Lem - 11. Abyss

The gymnasium in the high school has that salty smell that most gyms do, but once in a while, someone walks by with a little bucket of popcorn that gets my mouth to watering pretty good. The concessions stand sells pretzels and pickles, too. They do candy, from time to time, if the booster club is trying to make money.

My stomach gurgles and reminds me that I haven’t eaten dinner yet.

Momma nearly knocks me over with her yelling. “Come on, Chase!”

Chase has the ball, dribbling down the court. One of the girls from the Shelby team gets it from her when Chase tries to pass it off to one of her teammates, and both teams change direction like a herd of cats.

“Good girl. Get it back, come on, come on, come on!” Momma claps her hands.

I get bored at these games, mostly because I’m not playing. Rodeo is fun to watch. Eighth grade girl’s basketball—not so fun. Friday night and me without my best friend.

Someone on the other side starts a wave, and gets it to go around the whole gym a couple of times. I follow the motion around and stop, planting my sights square on Mattie. He’s sitting across the gym, staring back at me. He’s sitting right next to Ronnie.

The way his eyes speak, he looks really lost.

When we lock eyes I stand up. I’m not about to run across the court and plow through a bunch of little girls to get at him, just so we can talk--but I’m going try to get over there any way I can.

“I’ll be right back, Momma.”

She smiles back at me and squeezes my wrist. “Okay, baby.”

I walk down the bleachers toward the floor and walk toward the end of the gym, stealing the occasional glance at Mattie. He’s watching me, this time with more curiosity than evil eye. I get to the corner of the floor, but before I can get across to the other side, somebody yanks on my sleeve.

“Hey, stranger.” Brooke grins at me and pulls me into a little half-hug. I look back over at Mattie; he’s leaning over and talking to Ronnie. “I was hopin’ I’d run into you here.”

I try to smile and laugh. “Really? Ain’t that somethin’?”

Mattie’s on the move; he and Ronnie are heading across the bleachers the other way.

She traces her finger across my chest. “Yeah, well… you know. We should go catch a movie over in Havre this weekend. Maybe we can get Mattie n’ my sister together, too.”

I watch, hopelessly, as Mattie practically pushes Ronnie out the door, giving me one last sad look as he goes. “He’s still a bit mad at me. I don’t think he’d go.”

“We could still go, right?”

I sigh, because I just lost my window to talk to him. “Yeah. You name it.”

“Even a chick flick?”

“If that’s what you want, I s’pose that’s fine with me.”

She gives me a big hug. “Give me a call sometime tomorrow morning and we’ll make plans. I hafta get on back over to my mom.” She holds up one of those wrapped dill pickles. “She just wanted me to get her something to snack on.”

I fake a smile. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Slowly, I walk back up the bleachers toward Momma. She watches me as I sit down.

“That Brooke sure is a looker.” She elbows me in the side.

“Momma!” I roll my eyes and slump back.

* * *

Brangus are hybrid beef cattle. Backdraft is certified 5/8 Angus, and 3/8 Brahman. He may be one pissed-off cow, but that is one tasty burger.

* * *

The last two nights, I haven’t been able to get Mattie out of my head, and he’s been going out of his way to ignore me. This isn’t one of those times where I can ride it out and wait for him to come to me; everything got complicated. It’s hard enough trying to get to sleep with everything on my mind, lately.

Time slows down at night. The clock is not my friend. 1:05 AM and I’m staring at a beam of light across the ceiling, trying to get my mind to shut off. Every time I close my eyes, my brain just keeps running. I can’t get any quiet, and right now, I long for Mattie’s comfort. I don’t know why, but I imagine his body against mine, feeling his warmth, and it makes me feel safe. I try to hold onto that thought as I doze off. If it works—if it gets me to sleep—then I’ll keep that as long as I can.

Suddenly, the sound of Ronnie’s truck rips through the air.

I’m wide awake again. Fuck.

I stand on my knees and look out the window over my bed; Ronnie’s truck is rocketing down the road. I watch until the tail-lights are swallowed by the night, wondering if he got into another fight with his dad. Usually, those are few and far between. Mattie’s oldest brother, Tay, used to get into hollering matches with their mom all the time.

