Ebony Eyes

by Robert W Hudson

  Before I could make any kind of decision on how to handle things, I discovered that I wasn't given a choice in the matter. I had darted into the kitchen at one in the afternoon to get a quick sandwich and then head back into the trees bordering the property to think some more. I was in the process of heading back out through the mudroom when I heard a sharp click.

  I looked up quickly and saw Tabby standing against the outside door, giving me the evil eye.

  "Where are you going?" she hissed.

  I stopped and stared at her like a deer in the headlights. "Uh, to have lunch?" I said feebly.

  She moved away from the door and advanced on me, an expression I couldn't read on her face. "You're avoiding me, Bobby. Why are you doing that?"

  I didn't know how to answer that and I started backing away from her, still clutching my sandwich and a bottle of pop. She kept advancing and suddenly I found myself against the wall with Tabby a few inches away. I was trapped, unless I moved sideways and ran out the door away from her, but I didn't want to do that.

  "You're avoiding me because I said that I was going to marry you, aren't you, Bobby? You all of a sudden don't know how to react to me, isn't that right?"

  "Well yeah, I guess," I said, still not sure what to say about the whole thing. I also suddenly realized what the expression on her face was: She was royally pissed.

  "Do you realize what an ass you've been, Bobby?" she said, now so close her breath hit my face. Her big brown eyes glared into mine and I couldn't look away. I realized dimly that I was now taller than she was and I was looking down at her for the first time since I'd known her.

  "What?"

  "Ergh, you don't get it do you? Bobby, I told you something that nobody else knows. I laid my soul out for you. I know we're too young to do anything about it, but I also know that we're connected, or whatever. I know we have something special. So you don't need to avoid me, I'm not going to treat you any differently than I have been, okay?"

  "Why did you tell me that yesterday then?"

  "Because you almost died. I was afraid I was going to lose you, so I thought I had to tell you how I feel. You almost drowning made me realize that anything could happen to us, at any time. I wanted you to know what I was feeling just in case. So you don't need to hide from me. I promise."

  The pissed off look had given way to big pleading eyes and a quivering lower lip. Her hand was resting on my forearm, and she had moved even closer. I felt unaccountably nervous and uncertain, but I nodded my head anyway. This was, after all, Tabby, no matter how uncomfortable she had made me yesterday. "Okay. I won't hide and I'm sorry," I mumbled. I still had no idea how to tell her what I had been thinking about earlier, so I let it go at that.

  "Great. Just remember, I'm still the same Tabby. And we have years and years to do anything. I'm not going to try to change you or force you to do anything. Now, let's have lunch."

  That remark would come back to haunt me later. Bigtime.

  Chapter Three

  Christmas at the Langstons' was always a big, hectic event. The previous six years that I'd stayed there, we would always go to visit various relatives around the Pacific Northwest and have Thanksgiving and Christmas with one of them. I was introduced as part of the family, and I always felt welcome and not like a stray puppy they picked up on the side of the road, even though that's kind of what I was. This year, though, we were staying at the farmhouse and the relatives would be coming to us. It was a rotational thing and every year one of the relatives hosted the holidays, so this year it was our turn.

  After that talk in the mudroom, things were a little awkward, at least on my end. I just didn't know how to adjust to what she had told me. But eventually, as our last year of elementary school wore on and Tabby continued to be, well, Tabby, I gradually relaxed and we regained our old relationship.

  And then things took a slightly more awkward turn.

  I had finished my homework, and Tabby and I had sprawled out on the living room floor to watch Sea Hunt. Highway Patrol was about to come on and I decided to go to the kitchen and get Tabby and I a couple of cookies that Mrs. Langston had just finished baking.

  "Bobby, can I talk to you for a minute?" I heard Mr. Langston ask, as I was about to grab a plate out of the cupboard.

  "Sure, what's up?"

  "Let's go in the study," he said, turning to lead me to the door tucked in behind the kitchen table.

