The Escape of Bobby Ray Hammer, A Novel of a '50s Family

  "Do I have a choice?" I ask him.

  *

  I've been crying for the last twenty minutes. When I finally decide to do something about the way my life's going, seems like everything stands in my way. I don't have times like this very often where I know what to do. I'm sitting on the edge of an old cot they have in a shack out back of Leroy's house. That's where Jess and Jake stay. Jess is Leroy's father's brother and Jake's his mother's. When we came in, Jess woke Jake, told him to go in the house and sleep on the couch. Let me take Jake's bed. I asked Jess why he treated Jake like that? "Cause he's a freeloader," he said. "Don't work or nothing."

  When I get out of the shower, Jess has a towel ready for me, and by the time I get dry, he has some underclothes, a pair of Levis and a shirt. "They're mine but should fit," he says. "We look to be about the same size."

  So after I get dressed, he sits me on the edge of Jake's bed and hands me a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a towel.

  "Let's see if we can't get that right eye down to where you can see something," he says. "This business of killing people does require a little eyesight even if it doesn't require foresight. There's no use working on the left one yet. It's going to be closed for a day or two."

  "Why'd Aunt Loretta called you instead of Papa." I take an ice cube out of the towel and push it into my eyeball, put those in the towel on my left eye. Damn that shit's cold.

  "Cause she was worried about you," he says, and he seems a little peeved.

  "Worried? No, that's not what I mean. How come she called you?"

  "Cause she's known me a long time. How do you feel after that cold shower?"

  "I feel okay, but how come I can't get this nigger smell off me? Chelsey's a stinking nigger. That shower didn't seem to help the way I smell."

  "That nigger you're smelling didn't come from Chelsey," he says.

  "I know nigger when I smell it. I screwed me a nigger girl a while back. It's nigger alright."

  "What're you doing messing around with colored girls? No wonder Chelsey was so mad at you. That girl must have been a friend of his."

  "His little sister."

  "Shame on you! How'd you like to see him with Trish?"

  "Don't say shit like that. Damn you, Jess. Where's my pistol, anyway? I'm going to kill that sonofabitch. Look what he's done to me."

  "Looks to me like he was giving you the benefit of the doubt by just using his fists on you. He must have a hell of a sense of fair play. But that isn't his smell on you, and that wasn't her smell on you either."

  "Come on, Jess. I know nigger when I smell it. You got some more ice? I need some more ice. Thomas gave me some ice too and it helped the swelling a lot. But Thomas is mad at me. You know that Jess? Thomas is a friend of mine and he's mad at me."

  "The whole damn town is mad at you. No reason Thomas shouldn't be."

  "The whole town? You mean Chowchilla."

  "The whole town and everybody in it."

  "Why would Chowchilla be mad?"

  "Cause the whole damn town likes you. And you beat yourself up."

  "You mean Chelsey beat me up."

  "No. I mean you beat yourself up. You could've stepped out of that fight anytime you wanted."

  "A guy has to take up for hisself."

  "Sure does. Particularly when he's wrong. There's nothing like being wrong to make a man feel like fighting."

  "You don't know what you're talking about. I need some more ice, Jess. You got some more ice?"

  "That's the pitiful part of it. I do know what I'm talking about. I've been there more times than you ever will."

  "You still didn't tell me why Aunt Loretta called you instead of Papa."

  "Loretta's your mother. She worries about you."

  "She may be my mother, but she's crazy, Jess. She's a crazy woman."

  "Don't talk like that. You watch that lip of yours. Your mother's a fine woman. Respect her. She's the finest woman I know."

  "How do you know what she's like? How do you know her at all?"

  "We go way back."

  "Damn I wish I could quit crying. My eyes just keep running water. I told you I need some more ice. This stuff is melting fast."

  He goes to the icebox again, works with an ice pick for a minute, comes back with another rag wrapped around a chunk of ice. I watch him through a slit that's starting to open in my right eye. I take out the ice, put it on my eye. He's pulled off his shirt so I get to see all those tattoos. He has these fantastic snake-like things that run up the insides of his forearms.

