10/15/00
"Do you want to take a bath with me?"
There was something too eager in the way he said it, and Billy sensed it immediately and withdrew.
"No."
The word burped out from his belly before he'd even thought. Billy looked at Daddy and The Pretty Woman to gage their reaction to her son Pierre's request. Neither said a word but he could tell by their expressions that they thought it was strange for Billy to turn down a bath with a boy two years older than himself; that such behavior was normal and there was nothing wrong in the request at all and in fact Billy was himself somehow wrong to turn down such a polite invitation so abruptly. But it certainly didn't feel normal to Billy. It scared him somehow although he couldn't quite pin down where the source of the fear came from. It was in the eagerness of Pierre's request, and the barely perceptible look of hatred that flashed on his face when the "no" came spilling out, almost automatically, from Billy's mouth.
"Just take a bath with Scottie, Sweetie. Maybe Billy is still a little shy," said The Pretty Woman. Pierre got up without a word and went to the bathroom. The sound of water splashing in the tub soon followed. Scotty came running down the hallway, naked, and seemed to take great pleasure in Pierre's company in the tub. In fact, Pierre and Scottie became immediate friends, or so it seemed to Billy.
"Billy, why don't you go downstairs and watch your tv for a while?" suggested The Pretty Woman. Since she and Pierre had moved into the house shortly after Momma's death, The Pretty Woman had changed all the house rules. He and Scotty were no longer allowed in the upstairs living room at all. The boundary line for them was the kitchen. An old tv had been purchased second hand and put in the unfinished basement, in a mildewed and musty corner, along with a ragged old sofa, and this was where Billy and Scotty were told to stay any time they were not eating or sleeping.
"Ok." Billy walked down the nail infested stairs carefully. It'd been great fun pounding all the nails into the steps (and Daddy had even encouraged the nail pounding whenever he used to be busy next door helping The Pretty Woman) but they hurt terribly on bare feet and shoes weren't allowed in the house now that The Pretty Woman had moved in. Billy missed Momma terribly and wondered if God was taking good care of her and he wondered why He needed her so much more than Billy and Scotty needed her.
The darkness of the basement always scared Billy. There were no windows and even in broad daylight the basement was dark and full of strange shadows that seemed to move in and out of the corners of Billy's eyes. The hulking rusted cob webbed octopus furnace seemed to flex its gigantic arms to grab him and pull him in to its fiery heat. The only light here was reached by crossing the entire basement and turned on by a pull string which had been broken many times and tied back together until Billy could just barely reach it by jumping for it. But he had to know the exact spot to jump in order to reach the string.
A mad dash through the darkness brought him to the spot but he missed the string on his first jump. The darkness seemed to be especially oppressive today and Billy jumped again almost in a panic now, feeling the small hairs standing on the back of his neck. He felt the grimy string on his upward leap but failed to grasp it before coming down. Now the dark was receding quickly however, as his eyes adjusted to it and the string was now well within grasp. The third jump was successful, light from the bare bulb flooded the dank basement and the panic forgotten as quickly as it rose.
"BILLY!" came a shout from upstairs. The Pretty Woman.
"Yeah?"
"Get up here, right now."
Billy searched his mind frantically for what he had done wrong now, but could find no clue. He walked up the stairs, rounding the cornered landing to see The Pretty Woman standing at the top with a package of Bologna in her hand.
"Did you get into this?"
"Well, yeah. I had a sandwich after school today."
"Goddamn it Billy. Didn't I tell you this was for supper?"
"Well, I guess. I only had two pieces though."
"Bullshit. Half this package is gone." The Pretty Woman hollered into the bathroom. "Did you boys have any of this Bologna today?"
"No ma'am." Pierre always said "sir" and "ma'am" to his elders. Billy had seen Pierre putting the package back in the frig and in fact that was why he had decided to have a sandwich too. But Billy just kept quiet about that, thinking it best not to cross up Pierre any further.
"No, but I saw Billy eating some," chimed in little Scottie.