Resting my head against the sill, I take a quick gander at Mattie’s place and wonder where he is, and what he’s doing.

* * *

It’s been nearly two weeks since I last saw Mattie. The only time we ever see each other at school is at lunch since we don’t have any of the same classes.

I know he’s avoiding me. Strange to think: it was all over a stupid girl.

When I tried to call him a few days ago, to say I was sorry and see if I could get him to calm down a bit, I couldn’t get anyone to pick up. Fuck whoever invented caller ID.

His dad was at home a few mornings ago, working in the barn. He took a duffel bag to his truck and took off right quick. I haven't seen really seen anyone else over there for the last few days, come to think of it.

The first time in a week that I spot a Hedquist, it’s Ronnie walking down the hall at school. He’s got this blank look on his face, like he’s a little shell-shocked. I start to wonder if he could talk to Mattie for me, and at least help me get a foot in the door.

I stop in front of him. "Hey Ronnie, I was--"

His eyes flicker at me, almost like it was an accident. He plows through my shoulder, nearly knocks me off kilter and keeps walking.

What the fuck was that all about? Suddenly, I get the feeling he knows what we did.

* * *

Jason has something long and sand-papery up his ass. He drove across the parking lot and just fucking took off—and I wasn’t even late getting out of class. I guess Chase found her own ride, but that left me to find my own way home.

Douche bag.

I took the bus with the freshmen and middle school kids, so now it's three miles up a dirt road to get home.

I'm 'bout a mile up the road and take to eyeballing some cows grazing on the dead grass; walking steak bushes. Cows are so stupid, if you were to set them all free, they’d probably die by predators or their own stupidity. They’re way too domesticated to be on their own.

I think back to Jeff, and wish that I was still in his good graces. I get the itch to ride bulls once in a while, but after our spat, I don't think I could even bring myself to talk to him knowing what kind of person he can be.

There's a car down the road behind me coming up the easement. From the sound of it, they're going a pretty good clip, and I wonder if it’s Jason.

I keep my eyes fixed in front and try not to let Jason get the better of me, but I’m already thinking of ways I can get back at him for always being such a pecker-head.

Ronnie's truck flies by. Suddenly, he slams on the breaks and skids to a stop. A cloud of dirt flies up around the tires. Ronnie's just sitting in the cab, but he doesn't move. He just sits there with his arm around the back of the seat, staring off into the distance.

I get that tingly feeling in my nuts, and now I know he knows something.

Walking up beside the truck, I rest my arms across the door frame and stare at him for a moment.

Ronnie looks like he’s gnashing his teeth together; his jaw throbs and juts around. He rakes his bottom teeth over his top lip.

"Hey, Ronnie."

"Get in." There's something in his tone that makes me nervous.

I grab the handle, and open the door slowly—I don’t want to take my eyes off him. I scoot into the truck and sit my backpack on the floor. Before I even get a chance to shut the door, he hits the gas hard; the door slams right next to my head.

He's going pretty close to forty, which is a bad idea on a dirt road.

"Uh, Ronnie? Wha--"

He slams on the breaks, sending me vaulting toward the dashboard. The truck fishtails and skids to a stop.

He leans over and gets in my face. "Shut up, or get the fuck out." This is all way out of his character.

I sit here feeling a little stung. "S… sorry."

He hits the gas again. After a moment, he passes my driveway and pulls right up the lane to their house. He parks and jerks it out of gear. "Follow me." He slams the door behind him when he gets out.

My head starts spinning. I run up the drive to catch up with him.

He steps behind me as he opens the door on the back porch, and pushes me into the kitchen.

His mom is sitting there at the dining room table. She's got a coffee cup in front of her, looking off out the window, distant-like, the way I catch Mattie doing from time to time. She looks up at us we walk in, a look on her face like she's not really sure what to say. "Oh, Ronnie. This isn't kosher."

He puts a hand on my back, and starts pushing toward the basement stairs. "He's gonna see this."

"Don't do this. It's done with." She’s to the point of bawling.

He turns around, getting red in the face. "Goddamn it, Mom--just... just sit down and let me take care of this!"

