Copperback (12 page)

Crouching
in the far back, I found a pair of sling back heels that would go good with the
ensemble. I knew everything would fit, since my size hadn’t changed much. I
still had the same slender figure that had attracted the boys, back when I was still
interested in them. At some point, though, I stopped trying; I started wearing
baggy T-shirts and jeans, no makeup, and never styling my hair, becoming a
plain Jane.

Letting
my hair air dry allowed it to curl up, giving me soft ringlets of curls
surrounding my face. I hadn’t worn it down in a long time either; the simple
ponytail or bun became my fashion trend.

I
dug the makeup, still locked in a large plastic bag, from beneath the sink. I
wasn’t sure how much of it was usable. Most of it had survived, and I put a lot
less on than I had back in the day. Standing in front of the mirror, I looked
at myself. I didn’t think I had done half bad, being out of practice. I had
been so vain, trying to be a Barbie doll in every way, and now I had become the
complete opposite. I saw for the first time that I needed a middle ground.
There was no reason to go to extremes either way.

I
stepped out in the kitchen to check the time. It was still only five, and I had
plenty of time to finish getting ready. Out of habit, I started dinner for two,
forgetting that I would be going out and Job was still refusing to eat. Well, I
would still provide him food, whether he chose to take it or not.

There
was a boxed casserole I hadn’t opened yet that looked like it would make good
leftovers. I prepared everything and stuck it in the oven for the forty-five
minutes it called for. It was going to be a boring forty-five minutes, so I
decided to make the best of it. I washed what dishes were in the sink, dumping
the uneaten meals in the trash. After scrubbing down the counters and throwing
out any litter that had collected, I looked at the timer again. I still had
twenty-four minutes to kill. Time seemed to be dragging, even as my anxiety was
building up.

I
began to clean the living room I had been living in for the last week – folding
blankets and putting them over the back of the couch, straightening the only
pillow left. I wiped rings off the end table, from glasses that had sat there
after long nights with Job. Walking back into the kitchen, I saw that I still
had over fifteen minutes remaining.

I
went back to my room and started to take destroyed clothing off of the hangers,
putting them in a black trash bag to go out on Monday. For some twisted reason,
I wondered how we were going to dispose of Job’s leg when we had finished. I
was hoping it wouldn’t be going out in my trash. It better be part of what
Sally was preparing for.

Once
the clothes were bagged, I could hear the timer go off, blaring through the
house. The smell of the casserole wafted through the rooms. After pulling it
out, it was still too hot for anyone to eat – not like he was going to, I
thought. I figured it would take a while to cool, and now would be a good time
to finish getting dressed, in case he decided to come early. I made my way back
to my room and changed into the little ensemble I had thrown together. Everything
fit perfectly, as expected.

Heading
back to the kitchen, I doled out a helping and wrapped the remainder in foil,
stuffing it into the fridge for tomorrow. It had been so long since I had worn heels,
and I was afraid of tripping on the steps and falling flat on my face. I
cautiously made my way down the steps, seeing the sandwich in the same place I
had left it. He was still sitting up, but his arms were semi-crossed, and he
gave me a scowl. I was in no mood to keep playing this game with him. My nerves
were nearly shattered by all the lying I was going to have to do, to him and to
Derrick. I could barely handle the thought of watching Job suffer, or worse. I
knew I was using my anger to keep the fear at bay, but it was the best I could
do. Someone had to break the silence.

“Are
you going to eat or should I just throw it away now?” I didn’t try to hide the annoyance
in my voice. If he had planned to starve himself to death, there was no reason
to go through with tomorrow.

“Are
you going to talk to me?” The tone of his voice reflected mine. It was
startling to hear him talking like that, but he had every right to be angry
with me, when I really had none.

“What
do you want me to say, Job?”

“Anything.
Why? What is wrong?” His voice was irritated, but his face showed different.

He
left his arms crossed, but his narrowed eyes had changed to a troubled look. I
knew, if I kept eye contact, I would start to cry again. I didn’t want to
explain to Derrick why my eyes were red and my makeup was all runny. I looked
down at my feet, searching for an answer that would make everything ok again.
The front I had set up had fallen apart.

“I’m
sorry. I’m scared. There is a lot going on. Things you don’t know about. Things
you wouldn’t understand. Please know I want to tell you, but I can’t.” I could
feel the tears starting. I had to stifle them back. I didn’t want him to ask
about it. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could deal with keeping these
secrets.