  Now I was feeling very nervous. I hadn't done anything, but what the hell was this about?

  "I overheard that conversation in the mudroom at Labor Day," he said without any preamble once we had settled behind and in front of the desk.

  My jaw dropped and I prepared to bolt. I was sure he wanted to bust my ass.

  "Whoa up there buddy," he laughed, waving a big hand placatingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. None of this was your fault."

  I warily settled back down and eyed him. "I'm sorry, Sir but this wasn't my idea, I promise - "

  "Hey hey, I know it wasn't your idea, so will you just relax? I'm not going to bite your head off."

  "Now," he continued, after a beat of silence in which I kept watching him apprehensively, "my daughter apparently has taken a shine to you. We knew that ever since she brought you home that first time. She always has her own ideas on how things should be and for the most part we let her do her thing. We think a parent's responsibility is to guide not dictate, because how else will a kid learn?

  "So what I'm really saying is that, if you two do start dating at some point in the future, Barbara and I won't stand in your way. We know that you won't hurt our daughter if you can help it. Just remember it's all right to say no to her occasionally."

  I was floored. What the hell was it with this family anyway?

  "Uh, I understand, sir," was all I could think of to say. "But listen, you guys have taken me in, gave me house room and … uh, I'm not sure if dating her would be a good idea."

  I stopped there, because I wasn't sure how to get across what I wanted to say, but MR. Langston nodded, as though he understood.

  "You're worried that if it doesn't work out things will get awkward, and we're going to kick you out, right?"

  "Yeah, that's it," I said, relieved.

  "Two things, Bobby. First, you're both far too young for anything to happen yet. Mmeantime either one of you might find someone else to be interested in. And lastly, even if you two do date down the road and it doesn't work out, we won't kick you out of the house, unless you do something very bad, which I don't think you'll do. Okay?"

  "Okay. I won't do anything to her, I promise, and not just because I want to stay here."

  He smiled then. "I know you won't, Bobby."

  "One more thing, how come you're just bringing this up now, two months later?"

  "Barbara and I wanted to wait and see if your relationship with our daughter was going to suffer because of what she told you. We watched you and it seems you guys are still the same, but I saw that you were kind of nervous anyway. So the three of us decided I should be the one to tell you that it's okay."

  "I understand. Thanks for talking to me. I was nervous because, uh, I don't know how to really feel about it, I guess. It really surprised me, what she said."

  ""Just do what she said and treat her the same as always," he said, reaching across and patting my shoulder. "Remember you both are still only twelve and have a very long way to go."

  Gradually I pushed that conversation in the mudroom to the back of my mind and didn't think about it anymore. I continued my paper route, with Tabby still waking upright along with me, even though I told her not to. I offered to split the earnings with her since she got up with me to do it, but she smiled and said to save them for a really good guitar.

  Finally it was Christmas break and the house was a flurry of activity. Mr. Langston and I went to Vancouver and got a big old pine tree. On December twenty-second the three of us got together and decorated it, while Christmas music played on the phonograph. The temperature
was a crisp thirty-eight degrees, Mrs. Langston had made big mugs of hot cocoa and Tabby and I were conscripted to drag boxes of decorations out of the attic.

  "I love Christmas," Tabby chirped, as we crawled through the cold attic and spider webs got caught in her curls. "It's so magical."

  "Except when you're crawling through a dirty attic," I smirked, spitting out spider webs myself and hunting for the boxes marked in Mrs. Langston's neat hand.

  She laughed in the dimness. "Nah, that only makes it better once you get downstairs and into the spirit of things."

  Eventually, we found the boxes and dragged them downstairs. Miraculously only three little glass bulbs were broken. We had a great time decorating that tree, with Mrs. Langston directing. Unfortunately we ended up eating more of the popcorn than stringing it on the tree, but it all got done. I got the honor of putting the angel on top. I was really proud of that tree.