Her eyes are watering pretty good, now.

Ronnie has me by the arm; he drags me down the steps quicker than I can keep up.

He turns on his stereo real loud and pushes me into his room, shutting the door behind him. He still has my arm tight enough that I know I'm going to have some bruises.

"Ronnie, what the hell's going on?"

With a quick slap, he wraps his hand around the front of my neck and pushes me against the wall. It feels like he’s trying to squeeze the life out of me.

I cough and clutch at his hands. “Ronnie…”

He gets in real close to my face. "He was real depressed, Lem. Mattie's gone."

"What?"

"He was real fixed on you." His grip seems to lighten just a little.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

He slams my head into the wall, eyes puffy and red. He swallows hard and chokes on his words for a second. "I told you I loved my brother more than anything in the world. I told you." He forces my head against the wall again. "I told you I would die for him, didn't I? Didn't I?"

"Ronnie..."

Ronnie pokes his finger into my chest really hard. "You shut the fuck up for a while. I'm not done. If you think I would turn him out because he was gay, or straight, or... or whatever--you are sadly mistaken. I told you that if anyone, and I meant anyone, hurt that kid, I would kill 'em." He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head sadly, taking a small step back. He starts across his room toward the bathroom. "Come here. You're gonna look at this."

I shake my head. "Dude, you're scaring me."

He grabs me by the arm and yanks me sideways. "I stuck my neck out enough."

I stop and pull back. "I didn't ask for you to stick your neck out."

Turning around, he grabs the front of my shirt in a tight fist. "I didn't stick my neck out for you." He puts his hand on the back of my neck, shoves me into the bathroom and pushes my head down, parking me a foot away from the bathtub. "You sit right there and get a good look."

There are dark pink stains in the tub and on the tile running down the sides. There's a trail on the floor going to the drain, and the grout is stained black in places. I try to get away from his grip. "What is this?"

He squeezes my neck hard, pushing my head forward a little closer. "Just you fuckin' sit there." He pauses for what feels like forever. "It's Mattie, Lem. That's Mattie."

Ronnie pushes me over--up against the cabinet--tumbles backwards and sits on the toilet lid. He covers his face with his hands and sobs.

I can’t take my eyes off the tub, and the only thing I can think is: where the fuck is Mattie?

Ronnie wipes his face off with his hands, leaning his head against the wall. He fixes on the ground. "Dad was on the road driving back from North Dakota, and mom was working a swing at the hospital.

“I... I came home from Jenny's house, took off my clothes and went to go to bed. I was laying there for a minute and I heard something fall into the water. There was so much blood, Lem. So much blood. His lips were blue--he was white as a sheet.

“Oh god. I pulled him out, into my arms." Ronnie makes a hugging motion in the air, squeezing his arms together in front of him. "He was limp, but he opened his eyes a little. He whispered something I couldn't hear. 'God Mattie, don't do this. Don't you die on me.' I got some ace bandage out of the cabinet and wrapped up his wrists.”

My throat aches something awful, and my eyes water. “Ronnie, no…”

“I was screaming for someone to help. Anyone. I wrapped him up in a blanket, found the envelope on the counter. I took him upstairs and Tay came down to see what was going on. Thank God he was in town for the weekend.

"I had his... head on my shoulder, and I carried him like a baby. He just smiled at me. 'Lem is that you?' He could barely whisper. 'It's Jason, Mattie. You're hurt bad. Stay with me. Don't you die.' and he said 'You sound so far away. Where are you Ronnie?'"

He shakes his head slowly. "He started shivering something fierce. Tay pulled the truck around, I sat him on my lap. Everything was covered in blood. Everything. Tay called the hospital and told them we was coming. I didn't know if Mom would even get to see him alive again. He smiled at me and said he felt warm.” Ronnie hisses when he says: “he said he wasn't afraid anymore.”

“I tried everything to keep him awake. When Mom saw Mattie being put onto the stretcher she just started screaming." He looks up from the floor, straight into my eyes. "It'll chill your blood, Lem." He looks down again. "Mom went to be with him in the emergency room, and Tay went to call Dad and tell him Mattie was hurt. I sat down in the waiting room, read the letter--I didn't have the heart to give it to anyone.

