Chapter 9
9
G rowing up, I never saw what Pa did to Mama. It was the bad sounds that stayed with me. But this time was different. Shouldn’t I feel a certain way? That I stood there, doing nothing, watching Peter beat my pa to a pulp. Shouldn’t I be afraid of him? As much as it unsettled me to admit, his violence was the violence I had yearned for. To scream and hit my pa with abandon, just as Pa had done to my mama. It’s funny how one man’s violence could be just what another person needed. Maybe if it was only my own safety on the line, I would have done something worse by now. Maybe I would have left already. All I knew was, if and when Pa came home, I was more frightened now than ever.
At least I still had this. The fiery light rising in the east. The one constant. Something that would always be there to greet me in the morning. Even if only for a short time. Nonetheless, I sat there until the air became thick with heat, and those lingering questions returned. A dull throb spread itself across my lower back and I shifted, stretching my sunburned legs across the steps of the porch. Not even the healing warmth of a sun’s hug could take away the aches, reminding me of the events that had taken place the night before. And though it was quiet, a part of me waited for Uncle Wayne’s loud truck to rumble the trailer park to life and awaken the dogs in a unison of howls and barks.
I pushed myself up and walked back inside the trailer. Opening the trash can, the smell of overripe fruit wafted upward into my nose, causing me to gag. I twisted the red ties together and slipped on my sandals and lugged the trash outside to the metal bin by the side of the road. The sound of an engine caused me to lift my head. To shield the sun’s glare from my eyes, I raised my hand and squinted to make out the vehicle from afar. A dark green Ford Explorer sped up the road, parking behind Peter’s truck. For a split second, my mind readied itself to see those black voluminous curls again. The driver’s door shut, and a familiar man in a baseball cap stepped out. His scraggly beard helped me place him as Peter’s friend from last night. He looked over at me and halted, giving me a brief wave. I threw the bag of spoiled food inside the bin. Unable to help myself, I then watched him knock on Peter’s front door.
“Pete!” he called out. “Pete, come on. I know you’re in there. Your truck’s outside, man.”
Any normal woman, after witnessing what he was capable of, wouldn’t allow herself to still be this curious. Let alone stand here. Mama once said that even the kindest men are capable of doing unspeakable things. However, no matter how many times I had told myself nothing good would come of it, I allowed myself to be this way. It was safe, because he would never see me as a real woman.
Just as I convinced myself to leave, Peter’s friend banged on the door again. “Pete, I swear, I’m gittin’ really sick and tired of this fucking attitude ... Pete! I’m gonna keep standing here! You know I will! I’ve got all day!”
The screen door swung open, and Pete’s friend stumbled back.
“What are you doin?” Peter asked.
“What am I doin’? I’m here to check up on you. And good thing I did, ’cause you look like shit. What the hell happened?”
“I’m fine. You can go.”
Peter’s friend caught the frame of the door. “Now just wait a dang second. You’re the one who left us to go off doing God knows what. And I come up here, and you look like this? What the heck did you do? The—?”
“I said I’m fine. Now go, will you?” Peter spit the words out, stepping closer, standing just a few inches taller than his friend. “I got enough ...” He paused, and his eyes flickered over to me as he became quiet. In that second, Harley had already shimmied his way between the frame and Peter’s leg, bolting out the door. I hesitated, unsure of what to do, but I couldn’t walk away and deny Harley.
He came to a running stop in front of me and readied himself into a play position. “Harley, go,” I urged, stepping back. He yowled in protest, wagging his tail. “I’ll play with ya later. Okay? But you gotta go,” I pleaded. “You gotta go, okay?” Harley whined. “Yes, I know. I love you, too.”
I looked over.
Peter and his friend spoke in hushed tones, but their eyes were intense and wide. His friend’s thumb jerked toward me, leaning further into Peter’s face, who pushed his hand down. Their mouths moved, but I couldn’t hear what they said. “Just let it go. I don’t need you checkin’ up on me. I said I’m fine,” Peter spat and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him with more force than normal.
His friend rolled his eyes and walked away, but stopped, yelling, “You know what, that’s the last time I’m inviting you out, Pete! If you wanna talk, you’re gonna be the one to call! It’s about damn time you stepped up! I’m sick and tired of being the one carrying this friendship! Dick.” He jumped the last step of the porch and stopped in his tracks just several feet away from me. Looking back at Peter’s trailer and then at me, he asked, “You’re that girl from last night, aren’t you? Name’s Grace, right?”
I stood upright. “Yeah.”
“Right, I figured. You’re kinda hard to miss. Name’s Milo, by the way. Nice to meet ya. Can I ask how long you’ve known Pete? Cause, his dog, Harley, doesn’t run over like that to just anyone.”
I glanced over at Harley, who whined, sitting by my side. “Really? It ain’t been that long.”