He
was silent again, and I looked over at him. He was looking down at his hands, arms
uncrossed. It was if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. I took the
opportunity of silence to put down the casserole and make my rounds, as I had
earlier. Everything looked the same as before. His skin still felt warm to the
touch. I watched him as I ran my finger across the sole of his foot, waiting
for the usual flinch of pain, but his expression stayed the same. This time I
put more pressure into it, hoping to get a reaction, but there was nothing.

“Job?
Can you feel this?” He looked up, seeing that I was pressing hard on the bottom
of his foot. It was scaring me that there was no response. This had been the
fear Sally had told me about.

I
moved up his leg, hoping that – somewhere – he would feel my touch. He still
stared – not scared, but just dazed. He didn’t quite understand what was going
on. I kept moving further up, pressing, each time with the same effect, until I
almost reached his knee. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question and closed
it again. He was pondering what was going on, and why I was so frightened. That
same fearful look I had seen when he first woke up was back again. It had
finally dawned on him something with grave results was going to take place.

“It
all feels like little…” He didn’t know the words, so instead showed me, using
his fingers and tapping them against his other hand rapidly.

“Pins
and needles.” I knew what it felt like when your hand or foot falls asleep.
“That’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.” I said it as convincingly as
possible. The reassurance I had been going for faltered in my voice, though.
There was no way to lie to him anymore. We both knew that, by morning, his life
was going to change.

I
needed to move on to a different subject. I couldn’t do this tonight. There was
nothing I could do about the current situation, and if I dwelled on it, I would
end up copping out of my date. “I’m going to be gone for a few hours. Do you
need anything before I go?” I was hoping he would ask me to stay.

“No.”
It was less than convincing. He was deep in thought, fiddling with the fringe
of the pillow.

He
needed time to absorb everything that had been thrown at him at once. I turned
to leave him alone with his thoughts. “Wait.”

I
spun around fast to see what he needed, nearly falling over in the process. He
was playing with a piece of string that had come loose from the edge of the
pillow. He was concentrating hard on it.

“I
wanted to say…you look…very…” I realized that he was not thinking of himself
any longer. I had forgotten that he had never seen me dressed up before, and
was working on a compliment. His cheeks became flushed, and it was almost cute
to see him so nervous.

“Nice?”
I had picked a simple word that could describe me. I didn’t want to be vain and
assume that he meant more than that.

“No.
Not nice…better than nice.” He was still looking down, too shy to smile
directly at me. “Are you going out with friends?”

Another
dreaded question that I would have to answer. “No. Actually, I have a date tonight.”
I wasn’t proud to say it. I could read the disappointment on his face. He had
just come out of his shell, been given devastating news, and had put his heart
out there to be shut down. I had to say something that would make it sound
better.

“I
don’t even like Derrick. He’s not my type.”

Immediately
he looked up at me, no longer disappointed. His eyes were burning with rage. I
had just said the wrong thing. There was no way to go back and fix it. I knew
there had to be hate for him, since he had been his slave, but nothing prepared
me for his reaction.

“You
won’t go out with him,” he demanded.

There
was no asking or pleading. It was a commanding tone that I had heard from my
mother many times, usually preceded by “Emily Marie O’Neil.” As much as I
wanted to listen to him, I was not going to be told what I could and couldn’t
do. It had pushed a button I had long forgotten. The stress of the week and
every emotion I had felt boiled up and lashed out at him. I couldn’t stop
myself.

“Excuse
me? You, of all people, have no right to tell me what I will do! I am only
doing this to protect you, so he doesn’t snoop around here and figure out I
have you hiding in my basement.”

“I
don’t care. I can take care of myself.” His expression didn’t change. He was
just as furious as before, and my anger was feeding off of his. He wasn’t
getting it, and my fuse was at its end. The explosion was uncontrolled.

“No,
you can’t! If you could take care of yourself, I wouldn’t have to be burdened
by you every day, waiting on you hand and foot.” I couldn’t stop the wickedness
that rolled off my tongue. I should have stopped there, but something in me
kept going.

“You’re
jealous,” I spat at him. He knew it was true and looked back down, balling his hands
into fists, ready to pound something until it was destroyed. I was completely
out of reach and wasn’t concerned it would be myself. “You actually thought I
could like you in that way? You’re not even human. You’re a Copperback. I’m
just waiting till Sally can take you off my hands, so I can be done with you.”

I
had struck a nerve in him, yet he sat quietly, refusing to respond. If he had
looked up, he would have seen that I had already felt guilty for what I said. I
was too scared to move any closer to him, fearing that he would react without
thinking and I would become part of the wall. I wanted to say I was sorry, to tell
him I didn’t mean any of it. It was too late. The damage had already been done.