"As soon as he was stable enough, they took him to Shelby. I told Mom and Dad that you two got into a fight. I lied and said Mattie told me while I was taking him up the stairs. That it was probably over some girl or something.

“The doctors said if he would have come in just two minutes later he'd have gone for good. If I came home two minutes later... TWO FUCKING MINUTES, LEM!"

I feel sick. "No more, please!" I sit on the edge of the tub. It takes me a minute to realize I'm sitting on Mattie's dried blood. I get to my feet and fall with my back against the wall.

"Do you know what it's like to hold your dying brother in your arms? He was a ghost. It was like he was so far away and I couldn't reach him.

"He's at a home now, down in Billings. He's getting better, but he never smiles--you made him happy, and you took that away from him. That blood is in there because of you." He gets up and walks into his room. "Come here."

He pulls an envelope off his night stand. There's dried blood all over it. "He left this for you. There are only three of us in the world who know about this letter, and if it becomes four, I swear to God I'll kill you dead." He hands me the letter, but before he lets go, grabs my wrist with his other hand, lets go of the letter, and pulls me close by the back of my head. I feel his lips touching my ear.

"Every morning when you wake up, and every night before you go to bed, just you pray and thank God he went across the tracks and not up the street." He pulls my head into his chest and hugs me tight. It feels like he wants to break my neck. "I fucking hate you, Lem Taylor. I swear to God and all that's good, I hate you." Ronnie sobs for several minutes.

I’m so stung I can't move; I am a blank line with nothing written on it.

"Listen... listen." He squints with a smile that bothers the shit out of me, tears running down his cheeks. "There's a Browning deer rifle in that closet over there. You say you're sorry to my mom on your way out. If you're not over the property line in two minutes, I'll kill you." He squeezes me again, and pushes out the door with all his force. "I'll fuckin' kill you."

* * *

I get to our mailbox, lungs burning, but I know better than to question Ronnie or his intentions. I look back over my shoulder; Ronnie's standing near his truck. He's got the rifle slung across his arm, the stock open, and he's taking the bullets out.

I stare at the envelope in my hand with my name on it.

Momma's truck is parked out front, and I don't want to deal with it. I don’t want to deal with her or Chase or Jason or Dad--any of them. I duck away into the shed, climb the ladder, and lie back on the couch.

I don't know if I can open it.

There's a pit in my stomach, and I've still got a bad case of the spins.

I pull the paper out, unfold it, and stop at the first line where it says Lem-.

My heart's beating hard, and breaking in my chest. I'm shaking so bad.

* * *

Lem-

I don't know how to say what's inside me anymore. You deserve better than me. Most people wouldn't notice a worthless piece of shit like me, anyway. I won't be in your way anymore.

Don't blame yourself.

I love you.

Shadow

* * *

I walk in the back door through the mud room. My eyes are dry, and I don’t know if there’s anything left in me to cry out.

Chase and Dad sit at the table; they both watch me walk across the room to the fridge. Jason's dishing up whatever's on the stove, and Momma, she's getting down some glassware from the cupboard.

"Where have you been? We almost started without you." Momma hands me a glass.

I look at her, and shake my head. I get out the bottle of Orange Juice, pour to the brim, and twist the lid back on.

"What's wrong? Your eyes are all red."

Jason turns around and makes a face at me that I don’t much like. "Aww, you been crying 'cuz you didn't have a ride home?"

I throw back the juice, drinking every last drop. I slam the glass on the counter and realize that I've still got the plastic container by the neck.

"Poor baby." Jason laughs and goes back to work on the casserole.

I clinch my fist until my knuckles feel like they could bleed. My jaw is tight, and I can't even open it when I talk. "I am so done with you and your shit!"

Dad stands up. "That's enough! Both of you!"

Jason gets in my face. "Oh yeah? Think you're gonna do something about it? Gonna cry like a little fag?"

Momma sets the last of the glasses on the table. "Jason! That's enough!"

He pushes me lightly, and whispers: "what'cha gonna do? Huh? Gonna be a little fag? Gonna cry some?"

