I wish it would rain or something, but it's like it can't. Can't even make a decent cloud. This little fog just hangs off in the distance around trees and houses. Can't even get good and foggy anymore. And the sun won't come out bright either. Can't throw a good shade. I didn't know how to dress with this weather. Funerals confuse me anyway. Seems like you shouldn't dress up for bad things. What's the point in trying to look good at a funeral? I don't know. I just put on my pair of dress pants and this shirt everyone says looks so nice and wore my same old jacket I wear to school. Don't know if I should have my zipper up or down.
Charles is standing over there looking down at Lenny's grave just like I am standing here in front of Leroy's casket. He's been standing there ever since he got here. I don't like him being over there but I guess I'm not doing anything about it. Papa started walking toward him but Mama stopped him. I don't know about all these flowers stacked around on this hill of dirt either. Just doesn't seem right for a boy. Wish somebody would take them the hell out of here. I'm looking down below the casket at the dark hole in the ground, move up a little closer. Want to see what six-foot-down looks like. See what is ahead for me someday. So long Leroy.
Why doesn't somebody do something? I just want something to happen. Brother Hensen said some fine words, and I think they did help a little. Mama goes to his church, but he doesn't like me, says if I mess around in girl's pants, I'll go to hell. It's like nothing has really happened. Seems like somebody should do something to make it alright when somebody dies. I just can't figure out what would do it. Maybe I should say I'm sorry to someone.
Leroy's mother, over in that huddle, is just crying softly and going from person to person to get hugged. She asks each one of them, "Is it true? Can it be true?" Each time they shake their head yes. And then she says, "Tell me it's not true."
She goes over to her brother, bald-headed Jake, and she's leaning on him so hard I think she's going to bring him down. They both stagger a little. "Is it true, Jake? Can it possibly be true? How could this be? Not Leroy. Not my boy, Leroy." Mr. Korenski is just standing off to the side with his brother Jesse, looking like he's the loneliest man that ever lived. Then Jess leaves him, walks over to Aunt Loretta, says something. They both look over at me. Now that's a strange pair of people.
Mama and Papa come over, stand by me. Papa starts talking about wishing he hadn't got the transmission in Lenny's car fixed so soon then Lenny would have been home working instead of out gallivanting around when he got killed. He catches a shuddering breath. Then he turns his back on me and Mama, walks to the car. Mama says she wished she'd prayed harder for Lenny, like she prays for me now. Maybe I should tell them about Charles. What he said he did to Lenny. But I don't know if it's true. I just seem to make a mess of everything. Look at all these people here because of me.
Brenda is standing off to the side with her mother and father. Phyllis is with them too. Phyllis is all humped over like an old lady. Brenda goes over to Leroy's mother and gives her a hug, then starts toward me, goes back. That's the fourth time she's done that. Maybe she wants to let me know that this proves she was right about me being such a creep. But it's hard for her to be mean to people. Or maybe she wants to tell me she's sorry my friend is dead, but then remembers what I did to her.
Wayne's standing off out of the way with his daddy. They're both dressed in black. Sure makes that light red hair of his stand out. Wayne is the only one that didn't mind telling me what I had done. He came to me Monday at school, first thing. "Leroy was my only friend," he said. "I know how everyone is trying to make you feel like you didn't play a part in him dying. I can't prove anything, but I just want you to know that I hold you personally responsible." He was so business-like that he reminded me of his father.
I keep thinking about that night. When I looked inside Leroy's upside down car, the dome light was on. I could see Bev's legs through her skirt because the dome light shined through it. Bev had wet her pants. I also noticed that the glove compartment had popped open. There, scattered all over the inside of that car top, was the stuff Leroy stole and said he'd thrown away. Bev was sitting in the middle of it, that arm of hers just dangling.