"Well, young man. You can just go to bed right now without your supper since you've already had it," said The Pretty Woman. Billy looked at Daddy sitting at the table, but he seemed oblivious to the confrontation and was swilling down his fourth shot of Bluebird Hill Blackberry Brandy, licking his lips in appreciation and taking large draws off the cigarette smoldering in the oversized glass ashtray.
"But it's not dark yet."
"Do you want me to get the Strap?"
Billy did not want her to get the Strap, a long piece of weather stripping that had fallen off the bottom of the storm door. About three feet long and an inch wide, made of thick flexible rubber that left long red welts even through clothes, the Strap was brought out often and flailed with abandon, mostly on him, it seemed to Billy. But maybe that was because it hurt so bad. Billy didn't really think The Pretty Woman meant to hurt him, not really.
"Ok, I'm going. Good night, Daddy."
"Sleep good Billy."
"Big boys don't say Daddy, Billy. They say Dad, or Father."
Billy looked at The Pretty Woman and he could see she wanted him to say something in return but he just walked down the hallway to his bedroom. The attic door stood open just a smidgen and Billy thought he saw it move slightly, as if someone or something was hiding behind it and their breath caused the door to vibrate ever so subtly. He heard Pierre and Scottie still splashing in the tub and he knew Daddy (Dad) and The Pretty Woman were both in the kitchen. So who (what) was in the attic, Billy wondered. He pushed the attic door shut but it wouldn't stay. There was something at the bottom holding it open. A coat, maybe, or what? The light was too dim for Billy to see. Was it a foot?
Panic rising and the hair on the back of his neck standing again, Billy made a mad dash for his bedroom door and quickly got into his pajamas and under the covers of his bed. Deep under them, Billy rolled into a little ball and barely breathed, just in case whatever was in the attic came in looking for him. He wished he still had a pillow but The Pretty Woman had taken it away, telling him he would get it back when he quit pissing the bed. He rolled his arm under his head.
"Oh no," Billy said to himself. He'd forgotten to go to the bathroom before getting in bed. How could he be so stupid? What did Dad always say? He had to pay Scottie to be good but Billy was always good for nothing.
"Fuck," Billy said under his breath to himself. He didn't know what the word meant, exactly, but he knew it was a Bad word ever since he'd asked Dad what it meant and he had flown into a rage.
"You know you can always ask me any thing, right Billy?" his Father had said one day while Billy helped him stack wood for the fireplace. Billy had just heard a strange new word and decided to ask Dad what it meant, right there on the spur of the moment.
"What does Fuck mean, Daddy?" he remembered saying, just as clear as if it were this morning. And Daddy -- gotta remember to call him Dad -- just erupted in anger, his face red and veins bulging in his forehead as he yelled at Billy.
"Don't you ever use that word! Do you hear me Billy? I'll stomp a mud hole in your ass and walk it dry if I ever hear that word out of your mouth again."
So Billy never let him hear it and would himself inwardly cringe when he heard the word from someone else. One day, he overheard Dad say "fuck" in a casual fashion during a conversation with a neighbor and Billy nearly fainted straight away. Dad had noticed his near swoon and grinned at him. Grinned at him with that twinkle in his eye that said, yeah boy, figure that one out, if you can.
So Billy said "fuck" a lot now, but he never said it in front of Dad.
"You still up Billy?" It was Scottie, finally done with his bath. They shared bunkbeds while Pierre got Milly's old room ever since The Pretty Woman said Milly couldn't stay at home no more.
"Yeah. I'm still up."
"Wanna talk?"
"Yeah ok. What'd you have for supper?"
"She made chicken and potatoes. And banana pudding too."
"I thought she said we were having Bologna."
"She said there wasn't enough."
"Is there any stuff left?"
"No, Pierre ate it all."
"I'm hungry."
"You should'a taken a bath with him."
"I didn't want to."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Drake."
"What?"
"He said you're a Drake."
"What's that?"
"I don't know, but I think it's somethin'' Bad."
"I am not."
"Yeah."
"You told on me."
