Chapter 13 #2
She nodded. “Isaac.” She sniffed softly and paused. “He was fourteen when he died.”
“Dottie, I’m—”
She held her frail hand in the air, her finger wagging back and forth.
“You never met my husband, Johnny. He wasn’t a kind man, sugar.
He was spiteful. Mean just for meanness’ sake.
My Isaac came to me one day. Said he’d been having feelings.
We didn’t have a word for it in those days.
Sure, we had our scripture, and we had Leviticus, but we didn’t really have an understanding of it. Not back then.
“Johnny and I talked to the pastor, back before your daddy’s time, you see.
Said that it wasn’t right. That we ought to lift him up.
How it was our duty to teach him right from wrong.
When he said it, he gave my Johnny this look.
I couldn’t tell what he meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.
” She was quiet for a while after that. As she sat beside me, a storm brewing inside of her, I held her hand.
“I was taught that a woman’s role is to be submissive to her husband.
To be obedient. It was a different time, baby.
” She peeked over at me, her lower lip trembling, like she was asking forgiveness for some unknown sin.
I didn’t know what to say to her. “One night, Pastor and Johnny took Isaac out to the lake. Said they were going to re-baptize him. Get him right with God again, like he’d somehow gotten wrong with him along the way.
” She looked over at me with fire in her eyes.
“He didn’t do nothin’ that he needed forgiving for, Kent.
Nothing at all. Never even touched another boy, not that there’s anything wrong with that. ”
I nodded, unsure of what else I should do. I’d never been good in situations like these. The feelings were there—heartbreak and overwhelming levels of sympathy—but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart, and I just sat there floundering.
“I grabbed my coat and went to follow, but Johnny just shook his head. Said I needed to stay at home. That it wasn’t women’s work. So, when they left, I did just that. A woman’s work.
“My Isaac, we used to call him Twister, ‘cause he would leave a pile of destruction every time he left a room. While they were out at that lake doing whatever it was they went out there to do, I fixed his room up real nice. I knew he’d be tired when he came home. Knew they’d be out there talking all that scripture, and I knew .
.. Kent, I knew he needed me, but I just sat there cleaning his room and praying.
I didn’t know what else to do. I made his bed, and I picked up all his toys.
The little rag-doll I made him—Hattie, he called her—he’d left her right out in the open for anyone to see.
I knew he’d be real embarrassed if he came home and saw her just sitting there for his daddy to find.
” She laid her hands in her lap, palms up like she was holding something precious, afraid it might break.
“So I took her. I took little Hattie, and I put her under the corner of his bed where he kept her.
Our little secret, I used to tell him. He made me promise not to tell anyone about her.
He loved that doll so much. Used to beg me to make her new clothes.
And I let him hide her. Let him hide that part of himself.
“When they came back, my Isaac ... Johnny was holding him in his arms. Johnny’s teeth were chattering, cause it was cold, you see.
Real cold out that night. They brought him in and laid him out on the floor.
Didn’t even have the decency to put him on the couch.
” Her frail fingers squeezed my hand as tightly as her muscles would allow.
“I asked Johnny what in the world took them so long. He had school in the morning, and I knew he’d be tired.
I thought he was sleeping at first but then I saw them lips of his. They’d gone blue.”
“Oh, God.”
“Johnny, he said that the water was too cold. That he must've caught a chill on the ride home. Those words of his just kept playing over and over in my mind, though. We gotta teach him, Dot. Gotta teach him right from wrong. I know what lesson they taught him out in that water.
“That lake. It takes, Kent. It takes, and it takes, and it takes until there’s nothing left. Took my Isaac. Damn near took you, and thank God it didn’t.
"I think I knew you were gay before almost everyone. But not before your momma.” She picked up my hand and brought it to her lips.
“We know, honey. A momma knows her boy. Caterina knew about my Isaac. She was still just a little one herself when he died. So young, I thought she might not have even remembered him. About a week after you came back from the lake, she came to me. Said that she was torn. That she didn’t understand how God could let something like that happen to someone so pure.
