Not Done Yet - 3. If It Was Just Me

If It Was Just Me

When Casey got home, it was pushing three o’clock in the afternoon, and his dad’s truck wasn’t there. He put his bike away in the garage and went in through the side door to the kitchen. When he’d left that morning, it had still been dark. He hadn’t looked around before he left, and he hadn’t turned on any lights, either, but pots and pans were scattered all over the kitchen floor. Some of the dishes were on the floor, too, broken in pieces. An empty bottle of cheap bourbon was next to the big butcher knife, and there was blood on the blade and handle, and a puddle on the counter beneath it.

He walked through the house to make sure his dad wasn’t there before he headed back to the mess. He quietly started picking up broken plates and putting them in an old grocery bag, muttering. “Might as well start with the big chunks.”

The two chairs in the kitchen were both thrown over. When he picked one of them up to set it on its legs, there was more blood on the seat and the floor. There was a trail of it leading to the door, and more smeared on the curtains and doorknob.

He barely mumbled the words, “I hope he’s OK,” As he started in on the pots and pans. He filled the sink with hot water, squeezed some soap in, and started to scrub them. Then he dried them and put them away, moving mechanically.

“Where’s that broom? I know we packed it, and it wouldn’t be worth enough to pawn.” He swept up the remains and threw them in the bag with the broken plates. The mop came out next. While he slowly worked to pick up the broken pieces of his life, tears started to form, and run down his face.

After the floors, he started working on the countertops, wiping up the blood, scrubbing the grime off the wood-grained formica. He looked at the clock on the stove. It was after five. “Where is he? He wasn’t going to work today. He doesn’t know anybody here. I wish we had a phone. I wish he had a cell phone. I wish…” His voice trailed off. He let out a sob, then wailed at the top of his lungs, “I wish I’d just stayed at James’ house, instead of wondering where that son of a bitch was, waiting for him to give a fuck!”

His chest heaved with the sobs now, “It’s not… like… it’s gonna be… any fuckin’ better when he gets here…. I just won’t be wonderin’ anymore.” He sniffed, then wiped his nose and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

After a while, he made himself a sandwich, and took it outside to eat under the tree in the back yard, despite the heat. He absently started to pace around the yard, nibbling at the sandwich, walking the fence line. For a place this close to town, it had a good sized back yard. That was one nice thing about old houses – they usually had more space around them. He did it three times before he stopped himself, and walked back to get his glass for a drink. He sat, he stood, he paced, and he started it all over.

When the sun dipped below the treeline, he went inside, and walked down the hall to his bedroom. The door frame was broken from the night before, the door off its hinges, a silent witness to it all. By his bed, he wrapped his arms around himself and began to shake. He sank to the mattress, still shaking, and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them as he rocked and shook and sobbed. After a while, he quieted and fell asleep, alone in a dark house.

When the morning came, and the blue jays started calling back and forth, Casey woke with a smile on his face, but it didn’t last long. “I wonder where he’s been this time,” he muttered, heading for the bathroom with his last change of clean clothes. Jumping into the shower, he let the warm water run over him for a few minutes before he picked up the soap and got to work. “At least, he’s not screaming about the hot water.”

Dried and dressed, teeth brushed, he studied his face in the mirror. The bruises still showed, but less than the day before. He squared his shoulders and headed for the kitchen.

When he got to the kitchen, it was just the same as the night before. He opened a Pop Tart and started to eat it, before he quietly headed down the hall to his dad’s room. Each step was slower than the one before. By the time he reached the door, his shoulders were hunched. He looked inside, and found the room was empty. The bed hadn’t been slept in. He quickly turned and walked back to the kitchen. He didn’t see his dad’s truck in the driveway, either.

Casey walked back to his bedroom and found his notebook. It was just an old fashioned spiral-bound one with doodles in the outside cover – pictures of animals and mountains. He turned to the back and found a page with a single phone number on it. He copied the number and put it in his pocket before walking out the door and climbing on his bike.

