Darnay Road (14 page)

“I
heard,” he says. I jump up and take the empty glass inside. I fill it in there
and bring it to him. He is still sitting there and he says thanks this time so
that’s good.

He
drinks it all down again.

“You
want a sandwich?” I say.

“What
kind?” he says with interest.

“Bologna,”
I say already taking the glass. I go in and Little Bit hurries past and runs to
Easy and he is laughing and holding her. I sigh because she’s just impossible
sometimes slipping out when I told her to stay in. But she just loves Easy.

So
I get the bologna and mustard and Wonder Bread that builds bodies twelve
different ways and I make two bologna sandwiches. I even slice a tomato. And
that stack of food looks just like a Dagwood.

I
put this on a saucer and fill the glass again with red Kool-Aid this time as I
always have so much with Abigail May gone. I take all this outside and he takes
the plate from me and I sit carefully on the step beside him, and I don’t spill
a red drop.

He
eagerly takes the drink and drinks half. I look to see if he made a moustache
and somehow he didn’t. He has the lightest fuzz on his chin. I don’t know if
it’s the first sprouts of a beard or something.

He
tears into the sandwiches, just not embarrassed to eat in front of me at all.
The tops of his legs are way longer than mine and kind of hairy.

“So
you live with your mom?” I ask.

He
stops chewing for just a dot, then he goes at it again. He looks at me and I’ve
taken Little Bit cause she is so interested in his food but bologna gives her
diarrhea.

“My
mom,” he says licking his fingers and taking the last bite of the first
sandwich. “It’s not like this. You can’t come over.”

Well
that hurts my feelings. Aunt May wants me over and Abigail is gone.

He
looks at me before he bites that second one. “It ain’t because I don’t want it,
but Mom…she’s…sick.”

Oh.
Oh no. “What’s…you don’t have to say.”

He
shrugs and eats. And he doesn’t say.

Well
the embarrassment is there for me. He was so awful that day, and Cap behind him
looking at me, at us. Doesn’t he know I’d never just show up on his porch
again?

“I
don’t want to talk about that,” I say. My feelings still hurt.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He
laughs and finishes and swipes his hands together. Then he drinks the rest of
the Kool-Aid and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“Got
any more?” he smiles.

My
eyes get big. More than two sandwiches? Holy smokes.

So
I make two more. I never in my life knew a person could eat four sandwiches.
But as long as he keeps eating, I’ll keep slapping that bologna on bread.

So
we have a great time. I rake the grass and he trims along the flowerbed with
Granma’s hand-shears and she gives him two dollars. Our yard looks swell as can
be.

Then
he asks me if I want to help him do Miss Little’s.

“What
for?” I say. I don’t go to Miss Little’s. Well just that one time.

“It’s
too long,” he says.

A million things go
through my mind. Mostly Granma, but more than that. Why would he care about
Miss Little? Nobody does. Nobody seems to. And the kittens. If I find them now,
Granma will not let me keep them since I already have Little Bit.

“Maybe
she likes it all a mess,” I say.

“Maybe
she don’t,” he says and he’s getting that angry look that scares me. “Maybe she
can’t help things.”

I
swallow. “Well she might go crazy if she don’t like us being around.”

He
nods. “She don’t like it we’ll leave. I’ll talk to her.” He has the prettiest
eyes. They are not so scary deep inside, they are just very sad in there.

“I
have to…ask Granma.”

“Just
get the rake and come on,” he says.

“I’ll
catch up,” I say.

He
pushes that mower down the street and I go up the porch stairs.

“What
are you cooking up?” Granma says from behind her magazine. Pretty soon
Edge
of Night
comes on.

“I’m
going to help Easy,” I say.

“With
what?” she asks her glasses showing over the top of the page.

“Down
the street with another lawn. I’m gonna bring the rake. I’ll bring it back,” I
say. I turn to leave and grab the rake.

“What
about lunch?” she calls.

“Already
ate,” I say and I’m walking a little more quickly.

“Georgia
Christine?” she says, but she doesn’t get up, I can tell by the set of her
voice.

“I’ll
be home later,” I call, but I don’t look back. I’ve got the rake and I’m
running now.

Easy
is already in Miss Little’s yard. He’s walking through the tall grass, kicking
it aside while he looks for rocks and trash that might break his blades. I look
at the house. I don’t know about my kittens.

The
windows aren’t open even and it’s hot as an oven. I don’t know what it’s like
in there.

Is
she even alive?

“She’s
asleep in there probably,” Easy says going past me with a broken chair that he
takes to the curb.

“You
think so?” I say. Well how does he know?

He
don’t answer. He picks up an old rusted trashcan that’s been laying on its side
half buried. There are holes right through it all around. He takes this to the
curb too.

I
look around and I don’t know where to start. My arm already aches from raking
Granma’s. But it’s getting stronger every day. I see a mat for wiping your feet
at the front door stuck so deep in the hardened mud I don’t know if I can get
it out so I start to pull.

 
Easy sees and he comes over and takes hold and
I let go and he has to pull and twist before it comes free. He flings it
through the air toward the pile on the curb.