The plastic in my hand… I can't let this go on. I can't keep myself contained. He's uncorking me in all the wrong ways, and I'm starting to see red. My jaw is shaking; I’m biting down on my tongue so hard I can taste blood.

"Gonna start cryin' again? Why don’t you go be like one of those emo fags and cut yourself and bleed? Little pussy--"

The plastic bottle makes a boosh sound when it hits his face. I have it like a tennis racket, and I make sure that I follow all the way through. It surprises him enough that it knocks him backward. He trips and slams his head into the side of the counter. I spring forward, get on top of him and just let him have it, one fist after another. I'm either going to kill him, or I'm going to do some serious damage to his dental work trying.

Suddenly, Dad has me by the arm. He pulls me back.

I’m a spitting, screaming mess. "Get up! Come on you piece of shit! Get up! Say it again!" I have blood on me, and it's starting to make me feel sick.

I didn't even notice Momma was screaming at me. She's got Chase pulled into her chest, and Chase's looking at me like I'm a monster. "...goddamnit! Don't have to be beating on your damn brother like that!" Momma walks Chase to the door and turns around.

Jason's standing on the other side of the kitchen holding his face. I know he wants to get a piece of me.

Fate, let him do it. Let him end this all right now and see where this gets us.

Momma starts dabbing at his face with a cloth napkin.

He swats her off and yells at me. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Mom grabs his wrist and pulls him close to get a better look at his nose. "You just quiet down a minute."

Dad spins me around, grabs my other arm and shakes me. "What's your goddamn problem?"

I shake him off and step back. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

He slaps me across the face; a good backhand.

My face stings, but as much as it hurts, there’s just enough mean left in me to look him in the eye. "You done?"

"You want another one?" He pulls back like he's going to punch me if I give him the wrong answer.

"Make it fucking count."

Dad drops his arm a bit, and stares into my eyes. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothin’ you'd understand. You going to follow through?"

He raises his fist again. "Maybe I ought'a!"

"Do it," I yell. "Come on! DO IT! Fuckin' throw it!"

Dad drops his hand and stares at me with this empty look in his eyes.

I shake my head and walk across the kitchen.

Jason stands up as I pass him. "I'm gonna fuck you up--"

I psych him out, pretending like I'm going to hit him again; he flinches. "Give me a reason," I growl.

He slumps back down.

Momma has this slack-jawed look on her face; she watches me walk past the table.

I walk out of the kitchen, go to my room, slam the door and lay on top of the bed--numb.

* * *

I haven't moved in three days but to go to the bathroom once in a while. I took a shower last night, but I couldn't get to sleep. I haven't really eaten anything, and now my stomach is in knots. I threw up in the shower washing Jason's blood off me.

Momma keeps checkin' in on me. She left me lunch, but I can't even look at it; strawberry jam looks too much like blood.

Momma walks in and sits on the edge of my bed. She rubs my arm. "I wish you'd tell me what's gotten' into you." She's pissed. She just won't let me know until I open up and tell her what she wants to hear.

I don't say anything. I just swallow and keep staring at the wall.

"Would you at least eat something? You're looking pale." She sighs and gets up, leaving me alone in the room.

After a bit, I can hear her and Dad yelling at each other downstairs, fighting about me and what to do about it.

I pull my pillow over my head. I thought about it last night, letting go and ending it. Just the thought of it makes me start bawling again.

Someone sits on my bed.

"Lem?" It's Chase. "What's wrong? Why're you crying?"

I don't even take the pillow off my face. "I fuckin' hate myself. I can't stand it."

She lifts the pillow to look at me; the light hurts my eyes. "Can't stand what?"

I wipe off my face and sit up. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sniffle, rocking back and forth like a psycho. "I can't stand who I am. I... I can't stand being in my skin anymore. I can't stand life. What the fuck just happened? To everything? Everyone?"

She hugs me. "I know we don't get along sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't love you."

"It's not about you, Chase."

"You wanna talk about it?" We sit for a second. "I'm not as smart as Momma, but I'll sure listen."

I sigh and get lightheaded just thinking about the last few days. "Mattie tried to kill himself."

She sits back and stares at me. "Lem, I'm so sorry."

