by J. A. Wright
The next day, Friday, on my way home from the pawn shop, where I got twenty dollars for Dad’s Elvis Presley record collection, I got the idea to stop by Aunt Flo’s cottage to see if there might be something in Uncle Hank’s shed I might be able to sell. I’d often wondered about all the things in his garden shed, especially the box of money and gold he’d showed me when I was a little kid. I also wondered if he’d told Aunt Flo about it. She’d never mentioned it to me, and I hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone because my promise to Uncle Hank to keep it a secret was the only thing I had left of him.
I parked down the street and walked up behind the house and down a small pathway between the cottage shed and the neighbor’s house. I had a look around the front garden, walked carefully onto the porch, and peeked in the front room window to see if Uncle Bill or anyone was home. They weren’t; I was grateful, and glad to find that the shed door wasn’t locked either.
Uncle Hank’s shed was exactly like I remembered it. I didn’t think Uncle Bill had cleaned up or cleared out a thing—at least it didn’t look like he had. I had a quick look around, to see if there was anything that I might be able to pawn, before I headed to the back of the shed to check on Uncle Hank’s old steamer trunk. I pushed it a few feet to the side, took a screwdriver from the drawer, and lifted a few floorboards. Uncle Hank’s box was sitting in the very same place it had been the day he showed it to me, seven years before. I lifted it out and was encouraged that something might still be in it, because it was very heavy.
In the sunlight I could see the box was rusty and the little combination lock was almost completely orange, but after playing around with it for a while I was able to open the lock and the box. It looked like everything was still in place—well, almost everything. The gems were gone, of course. Aunt Flo had gotten them all in the anniversary ring he had made for her. I rummaged through the contents. The eight gold bars, the stacks of fifty US one hundred–dollar bills, Uncle Hank’s velvet bag, and lots of foreign money were all there. I wondered, after all these years, why the box was still hidden. I didn’t think Uncle Hank was the type who would keep a big secret from Aunt Flo but I guess he didn’t have time to tell her before he died.
I felt sad looking through Uncle Hank’s stuff, and tried to catch my tears before they dropped on his things. I had an awful feeling in my stomach about what I was about to do. How could I steal from him? I missed him as much as ever, and I had never wanted to let him down, but I couldn’t ask Mom for abortion money. I knew she thought I was a loser, and the fact that I’d gotten pregnant by a kid would only make it worse. I decided the only thing I could do was to write an IOU and leave it in the box. I used one of Uncle Hank’s drawing pencils, and a piece of draft paper I took from a notebook he used to draw in, and wrote, “I’m sorry, really sorry. I owe you four hundred dollars, and I promise to pay you back.” I counted out four hundred dollars, stuffed it in my pants pocket, put the IOU in the box, and closed the lid. I tried to put the lock back on but it was too rusty. So I put it in my back pocket. I lowered the box onto the wooden chopping block, underneath the floorboards, and put everything back in place before I snuck out and drove home.
I called Mrs. Benson’s niece later that same day and made an appointment for Monday morning. She told me a few things I needed to do before I arrived and asked if I had any questions.
“Can I use a fake name? And not to be gross or anything, but have you ever sucked out body parts by mistake? What do you do with the stuff you take out of me?” I asked.
“You can use a fake if you want, but we’d prefer that you didn’t—and I’m not exactly sure what they do with the fetal tissue, but I’ve never heard of anyone’s body parts getting sucked out,” she said.
I was relieved and told her I liked the word “termination” more than the word “abortion.” It sounded safer and cleaner. She agreed.
Before she hung up she reminded me not to eat any breakfast on Monday and asked if I had a friend or family member I could bring along for support. I said, “sure,” because I didn’t want her to think I didn’t have any friends.
I went to visit Mrs. Benson the night before my appointment to tell her about my plan to get unpregnant and thank her for helping me. I didn’t know why I cried when I told her. It wasn’t like I was having second thoughts or anything.
“Oh, you’re just crying because you got all those hormones racing around your body. You come over to my house tomorrow and I’ll drive you to the clinic and make sure you’re all right afterwards,” Mrs. Benson said.
I hugged her for the longest time, and she hugged me back like she really meant it.
The termination was all a big blur, and I think I held my breath until it was over. Mrs. Benson got me home and in bed about an hour before Mom arrived home from work. I was glad Mom spent most of the night on the phone talking to Olive instead of checking on me. On her way to bed, she stopped by my room and asked if I was okay. I told her I had bad cramps and asked her if she had anything I could take. I’d already taken my last couple of Percocets, and the clinic had only given me four codeine pills, which I’d swallowed on the drive home. I didn’t have any money to buy anything and I didn’t have the energy to go out to Dad’s garage and look for a bottle of booze, so asking Mom was my last resort.
Mom went to her room and came back with a Valium that I took right away. The next morning I found another one she’d left on the kitchen counter for me.
CHAPTER 16
On August 28, two weeks after my termination and twelve days before I was supposed to start my course at the community college, Sissy called.
“I’ve been meaning to call you for ages,” she said, “but I couldn’t find your number until just now.”
“Wow, I never thought I’d hear from you again,” I practically squealed.
