Three Sides of the Tracks

by Mike Addington

  “Shut up. Both of you,” the captain yelled.

  A tall man accompanied by a policeman came through the opening where the front door once stood. His head stayed at one level as he walked, which made him seem to glide. “What y’all doing to my uncle?” Slink said in a tone smooth as his walk.

  Danny breathed a sigh of relief. He knew of Slink, and he knew that Slink hated cops and cops hated Slink.

  “Maybe they’ll get off my back,” Danny muttered to himself.

  8

  Enlightened

  The sound of singing woke him. Danny looked at the nightstand clock. Almost nine o’clock. “Geez,” Danny moaned and covered his head with the pillow. He tried to doze back off but it was no use, so he swung his legs off the bed and pulled on his blue jeans.

  He was drinking orange juice out of the carton when Belinda came in.

  “How many times do I have to ask you to stop that?”

  Danny grinned. “Once more should do it.”

  “Well, stop that then, right now.” Belinda smiled.

  “Where you going all dressed up?”

  “Where do I usually go on Sundays all dressed up?”

  Danny’s eyes grew big. “You mean you’re going back to that church?”

  “I sure am. The likes of Jessie Whitaker certainly isn’t enough to make me stop going to the church I grew up in. Why don’t you come with me again?” Belinda asked with narrowed eyes.

  Danny cocked his head. “The likes of Jessie Whitaker certainly isn’t enough to make me start going to the church I despise,” he said and chuckled.

  Belinda laughed. “You’re hopeless. You should go with me, and we can wait till your friend Jessie gets there, find seats right beside him, or perhaps behind him. Then, in the middle of the service, you could whisper in his ear whether the seating arrangements suited him?”

  “Gosh, Mom, aren’t you the bold one all of a sudden.” Danny smiled though his forehead was creased inquisitively. “Who put the fire in you?”

  Belinda laughed again. “Oh, I just realized how foolishly I reacted to that nincompoop.”

  She covered her face with her hands as if embarrassed, but she was still smiling. “The old biddies will talk about that for years.”

  “Does this sudden change have anything to do with your visitor this past Wednesday?”

  “You mean, Martin?”

  Danny nodded.

  “A little, yes. Jessie Whitaker came very close to getting . . . let’s say ‘ruffed’ up a bit. Martin was pretty angry.”

  Danny couldn’t help but notice the light come to his mother’s eyes and a slight coloring to her cheeks.

  “How close were you and Martin, Mom? I’m old enough to understand things now. Tell me, did you love him more than Dad?”

  The smile left Belinda’s face. She looked her son squarely in the eye. “Martin is your father, Danny.”

  Danny didn’t bother with a chair. He sank to the floor. Belinda gave up thoughts of church and sat down at the kitchen table. She waited for Danny to speak.

  “Who all knew?” was the first thing Danny said.

  “Just me, and, maybe, your father . . . um, Robert. I think Robert might have suspected, especially these last few years. You look more and more like Martin the older you become. But you know Robert: some things wouldn’t even cross his mind. And he stayed so tired all the time from working two jobs. The poor thing probably was too tired to think about much of anything he didn’t have to.”

  “And Martin? He must have known. How could he not?” An angry tone crept into Danny’s voice.

  “No, don’t be angry at Martin. He left the next day for the Air Force Academy. We hardly saw each other after the night you were conceived. It was just all so awkward. Martin and I were inseparable until that time. There was no doubt in my mind or Martin’s, or anyone else’s in this town for that matter, that we were meant for each other. What everyone calls ‘soul mates’ these days. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. But one moment can change all that. It doesn’t seem real, or fair, that one bad decision can change so much, so much of what could have been.”

  A single tear slid down Belinda’s face.

  Danny reached over and squeezed his mother’s hand.

  9

  Point of View

  Danny saw the pain on his mother’s face. How different her life would have been had she married Martin. Her family ostracizing her, and him too for that matter, would never have happened.

  “Bunch of assholes,” he said and slammed the door behind him as he left.

  His mind a million miles away, he ambled to Bernard’s shed and took out his lawnmower. Bernard’s grass was ankle high. Danny had planned to cut it but kept putting it off.