"And I will again too if you're mean to me again."
"You want to see mean?" Billy reached over and grabbed Scotty by the ear and twisted, hard. Scotty squealed loudly and suddenly the door blew open and there was The Pretty Woman, with the Strap in her hand.
"Billy. Stand up over here and pull down your pants."
Tears sprang into his eyes as panic welled up deep in his belly.
"No, it's ok. We weren't doing nothing. Really. I'll lay down and go right to sleep. You'll see."
"Lean over that table there and pull down your pants, now."
Billy did as he was told and dropped his pajama bottoms to his ankles and leaned over the old table with a million little cracks running across its surface that Momma had always said she was going to refinish someday. He stared at those cracks so he wouldn't see the licks coming. The first whack was just a warm up and it barely raised a welt. The second was really flying and left an angry foot long red streak across the top of Billy's back. The third was so vicious the tip of the Strap wrapped around Billy's leg and hit the tip of his wanger. He grabbed it instinctively and howled but The Pretty Woman wasn't even close to done yet.
"Put your hands back on the table, you little son of a bitch," she snarled low, almost under her breath. Her face was so close to Billy's that he could smell the teeth rotting in her mouth. Scotty was sitting, wide-eyed and trembling, pushed back against the wall. Pierre was in the doorway, smiling and looking at the now swollen tip of his wanger as Billy put his trembling hands back on the table.
"What's going on in there?"
Daddy.
"Billy's gettin' a lickin and we're watching," Pierre said to him.
"Oh. Well tell them to keep it down. I can't hear the tv."
"William says to keep it down, Momma."
"You got three more coming, but they'll wait to morning. Mpw get your little bastard ass in that bed and don't let me hear a peep out of you again, you hear me?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"You say that from now on to any adult. Otherwise I'll take the Strap to you, you little piece of shit. All you do is take up space, you know it Billy? Too bad you weren't with your ol' momma when that Bad thing happened to her. Everyone would be better off, you know it?"
Billy crawled in bed and covered his face with the blanket. The door shut and the light went off.
"Billy."
"What."
"You awake?"
"Yeah."
"Wanna talk?"
"Ok, but my wanger hurts bad, Scotty."
"Where?"
"Right on the end. It's all swollen and hard now."
"I'm gonna hide it."
"Hide what?"
"The Strap."
"Better not."
"She'll use it on me too."
"Not if you're Good."
"You was Bad?"
"Well I guess. Otherwise she wouldn'ta whipped me, right?"
"Billy?"
"Yeah?"
"I miss Momma."
"Yeah, me too Scotty. Go to sleep now."
Billy still had to pee, really bad now. The house was dark and he walked down the hall to the bathroom. Oh, it would feel so good to pee! he thought to himself as he pulled out his wanger and let the stream go. Suddenly though, he awoke in bed!
"Oh no."
The sheet was soaked and the dim light coming through the window indicated morning was very close. His pajama bottoms were soaked too. God, he had thought he was really in the bathroom but he must have only been dreaming it. Scotty was still sleeping peacefully. Billy stripped off his pajamas and rolled them in a ball along with the wet sheet and carried it all carefully down the hall to the bathroom. Barely turning on the water, he carefully washed the sheet and pajamas and wrung them out as dry as he could get them before carefully making his way back to the bedroom. So far, so good. The mattress was soaked too and Billy used a pilfered roll of toilet paper to try and dry it off. Now for the tricky part.
Taking the sheet and pajamas, Billy moved down the hallway again to the kitchen. Popping the clothes in the microwave for just a minute really dried them nice but he had to beware of the pinger. The only way to override it was to open the door before it finished, which of course necessitated leaving it like that and hoping no one caught on why. Billy put the microwave on five minutes and stood watching for a few seconds when he heard the floor creak behind him.
"What are you doing?"
It was Pierre.
"Nothing."
"I'm gonna get Momma."
"I was just hungry. I didn't get no supper last night."
Pierre just stood there looking at him, as if deciding whether waking his momma was worth this little discretion.