“Well it’s really me, and I’m back from Dublin for good. My boyfriend Cian and I are going to get married next year, but that’s not why I called. Do you want to go to Nevada for a couple of weeks? I’ve got a job at a big festival, and it would be great if you’d come along and keep an eye on Cian while I work. He’s a bit of a party animal and I can’t think of anyone better to keep him company than my one-time ‘craft’ student,” she said, laughing.
“A festival? To hang out? Fuck yeah—I mean, yes please. When?”
“We’re leaving from Arnold’s tomorrow morning. Flo gave me your address and directions, so we should be there by 2 p.m. By the way, she said to tell you ‘hello.’”
I was so excited to hear from Sissy, and to be invited somewhere, that I didn’t even need to consider where we might be going or why. I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house and thinking of what I should do about school. Going with Sissy and Cian meant I’d have to start school a week late. I decided to call the community college to tell them I couldn’t start on time because my mom wasn’t well.
The woman who answered the phone said she’d put a note in my file about starting late. “As long as you’re here on the 16th of September it should be okay,” she said.
When Mom got home from work that night I told her my medical receptionist course began on Sept 16th (instead of the 9th) and that I wanted to go away with Sissy for two weeks to a festival. After giving me an eyebrows-up stare and walking around the kitchen for five minutes, she said, “Maybe you should go. You’ve been kind of down these past couple of weeks, and I’ve been worried about you. Are you having a bad period?”
“Yes! I am. I’ve been bleeding for almost two weeks, but it’s over now. Weird, huh?” I said.
“I used to bleed like that too. It’s awful,” she replied as she headed down the hallway and returned a few minutes later carrying a box of super-size tampons. “Try these next month. They’re better than those regular ones you use,” she said.
I took the box. “Thanks, I will.”
She talked all through dinner that night about a new dating club she was planning to join. “I’m so sick of meeting loser me
n. The club guarantees high-class singles, and I’ve decided I’m high-class,” she said, grinning.
“That’s great, Mom.” I smiled at her. “So . . . what do you think about me going away with Sissy and Cian?”
“Okay,” she said, “but please call me every day or two so I know that you’re okay.”
I kissed her on each cheek, and then on her forehead, before I went to bed. When Sissy and Cian arrived at 2 p.m. the next day I was ready to go.
My trip with Sissy and Cian didn’t work out the way I thought it would. Sissy’s boss wasn’t happy she’d brought two people along, as she was only allowed one guest, and he said he’d deduct thirty dollars from her pay for me to stay in her tent and eat in the staff cafeteria. Even though I promised to pay her back once I got some money, she was pissed off. She wanted to leave, but Cian talked her out of it.
Worse than that was that Cian turned out to be an even bigger drinker than Sissy had described. I tried to keep him from drinking so much the first day, but it was useless, so the next day I decided to try to keep up with him until we both got legless and passed out.
Sissy’s job was to take tickets and give parking directions from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. When she was done with her shift, all she wanted to do was eat dinner and go to sleep, and she wanted Cian with her. But Cian wasn’t interested in sleeping, or in staying in the tent while she slept, so I followed him around like she asked me to.
On our fifth day at the festival Cian bought some mescaline and peyote from a guy he’d met at the communal bathrooms, and I took so much I thought I was walking on the moon. After I caught myself stepping over moon rocks, which were really people in sleeping bags, I got scared about losing my mind, so I went to the front gate to find Sissy and told her I was freaking out.
“I don’t give a shit,” she yelled. “Take a fucking shower and get over it.”
After that, Sissy quit being nice to me.
On the ninth day, Sissy woke us up before she headed out to work the front gate. “Do you two have to get so wasted all the time? Can’t you lay off for one day?” she screamed.
“We’ll lay off today,” Cian said in his Lucky Charms Irish accent. “I might even bring you some lunch later, but right now I’m sleeping.”
I nodded my head in agreement and dozed back off.
Cian never got around to taking Sissy some lunch. Instead, he and I took off with a couple of guys we’d met at a huge drum circle the day before to drink the tequila they’d brought with them from Texas. The next morning I heard from one of the guys that I’d traded the sapphire earrings Aunt Flo and Uncle Hank had given me for a dream catcher and a pack of Marlboro lights. I looked around the festival grounds all day for the girl I’d supposedly traded with but I never found her.
I was so pissed off about losing my earrings that I took an offer from some biker guy to share his fifth of Jack Daniel’s in return for letting him massage my feet with some homemade oil. I got shitfaced and he massaged more than my feet before he carried me to someone’s tent and left me. I know I had sex with a couple of other guys, but I’m pretty sure Cian wasn’t one of them. When Sissy found me two days later, sleeping outside of that same tent with a couple of my new friends, she shook me really hard.
“Wake up, Randall,” she yelled. “Where’s Cian?”
“He’s in the tent, I think,” I replied.
“Did you fuck him?”
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” I replied.
She practically pulled Cian out of the tent by his hair. “Did you fuck her?” she screamed.
“Fuck who?” Cian replied.
“Randall, you idiot.”
“Don’t think so. Can’t recall,” he said.