  As he pushed the mower through the thick grass, anger became bitterness at the way his grandparents had turned their backs on his mother. And all simply because she had not married “well.” The word stuck in Danny’s mind from a conversation he overheard years ago. They were petty, narrow minded. The anger flared again because they didn’t think his dad was good enough. And who in the hell was this Martin—

  “Danny, Danny,” a voice yelled.

  Danny looked up. Bernard stood on the back porch, aided by his crutches. They had bands that wrapped around his forearms and a handle on the stainless-steel legs that he gripped.

  “What’n the Sam Hill you think you’re doin’?”

  Danny shut off the mower so he could understand what Bernard was saying.

  “What?”

  Bernard waved one of the crutches—“sticks” he called them.

  Danny looked around. Then laughed. He’d missed huge swatches of grass. In fact, he’d missed more than he’d cut.

  “C’mon up here and tell me what’n the hell’s got into you. Damned Hari Krishna with a robe over’iz head do better’n that. Sheeit. Better get me some dangburn goats, I reckon.”

  Danny plopped down in one wicker rocking chair, Bernard in the other.

  They rocked in silence for a moment then Bernard said, “What’s got you weavin’ round the yard like a broke wing butterfly?”

  “I’m not telling this to anybody else but you Bernard.”

  “Okay then, so go ahead.”

  “My daddy ain’t my daddy. That man who owns the big bank is my daddy. Martin. Martin Townsend.”

  Bernard rocked silently.

  “Well, aren’t you gonna say something?” Danny said.

  “Ain’t much to say. I kinda figured that might be. For a couple’a years now.”

  Danny stared at Bernard, whose long thin face was covered in several days’ growth of whiskers. A round, broad-brimmed straw hat sagged to his ears and half covered eyes that shined with intelligence when he wasn’t drinking or taking too much of his medicine. A thin bony nose with a high ridge gave him a hawkish appearance, added to by his frail, undernourished frame.

  Bernard’s eyes looked clear, so Danny asked, “What gave you that idea?”

  “Well, hell’s bells, boy, what’n the devil you think gave me the idea? Your looks, of course.”

  “You mean you saw me and knew what Martin looked like and automatically thought—”

  “Boy, you can be plumb ignorant sometimes. Damn. No, what I mean is that I knew all about your mother and this Martin fella growin’ up together and bein’ all sweet on each other. Then all of a sudden, BAM, here she goes and marries up with Robert. Now, this here’s a right small town when it comes to some thangs. And y’all, well, her and Robert set up housekeepin’ next door and was real friendly and all, then you come along. Well, I didn’t think much ‘bout it really. Then you got older, and I’d see you outside and you with that peculiar lip and not looking a ding dong damn like your mother or Robert. Got me to thinking; it shore did. And I ‘membered that Martin’s uncle—I think he was—or great uncle, somethin’ like that; anyways, he had a bad lip like yores. I said to myself, yep, that boy sho’ does take after that Martin. Then a’course I got on my compute
r and looked it up, and, shore ‘nuff, that bad lip condition is geenitechs.”

  “Is what?”

  “Geenitechs, boy. Things what run in the family. Geenitechs.”

  Danny looked puzzled then his face lit up. “Oh, genetics. You’re talking about genetics.”

  “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Bernard; I didn’t get what you meant at first.”

  A few silent minutes ensued then Danny mumbled, “I just can’t understand why mother and Martin didn’t get married.”

  “Heh, heh, heh. Boy, I know you drink a little bit ‘cause I seen you come home wobbly like sometimes, throwin’ up and what not, but I bet you a silver dollar you ain’t never smoked no weed or done no dope, have you?”

  “Well, I tried to smoke some pot one time but it hurt my lungs so bad I got to coughing and, well, I just didn’t like it. Why?”

  “ ‘Cause gittin’ high opens yore mind up, boy. I’m tellin’ ya; it helps ya see thangs in a different way. Bullshit don’t mean so much; you see right through it. Now, I ain’t saying stay high all day like I do half the time. Just once in a while to keep yourself stable, grounded. Hell, you’ve got somethin’ to do. Me, I done mine, and I’m just waitin’ around.”