"Just get back to bed. Momma'll fix breakfast in a little while."
"Ok."
Relief swept over Billy as he padded carefully down the hall to his room. Pierre would go back to his room soon too, hopefully, and he could go get the sheet. Just then Billy heard the timer on the microwave going off very loudly in the still early morning. It went ping ping ping ping. The last ping hung motionless in the air, like your breath on a really cold day, and then Billy wasn't sure if it really happened or not. Oh no, the oven!
There was a smell of smoke in the air when Billy opened the door. A sinking feeling came over him when he heard a commotion in the kitchen. When he peeped around the corner he saw Dad using an old dishtowel; beating out flames which were sprouting out of the microwave and leaping up the cabinet. The whole room smelled of burning piss.
"He did it! Billy did it!" Pierre was gleefully pointing in Billy's direction and dancing up and down as he made a song of his tattle tale, around and around the kitchen he went as Dad cussed out the fire. Smoke filled the room as Billy slunk back to his bedroom. In seconds the door burst open so hard that wood splinters flew across the room and Billy found it amazing that the door stayed on its hinges.
"Billy."
Billy just sat on the corner of his bed. Speechless.
"Get over here."
"Yeah Dad."
Billy moved slowly across the room until he stood in front of his Dad.
"Do you want to live here with us?"
Silence.
The floor creaked and Billy saw The Pretty Woman come up behind Dad.
"Where is your sheet, Billy?" she asked, as if she did not yet know what happened. A trap.
"We were just discussing whether Billy want to continue living here or not. Weren't we, Billy?" his Dad told her.
"Billy, where are your pjs?"
"I put them in the microwave."
"Why on earth would you do that?" she asked, as if she were really so stupid she couldn't figure it out for herself, thought Billy to himself.
"I was dreaming."
"You were dreaming that you put your sheet in the microwave?" she asked, with eyebrows raised.
"Well, no, not exactly. I was dreaming I was in the bathroom peeing and I woke up in bed instead."
"Oh now Billy. Let's not start with that."
"No, really..."
"Honey," she said to his Dad, "Go ahead and get ready for work. I want to talk to Billy for just a minute, ok?"
"Ok, sweetie. Billy, you got yard duty for the summer, all on your own. You hear?"
"Yeah Dad, ok."
"What did I tell you?" she was furious now.
"Yes sir."
Dad left the room, muttering something low. The Pretty Woman bent low and whispered to Billy.
"I'm going to take you away and leave you somewhere no one will ever find you."
And then she turned and left the room.
"What'd she say, Billy?"
He'd forgotten Scotty was there.
"Said she's gonna take me away and leave me somewhere. Like I really care." Now Billy was sobbing and he hated to sob. Big boys never cry. Big boys never cry.
"Might not be so bad."
"What... what do you mean..." Billy asked between sobs.
"To go away."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Just away. Canada. They'd never find us there."
"Where's that?"
"I just saw it on tv. Somewhere cold. We'd need coats."
"We're too little."
"Yeah, I know."
It was time for school.
"You two get out here," called The Pretty Woman. "Billy, you can ride with me today. Scotty, you go with your Dad and Pierre. Move."
"Why can't I go with Dad too?"
"Billy, just shut up and go get in the car," she said, in a low and threatening voice that meant business right down to the bones. He did as he was told. In a couple minutes The Pretty Woman climbed behind the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Got everything?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Because we're not coming back here."
"I got everything."
As the car started down the road, Billy watched the familiar scenery roll by until he realized The Pretty Woman had failed to take the normal turn to his School.
"This isn't the way to School."
"I know, Billy. We're not going to School today."
"Where are we going?"
"Into a big, big City. There are some people there who want to meet you, Billy. They want to let you live there with them. That will be so nice, won't it?"
"I don't want to go."
"I know Billy. But sometimes we have to do things we don't like. That is how life is. You'll be ok in your new home and if you're really Good maybe you can come back and visit us sometime."