“Huh. Well, Harley must really like ya, then,” Milo said in disbelief, jangling the keys in his hand. He brought his attention to Peter’s trailer for a brief moment. “You really haven’t known Pete long? Cause last night, I’ve never seen him act that way. And I’ve known him for a while. Back in the Marines, he was a stone cold sonuvabitch. It wasn’t until they assigned him Harley that he started to soften up. He’s never been big on people. But I think you already know that, living next door to him.”
“Harley was with him?” I asked and looked at Harley, who lay down on the ground, panting.
“Yeah, Harley was one of the best IED dogs out there. Pete would die for that dog.” Milo stared at Harley and then back at me. “So, just recently, huh?”
“ Yeah.”
“Well, I should head back. Nice meetin’ ya, Grace.” Milo caught the keys in his hand and walked away.
“How long were you with him?” I called out.
Milo halted, saying, “In the Marines?” He leaned against the car, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Four years, give or take. Would’ve been longer if he hadn’t been honorably discharged. Shrapnel to the right knee and loss of hearing. But let me tell you, even with the limp, he can still run like nobody’s business.”
“ And you?”
“ Me?”
“Are you still in the Marines?”
“About ten years now. We miss him and Harley. Pete was good. Reliable. Both of them were.” Milo was about to continue but stopped as his attention fell over to the kitchen window of Peter’s trailer. I looked and saw the blinds snapping shut. Harley’s ears perked. Milo shook his head and walked around the vehicle. “Think that’s my cue. Nice meet’n you again, Grace.”
“Nice meeting you, too.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and reversed the large hunk of metal to face the road. But before taking off, he rolled down the passenger side window and stuck his head out. “By the way ...” He hesitated. “I don’t know if this is my place or not to tell you, but while it may seem like Pete has everything together, he’s anything but. So, would you keep an eye on him for me?”
“ Okay.”
“And take care of that cut.” He gestured with a brief flick of his hand before taking off.
With Harley by my side, we watched Milo speed down the road. As the dust and dirt settled, I looked over at him, and his big ears perked in anticipation.
“I gotta go buddy. I’ll see you again, okay?”
He whined and ran back to Peter’s porch, slipping inside just as the door quickly opened and snapped closed. My mind raced with questions. Assumptions. If only it was as easy to be rid of these thoughts as it was to clean the crumbs and stains off this very table. The ache of my body became heavier as I sat down at the kitchen table and propped up my feet, watching the time go by. If only I didn’t need to be so curious. Slowly but surely, the heat lulled me into a deep sleep until I heard the sound of a loud bass and dogs howling. I opened my eyes and stood to look out the kitchen window. The back of Uncle Wayne’s red truck disappeared down the road as the front door creaked open. Pa stepped inside. A line of bruises spread like a rash across the side of his face. Between a swollen-shut eye, day-old clothes, greasy tousled hair, and the nick by his lower lip, he reminded me of my mama.
“Pa,” I said softly as he shut the door. “ Pa, I—?”
He suddenly turned on the heel of his boot, and my body winced, readying myself for the worst. The bedroom door slammed shut, and I opened my eyes toward the hall. It was as if there was a storm brewing in there, and only I could feel its heavy presence. For the first time, his silence was more frightening than his words and the promise of his fist. I didn’t know what was more unsettling. The little girl in me wanted to try and calm him down. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t one of those times.
T
Sitting on the porch the next morning, I stared at the jagged lines of the Catalina Mountains. A part of me hoped that some force in the universe would turn back time for me to witness the sunrise. It only made me realize just how fragile and precious a routine was. For the first time in seven months, I had missed the harmonious view of the rising sun and was instead awakened by the infernal sound of Uncle Wayne’s truck. The odds were not in my favor today. Uncle Wayne leaned against the front fender with his arms crossed, smelling of his usual morning cigarettes and grilled cheese sandwich. Uncle Wayne held the stick of death between his index finger and thumb and, after taking a long drag and exhaling, expelled two streams of smoke from his nostrils. My nose scrunched. He flicked the excess ash onto the dirt, and I wondered to myself how I was related to such a man.
He sighed heavily, checking his watch. “How long does it take for the man to shit? We’re burning daylight here. I could’ve driven to Oracle and back by now.” Uncle Wayne took another long drag, shaking his head.
As the cloud of death left his nose, the nicotine stung my eyes, traveling to my lungs to start the first stage of decay. My first memory of tobacco was when I was seven years old with my Uncle Wayne. We were inside, windows closed. I was on the floor playing with my dolls. He was sitting in Pa’s chair, drinking a beer. Then he lit a cigarette. I remember being fascinated at how the smoke rose and formed a cloud near the ceiling. Then, there was a foul odor. It was so strong, and I thought of the time my pa caught a dead cat underneath our trailer. Soon, my nose ran, and my eyes watered. At that age, I didn’t know how to put my misery into words. Instead, I cried and waved my arms at the cigarette. Uncle Wayne expelled another puff of smoke and looked over.