Sissy screamed at both of us for being fuckups, and she packed up and went home with Cian that afternoon. They even took the sleeping bag they’d brought for me.
I had to stay and help clean up the campgrounds to earn enough to eat and buy a bus ticket home, and I didn’t get back until the afternoon of September 18th.
Mom was really angry with me for not calling her or coming home in time to start school. “I’ve been worried sick about you, and I didn’t appreciate getting a call from the secretary of the community college asking how I was feeling and telling me that you hadn’t shown up for school, which started on the 9th of September, not the 16th.”
I tried to explain what had happened but she wouldn’t listen. “They’re not going to let you into the course, Randall. Either you get a job or you find another place to live,” she screamed.
I hated that Mom was mad and I knew I’d screwed up, so I got serious about looking for a job. I went out the very next day and every day the following week with my résumé, and I filled out job applications every place I could think of, even the 7-Eleven. It was when I was at the mall, heading to JCPenney to fill out an application to be a cleaner, that I ran into Mom’s old boyfriend Nick. He threw me a big smile and walked right up to me like we were good friends.
“Hey, Sexy Bird, I haven’t seen you for a while. Where’ve you been?” he said.
“Mom and I don’t shop at your store anymore. I guess you know why,” I replied.
“Yeah, she was pretty mad. How is she anyway?”
“She’s really good. She’s got a new job and she’s dating a real nice guy from her salsa class,” I lied. “But I can’t talk right now. I’m on the hunt for a job.” I turned and started walking into JCPenney’s service office.
“There’s a part-time cashier’s job available at my store. You can have it if you want it,” he said.
Nick’s offer of a job was a bit of good news. He had a store just outside the mall, and even though it was only a part-time position, I was pretty sure it would be enough to satisfy Mom.
On my drive home, after picking up my cashier smock from Nick’s store, I decided not to say a word to Mom about Nick. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble for myself. When Mom came home from work that night, I lied and told her I got a job at JCPenney’s, in their phone order department, and she seemed happy to hear it, and happier to know I’d be paying her fifty dollars a week for room and board. Fifty dollars sounded a bit high at first, but then I realized I was going to earn almost two hundred a week and I’d have plenty of money to pay Mom, get new windshield wipers for my car, and buy a few pills.
I don’t know how or why I got involved with Nick. I knew it was wrong, but I’d had a crush on him since the day he bought me and Mom roses for Valentine’s Day. Of course, I never thought for a second he’d be interested in me. When he was dating Mom, he often arrived early to take her to dinner, and since she was always running late, he’d sit and talk to me about school and things until she was ready to go. Once or twice I’d caught him looking at me in a strange way—a way that made me feel good and bad at the same time. So when he kissed me in his office on my first day of work, and then invited me to his condominium for a drink, I was secretly thrilled. He had a place a few blocks from the store that he used to “get away from it all,” and he said I could stay there any time I wanted to. “You’ll have to invite me, though,” he said, laughing.
I thought about taking him up on his invite, mainly because I didn’t have anything else to do that night, but all I could think of was Mom and how I’d promised her I’d stop drinking. So I didn’t go.
The next day at work he walked up behind me in the back room, while I was putting on my smock, and blew on the back of my neck. “You’ve got such a delicious-looking ass. One day I’m gonna take a bite.”
I got a flush throughout my entire body and turned a hundred shades of red, but I didn’t respond, and I tried my best to avoid him after that because I didn’t want anyone at work to think there was something going on between us. It was hard, though, because every time he saw me he’d make a face like he was biting something, and it did make me laugh—for a few days, anyway.
I discovered a week later that Nick wasn’t kidding about wanting to bite me after
I woke up on his kitchen floor with two used condoms next to my head and bite marks on my butt and the backs and insides of my thighs. I couldn’t remember too much about it. Didn’t even recall how I’d gotten to his condo. The last thing I remembered was Nick handing me a beer in the back room of the store after work.
When I opened my eyes and discovered I was naked, I was more scared than I’d ever been. It took me a while to sit up, and that’s when I noticed the blood. It was all over me, and all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I didn’t know how bad it was until I found the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Eight bites on my butt and six on my inner thighs (three on each). Some of the bites weren’t very noticeable, but two of them were bleeding and I could see the imprint of teeth.
Nick must have known how bad he hurt me because he left bandages and an antiseptic spray on the bathroom counter. He also left a note on top of a black sweatshirt and pants that were on a chair next to the bathtub: “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Have a bath and relax and I’ll be around about noon to take you to get your car. PS: The stuff by the front door is for you.”
I ran to the front door, hoping he’d left my clothes there, but instead I found a bag from his pharmacy with three bottles in it. I didn’t look at the bottles. I was too worried about the time, thinking it might be close to noon and that Nick would be arriving to find me without any clothes on. I ran to the bedroom to look for a clock, but all I found was a wooden bed with leather straps tied to each of the four corners, and a big lamp. I looked down at my ankles and wrists to see if there were any marks and figured I must have struggled a bit, because my right ankle was pretty red and raw. I walked back to the kitchen and looked at the clock on the stove. It was eleven thirty; I needed to move fast.