Ajar (7 page)

The first indication that things were not
going to go as I had planned was when I saw Gordon Martin at his
locker. “Hey, Gordie.” I walked up to him.

“Hey,” he said and stopped and looked at
me.

“How was your summer?” I asked.

He slammed his locker and said, “Great. I
gotta run.”

He left me standing there alone.

Gordon and I had been on the baseball team
for the last three years. We had gone to camp together. We studied
together. And now, he left me standing alone in a crowded hallway.
Until that moment I hadn’t really thought of Roddy Tillson or the
football team. I hadn’t thought about all of that because I hadn’t
participated in any of it. I hadn’t been to the funerals. No one
came to our home with cookies and cakes. We had lived a life of
suspended animation. This school year was just a continuation of
last, as if there had been no gap between me leaving and returning.
The stories of my brother’s heinous crimes were just some sort of
bad gossip to me. You know that feeling you get when you leave a
place, someplace familiar, like your grandparents’ or camp or you
move to a new town. Even though you know things have changed, you
somehow expect them to be the same when you get back, even though
you know they can’t possibly be. There was a part of me that
believed if I visited the pharmacy, Naomi Tillson would still be
standing behind the counter, wouldn’t she? Phil Moretti was down in
the gym, right at that moment, getting ready for the first day of
school just like every other teacher, wasn’t he? I was still the
same person I was when I walked out of here last, June, wasn’t I? I
hadn’t done anything. Why would people treat
me
differently?

I felt confused and shaken. I needed to get
away, I needed to go somewhere and think. I looked down at my
schedule and decided to head to my homeroom. Maybe there I could
sit at a desk and gather my thoughts. I moved to walk down the
hall. Brad Henshaw blocked my path.

Brad was big. He was the football center. He
wasn’t too bright but he was a good ball player. He was a bully,
too. He laughed too loud and pushed his weight around. He was
always surrounded by a shoal of smaller players.

“Well, look who it is.” He shoved me hard.
He was surrounded by his flunkies, football players who followed
him around like devotees.

“Get out of my way,” I said. Brad didn’t
usually scare me.

“What did you say?” he asked leaning down,
pretending he hadn’t heard me.

“Get out of my way,” I repeated, looking up
at him, unafraid.

I had never been in a fight before in high
school. I was usually well-liked and got along with most of the
kids. I had never done anything to get into a fight. This day
seemed no different.

“You little fucking piece of shit,” he
started to press up against me. “You have a lot of fucking nerve
showing your face here, you know that?”

I shoved him back. I just wanted him to move
out of the way so I could get to my classroom. The first hit came
from behind. It was at the base of my neck and made me pitch
forward right into Brad’s arms. I felt dizzy and lightheaded.
Brad’s fist came down on my head. I didn’t fight back because I was
too stunned. I tried to struggle to my feet. Brad grabbed the back
of my neck, his thick fingers pinching at the sides, almost cutting
off my air. He carried me like a scarecrow by the neck over to the
lockers. He began to bash my face against an open locker. I was too
dazed to help myself. I felt a searing pain shoot up through my
face to the top of my head. I could see blood, spurting from
somewhere; spraying across the lockers. Before I lost consciousness
I saw Mr. Swan, the math teacher, his glasses at the end of his
nose, peer, out from his doorway, look directly at me and then step
backwards and close the door.

Chapter
Twelve

I came to in the emergency room. I had a
concussion, a broken nose and a broken jaw. I also had broken ribs
even though I had no idea how I’d gotten them. It wasn’t until
years later that I found out Roddy Tillson had actually jumped on
my chest after I had already passed out. I had two black eyes and
was missing my front teeth. My mother saw me and broke down again.
It was the last thing we both needed. I stayed in the hospital for
a week. They wired up my face so I could only eat through a straw.
My ribs were sore and heavy making it hard to breathe. I had to
keep my left arm in a sling and my ribs taped. They sent me back to
the Lumberjack Motel with a couple of bottles of painkillers and
prescriptions for refills. Frank Hardy, the school principal,
called my uncle and said he thought it would be a good idea if I
didn’t come back to school. They would arrange for me to be tutored
at home. No one argued with Mr. Hardy.