I
left the little room, feeling worse than ever. I had taken all the fear I had
felt over the lies and the coming misery and attacked him with it, without
regard to how he was dealing with his situation. His anger could have been his
way of expressing his fears as well, and I had taken it wrong.

I
heard the knock at the door before I reached the top of the staircase. It was
time to put on a happy face and pretend I had never met Job. I wasn’t up to the
challenge, but I had no choice – there was no point in canceling my date with
Derrick.  Even if I did, I couldn’t go back down and face Job; he would never
speak to me again, no matter what I said. I would just have to trudge through
the remainder of my night. At least being out with Derrick couldn’t make things
back home any worse.

Derrick
had never been a sharp dressed man. I wouldn’t expect any guy from our neck of
the woods to be. I was pretty sure he didn’t even own a pair of slacks or a
dress shirt with jacket, unless he had gone to a funeral in the last few years.
So it came as no surprise that he was waiting at the front door wearing a nice
pair of jeans and black polo that matched his slicked-back hair. I felt overdressed
in comparison. I could tell his palms were sweaty, as he rubbed them together
in a nervous fashion.

“Hi.
Are you ready?” His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Yeah.
Let me just get my purse.”

Even
as I grabbed it and walked out the door to the porch, I could feel his eyes
staring at me, as though he was hoping to get me out of my skirt by the end of
the night. I hid my revulsion and quietly walked down the steps to his truck.

The
air was cool for an August evening, and I could feel the wind kick up and whip
at my hair, blowing strands across my face. It was nice to feel the breeze after
such a long string of muggy days. At least I knew my shirt wouldn’t stick to
me.

Playing
at being a gentleman, he held the door open for me and helped me into the cab.
He had taken so much time preparing himself for the date that he had forgotten
to clean out the truck. There were wrappers and dirt clinging to the floor. The
sick smell of sweat and body odor clung to the inside. A sad little air
freshener hung from the rear view mirror, trying desperately to mask the smell
with a pine fragrance. It wasn’t working, or else had been there so long it had
lost its strength. I was afraid to touch anything, keeping my hands in my lap
and away from any grime I could see.

He
let himself in and turned the key, bringing the truck purring to life. As
revolting as the inside was, the rest of the truck was in great shape. His
dad’s farm had done well for itself over the last few years; they had money to
spend, and he used part of it buying his son a new vehicle he could show off. My
poor little five-speed Cavalier looked like a joke next to it. It was rusted
orange with faded green, and almost as old as I was, but I was happy with it,
since it always got me from point A to point B.

“Hey,
I was thinking of going into Punxy, and we could eat at the Pantell.”

“Sounds
great.” It was hard to be enthusiastic about eating at a hotel, considering I
spent almost every day in one.

Punxsutawney
was a small town that had managed to get a blip on the map once a year, due to
Groundhog Day. I had never been to the festival, and wasn’t going to subject
myself to crowds of screaming college kids standing in the cold, waiting till
he saw his shadow. I was good with staying indoors and watching it on the news
the next morning.

The
silence on our way through the hills was welcome. Derrick was still too nervous
to speak up, and I really had nothing to say. I was just counting down the
minutes till I could get back home and hope to salvage any bit of friendship
left with Job.

He
finally started talking about his farm and how they were doing for the season,
as it came to a close. I mostly nodded my head in response and attempted to
look like I shared interest in his conversation by smiling when he looked my
way. It made the ride so much faster, and I was relieved to be able to exit the
stench and sit somewhere that had fewer germs.

The
hotel was grand, for most places in the area, with white vaulted ceilings and
ornate woodwork along the edging. Everything about it was pristine. The smell
of age still lingered in the place, but not in a bad way. The brass railings
along the carpet and stairs shined as though they were polished every day. The
place had to be as old as our little inn, if not older. Every part of the hotel
seemed to sparkle under crystal chandeliers. It had been remodeled years before,
but most of the old-fashioned charm had been left intact. It seemed that the
comfort I had in the place would make the night run smoother and be over before
I knew it.

We
were seated in a fairly empty section of the restaurant, so privacy was not an
issue. Again, Derrick came to my side to help me in my seat. His awkwardness
was showing, as he wasn’t sure what to do next, and it was obvious he hadn’t
been on many dates himself. Finally, he seated himself and fumbled with his
menu, seemingly debating whether to continue talking or to hide behind it. It
was my turn to strike up conversation, hoping that, by my talking, his nerves
would settle and he wouldn’t knock over a glass of water, or worse.