They're supposed to say words of rest and peace at funerals like Brother Hensen just did for Leroy. I can't stand it that the words never got said for Lenny. He hasn't had a moment's peace since they shoveled the dirt in on him. And that's the way he still is lying over there now in his grave. He's never going to rest in peace. Trish loved Lenny more than anyone in the world because he was her biggest big brother. When me, her and Curt were sitting in our bedroom listening to Mama scream, the two of them kept looking up at me. And I always thought there was something strange about that. But now I know. They were looking up at me for an answer. And I didn't have one. Trish would look up at me with those big baby blue eyes of hers, a little bloodshot from crying, and it would just break my heart.
Charles is standing behind me now. I turn around and look him in the eyes. I didn't know that they were so pale, a pale blue. They have puddles in them and I see a reflection in those puddles. Each one of them is a small picture of me. Charles took up for me again, and this time with the police. Brock says that since Charles was at the scene of the accident, he's helped a lot to get me off. Charles starts to say something to me, but it's as if he can't find the right words. He stutters. "You didn't kill Leroy," he says finally. "I know you feel like you did, but you didn't. I know that for a fact. You may never know it." He walks off in the direction of Trish and Eugene, stops and stares for a second. I think I see Trish shake her head no. Then Charles walks on to his jeep.
Eugene glares at Trish.
I'm still watching Leroy's mother. I remember when I met Leroy in the first grade. It was the first day of school and we had to share a desk because they didn't have one for everybody. The teacher paired us together because someone had lied to her and said we were cousins. He was on the left side next to the window. I didn't like it because we had to put our papers in the same drawer. It seems like he really is gone now. And I'm getting the message that anybody can go at anytime. There ain't no telling. I just wish I could've told Leroy one thing. I wish I could have told him that I'm sorry for being mad at him all the time. If there's something you want to say to someone, better get it done quick. When they're dead and gone, you'll have a lot of time for not saying things.
Aunt Loretta comes over to me, brings Leroy's Uncle Jesse with her, puts her hand on my shoulder just like she did at Lenny's funeral. "I buried Twinkles the other day, Ray" she says. "Dug the hole myself with a shovel."
God. Why did she have to bring up her damned old stinking dog? Jess just kind of hangs off behind her.
"You just be careful from now on," she says. "I don't want to be putting you in the ground."
Jess comes up beside me. "We're all going to miss Leroy," he says. "But I know you'll miss him most. You knew him better than any of us. If you need to talk, come see me. I'm going to miss him too." He hugs me across the shoulders.
"You listen to Jess, here, Ray. Go talk to him sometime. He's a good man. But you need to come see me again, too, Ray. I have something more I need to tell you. You and me, we have so much talking to do."
I remember her at Lenny's funeral, her hugging me, the sound of Papa's pistol firing. Only now I know it wasn't Papa doing the shooting. It was Charles. I keep forgetting that. I don't know why but I thought Papa wanted to kill me.
Oh, no! I just remembered something. And now I know what scared me that night in the tules when me and Charles were doing the Billy the Kid stuff. That night, for just a second, I knew I'd killed someone. Now I know why I felt that way, and I've found the time that was missing from the day Lenny got killed. I remember coming home early from school that day. I was still having dizzy spells, and the nurse sent me home. But Papa caught me out in the field hunting with my .22, so he made me chop cotton with Delbert. "If you're feeling good enough to hunt, you're feeling good enough to chop," is what Papa
said. But I hadn't been hunting, not for rabbits like Papa thought. I had been hunting for Lenny. And I'd found him. He came out of the house, got in his car and drove off. And as he was driving off, I pulled a fine bead with my .22 and put a bullet in the back of that '48 Hudson. After that I walked to the far side of the field till Papa caught me. So I've always known, somewhere inside, that I must've shot Lenny. He must have been injured and having trouble driving when he came to that dip at the Ash Slough. Must've passed out and went off the road. I killed my own brother.
I feel so bad. I need somebody to help take away the pain. I turn around and over by a small maple tree are Phyllis, Bev and Bev's parents, Bev with a cast on her arm, standing around like she's waiting on someone, looking off into the crowd of people. I thought she was still in the hospital. I walk over and see tears rolling down her cheeks, carrying that black stuff she uses on her eyes with it. Bev's mom smiles at me. I don't say anything, just put one of my hands on each of Bev's cheeks, pull her face up to mine and kiss her on the red lipstick in the corner of her mouth. And then I hug her right there in front of Mama and Papa and the preacher and anybody else who cares to see that Bobby Hammer really likes this girl.