About a week after my beating, Uncle Elliot
finally gave in and allowed us to come and stay with him. I was
glad to move out of the Lumberjack Motel, though at the time, I
didn’t think much of anything. I knew my aunt May had a lot to do
with the move. Aunt May drove over after Uncle Elliot went to work.
I was helped to the backseat of the car while my mother, Aunt May,
Dottie and Georgie transported things into the car. The children
buzzed around the car like bees. I’m sure Dottie and Georgie stole
more than they ever actually put in the car. When it was time to
leave, each leaned in and gave me an alcohol-laden kiss on the
cheek and told me to get better. I was in such a haze I simply sat
there not even acknowledging them. They gave my mother long hugs
and wished her well.

For the first few weeks out of the hospital,
it didn’t really matter where I stayed. I just slept a lot. The
painkillers kept me in a state of permanent sleep, almost like a
coma. Once I could move around a little bit, I looked into the
mirror and was surprised how beat up I looked. I’d like to say I
looked worse than I actually felt but that wouldn’t be true because
I felt like hell. The rib bothered me the most. I couldn’t take a
full breath. The jaw made things like talking and eating difficult
but it didn’t hurt as bad if I took the painkillers and didn’t move
around too much. I didn’t really feel like talking and eating
anyway. The dentist had fixed my teeth back into my face before my
jaw had been wired. I don’t remember him doing it. Mom said it was
when I was under anesthesia.

During the day, when Uncle Elliot was at
work, Mom and Aunt May propped me up on the couch in front of the
TV. Just before Uncle Elliot came home, they moved me back into the
sewing room so Uncle Elliot could watch his TV. That’s as far as I
moved for about a month; from the living room to the sewing
room.

About four weeks after my beating, the
school sent Mrs. O’Reilly to tutor me at my aunt and uncle’s house.
She was a sweet old lady. Each time she came, she had on a matching
suit and hat, little white gloves and an oversized purse which
always matched her outfit. She had steel-gray hair which she wore
tightly coiled at the back of her head. We would sit at the dining
room table. She really didn’t do much tutoring. She would give me
my work and watch me do it. I worked slowly. It still took some
effort for me to lift my hand, hold the pen and move it across the
paper. Mrs. O’Reilly would take all my finished work back to be
graded. When she didn’t think I was looking, she took tiny swigs
out of a silver flask she kept in her purse. After a few swigs she
would start talking to me about just about anything: Mr. Riley
(dead almost fifteen years), life as a citizen during World War II,
the evils of rock music and her love of Shakespeare. I liked Mrs.
O’Reilly. She was sincere, if not quite wound tightly. I don’t know
if she knew anything about my brother, but if she did, she didn’t
say anything. I sort of got the idea that she was clueless, and I
certainly wasn’t going to fill her in.

A few weeks after Mrs. O’Reilly started to
tutor me, my jaw was unwired. At the same time, all my casts came
off. I was finally able to talk. I was very stiff but I was able to
walk some by myself. The doctor said all this stiffness was normal
and when I got back to my life, things would just come naturally,
I’d start moving better. Really? Get back to my life? When was that
going to happen?

Mrs. O’Reilly asked my mother if I could
come to the library in the mornings to be tutored. She had another
student who she met with there and she thought we could benefit
from studying together. I’m sure she wanted to kill two birds with
one stone but I desperately wanted to get out of the house. The
library was only two blocks away. I knew I would have to move
slowly but I could easily make two blocks. The doctor had said that
I could slowly start resuming regular activity. I begged my mother.
She relented because she no longer had the strength to fight.

So, Monday morning, I headed to the Sawyer
Public Library. I was kind of fascinated at being out in the world
while other people were at school and work. I felt a little freer.
Most of the people on the street during the day didn’t know who I
was. It felt good to be outside in the fresh air. As sore as they
were, it felt good to move my legs, draw in fresh air. I was so
happy I wanted to bound up the library stairs, but the best I could
pull off was a stiff-legged hopping. Even then I had to stop and
catch my breath. Looking around inside the library I saw mostly
women with very young children and retired people. I finally found
Mrs. O’Reilly sitting at a table by the window.