  "I need to go, Jess. I've got to get my work done. Got to get my trouble over with. I can take some of this ice with me. I'm starting to see a little out of my right eye now."

  "Sit back down. What you want to go off killing somebody for? You don't have a murdering streak in you."

  "Yes I do. I tried to kill Charles a couple of months ago, but I couldn't do it. Couldn't get the job done. Tonight I can. And he needs killing. Both of them do. I'm serious, Jess, I would've killed Chelsey tonight. If I had my pistol I would've. Now I have my pistol. As soon as my eye can see, I'll kill him. And people won't mind, I tell you. I heard 'em while I was fighting. Some people were even laughing about it. One guy got me a tire tool for me to kill Chelsey with. But Thomas wouldn't let me have it."

  "I've had my turn at that," he says, like I just told him I wanted to eat breakfast or something and he had already had his.

  "Come off it. You haven't killed anyone. You're making fun of me."

  "Sure I have. I killed Germans."

  "You really did kill someone?"

  "More than just someone. Killing people was my business."

  "It must have been during a war or something. Not like you hated them."

  "Double-U Double-U II was my excuse. Strange things happen to you when you're in hand-to-hand combat. I was with General Patton. That pistol of yours. Where'd you get it?"

  "It's right here on the bed somewhere. I laid it right here. You must have seen it."

  "Here it is. I found it. No need in you trying to look for it. You still can't see much of anything anyway."

  "I can see a little through my slit. The pistol used to be Lenny's."

  "And before that, it used to be mine."

  "You gave it to Lenny? The pistol was yours?"

  "That's right. Lenny just wouldn't let it go until I gave it to him."

  "What did Lenny want it for? Did he say?"

  "Same question I asked him. Said he just liked pistols. I told him I'd give him a rope if he wanted to hang himself. He just laughed at me. 'Give it to me,' he said. 'I'll give you five dollars for it.' I thought that was pretty good, to get rid of the pistol and get five dollars to boot. So I made a bargain with him. 'Lenny,' I said, 'I'll sell you the pistol, but you've got to promise me one thing.' 'No bargains,' he said. 'You want the pistol or not?' I said. 'Okay,' he said, 'one promise.' So I made him promise that he wouldn't kill himself with it. He laughed at me, but I could tell that it bothered him a little."

  "So Lenny got the pistol from you."

  "And before that it belonged to a German," he says.

  "Lenny gave it to Charles just before he died. I took it from Charles. Can't say he really wanted to give it up."

  "Why do you want to kill Charles, anyway. What's he done to you."

  "He's rotten to the core, Jess. He doesn't deserve to live."

  "Tell me what he did to you."

  "He steals all the time. And he shoots roof tops out at Fairmead."

  "The same stuff you've done? But you still won't tell me what he did to you."

  "You don't know what he's like. He just deserves killing."

  "Tell me. What did he do to you personally that you want to kill him for?"

  "He did something once. Something I can't tell anybody about."

  "You could tell me, Bobby. I might understand."

  "But I'm not going to tell you. So don't push me."

  "Suit yourself. But you took the pistol from a German
, too. Charles is a German. Can't say the one I took it from wanted to give it up either. But he was dead, so he didn't have much choice."

  "You killed him?"

  "He had a wife and two kids. I killed him right out front of his home with his family watching."

  "He wasn't a soldier?"

  "He had a uniform on. But I worked for General Patton then. The good General loved to stand on top of an army truck and tell us we were going to take a hill if they had to haul the dog tags out by the truckload. He loved war. They always needed the trucks for the dog tags and we always took the hills."

  "I would've killed Chelsey if they'd let me. I hate niggers. That's something I didn't know until lately. I always thought I kind of liked 'em. They seemed harmless enough. But now I know, there's nothing worse than a nigger."