PART IV
Coming to Terms with Charles
CHAPTER 25: Waking and Worrying
Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I don't feel so good. I get to thinking I hear doors slam, like maybe somebody is leaving. I don't worry too much about Curt because he sleeps right here beside me. But when I wake all at once, I think maybe it's because a door slammed. Sometimes it's just Trish flushing the toilet. Then I hear her cry and cuss a little before she goes back to sleep. Sometimes it's Papa. I'll hear him walk the hall, his old boots gritting on the hardwood floor and the floor snapping and popping. I won't know but what he's going to wake me to go to the field. If it's almost sun up, if I can see a little light starting in through the bedroom window, I know he's going to get me up. But if it's still dark, I won't know if he's going to the field and maybe want me to go with him or if he'll just walk the kitchen floor for a while then go back to bed. If he goes back to bed, then I hear his door slam.
I get to thinking that maybe when a door slams, whoever's inside of that room just disappears. I know it's not true but I can't help the way I think. Sometimes I get up and walk the old cold floor to Mama and Papa's bedroom and stand by the door listening for him snoring. I feel better if I can hear him. Then I know they are still there. If I can't hear a sound, maybe I'll open their door a crack. I don't want to because I'd hate to see him on top of her. I know how she doesn't like him on her. I don't want to wake them either because Papa, he doesn't get much sleep anyway. But I have to know if they're okay, and the old door is warped so if I don't pull against it as I turn the knob, it pops open a little and the hinges squeak. One time I did that and Papa was lying there awake. The light from the moon was shining through the window on him and him all pale. Mama was lying on her side, turned away from him with her mouth open like she was dead. He asked me calm like what I wanted, called me "son" like he does when he's just real worried. I said that I wondered if it was time to go to work. I had the strangest feeling he was doing something while he was lying awake. Like maybe he was thinking things that shouldn't be thought.
Sometimes I dream that I hear a knock at the door during the night, and I go see who's there. It's always Lenny and he has earth caked all over him and he's been lost in the field and trying real hard to get home. He has a bullet wound on the side of his head. I worry that that's the way he really is, lost and injured and lonely. He wants to come back home. I have the feeling I should be doing something to help him. I always wake up shaking after I have a dream like that. Used to be it was just Lenny alone. Last night he had Leroy with him and they argue all the time.
Lately, I've heard Mama and Papa arguing about me. I think I heard Mama say they should get rid of me. She said something about juvenile hall. I don't know if that was the words she said because she was whispering to Papa in their bedroom. I know some of the kids at school have been put there. Melvin has been in and out of there twice. I don't want to believe that Mama and Papa don't want me anymore. I spend a lot of time thinking about Charles and what I should do about him. I don't really believe he killed Lenny. I just keep blaming what I do on other people. Charles even stopped the police from putting me in jail. He said he was sorry he ran over my leg out at Mary's.
When I lie awake, I think about going out with Bev again, how I must be leading her on. We've been talking about having a farm here in Chowchilla. I keep getting in deeper and deeper with that girl. A good life here isn't possible for me. Sometimes I get down Mama's Bible, she doesn't mind if I ask first, and I read the story of Cain and Abel. Maybe that's why I feel that I have to leave Chowchilla. Here's what God said to Cain:
And now art thou cursed from
the earth, which hath opened her
mouth to receive thy brother's blood
from thy hand;
When thou tillest the ground, it
shall not henceforth yield unto thee
her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond
shall thou be in the earth.
Always before I can get back to sleep, I have to say something Mama taught me years ago. "Our Father who art in heaven..."