  “What do you mean, Bernard? Do what? Waiting on what?”

  Bernard chuckled. “Everybody’s got one great thing to do in their life. Some people’s got more than one, but everybody has at least one. Somethin’ you really put yourself into. All of yourself. You feel alive, boy. Feel alive. I don’t know what it might be. Might be training for some big, big race and overcoming lots of odds to just be in the race. Could be savin’ somebody’s life or going after that great beauty and you catch her and you both fall in love like all git out.” Bernard exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Yep, could be anything. Mine was the Nam. Bunch of shit happened over there, boy, but we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me.”

  Danny sensibly stayed silent while Bernard rocked. His eyes seemed to be looking far, far away.

  Bernard broke the silence.

  “Take your momma, for example. You see, it’s like this, or this is how I got it figured anyhow. Yore momma and Martin being real close and all, probably got real, I mean real friendly one night, and then he went off to school or I think it was the Air Force. Anyway, it don’t matter; he went off somewhere and never knew that your momma got pregnant from that real fine night they had together. Then one day she felt a little different than she normally did and one thang led to another and she knew she was gonna have a baby. Now, you got to think and get your mind around to understanding that she wadn’t even as old as you are right now when all this happened. Think ‘bout that when you’re trying to picture all this in yore head. What does she do? She don’t want to call Martin, ruin his plans and all that. She’s thinking more of him than of herself ‘cause she loves him. And she loves you too. Soon as she found out you was in her, she started lovin’ you. That’s the way women is. Can’t nothin’ come ‘tween a woman and her child, boy; you best believe that. Anyhow, I ain’t sure how Robert come into the picture, but it worked out time wise good enough for everybody to think you was his kid. And ole Martin never suspected a thing.”

  Bernard chuckled. “He was probably mad as hell your momma didn’t wait on his butt. Wait till he got outta the service.”

  “Yeah, yore momma had it pretty rough there for a while, pretty rough. Plus, they all ganged up on her for marrying Robert, and them sneakin’ off and gettin’ married. But, hell, what was she gonna do? Them relatives of hers would’ve show nuff had a shit fit if she’d come up pregnant without bein’ married. Heh, heh, heh,” Bernard chuckled.

  Bernard looked at Danny, who sat transfixed, staring into Bernard’s whiskery face. “Quite a story there, ain’t it, Danny boy?”

  Danny—wide eye’d and mouth agape—nodded.

  “Want my advice?”

  Danny nodded again.

  “Go in the house, in the bedroom and look behind the Bible in my nightstand drawer. There’s a bag of pot in there. Go git it, and I’ll fix you up a little magic smoke that’ll make all this easier to take. Help you see it straight, so you won’t have no bad feeling towards nobody. Sheeit, boy, yore momma went through a lot of hell for you. Go on in there. Ole Bernard ain’t gonna steer ya’ wrong.

  “Oh, yeah, they told me what you done for me the other night. You might’a kept me from gittin’ kilt. Damn cops love to have a chance to shoot somebody; hell, anybody; don’t matter none to them. Unless you some rich cat, that is.”

  “Bernard, I really don’t want—”

  “Well, we’ll see. Go git it for me anyhow. All this goin’ on has me kinda foggy headed. I share your pain, buddy, share your pain.”

  Danny found the marijuana and handed it to Bernard. The rolling papers were in the bag, and Bernard had a joint rolled in less than a minute.

  “I got a idea. You say the stuff made you cough, so I’m gonna take care’a that problem. When I motion for you, you put your mouth close to mine and I’m gonna blow smoke out for you to inhale. That ought’a take the sting out of it for ya.”

  Danny looked doubtful.

  “C’mon, just do what I tell you. Great gosh a’mighty, you’d think I was asking you to put a diaper on a cat.”

  Bernard lit the cigarette and carefully put the burning end in his mouth, then motioned for Danny.

  Danny reluctantly put his mouth close to Bernard’s and took a deep breath as Bernard blew the smoke out.

  To his surprise, the smoke didn’t bother him, and he held his breath as he’d been told to do when he tried it before.

  Bernard motioned for him again, but Danny shook his head and sat down in the rocker.