“What? What’s that look for? Is it morning sickness or somethin’?” he asked. “Or is that just your face nowadays?”
“You know you can die from those things, right? Remember what Tina said to you? At the rate you’re smokin’, one of your lungs is gonna dry up and die. I’m startin’ to believe her,” I said.
He snorted. “And what does Tina know, huh? If you were dealin’ with the shit I got going on, you’d want a hit. God will know when it’s my time. Until then, Grace, I’m gonna smoke.”
“Yeah, you have fun with that, Uncle Wayne.”
I stood to go back inside the trailer, wrapping my cardigan across my waist, but his next words stopped me. “Hey, hey, now, just wait a second. You gonna tell me what happened to that pretty face of yours or not?”
“What do you care?”
“You’re my niece, that’s what.”
“You didn’t care when it was my mama.”
Uncle Wayne didn’t say a word and slicked his tongue across his teeth, looking off in the distance as he took a drag. He threw the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the sole of his boot. “I’m gonna go wait in the truck. And tell your father to hurry the hell up.” He leaned off the front fender just as a door creaked open. He paused and lifted his chin as a gesture, saying, “Hey, that your neighbor?”
I looked and saw Peter.
He still walked slower than usual, but his limp was less noticeable. Peter regarded me for only a moment, all the more hesitant to make eye contact but his attention quickly fell to Uncle Wayne, his face becoming cold and stark—as if he was staring down the barrel of a gun and Uncle Wayne was his target. I’d never considered my Uncle Wayne to be skittish, but from the look in his eyes right now, anyone might think he did have a gun pointed at him. Giving me one last glance, Peter then strode over to his truck and climbed inside. All the while, Uncle Wayne never allowed his gaze to waver as Peter took off down the road. When the dust settled, a sneer pulled the corners of Uncle Wayne’s mouth tight.
“I really don’t like the look of that guy.”
“You don’t like the look of anyone.”
“Hey, you know what his kind are like, Gracie? I’d even bet that guy was dishonorably discharged. I don’t understand why your dad won’t do nothin’. He’s lucky he’s still walkin’.” Uncle Wayne jerked his head to the trailer. “Where there’s blame, there’s always a claim. That’s what I live by.”
“Don’t go spoutin’ what you don’t know, Uncle Wayne,” I said bitterly. “You know nothin’ about him.”
“Haven’t you ever read a story about them in that little book of yours you always carry ’round? What is it called? Reader’s something or other. PTSD is a real thing, Gracie. You best be careful,” Uncle Wayne said just as the door swung open. I looked back. “’Bout time. What the heck were you doin’ in there?”
“You know what, Wayne, you try wiping your ass with a bad neck and three bruised ribs.” Pa grimaced and slammed the screen door shut. “Can we git going now? I wanna get my truck. If it’s even still there.”
Pa walked past me. Though he still hadn’t spoken a word to me since the fair, his silence proved just how much anger was brewing inside him. Uncle Wayne glanced between us, all the more curious as to what had happened. Just as I was about to leave, I heard Arlene’s jubilant voice.
“Morning, Bill! It’s a sight to see you up and at ’em this early!” she exclaimed in delight, eagerly walking over with a casserole dish wrapped in tin foil. Uncle Wayne eyed her bright pink capris and bedazzled T-shirt. “Grace, I tried this recipe with your—oh my, Bill.” Her wedged sandals came to a stop as she noticed the state of Pa’s face, bringing one hand up to cover her mouth. “I’m really surprised you’re up and walkin’ around lookin’ like that.” She stifled a laugh and looked at Uncle Wayne. “Good golly, Wayne, that you? You certainly bulked up since the last time I saw ya.”
Uncle Wayne crossed his arms. “Yeah, it pays off to lug limestone for a livin’. How’s Ray?”
“Twenty pounds heavier. And where you two off to? The hospital? Cause, I gotta tell ya, Bill, that’s one nasty lookin’ eye.”
Pa rolled his one good eye, and he opened the passenger door with more force than normal.
“Don’t trip on your way up,” Arlene said.
Pa looked back at her. “Yeah, you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t ya, Arlene?”
Uncle Wayne bit his bottom lip, a tell he had when he was holding back a smile and a laugh of his own.
“I’d have witnessed two miracles today if that happened,” she replied with a sweet smile.
Uncle Wayne walked away, saying, “Well, nice seeing you again, Arlene. Say hi to Ray for me, alright?” He opened the driver’s side door. But before climbing up into the seat, he looked back at me and said, “And Gracie, try some saltines and ginger ale for that morning sickness. Okay? It worked wonders for my ex.” Uncle Wayne shut the door, and the truck revved to life.