There
are boards from where the porch broke through, and they aren’t any good anymore
so Easy takes them to the curb. There’s an old breadbox near the wobbly fence
along the front. How would that get there? And old coffee cans everywhere. Soup
cans too. Hasn’t Miss Little ever heard of taking out the trash to an actual
trash can? Doesn’t seem so. She’s even got an old TV tray out here, all ruined
and rusty. And this is just the front yard and part of the side.

I
keep looking at the house, at the windows. Just those old yellowed and broken
blinds.

So he starts trying to
cut a row and I keep finding more and more junk. It is a terrible effort but
“Every Litter Bit Hurts,” has never proved more true.

It
takes over an hour just to get the front yard down. Miss Little never shows. We
turn the spigot on at the side of the house, and I cup my hands and get some
water and it tastes like rust. Easy drinks too, and he throws a handful of
water on me and I forget not to squeal, but it feels so good we throw water on
each other then.

“Let’s
go swimming,” he says.

“What
about this?” I say, meaning the rest of the disgusting yard.

“We’ll
come back when it’s not so hot,” he says.

“I’ve
got a pass for the pool,” I say. Granma got me one even with my broken arm.

“Not
there. I don’t go there. I mean the river,” he says pulling off his shirt and
wiping all over.

Well
I don’t know. I mean…the river?

“I
um….”

“I’ll
go home and get my bike. You wait here.”

“By
myself?”

“Miss
Little don’t bite.”

“I
ain’t waiting here.”

“Well
you go home she’s never going to let you go,” he says meaning my Granma. He
already knows and has a way around it.

“What
about her rake?” I say, fishing for a reason to say no.

“Leave
it here. Miss Little won’t use it,” he laughs and then he just goes and I want
to follow him and I do some and I see how much more work we have to do to set
this place right.

So
I’m waiting and looking at the window where I saw those kittens of mine that
day. I about scream when Miss Little pulls back the blinds and looks at me.
That red hair and those eyes. I go running toward Easy’s house. I wish I’d gone
the other way but I can’t now. I follow that path and the long grass swipes my
legs. I get to that back fence and there is still no sign of him. I go beyond
Miss Little’s to the wide open grassy place the tracks run through. I’m looking
at Easy’s house, but I know he has that terrible dog and he said not to come
there.

So
I just sink to the ground to sit and wait. I’m about so tired I could fall
asleep, but I never will with Miss Little about. It’s hot, too hot to sit in
the sun so I move where Miss Little’s back fence growth throws out some shade.
“Come on,” I say. I’m saying that for Easy to come.

And
I look there and what am I thinking about? Two boys dragging something. I don’t
want to think it, but I am. I hear the whistle and I know it’s the two-fifteen.
I don’t want to be back here when it goes by, but in my mind I see it. Two boys
dragging something alongside Miss Little’s, and how it must have been. I don’t
want to think about it, but that train comes along and there it is, I look up
the track and the train cars go through quick, but not so quick, not if you
look at them. Ricky said if Mr. Caghan had been standing the train would have
knocked him some, but laying on the tracks, he got dragged eight car lengths.
And they had to….

That
train ends and Easy stands there with his bike. He pushes it across the tracks
real quick and then I stand up and he already sees me. He looks troubled. “I
thought you left,” he says.

“Why?”

“Well…I
was gone a long time,” he says.

“What were you doing?”

“Mom.
She…wanted oatmeal.”

“Oh,”
I say. “Why did Cap go to Tennessee? Cause of your dad?” There it is. Maybe I
have to ask something about it.

“I’ll
tell you at the river,” he says.

So
we walk behind the houses, that long row and we go back there all along Darnay,
and I’ve never seen things from this side, from near the tracks, from behind,
same houses I had figured out, but they are different from back here, bigger,
smaller, like they have a whole other life. Even Aunt May’s, and I bite my
salty lips and it’s hot but I don’t mind, walking with Easy. I don’t hurt
inside and I don’t feel so alone when I’m with him.

We
get on his bike once we’re past my block. It’s fast then. I can see we’re
headed for the Quick Shop, and I hold on tight to the handlebars when he shoots
into the parking lot.

I
hop off and I can’t believe I’m on this short sidewalk in front of this place.
Granma would wear me out if she knew.

I
see Jennifer and a couple of girls from sixth standing next to the door.

“Wait
here,” Easy says, already digging in his pocket. He pulls out that money Granma
gave him.

I
don’t know what to say. Soon as he goes by those girls they say, “Hey Easy,” in
voices so high and gooey.

I
am holding Easy’s bike. He asked me to of course. Those girls talk amongst
themselves and then they come over to me, Jennifer leading cause she knows me.
They have thongs on and painted toes, teased hair and tight flips and make-up.
I try not to stare at Jennifer’s chest, but she has that bra on probably cause
she has two pokey things under her shirt. Well they all three aren’t as skinny
as me, just a kid.

One
of the girls is smoking. She has stuff on her face that is orangey. It’s Cover
Girl. Me and Abigail see it at the five and dime. Well we did, I mean. But this
girl has a line along her jaw and then her neck is white. I don’t think it
looks nice and I probably will never wear it, but that girl has pimples and I
hope I never get those.

“Hey
Georgia,” Jennifer says.