Someone that never hurt no one, just ‘cause of something as silly as who they love. She asked me how I got past it. How I reconciled my faith after losing my baby.”
“How did you?”
“I didn’t.” Dottie looked out the window, up into the big, blue Texas skyline. “I don’t got a whole lot to say to God these days.”
I turned on my blinker and took the offramp into Priscilla. The house wasn’t far off the interstate, maybe ten minutes out. As we pulled into the driveway, I gathered one last round of courage.
“Mom said that your husband ran off with a carhop.”
She turned toward me with an unreadable expression. “Like I said, that lake takes. Thought it was about time it took someone that deserved it.”
I nodded. “Good. Good for you, Dottie.”
“Maybe it’ll take Trevor Collins one day, too.”
The drive back only took an hour, but she asked me to make a detour once we made it inside the city limits. I parked by a familiar, treacherous tree and shut off the ignition.
There was a lake surrounded by greenery ahead of us.
Even then, after twenty years, I could still smell the gasoline.
The air was warm as it floated in through the open windows, but sitting there in that same spot, it felt like ice against my skin.
I’d even convinced myself that if I got out and looked down at the dirt pile beside the oak tree, I might somehow find the remains of seventy-one partially burned matchsticks.
“We don’t have to stay here. If it’s too much for you, we can go,” she said.
I wanted to be strong for her. I knew that this was something that she needed to do.
Something she might not have too many more chances to reconcile.
“I don’t think I can get out, Dottie.” Her hand found its way to my chin, and she pulled it toward her.
Reaching up, she wiped away the tears welling in my eyes.
“You just stay right here, then. It’s alright, I promise you.” She looked at the lake, her eyes were filled with determination. She made her way out of the car and stood on the shore as water wrapped around her ankles. Dottie didn’t move. She just stared at the water with fists balled at her sides.
I was fine. As long as I kept my eyes away from that oak tree, I was perfectly fine.
But then her shoulders started shaking, and I thought that if I stayed there any longer, I might never forgive myself for making her do this alone.
Twenty-two steps was all that it took for me to reach her.
She jumped a little when I slipped my hand into hers.
“He was born in the same bed I sleep in now. Came two months too early, but he was a fighter. Had to be, to put up with what he went through. He was different, and kids were cruel to him. You and him both had that in common, though, didn’t you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“He would sing to me. Had a real nice voice. He’d walk up and down that old dirt road picking flowers for me and blackberries for his daddy, just singing up a storm.
” She turned back, glaring at the rippling water in front of us.
“His daddy loved his blackberry cobbler. Crushed up a bunch of sleeping tablets in that last batch I made him. I still don’t know where I got the strength to drag him out to the car that night. ”
“Rage. There’s a power in it. After everything that happened to me, when my skin was burning and stinging from the gasoline, I walked seven miles home.
” I closed my eyes and leaned against Dottie, resting my head on her shoulder.
“My feet were all cut up by the time I got there. Trevor had already called Dad. Told him what he did to me and why he did it. I thought Mom was going to march over there and shoot him, right there on his front lawn. Do you know what Dad said?”
“No, sugar, I don’t.”
“’Leave it. Might toughen him up. He’s gonna need it where he’s going.’ He planned on sending me to one of those conversion camps. Mom, she ...” I glanced over at Dottie, already feeling ashamed at what I was about to say. “She put a stop to that.”
Dottie reached out, taking my hand in hers. “Well, thank God one of us got it right.” She lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I’m really glad he didn’t send you away.”
"You and me both.”
"Caterina said Esther and Martin still don't even know about that night. Can't help but wonder how things might have ended up if they had."
"West Clark would've had two faggots to banish instead of one." I forced a laugh because if I didn't, I would've broken right there beside her. “I would have been proud to have a momma like you, Dottie.”
“Yeah?”
Our eyes met, and it felt like static and purpose were rising from the water, seeping into our skin and solidifying us. “You did the best you could. You’re more than just your mistakes, Dottie. We all are.”