  A few seconds passed, and Danny felt light headed. He closed his eyes and rocked. He heard Bernard get up and go in the house then come back out, but that seemed irrelevant, like it was something happening on TV.

  “Here, this’ll make it even better. Does me,” Bernard said as he thrust a bottle of Budweiser into Danny’s hands.

  Danny gratefully accepted the beer. His throat was dry as dirt.

  Something Bernard said seemed important. “What did you mean when you said you were ‘waiting,’ Bernard?”

  “One more hit before it gets too short and I’ll tell ya’.”

  It didn’t seem to matter so much now, so Danny leaned forward in the rocker and Bernard again blew on the joint.

  Danny inhaled deeply and held his breath. When he exhaled, almost nothing came out. He leaned back in the rocker and grinned.

  “Um, hmm,” said Bernard and grinned back at him.

  “Well, Danny boy, when you’ve had your time at the big show and you figure you’ve done ‘bout all there is to do at least once or twice or all you care anything about doin’ anyways, you slowly begin to not give a shit ‘bout nothin’ anymore. Kinda sneaks up on you. One day you’re raisin’ hell; the next day you find yourself talking with your old buddies about ‘remember when.’

  “Then you just kinda get into a routine, maybe go out once in a while, but you just find things that interest you and you spend your time doin’ that; that is, if you’re single like me. Married guys got it different. Anyway, every so often, something happens or comes along to spark you up, and you jump back in the mix again; what I hear the blacks call a ‘player.’ Heh, heh, heh. They got a name for everything. If me and you wust to act like they do havin’ fun, they’d lock our white asses up for crazy. If I come back, I wanna come back a black man.

  “Oops, got off the subject a little, didn’t I? Anyways, when I say waitin’, I mean I see something happen that gets my blood up a little. Makes me take’a interest. Like your situation. I get the feelin’ you’re in the middle of somethin’, somethin’, . . . somethin’; hell, I don’t know what to call it. Just somethin’ big, I reckon. Important to you. You and the rest’a your life. So I’m payin’ attention ‘cause your my friend, and maybe, just maybe, I might be’a part of it o
r you might need somebody with some sense. Somebody to make sure you don’t drive off the road.”

  Bernard saw Danny’s big eyes. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. Might just be me. . . . Then again, . . . maybe not,” he said and let out a big laugh and patted Danny on the shoulder.

  The screen door from the kitchen burst open. Bernard and Danny jerked in their chairs.

  “You boys startin’ kinda early, aren’t you?” Slink said as he reached and took the unlit marijuana from Bernard’s fingers. He lit it and took a deep drag. “Got another one of those—? Damn, what happened to the yard?”

  10

  The Beginning

  Slink drained half the beer in one long swallow. “Unc, you got a couple of dollars to spare?”

  “Hell, boy, why don’t you get a job? Every month, soon as I get my check, here you come. Sheeit,” Bernard said then pulled out a roll and peeled off a couple of twenties.

  “That all you can spare? I got a game lined up.”

  “Better win then.”

  “Unc, the game ain’t till tomorrow, and it’ll take me an hour of shootin’ to get up to any worthwhile money if we start with twenty dollars.”

  Bernard’s face turned serious now. He looked up at his nephew. “If you so damn good at shootin’ pool, how come you always around here wantin’ my money?”

  “ ‘Cause won’t nobody ‘round here shoot me; that’s why. I have to wait till somebody comes through or hears about me and comes down from Atlanta. And, well, you know money don’t last forever. Win a few hundred, it’s gone in a couple of weeks. Less if it’s bill time. I hate asking; I really do. But I do always pay it back, don’t I?”

  “Yeah, kid, I guess, well, maybe most times anyway. Here dang it, and don’t ask for no more.” Bernard counted out a hundred dollars. “That’s it, bud; no more this month. You hear me?”

  “Okay, Unc. Okay.” Slink patted Bernard on the shoulder. “You know I’m always here for you too, don’t you? I mean, you’re family.”

  Bernard brushed the hand off his shoulder. “Don’t try that shit with me, Slick, Slink, whatever the hell they call you around here.”