A unison of howls and barks filled the air.
As they reversed, I watched Pa’s one dark, soulless eye peering directly at Arlene. His upper lip curled into another sneer, and I glanced over to Arlene for her reaction. She simply smiled and wiggled her fingers goodbye as they left.
“You gotta tell me who did that to your daddy so I can thank them. Lord, forgive me. And you can tell me all about it over this casserole. I think I finally found the recipe this time. Three cheeses, can you believe it? I’m gonna be on the toilet after this. But it’ll be worth it. I know it will.”
“Three cheeses? I thought you said I needed to watch my dairy intake. And my sodium.”
“We can live on the edge. Won’t that be fun? Sweetie, aren’t you hot in that thing? You’re gonna drop dead from heat exhaustion.”
“ I’m fine.”
“ Grace—?”
“I said I’m fine, Arlene.”
She grabbed my right sleeve, yanking it down my arm, giving no second thought to the tumbled casserole on the ground. Her eyes were wide and the color of her face drained as she stared at the bruises. I yanked my arm back and pulled the sleeve up. When her fingers reached for the side of my face, I smacked her hand away and faced her. A glassy sheen had overtaken her blue eyes. A look I recognized all too well crossed her face, and a wave of nausea hit me. Not from morning sickness, but from the absolute fact that I had no excuses. Nothing to convince her otherwise.
“Your dad did this, didn’t he?”
“I fell.” I turned, walking up to the door.
“Don’t you dare give me that load of hooey, Grace. You fell? Grace, tell me right now if that man hit you—?”
“That man is my father!” I cried out, causing Arlene to halt in her tracks. “He’s my father!”
“A father doesn’t do that to his little girl, Grace! When are you gonna get that through your head?!”
“When are you gonna do something?” I yelled.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“You never did anything! Not even for my mama!”
“You don’t think I did somethin’? You can only help a person so much before they gotta’ help themselves. Your mama—?”
“My mama ain’t here anymore, Arlene!”
I rushed into the trailer. The ground spun beneath me. I stumbled my way to the sink, waiting. It wanted to come up, but my body wouldn’t allow it. I stifled my sobs, sliding down in the corner, resting my sweaty forehead against the cabinet. My feet ached in relief to have the weight lifted off them. Just as the tears were ready to spill over, the door slowly creaked open.
“ Grace?”
Arlene peeked her head in.
“Oh, sweetie.” She quickly stepped inside and shut the door, squishing herself beside me.
Arlene lifted her arm and I rested my cheek on her breast. My nose twitched. Though her perfume was overwhelming, and I had to close my eyes each time to make the smell a bit more tolerable, I didn’t find myself wanting to leave her arms. Especially when she would start to rub my back. Like right now. The gentle pressure of her knuckles and the relaxing scratch of her nails moving up and down my back restored all the balance I needed. The world slowly but surely stopped spinning. Everything seemed okay again. There was something surreal about having my back scratched. As if each scratch literally scratched away the worries and bad moments from the day, leaving me inevitably calmer and more serene. It was like the times I watched my mama sweeping the dirt off the porch after every fight with my pa. She wouldn’t stop until each inch of that porch was clean. I shut my eyes and leaned further into her, letting out my first easy breath.
Arlene kissed my head, resting her cheek on top.
“I’m right here, sweetie.”
After nine years, Arlene knew words wouldn’t do me any good, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. I didn’t know how long we stayed on the kitchen floor, but long enough till our backs started to ache and the afternoon heat had started to warm the linoleum. Only after the twelfth time reassuring her I was okay did she leave the trailer. Patting my face with a wet paper towel, I looked outside to see her picking up the food and broken pieces of the casserole dish. She dropped a piece and covered her mouth, holding her head down. A heavy ache settled in my chest as her shoulders begin to shake. There had only been two times I’d seen Arlene cry. The first was the day she heard she was going to be a grandmother, and the second was the day she first saw the bruises on my mama. After her shoulders relaxed, she patted her cheeks. Closing the curtain, I lowered myself back down in the corner between the cabinet and fridge.
I shut my eyes tight, hoping some force would quiet my mind.
There were times like this when I wish I could turn to my mama. Have her arms around me instead of Arlene’s. After she left, Pa became that person for a while, and then Arlene, then Ray, and Sam. Yet, in these past seven months, I finally understood what my mama was preaching all along: There’s no one but you to fill up that loneliness in your chest. Some can for a bit. But at the end of the day, it’s up to you . It was like choosing a pair of shoes. Pa was the sparkly red shoes that I knew deep down wouldn’t ever hold up for more than six months. Arlene and Ray were the pair of sturdy brown shoes that would last me for the rest of my life but never fully satisfy me. No matter how much I wanted them to. Was that why Mama left? Was that the answer? To leave all the people in her world? That way, the only person who disappointed her was herself?
No one else.