“Well, hello, Agustin,” she greeted me
cheerily. I could tell she had already started to nip. “I’d like
you to meet Melinda.”

I look down at the girl sitting opposite
Mrs. O’Reilly. My entire body jolted and to this day I cannot
explain why. Melinda was not a pretty girl. She was thin, bone
thin. I had never seen anyone, ever, so thin except for pictures in
books. And those had been children in African refugee camps. She
looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over it. Her hair was
absolutely white and from my vantage point, I could see thinning
spots at the top of her head. Her skin was pocked and lumpy. Her
eyes were blue but they were rimmed in a pink lining. She seemed to
have a bluish cast to her skin and lips.

“Hi,” I smiled. I
smiled
. Those
muscles on my face moved into a smile, those same muscles that I
had not used in months. I was glad the dentist had been able to fit
the teeth back in my mouth.

“Hi.” She glanced up at me and then
immediately looked away.

I pulled out the chair and sat down next to
her. Her long fingers were resting on a book. They were pale with
each joint articulated clearly. Her fingernails were chewed short
and deeply imbedded into the flesh at the ends of her fingers. Her
wrist was so thin her flesh hung between the radius and the ulna.
She saw me looking and pulled down the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
Her clothes were oversized and baggy; a gray sweatshirt with
matching pants.

Mrs. O’Reilly handed us each a packet of
work. I flipped through it: some math, an essay in English about
Macbeth
and a worksheet in science.

“I’m just going to go to the ladies’ room.”
Mrs. O’Reilly got up slowly. “You two keep working.”

I watched her walk unsteadily away.

“She sure is on the sauce this morning,” I
said out loud.

Melinda giggled holding her hand over her
mouth.

“What grade are you in?” I asked looking
over.

“I think I’m in 11
^th
. I don’t
really know. I just do the work she brings me.”

I thought it was odd. How could someone not
know what grade she was in?

“I’m a senior,” I said. I then added, “My
friends call me Gus. Please don’t call me Agustin.”

“Lindy. I don’t really like Melinda.”

“I’ve never seen you in school,” I continued
trying to make conversation.

“I only went when I was a freshman.” She
looked away adding wanly, “I’ve been too sick.”

I just nodded my head. She sure looked sick
to me. Whereas, beside some unseen tape on my ribs, I looked just
fine; my bruises had all faded and my teeth were back in.

“I’m pretty good in math,” I said, “and I’m
OK with the Shakespeare stuff, but I do use the Cliff Notes
some.”

“Well, I like science,” she said after
thinking a minute, “and I like writing essays on any subject.”

“Looks like we’re a team,” I smiled
extending my hand.

She looked at it a moment, then stuck out
hers. I shook her hand. It was small, bony and cold. We had struck
an agreement. We were on our own. Mrs. O’Reilly was not going to be
much help. Soon, she tottered back and Lindy and I started our
work.

I can’t really explain it, but after meeting
Lindy, there was a feeling like I was waking after a very long
sleep. I felt things in my chest, arms, legs and head that were
new. Actually, I’m not sure if they were new but suddenly I felt
fully alive, fully awake. I slept better, I woke feeling more
refreshed. Aunt May commented on the fact I was eating more. I
couldn’t wait to get to the library each morning. I began to dread
the weekends where all I did was sit around the house and watch TV.
Uncle Elliot would not let me leave the house. He said it was for
my own safety. He had no idea of all the wandering I had already
done when we had been trapped at the motel.

I can’t really tell you what it was about
Lindy. When we first met, she rarely spoke to me. We sat side by
side, Mrs. O’Reilly across from us, doing our schoolwork. I would
try to engage her in conversation or make a joke. She would giggle
or smile at me, always with her bony hand covering her mouth, but
she actually said very little. And she was so thin. I wondered if
she had cancer or something. She wore the same outfit pretty much
everyday: an oversized sweatshirt, sweatpants and white Nikes that
were scuffed and dirty. Her hair always hung down, straight. Her
teeth were very yellow and looked dirty. She had one black tooth in
the center of her bottom jaw. I was equally attracted to Lindy as I
was repulsed by her. I didn’t understand my own fascination with
her but I didn’t really care. When I was with Lindy, I felt fully
alive.