Backtracking from the day before, in time he came to the two story house with the sprawling oak tree. It was still early, so there was still an occasional breath of cooler air. A couple hours later, he’d be dripping in sweat after the ride he just took. But he stood there with just a hint of sheen to his skin. He stopped and got off the bike, but stood motionless, gazing at the house.

Behind him, a car pulled up to the curb and stopped. Jessie got out, walked around the car, and put her arm around Casey’s shoulders. When he didn’t move, she walked in front of him, took his face in her hands, and gently turned him to face her. As his eyes focused on her, Jessie softly spoke his name, “Casey?”

Casey shook himself. “Jessie! Hi. I’m sorry, I…”

“Casey? Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m OK. Is - is James home?”

Jessie looked at the boy for a second, but smiled and spoke softly, “Yes, he’s probably up in his room. Why don’t you come inside for a while? I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I hope I’m not intruding. I would have called first, but our phone hasn’t been hooked up yet.”

“No, it’s no problem. We enjoy visitors. But would you mind giving me a hand with one of these bags of groceries? I’ve only got two hands, and three bags.”

“What? Oh. Sure. Sure, I’ll be glad to help.”

Jessie walked back to the trunk, and got out a bag to hand to Casey, right behind her with his bike propped against his leg. As she brought out the last two bags and turned around, she said, “You know, Casey, James was talking about you last night. I hope you know you’re welcome here. Anytime.”

Casey looked at Jessie with an odd expression, but told her, “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Come on in. The ice cream’s melting. Do you like Blue Bell’s Southern Blackberry Cobbler?”

“I’ve never tried it, but it sounds great. I love blackberries.”

Jessie let out a light laugh. “Honey, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried it. Let’s go around back, so you can set your bike down out of sight.”

As she led the way to the back door, Casey followed, stopping just long enough to lay his bike down next to the kitchen door, before walking in.

Jessie set the bags down on the counter, and began putting away the goods. She looked over her shoulder at Casey and said, “Why don’t you go on upstairs and let James know you’re here while I put this all away. Tell him I’ll bring up a snack for you in just a few minutes.”

“OK, thanks. Uh, Jessie?” Casey shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Yes?”

“Umm. Never mind. Thanks again.” He quickly turned toward the hallway.

“Sure. I won’t be long.” As his footsteps softly faded down the hallway, she watched him start slowly up the stairs, and said to herself, “When a teenage boy walks like he’s headed for the gallows, something’s not right. James, I hope for your sake….” She shook her head lightly, and pulled three bowls down from the cabinet. Two of them could hold a pint apiece.

Casey stepped onto the top landing and called out, “James? It’s me, Casey. Are you up here?”

“In here!” The voice came from James’ bedroom. As Casey walked in, James was at his desk, writing. He had on a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a baggy black T-shirt, and his moccasins. “Hey! What are you doing here? Couldn’t wait to learn to shoot a bow?”

“No, it’s not that. At least, that’s not all. I need to ask a favor, and I don’t really know anybody else in town yet.” He shifted his weight, his eyes down.

“What is it? Is there a problem?”

“Not exactly. I really need to make a phone call. I need to call my sister and talk to her. We’re supposed to get the phone hooked up later this week, but it can’t wait. It’s long distance, but I can’t use a pay phone.”

“Let me ask my mom, but it should be OK.” He started to stand up.

“Oh, your mom said she was coming right up with a snack.”

James sank back into the chair and leaned back, looking at his visitor. “I hope she mentioned Southern Blackberry Cobbler.”

Jessie walked in right that minute with 3 bowls and 3 drinks on a tray. “I might have said something about it. Here you go, guys.” She set it all down on the desk, picked up her own bowl and glass, set the glass down on the window sill, and settled in with her ice cream. As she took her first bite, she closed her eyes and just let it slowly melt its way down her throat.

“Thanks, Mom. May Casey use the phone to make a long-distance call? He needs to talk with his sister, and their phone isn’t hooked up yet.”

“Sure, honey. You need to do your laundry, anyway. Just let him use your phone. We can leave you alone for some privacy, Casey. Eat your ice cream first, before it melts.”

