11/00
"Why you got on a dress Scottie?" Billy blinked to make sure he was really awake. He noticed he could never blink in his dreams so he knew he was awake whenever he could blink. Scottie didn't say anything; just went on spooning cereal into his mouth with his eyes fixed on a point on the wall about five feet high, the same way he did when the Priest tried to talk to him about Momma's dying, Billy remembered.
"I told you boys, next time one of you's pisses that bed you're wearing a dress. Didn't I? Well, didn't I?"
Billy jumped for he hadn't realized she was there. The Pretty Woman's brown eyes had hardened to little steely black points radiating what seemed to Billy to be pure hatred and malice. Her body posture reminded him of a viscous crab. It wasn't going to be a good day, Billy could tell.
"Yeah."
"What? What did you say to me, Billy?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I can tell you both something else right now too. We're going to be scrubbing windows today so you may as well not make any plans."
"But I have Little League practice this morning..."
"It ain't gonna hurt you to miss one practice, Billy. Your Daddy is working and Pierre is visiting with his Daddy, so it's just you boys and me today. Do you expect me to clean all these windows myself? Well, do you?"
"No, ma'am."
"You might as well quit playing baseball anyway. You ain't no count."
"But I like to play..."
"And where do you think that's going to get you in life, huh? Life's hard. Look at your Daddy, working all the time. You boys never even see him. Do you think he likes working all the time? He does it for us and that's what you're going to have to do someday too when you have a family. So you might as well get used to it now. Go put your bowls in the sink and get the buckets from the garage."
Billy and Scottie did as they were told. After filling the buckets with water and stinky ammonia, they began cleaning windows with newspapers (the Pretty Woman said they worked best), wetting one and working it into a ball to wash the windows with then using dry sheets to dry the windows. The ammonia in the water made his fingers sore but every once in a while the Pretty Woman would come out and pour more in the bucket. She didn't help, Billy noticed, just came out every half hour or so to prod the boys.
As the morning progressed they gradually worked around the windows on the house until Billy could see the Little League field only a block away. He could see his team mates going through drills and he wondered if any of them missed him. The Pretty Woman was right, of course. He really wasn't very good at baseball. But it was just so much fun! Why didn't she understand that, he wondered.
"Why are you crying?"
"Uhh..." he hadn't realized he was.
"Oh, I see," the Pretty Woman commented as she came to the window and saw the boys practicing. "Little boy want to cry me a handful? Want to go out there now and show all your friends what a big boy you are?"
"No, ma'am."
"Then get busy." She turned her wrath to Scottie now. "Scottie! Look at you! You've got dirt all over the front of that dress! Can't you be more careful? I swear to Christ I wish you two had been in that car with your old Momma."
Billy knew it wasn't right but he felt like doing something really bad to the Pretty Woman. He pushed that thought aside and focused on the window in front of him, taking care to reach each corner and leave no streaks, turning the newspaper over and over until the glass sparkled. After a while the practice broke up and Billy watched one boy riding towards the house. By now he was in the garage cleaning the last window.
It was Bob Sell. For some reason Billy couldn't quite fathom, Bob had befriended Billy, often practicing with him and helping him improve his hitting and fielding. Billy had never had a friend before other than Scottie and he didn't really know how to react. Most of the kids in Billy's school thought he was strange because he liked to stay inside at recess and read and many of the boys would walk by and hit his arm, for no reason other than to be mean as far as Billy could determine.
But Bob was different. Sometimes he would even talk Billy up in front of their team mates, saying things like, wow, Billy can really play, have you noticed? And of course no one had, but they would all nod their heads in Billy's direction, probably because of the respect they had for Bob more than anything else, Billy figured. Still, it did kind of feel good to be noticed...
"Hi Billy. Why weren't you at practice today?"
"Hi Bob. I had to do chores."
"Oh man. The Coach is really pissed at you."
"I might have to quit anyway."
"How come?"
"Well," Billy's mind raced for a reason, just one reason... sudden he just blurted it out.
"We're moving."
"Really?"
"Yeah." How was he going to pull this one off?
"When?"
"I'm not sure. Pretty soon I think."
"Where to?"
"Aurora."
"Boy, I sure hate to hear that. Want me to tell the Coach?"
"Uh... no, that's ok. Let me."
"There's a game tomorrow. You going?"
"Yeah, if I can... I mean, if I get all my chores done."
"Well, laters then."
"Yeah. See you later."
Billy felt like an idiot for lying to Bob. He knew it would damage whatever friendship they had. The dark corner of the garage seemed somehow very comforting and Billy stood there for a long time, just trying to be like that dark corner. Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the window and Billy jumped. It was the Pretty Woman, with Pierre behind her. He must have come home when Billy was hiding in the corner.
"Get out of there. What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing."
"I've been looking all over for you."
"Sorry."
"Your Daddy just called and he has to work late again. You and Scottie can go inside and have a hot dog and some chips. Since I couldn't find you me and Pierre already ate, but there wasn't enough for us all anyway. Go on, get."