  "True enough. Nothing worse than nigger. It's a fact. But let me tell you something about colored people. And this is something I saw in Germany, France, Belgium, the Philippines. In Germany, it was the Jews. To a German there's nothing worse than a Jew. That's the way we felt about Japs. So now you hate colored people and you're right. There's nothing worse than a nigger. Once you've been with them, you know the truth about them. You learn to smell them. I've worked with them, even lived in colored camps. I've hopped trains, been a fruit tramp. Been a part time hobo after the war. Walked a few railroad tracks with a pack on my back. I've been with the coloreds and Mexicans until I forgot I was a white man. But I'll tell you something, and it's God's truth. The colored man never knew he was a nigger until the white man told him he was a nigger. The nigger is what the white man carries around inside him."

  "Come on, Jess. What're you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about truth. I don't doubt that you recognize the smell of nigger. It's yourself you smell. The nigger is inside the white man."

  "Come on, Jess. A nigger is a nigger. I know one when I see one."

  Jess smiles at me. "Did you use soap when you showered?"

  "What you talking about? I know how to get myself clean."

  "What do you smell, Bobby?"

  "How come you tell me all this stuff? It's always you and Loretta. But I always figured that was because she's crazy."

  "That mother of yours is a fine woman, Bobby. She's spent all these years out on that turkey farm by herself. She's always done a man's work and made her own way. How many farm women you know that work the farm by themselves?"

  "None, I don't guess."

  "She's always been too trusting of people. Some have left her holding the bag from time to time."

  "Like who?"

  "Like me."

  "What have you done to her?"

  "See this tattoo here over my left titty? Can you see enough out of that slit of an eye to see this tattoo?"

  "Ya. I see it."

  "Tell me about it."

  "You can see it. Why ask me?"

  "Just tell me."

  "It's a broken heart with "Loretta" written above it in blue letters."

  "So what do you think of that? You've seen it before. You ever wonder about it?"

  "I figured it was your business."

  "You were afraid to ask me."

  "Come on, Jess. Quit needling me. My head hearts, man. You got some aspirin?"

  He gets up, goes to the cabinet above the sink. "I knew your mother before you were ever born. Before I went away to war. I knew her like only a man can know a woman. You ever poke that little girl you go with? That one you and Leroy had a falling out over before he got killed?"

  "Come on, Jess. Why you bringing Leroy and Bev into this? I'm asking why Aunt Loretta called you instead of Papa."

  "And I'm trying to answer you, but you're not listening. I know it's hard for you to hear this, but it's hard for me to say too. That's the reason I joined the Army, went away to war. Hershel ran me off. He's mellowed about me some the last eighteen years. But I haven't pushed him on it either. I've been using Hershel as an excuse for me not living up to my obligations all these years."

  "You're still not making sense."

  "Let me try this then. You know my middle name?"

  "God, Jess. No! I don't know your middle name!"

  "It's Robert. Loretta always called me by my middle name."

  "All I can say is, big goddamn deal, Jess. Anything else you need help with?"

  "What does Loretta call you?"

  "She calls me Ray. She won't call me Bobby."

  "Because that's my name."

  "Damn, I'm tired, Jess. My head hurts so bad. If you have something to say, why don't you just say it?"

  "Okay, but don't be so hard on me." And now I think Jess' voice is about to crack, like he's going to cry on me. "It's just like you said. I'm like your Aunt Loretta. She's your mother. And I'm your old man."

  "You're what?" I stand up on my feet and look down at him through my slit. A little light's coming in from the one window in this shack. Must be getting close to sunup. Jess looks little, like he's way off in the distance. Then he turns from me like he's afraid I am going to hit him.

  "I'm your father."

  *

  I only get a couple hours sleep before Jess wakes me.

  "Time to go home," he says.

  "I'm tired," I say. "Leave me alone." I feel like I've been at his place for a week.

  "So am I. But I want to get this over. No way out this time, nobody left to blame. Let's go see your mother."

  *

  As Jess turns in Loretta's drive, I see my mother standing outside the turkey shed like she's expecting us, wiping her hands on a tow sack. Jess' hands are shaking on the steering wheel. There comes that German shepherd pup tagging along behind her with his tail wagging like he's just see his best buddy. Off by the turkey shed, I see a litter of baby kittens with their mama.

  "Is she a working woman, or what?" asks Jess.

  I feel like I've never been to her place before. But I still feel like I'm coming home. I feel ashamed of the way I look. I know it's going to hurt her to see my face. When I get out of the car, she comes running, just throws her arms around me.