I close my eyes tight and start crying again. I feel like such a fuckin' baby. I reach out for Chase and hug onto her tightly. "He almost died. It was my fault."

"Lem, you gotta tell Mom. You have to talk to her."

"She won't understand, Chase."

"Sure she will. That's why she's there for us. That's why God made moms and dads--to teach us things and help us out."

"I wish that were true, Chase."

"Dad and Momma would sooner die than let anything happen to one of us. I sure as heck don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're just sayin’ that."

"I mean it, Lem. I really do." She sighs.

I can hear Momma screaming at Dad downstairs again.

"They think you've gone mental. They've been fighting like that for a few days. Look, I'm not going to say anything to Momma, but soon as things settle down, I'm gonna tell her you need her."

"Chase, don't."

"If you don't wanna talk to her, whatever. But if she comes in, I think you should tell her. It would fix a lot of things."

"It's not gonna fix Mattie, is it?"

"Maybe not, but now that I know why you beat up Jason, I think maybe he deserved it." Chase smiles sadly. "You should see his face. You really messed him up. Guess he won't be pickin' on you anymore." She gets up and leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.

I lie back down and cover my head again.

Momma walks in at nearly the speed of light. I guess her and Dad were between bouts when Chase got downstairs.

"Chase said you asked for me?" She sits down next to me.

I sit up, lean against her shoulder, and when I try to talk, I just start crying again. I mean, I'm really letting it out.

She pulls me into her side and hugs me tight. "Lem, what's going on with you? I'm worried."

"Momma, Mattie tried to kill himself. He almost died and it was... was all because of me."

"What?" she asks quietly.

"He cut his wrists and they almost lost him. If they got to the hospital a few minutes later, he'd be gone."

"Baby, why would you think it was your fault?"

I shake my head.

"You think he was jealous that you were dating a girl and he wasn't?"

"I don't know." I sigh and stare at the print on her jeans. "I don't know anything anymore."

She sits there with me, keeping her arms around me.

I have to lie--she wouldn't understand. "He was getting angry at me a lot, because I was starting to spend time with Brooke. I don't think someone would try to die because of that, would they?"

"Honey, it sounds like he was sick. Really, really sick. I wish you would have told me sooner." She squeezes me once. "Are you feeling okay? Have you felt like you want to hurt yourself?"

I look up at her sad face; it looks like she's aged ten years. She's not wearing any makeup, and I can tell she's been crying.

"When dad hit me, I just... I wanted him to hit me hard enough I'd never wake up. I just don't think Mattie deserved to be in that much pain. It scared me, feeling like that. I guess it was because I was so angry at Jason."

"Is that why you hit him?"

"I felt like I had to stand up for Mattie. Why would he try to kill himself?"

"Lem, we're not meant to understand things like that. When people try to kill themselves, they don't know they're hurting other people, too." She sighs. "You going to be okay for a minute? I need to talk to your dad."

"No, mom. Don't tell anyone about this, please."

"Baby, it wasn't your fault. Dad needs to know you're okay. He needs to know what happened." She stands up and walks to the door. "Sit tight, I'll be right back."

* * *

Half an hour later, Jason comes in. He looks right uneasy.

Chase was right; I fucked him up.

"If you're here to give me shit--"

"No, no..." He drops his head and leans against the door. "I overheard Mom 'n Dad talkin', said that Mattie tried to take his life. I... umm... I'm not good at this, Lem, but what I said was wrong, and I didn't know that sort of shit was going on."

"I was two minutes from losing my best friend."

"He's alive, isn't he?" He has that as-a-matter-of-fact tone to him.

"Him and Ronnie have been more like real brothers than you ever have. All you and me share is blood."

"I told you I didn't come in here to start shit with you."

"Why'd you come in here at all?"

"I came in to say I was sorry--bout Mattie and what I said. I deserved every bit of it. And fuck, you nailed me pretty good." He runs a finger over a small, deep cut on his cheek. He looks at me uneasily, then back at the floor. I guess he figured he's said his piece, because he turns to leave.

"Jason?"

He stops and turns around.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

He looks at me again, and looks around the room. He tries to talk, but he can't. He leaves the door open and walks off.