James and Casey each grabbed a bowl, and not much was heard for a few minutes except the click of spoons on bowls. James was the first to set his bowl down and grab his drink. He watched Casey over the edge of the glass, scraping his spoon over the bowl before setting them both down. Leaning against the window sill, Jessie looked from one boy to the other with a thoughtful look. She picked up her dishes and put them on the tray with the others. Reaching out, she laid her arm over Casey’s shoulders, squeezing gently, and resting her head against his. “Well, was I right?”

“Yep, I could get used to that.” Casey turned and smiled brightly as he said it. Then his smile wavered and his eyes darkened a bit.

Jessie squeezed his shoulders again, picked up the dishes, and told her son, “Come on, James, let’s get your laundry started. Bring down your hamper. Sheets are next. Casey, the phone’s on the bookshelves.”

“Dude, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Make yourself at home.” He picked up a wicker hamper and walked to the door, pulling it shut behind him.

“Thanks. I shouldn’t be long.”

Casey pulled the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, staring at the number for a moment. Picking the phone up off the charger, he entered the number and paused before pushing “dial”.

While the phone rang, he sat at the desk, glancing at the paper James had been writing on earlier. It looked like poetry, but before he got a good look, the phone picked up, and Casey switched the phone to speaker.

“Hey, Sis.”

“Casey?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, I didn’t expect to hear from you. Where are you?”

“Bastrop. I’m using the phone at a friend’s house.”

“What are you doing in Bastrop? I thought you were in Taylor.”

“The same as usual. Dad lost his job, got drunk, we had to move.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling. It’s been a day and a half since I saw him, and when I went home, there was blood all over the kitchen, and his truck was gone.”

“What do you mean, when you went home? What happened?”

“The night before last, he came home drunk again and hit me. I locked myself in my room. He busted the door in, but couldn’t get past the dresser I pushed up against it. After a while, it got quiet. Eventually, I fell asleep. When I got up, it was still dark. I snuck out and took my bike out for a long ride. I got back yesterday afternoon. That’s when I found the blood. The place was wrecked. Sis, I’m scared.” His voice cracked, and tears streamed down his face.

Her voice hitched, “Oh, Casey….”

“Can I… Can I… come live with you and Mom? Please?”

It was plain that his sister was crying, when she said. “Oh, baby, you know how Mom feels. She can’t look at you without thinking about him. All the pain just comes rushing back to drown her.”

“Sis, please…,” He pleaded.

His sister’s voice cracked. “If it was just me, I’d try to find a way, but it’d kill her. You know that. She’s just not strong enough. Her body’s nearly broken. Her mind’s too brittle to adjust to it. Maybe in a few months, we can figure something out. You’re gonna have to find a way to get along with your dad a while longer, to stay out of his way.”

“But –“

“I’m sorry, baby, but Mom just doesn’t want you back.” There was a choking sound, and more crying, and after a couple of minutes, “Good bye, Casey. Take care of yourself.” Her voice was almost too soft to hear; then the line went dead.

Casey sat and stared at the phone until the dial tone came over the speaker. He didn’t make a sound, hunched over the desk. Tears fell on the desk, staining the paper there. After a couple of minutes, even the dial tone went silent. He hung up the phone and stared out the window, into the branches of the oak. The leaves barely stirred, the air was so still. He got up and walked across the hall to the bathroom and shut the door. He relieved himself and washed his hands and face. His reflection showed no sign of crying, and he put on a smile. It was almost convincing.

When he came back out again, he found James coming up the stairs with a smile. “I need to get the sheets off my bed for the next…. Hey! Are you OK?” James’ smile vanished and he rushed forward.

“Sure, but I need to go. Tell your mom thanks for me. We’ll have to put off the shooting lesson.”

“OK, but let me walk you out.”

They walked down the stairs together, James with his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Neither said anything ‘til they got to the back door. Casey halfway turned. “Thanks for letting me use your phone. I appreciate it.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He picked up his bike and rode off, not looking back. Tears were beginning to roll down his cheeks again before he got to the street.

James went back upstairs and sat down at his desk. Looking at what he’d been writing, the words were blurred in places and smeared. He frowned down at the paper.