna.” He pointed and raised up on his toes. “It was us, just us. You ’n’ me. It didn’t even include Shadow here, ’cause he didn’t wanta play.”

  “But I was in the game. I played and I won. You can’t get around that," she said.

  The infuriated Cajun appeared about to explode.

  “Settle down, friend,” Steven said quietly, then turned and pinned her with a challenging gaze. “Did you find the scissors, Shadow?”

  If he thought she’d back down, he’d have to think again. It wasn’t about to happen. Mary Elizabeth held their eye contact.

  “Aw, hell,” Lefty hollered.

  Delighted, Shadow produced a huge pair of shears.

  “This is one time when you ain’t got the final say as to whether this ole boy is included or not,” he said to Lefty. “She included me, and I got a feeling that’s good enough.”

  Shadow put the handle of the shears into her hand, and she gazed at them with dismay. Rust ate at the blades and she doubted they would cut paper, let alone hair.

  “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ve got a nice sharp pair of scissors that will do a better job than these. Why don’t I just go get them?” And put on some clothes, as well.

  Steven nodded, and even as she moved away she heard Lefty. “She ain’t cutting my fuckin’ hair.”

  She slowed to a walk, waiting for Shadow and Steven to carry on with this charade. It was suddenly very important that she follow this game to its conclusion. To do so felt very right in this awkwardly tilted world into which she’d fallen.

  “It’s up to Shadow, man. He won the game. Either he cuts your hair or she does. It was all your idea. Now we’re gonna play this out.”

  Shadow cackled. “Eee-haw. I’ll cut his hair, be glad to. Keep her from having to touch that wooly mop of his. While she gone I’ll just take these blunt ole things to Lefty’s head. Time she get back, ole Steven, he’ll be ready for the hair cutting of his life.”

  Smiling, she ran the final few feet to her tent, barely wincing when her sore feet touched the path.

  Chapter Five

  While the woman was gone—he continued to resist calling her by name for fear it would forge a bond between them—Steven enlisted Shadow’s help to roll a log into the clearing.

  “I’m not gonna cut ole Lefty’s hair, man,” Shadow told him. “I ain’t in the mood to get my head handed to me.”

  “Probably best.”

  “You really gonna le
t her chop yours off?”

  “She won’t, I don’t think. She’s just getting back at us, and I think she oughta be allowed to, after what we put her through.”

  “Yeah, but suppose she actually does?”

  Keeping the hair wasn’t as important to Steven as it had once been. All the reasons were lost because of what was going on between him and this woman. Stuff he didn’t understand, but it excited him. Walking on the edge always had. Somehow, when he wasn't out there nothing seemed worthwhile. He helped Shadow place the log in a patch of sunlight a good distance from the table. Would he actually let her cut his hair? Have to wait and see.

  She came back, dressed in red shorts and a sleeveless top of the same color sprinkled with blue and white stars. He’d never seen a redhead wear so much red. Bites on her forearms and scratches on her legs reminded him of their night in the woods. Her brief time in the sun had turned her long legs pink and sprinkled freckles over her nose. He just stood there and gaped at her like a damned dummy. Having her in their midst was like having a basket of sunshine dumped smack in the middle of a cloudy day. Only trouble was, he feared the storm lurking just out of sight.

  Looking up at him, she smiled like the winner she was. Gloating. Rubbing it in. “You’ll need a cape.”

  “You mean like Superman?” Shadow asked.

  “No. Something to keep the hair off his shoulders.”

  He left to find something, and Steven wondered why she always took things so literally. She needed taught a thing or two about having a good time.

  She stood behind him, fingers trailing over his hair. The hand holding the scissors rested on his shoulder so the blades touched his ear, and she tugged gently on the fat braid. Goosebumps prickled down both his arms.

  Looked like she was actually going to do it. He fidgeted, fought the urge to leap to his feet and run from this disturbing woman.

  “Nervous?” she asked.

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Thinking of Delilah, perhaps.”

  He grinned. Maybe she knew how to kid around after all. Problem was, she didn’t always get it when someone else did.