  "What have they done to you? My boy. My boy. My baby boy."

  If she hadn't cried, I think I could've kept from it, but she doesn't have any shame when it comes to crying. Last night no one would look at my face, even today Jess keeps turning away, but my mother can't get enough. She has both hands with those red fingernails crawling around my face like she's soaking up all the pain. I'm wondering how much infection I'll get in my cuts.

  Finally she takes me by the hand, says, "Come on in, Jess. Have a cup of coffee with me and Ray."

  "I want to sleep," I say. "Don't need no coffee."

  So my mother takes me by the hand and leads me into my bedroom like I don't know the way. She always makes my bed for me and already has the covers turned down. I just lean back on the bed because I'm so tired. She pulls my shoes and socks off, then starts unbuttoning my pants. I won't let her do that, so she stands beside me while I get my pants off, and when I slip in between the cold sheets, she pulls the covers up to my chin and kisses me on the forehead, leaves the door open a crack.

  I sleep all day, wake a couple of times and hear the two of them talking in the kitchen and the clatter of dishes. Hear some water running. Some time in the afternoon, Mama and Papa show up. I hear them asking about me. They sound worried, but Loretta won't let them see me. Tells them I need my rest. I feel strange about laying here in bed, not being in school today, and I wonder about all the kids yelling and screaming at each other in PE, and cutting up in class, wonder what the principal, old Clyde Sonnett, is thinking about me right now. Probably planning what he's going to say when he gives me the boot. I may not give him the chance. What is the use of fighting for a lost cause?

  I wake in the evening after dark. I'm about slept out. Loretta has my fighting clothes in the washing machine, so I put on some clean clothes and walk through the dark, out to the turkey shed. My teeth hurt. When I jerk open the shed door, th
e gobble-gobble runs from where I stand clear to the other end. It's bright as day in here. I smell feathers. The floor's littered with white feathers and sawdust. I don't see anybody at first, then spot Jess with Loretta down at the far end, bent over something. I start through the shed, and the turkeys nearest me pile up in the far corner, so I take my time. No sense in spooking the gobblers. Another gobble-gobble runs the length of the shed. As I walk along, I check the bins for feed. Looks like they just finished feeding. I see an empty tow sack now and then. The thing I hate the most about my eyes being all swelled is that my face feels like I'm grinning all the time.

  "You come back to us from the sleeping dead?" asks Loretta.

  They have a roll of chicken wire fencing off one corner of the shed, and Jess shoos a few turkey's into it. Then he catches one and holds it while Loretta clips off the top part of its beak with a big toenail clipper. I helped her do this last year. It keeps the turkeys from killing one another. If one of them gets a sore, the others will pick it to death for the blood.

  "Your dinner's on a plate in the oven, Ray" she says. "And get some more ice on those eyes. Mr. Sonnett called this afternoon from the high school asking about you. He wants to see us before you start class. I want you looking decent when you go to school tomorrow."

  I guess that settles that.

  CHAPTER 44: Confrontation with Mr. Sonnett

  I feel like an ogre, like some monster out of a Grimm's fairy tale. I'm standing just outside Mr. Sonnett's office at the high school and feeling a whole lot like I don't belong here. It's nine o'clock, just between first and second period, and kids are running around making this old hardwood floor squeak in a million places, trying to get to class before the next bell rings. No one's saying hi to me. Everybody staring. A couple of freshman even ran from me. I got a call from Bev at home this morning wanting to know if I was going to pick her up. She knew that I'm in bad trouble but was still mad about me not calling her yesterday. She's a little huffy about that Prissy episode, and me having this fight with Chelsey has set her off again.

  We had to bring two cars. Loretta and Jess came with me in my car. Mama and Papa came in their pickup. Trish came with them. What a sour puss she is. Still won't talk to me. She's the one that called me an ogre, and if you want to talk about ogres, one's standing beside her right now and its name is Thomas Powers. I wish he'd leave her alone, or maybe it's her that should leave him alone. I don't know which. I just know I don't like them together a whole lot.