  "Wonderful," Mrs. Langston said, standing behind us with her arm around Mr. Langston's waist and her head on his shoulder. I was mildly surprised to realize that Tabby and I were in the same position, and that I didn't feel the least bit awkward. She felt rather nice, nestled against my side like that, with the scent of the pine tree in our nostrils and the sound of "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas" coming out of the old Philco radio.

  * * *

  The next day, the relatives started arriving, and the house was a buzz of activity as various aunts and Mrs. Langston got busy in the kitchen. On December twenty-fourth, the place was busting at the seams, with over a dozen adults and nearly as many children running around. Sleeping bags were piled up in the living room and all four bedrooms were full. Even the farm hands, who lived out in the bunkhouse, were around to celebrate, once the chores got done.

  My favorite of Tabby's relatives was her aunt Kathy, Mr. Langston's sister. She was a school teacher down in Gresham and, in spite of that, she was something of a wild child. She regularly made ventures into the white part of Portland and had various liaisons with guys who wanted to find out if a hunk off the rye loaf was any different. Of course I didn't find this particular tidbit out until much later.

  She was the one who kept Tabby and I supplied with comic books and forty-fives and, once, when I was fourteen, she slipped me a skin magazine, with a giggle and a wink. She also admonished me not to let anyone find out, "Especially my neice!"

  She was the last one who showed up on Christmas eve, looking far too young to be a school teacher. She gave all us kids hugs and slipped us pieces of penny candy, while Mrs. Langston looked on, slightly disapprovingly.

  The radio was muttering something about a light snowfall over night and the littler kids were getting excited, because everybody knows that Santa Claus only came out in the snow. As if on cue, the radio came on with Elvis's "Santa Claus is Back in Town" and everybody was singing along, led with Kathy's lusty voice in the foreground. The kids were dancing like fools and Tabby even dragged me out into the middle of it. I was having a good ass time.

  During all this frantic preparation, I couldn't help but speculate on what Christmas would've been like at my aunt and uncle's house. The year before I'd came out here, I didn't get a single present, but my aunt did make a pretty good dinner. I was lucky that only two Christmases had passed there and that they were at a very young age.

  For just a brief moment while we were doing that silly dance to the music I saw a frightening vision. I saw the years pass by in a dizzying instant of isolation, bitterness and depression as Christmas after Christmas passed by with me all alone, watching all the happiness around me and not being able to grab some for myself. I think it was my version of Christmas yet to come, and Christmas past, all at once. Then the vision passed and I grabbed Tabby a little closer. She shot me a quizzical look but let it go.

  "What happened earlier?" she asked me. We were outside in the chilly evening, walking around the partially frozen pastures behind the barn. Both of us needed the break from the heat and noise, so Tabby had dragged me out here.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, dodging the question.

  She gave me another one of those looks that women are born knowing how to give men. It's the look that says "I know you forgot to put out the trash and I know you know I know, so stop fooling around and do it." She didn't say anything, just looked at me.

  "Oh all right." I told her what happened out there on the floor. The look softened and she hugged me. "I'll do my best to make sure all your Christmas memories are happy ones," she whispered into my ear as the cold December wind howled across the barren fields.

  WE went back in to the noise and the heat and the good smells, and we and the other kids piled up in a great big heap to watch Christmas movies and eat popcorn. We also had a great time speculating on what all the various boxes under the Christmas tree might be. Finally, we were sent to our various beds and sleeping bags. It was one hell of a Christmas eve.

  The next day surprised the hell out of me. I bought Tabby a necklace with a silly Captain Midnight charm on it (she was always going nuts over the comic books) and a fuzzy sweater with an embroidered fish (I had tried making it myself but the results were disastrous, so I paid a little of my paper route money to the home ec teacher at school to do it for me.) She bought me a couple of books on playing the guitar, and some new forty-fives.. She put the necklace on and giggled at the fishy sweater, before putting it on too.