Billy sobbed quietly and watched the scenery change as they drew closer to the City. Everything looked dirty and grimy and there was no color anywhere he looked. The Pretty Woman made so many turns that Billy soon gave up any slim hope he had of remembering the way home. Finally she stopped the car in front of a huge block building with bars on the windows and chains on the doors. Huge gargoyles snarled down from the second floor cupolas that encircled the enormous building.
"Ok Billy, we're here."
"What kind of place is this?"
"A place to help you understand how to live with others, Billy. You'll see."
"Please don't leave me here alone."
"Too late for that, Billy. I warned you and warned you and you thought I was kidding, didn't you? Well, sonny boy, I wasn't. Now get out."
Billy opened the door and stepped out. Several men loitering on the corner saw the boy and sauntered closer for a look see. They looked somehow dangerous to Billy.
"Good luck Billy. Have a happy life," The Pretty Woman called to him. With that, the car roared off, leaving Billy standing in the street holding his book bag in his hand.
"Hey kid. Got any money?" cackled an old bum.
"Leave the kid alone, you," said a younger black man. "Can't you see he got hisself some real problems? Kid, whatsyou doing away down here. Who dat just drop you off. Look like your momma."
"T'wasn't my Momma. She's dead."
"Hey kid, I'm real sorry about dat. I surely am. But dat don't tell me whatsyou doing away down here."
"I started the microwave on fire."
"Man, I wish I had me a microwave to start on fire," cackled the older bum.
"Shut up you old alcoholic. Go on son, tell me about it," encouraged the younger.
"Well, see, I thought I was dreaming but I was really in bed. No. I thought I was in the bathroom cause I was dreaming but I was really in bed and I peed. So I was gonna dry out the sheet in the microwave. Works good too. I did it before. But this time I got caught and I forgot the sheet in there and it caught fire. And my Dad don't really care bout me since he meet this real Pretty Woman. She's the one who dropped me off and she don't want me there no more."
"Man, that's one sad tale, little sister. Say. Where you gonna stay now?"
Billy just looked down at the cracked sidewalk. The cracks seemed to grow under his feet.
"Well, you gotta stay somewhere. Hey little man. Tell you what. You know how to smash cans?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, you come with me and I'll put you to work and give you a place to stay and something hot to eat. What say?"
Silence.
"Well hey kid. Stay here if'n you want. Dat dere's da loony bin, you know."
"What?"
"Da nut house. You know. Da place they's takes you when you's not quite right up'n here," the man said, tapping the side of his head. Funny, thought Billy. He doesn't really look black at all. More Indian, maybe. It seemed the more Billy tried to focus on the man's face, the more it changed.
"I... I don't know," Billy stammered undecidedly
"Well, tell you what. Till you find out, come on with Wilber here and he'll fix you right up. Yeah. Fix you right up he will."
"My name's Billy."
"Well met, Billy me boy. Wilber Clark is mine but most just call me Willy these days. Used to be something, long time ago. Played ball. Way before they make da money they do today though. Got nothing out a da game but bad knees and a fractured ankle dat hurts every time the weather changes. Wouldn't change a thing though. Had me a time. Now I mostly just catch me young uns and eat em."
The man's door seemed very close all of a sudden.
"I don't want to go."
"Well Billy, I know you don't. But sometimes we just have to do things we don't like to do, now don't we?" the man smiled a terrible smile and pushed Billy across the threshold into the basement of the old building with the grinning gargoyles. Billy stumbled and fell but was on his feet like a cat. The door slammed behind him, slammed hard, and he heard the lock click. Trapped.
"Now I gotcha, kid. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for dinner. Ha ha ha!" The man turned a hose on Billy, drenching him with icy cold water.
Billy gasped awake to find The Pretty Woman standing over him with an empty glass. "Let's just say that cold water takes the place of the three licks I owe you yet. I told you to get up a half hour ago. Now get your ass up and ready for school. Right now."
Billy rose, drenched to the skin from the water once contained in The Pretty Woman's glass but thankful to find his bed dry otherwise. Now he was dreaming about pissing the bed.
Fuck, thought Billy.
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