CHAPTER 26: Digging Post Holes
I don't know if I should feel real good or real bad. I'm working with Papa on a fence we're putting in over on the Gerald place on Robertson Boulevard, between our place and town. I didn't sleep much last night after being out with Bev, so I'm still drowsy. The sight of blood was what bothered me. I've been a little shaky about blood ever since Leroy died. Papa's driving the pickup along the edge of the field with me in the back, pickup bed bumping up and down so I can hardly stand. When Papa hollers, I kick out a fence post. I have my work coat on because the fog hasn't lifted yet. My clothes are getting damp but I've been hot inside ever since last night. Once in a while, someone I know will come by on the Boulevard and honk, so I wave. Just a minute ago it was Eugene. What a time he's having with Trish. I still know she is mixed up with Charles somehow. Now, it's Brother Hensen driving by, has Grace with him. Wonder if he's been out to see Mama again? Glad he didn't stop here. Papa's usually in a good mood when we're working where he can see people, but I've never seen him grin as much as he has this morning.
I didn't know that doing it to a girl could be so scary. I thought it was suppose to be fun. First, seemed like she wanted it, then seemed like she didn't. We'd neck for a while and she'd say, "Bobby!" like she was mad at me, get back on her side of the car for a while, then come back for more. When I tried to get my hands in her blouse, she was hitting me and holding me at the same time. When it was over, I wished we hadn't done it. Now I feel better about it, I think.
Papa has two posthole diggers, one for me and one for him. He has his and he grins and walks away from me, counting the steps he wants between posts. His old hat looks like it's made from canvas, like maybe it was cut from a tarp. Looks like he's been sitting on it. Whenever he finds the next place he wants to put a post, he sticks the digger in the ground holding both handles together, actually kind of throws it in the ground, then brings the handles apart taking out a bite to mark the spot. Then he walks away through the weeds measuring the distance to the next one. I'm just standing here watching him, but I better get to work.
Bev was in a strange mood last night when I picked her up. Acted like she wanted to fight with me, scooted over next to me, closer than usual. Told me we were not going to park after the movie. Put her hand on my thigh while we were driving to town. Her hand sweated through my pant leg. Then she wanted to make out right there in the movie. I heard these two guys up behind us snickering. Embarrassing is what it was. The whole school will be talking about it Monday. Still, I'm beginning to get a taste for Juicyfruit.
I'm tired. Papa's been working on the hole right next to mine, just finished and stands watching me. We've been di
gging post holes all morning and my arms are give out. Once in a while I have to chop my way through a decayed tree root. Papa says a cherry orchard grew on this spot years ago. I'm just about deep enough on this post hole. After I break through the damp pasture grass, there's this thick brown topsoil that's wet and makes everything grow so good, at least it grows good in some places on this patchy piece of farm ground. Sometimes I run across a lost penny or one time even an old key. About a foot down the topsoil turns to clay, which won't grow anything. Then there's this grainy sand, and below that, gravel that the diggers grind in all the way down until I stop. I guess this used to be an old riverbed maybe thousands of years ago. I'm hoping I'll find an Indian arrowhead or something. I lay my diggers down and stand the post up in the hole. We have a whole row of posts leaning one way or the other. Next we will pack in the dirt so they stand straight up.
Papa says, "Let's eat lunch," so we're walking to the pickup to go home. I wonder what Mama'll have for us.
I knew Bev was mad at me as soon as I saw her. I was standing in her kitchen talking to her mother about us having more rain than normal and some people getting concerned about a flood, and then her father came in and we talked dairy farming for a little, him being worried about an old cow that had to have an operation to remove a piece of wire from one of her stomachs. Her little brother, Steven, was sitting at the table eating dinner by himself. "What do you think about the flood, Bobby?" Steve asked. "I don't know that there's going to be one," I answered. "There is," he said. "I just know it."
Then Bev came in from her bedroom, didn't say hi, just walked to the door and said "We're leaving, Daddy." Interrupted what he was saying to me. I can still see her standing there, turned slightly with her hand on the door knob, all that dark brown hair falling around her face and on her shoulders. Had on a white blouse, a red skirt and black belt pulled tight. I could hardly believe she was going with me. She looked so grown-up. But when it was over and I kissed her good night with her porch light shining down bright on us, she was shaking like a scared little kid.