  And then a big old box was set in front of me and, when I opened it there was a beginner's Fender Strat gleaming up at me. Nestled along side it was a small amp, with all attendant cables.

  I looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Langston, my mouth working, unable to say anything.

  "You like?" Mr. Langston said, grinning at me.

  "Oh my god, yes," I said, and my legs could suddenly move again. I got up and shook his hand and hugged Mrs. Langston and even Tabby.

  "We saw the way you were drooling over the guitars at the store and figured we'd get you this one. Use that paper route money to upgrade later, if you pick it up as easy as you think you will," Mr. Langston said.

  "I'll do that. Thank you so much," I gushed, and went over to pet that guitar.

  Everybody laughed at my reaction and I settled back with my new baby to watch all the little kids playing with their new toys. Of course, by afternoon, it was almost unanimously decided that the boxes they had come in were more exciting than the toys themselves.

  For Christmas dinner we had a big old goose and lots of sides. Since there were so many of us a lot of us kids were forced to clump around the television with our plates and the floor got pretty messy. The rug was durable and would wash though, it having survived many a gathering like this.

  I moved to a corner after dinner and tuned up my guitar, as per the book's instructions. I would have to get a set of pitch pipes and do a better job, but what I was doing would work for now.

  Gradually, as I picked hesitantly on the strings, I became aware that Tabby was sitting close by, watching with a little smile on her face.

  "What?" I asked, stopping my fingers and raising an eyebrow at her.

  "You look happy. I don't think I've seen you looking that happy ever."

  I hadn't a clue how to answer that, so I just shrugged. "It's a nice guitar."

  "If I was a bit older I'd be jealous," she smirked.

  "Huh?" I said oh so intelligently, still idly petting the guitar neck.

  "The way you are stroking that guitar, dumby. If I was older, I'd want you to be stroking me that same way."

  I turned bright red and went back into my guitar book. Tabby laughed and patted me on the back, before heading back into the fray.

  * * *

  All the relatives went home on December twenty-seventh, Kathy leaving us more comic books before she left. I couldn't believe how quiet it got. I loved the gatherings, but god I was glad when they were gone and we could have the house back.

  We spent New Year's Eve playing Scrabble and having more popcorn, and I even gave Tabby a small
kiss on the cheek when 1961 rolled around at midnight. I almost expected her to make a provocative statement like "I expect the full treatment when I'm older" or something similar, but she just smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek too.

  Then in five days school started up again, and things went downhill.

  Chapter Four

  Rosie Devlin was a transfer from one of those swamp states - Mississippi, Louisiana, someplace. Her father got sick of big city life and I guess wanted to live off the land or some kind of macho bullshit like that. SO they moved up here and bought a few acres and he was trying to make a go of it as some kind of gentleman farmer. Why he picked this region, way the hell up here I didn't know, nor did I ever find out.

  Rosie breezed into the school during the second semester of the 1960-61 school year, acting like she owned it and instantly got the attention of all the junior high boys. She was what they call black Irish. Big blue eyes, freckles, long limbs and oceans of black hair just spilling all over her shoulders. And for some reason, she set her sights on me.

  I was sitting in the cafeteria with Tabby, a couple of weeks after school started again, when she came over to my table and just sat down without bothering to ask if she could.

  "Hi. Bobby, isn't it?" she chirped, opening up her lunch bag and completely ignoring Tabby, who started to simmer on a slow burn. Her voice made me think of mint juleps and lazy days on the porch while the magnolias waved in the breeze, but I somehow got the feeling that there would probably be a poison worm in the bottom of the julep glass and the magnolias were rotten.

  I felt caught in the middle, but I didn't want to be rude, so I said, "Bobby Torrence, yes."

  She smiled a big, sharklike smile that showed a lot of incredibly white teeth. I guess it was supposed to be a fetching smile, but all it reminded me of was a picture of this fucking plant called a Venus Flytrap that I saw in the science book. She didn't want a fucking introduction; she wanted to gobble me up and spit me out.