"Yes ma'am." Billy noticed that Pierre kept looking at Scottie in his dress with that odd look that Billy felt so uncomfortable about. The two boys went to their bathroom and washed up, then went to the kitchen. There was only one hot dog and no buns; only the heal of bread left. Billy put the hot dog in the microwave and split it in half when it was done. The chips were stale. Billy noticed a large bowl of banana pudding in the frig but knew better than to disturb that. Several lashes with the Strap had taught him and Scottie that very well.
"You wanna take a bath Scottie?" It was Pierre. He had the same habit as his mother in sneaking up on people.
"Yeah, sure!"
Billy knew if Pierre was here, the Pretty Woman wouldn't be far behind him. She appeared in a second.
"You boys finish eating then Scottie can go take a bath with you, Pierre. You boys leave the water when you're done, then Billy can take his bath. There's no sense in wasting water."
Billy hadn't bathed in months now. The left over water he was always forced to use had Bad things floating in it; things better not mentioned. He would sit on the toilet and splash the water with the toilet brush to make it sound as if he were bathing, but he couldn't bring himself to lower his body into that awful looking used bath water. A splash in the sink had to suffice as washing. Consequently he had developed a very annoying rash between his legs and his head always itched, especially the little bumps that formed on his scalp and smelled bad when he scratched them.
"Ok."
Billy went to his room to wait his turn in the bath. Scottie's bed sat completely bare, with only a plastic sheet covering the mattress. It had been like that for weeks now and it seemed to Billy that the more the Pretty Woman raged the more Scottie wet the bed but the two of them had ceased to talk like they used to when Momma was there. Now it was clear that Scottie preferred spending time with Pierre and the two of them often teamed up on Billy to put him down whenever the opportunity arose. Still, Billy felt sorry for Scottie and had been deeply embarrassed for him having to wear a dress today.
"BILLY!"
Oh no, thought Billy. What did I do now?
"BILLY! GET IN HERE, NOW!"
He hurried down the hall to the kitchen. The Pretty Woman was at the frig, looking at an empty container of milk she held in her hand.
"Did you do this?"
"What?"
"Put this empty milk carton in here?"
"No."
"I had just enough milk left to make your Daddy his gravy tonight, and now it's gone. Not only that, the empty carton is in the refrigerator! Goddamn it Billy, you know what I told you about that."
"But I didn't do it..."
"Don't give me that bullshit. Get the Strap."
"But I didn't do it!"
"You little bastard. I'm going to beat you bloody if I have to get that Strap myself."
Billy walked to the counter and opened a drawer. The Strap wasn't there.
"It's not here."
"Let me see." The Pretty Woman pushed Billy aside roughly and searched
to no avail. "It was here earlier. What happened to it?"
"I don't know."
"One of you boys took it, didn't you? Was it you or Scottie?"
"I didn't see it. I don't know what happened to it."
"Go outside and get me a switch off a tree then. And make sure it's
a good one."
Billy did as he was told and found a good stout branch off the willow tree;
one that he could already feel biting into his skin. He carefully pealed
off the leaves one by one, taking his time. When he went back inside the
Pretty Woman was talking on the phone.
"No, we're not moving! Whatever gave you that idea?"
Oh no, thought Billy.
"Oh he did, huh. Well, I guess we'll have to have a little talk with him. Thank you for calling. Bye now."
Suddenly the room had turned deathly quiet. Billy could hear the clock tick tocking on the wall and the sound the Pretty Woman's feet made on the floor as she walked over and took the switch from his hand.
"Pull down your pants."
"Yes ma'am."
"Why did you tell that little boy that we're moving? I felt like a complete
idiot when his mom called here."
"I don't know."
"You're just a stupid little bastard who's never going to be good for shit, you know that Billy? Now bend over and put your hands on the table."
Billy could hear the switch singing its song just before each exquisite burst of pain blossomed on his ass and thighs. But he didn't cry. That made the Pretty Woman angry though and her fury increased to such a height that Billy finally bawled more in self defense than in pain, for by now his entire lower extremities were numb. Out of breath and spent from the beating, the Pretty Woman threw the switch on the counter and stood panting.
"Now. Next time you feel like lying to someone you better pick someone else, don't you reckon?" Pierre chortled behind her while Billy pulled up his pants. Scottie came running through the kitchen naked, giving Billy a sideways glance that spoke of misdirected punishment and a wicked delight in shifting blame to someone other than himself.
"Yes ma'am."
"Your Daddy is going to be home soon. Go on and get to bed now."
"But it's still light..."
The Pretty Woman made to pick up the switch again and Billy went quickly and silently to his room. A few minutes later the door burst open.
"I just spoke to your Coach, Billy. He said you don't have to bother
going to the game tomorrow. We both feel it's better for you to drop off
the team."
"Ok."
"You're no count anyhow. Even your Coach said so."
"Yeah, I know."
"What?"
"Yes ma'am."
The door slammed and Billy lay for a long time before sleep would come. He wondered where his Momma had gone when she died and if he would ever see her again, like the Priest had said he would. He doubted it. Something that felt like a hard little seed had seemed to lodge in his chest and Billy tried to cough it out as silently as he could but after a while of trying finally decided it was going to stay there from now on and gave up trying to dislodge the feeling.