“So…is
your dad feeling better?” I had no idea what else to say. I had nothing in common
with him, and it was better than talking about the weather.

“Oh,
he’s ok. I think he had the same bug as you. It took him a few days, but he got
over it.”

“Well,
that is good to hear. It was a pretty nasty one.” The lie came easily. This was
going to be a piece of cake.

“You
know, I was lucky to not catch it. We probably would have had to shut
everything down. Chase must have brought it home to you. It’s a wonder he
didn’t end up with it, himself.” His nerves had started to die down, and his
voice was less shaky, but had taken on an arrogant quality.

“Yeah.
That could have been it. He practically lives at my house.” I smiled one of my
famous half smiles I was so good at. He didn’t know any better.

“Chase
is a real hard worker. We have become so close, he’s like a brother to me. It’s
like you and I are almost family.”

The
thought of being related was repulsive. I had to hide my disgust behind the
menu, pretending I had found something interesting. Putting it down, I picked
out something at random to talk about ordering.

“The
salmon looks good. Have you ever tried it?” I wasn’t a fan of fish, but I could
choke it down if I had to.

“I’ve
had it a few times before. It’s ok. You know, they have an excellent steak selection.”
He added insistently as though he was an expert on the subject.

Before
I could answer him, our waiter came over to introduce himself. He set a basket
of bread and butter on the table. “My name is Matt, and I’ll be your server.
Can I start you off with any drinks?” He had his small notepad out, waiting to
write down anything we wanted.

“I
think I’ll have–”

“We
will have a bottle of your best wine.” Derrick cut me off mid-sentence, smiling
at the waiter, impatiently waiting for him to run along and get it.

I
had no interest in drinking, and definitely not wine. I was such a lightweight
that only a small amount of alcohol would make me tipsy. The last time I had a
drink was more than two years before, when I needed some liquid courage to get
up and sing karaoke. It wasn’t the most pleasant of nights, and I was not
looking to experience it again.

I
pulled out a slice of the bread, and used my knife to cut into the butter. It
never made sense why a restaurant would serve warm, soft bread with cold, hard
butter. It was impossible to spread, and I finally gave up. I took some large
bites, trying to fill my mouth so I didn’t have to talk. Taking sips of water,
I planned on filling my stomach enough before adding the drink, to lessen the
effect.

“I
have something for you.” His nerves had returned as he reached into the pocket
of his jeans. I wasn’t sure what he had planned, but before I could even see it,
I knew it was going to be jewelry of some sort.

He
pulled out a long rectangular box, similar to the one that held the penny still
draped around Job’s neck. He handed it to me, and I could feel the soft black
velvet against my fingers. We hadn’t even been together for more than an hour
and he had already begun to shower me with gifts. He was bound and determined
to make me his.

Interrupting
us, Matt had returned with a bottle of some kind of wine and two glasses. His
presentation was very professional, setting the glasses down and holding out
the bottle in a cloth napkin, so we could see what it was. I didn’t care what
it was, but Derrick seemed pleased, and Matt proceeded to uncork it, handing
the stopper to him so he could smell it. Derrick was showing off as though he
was of prestige and should act accordingly. I had to force myself not to roll
my eyes at him. It was an act that I was already becoming sick of. He was a
farm boy, not royalty. He got his hands dirty all day long. Our server poured
the ruby-colored wine into each glass and waited for us to take a sip. I pulled
mine close to my lips, letting it touch, but refusing to let it go past that
point. Derrick, on the other hand, swirled his around under his nose, breathing
in the aroma before drinking. I was pretty sure he had no idea what he was
doing and had looked it up online so as to impress me. It was doing quite the
opposite.

Derrick
ordered a steak, while I stuck with the salmon. I wasn’t planning on wasting
any more time deciding on a meal. Matt scrawled down everything we asked for,
and was off in a hurry to tend to another table. We were alone again, the
unopened box still in my hand.

“I
hope you like it.” He was excited to see my reaction, and I pretended to match
his enthusiasm. No matter what it was, I was never going to wear it. Pulling it
open, I could see the glimmer of copper shining through the crack, lying on a
satin white bed. It was a magnificent bracelet with small copper links that had
been diamond cut, creating more dazzle as the light hit it. I was tempted to
hand it back and decline his offer, but I continued to play along.

“You
know that it was real expensive. I want you to have the best of everything.”

“Thank
you.” I took out the bracelet and put it around my wrist, letting it glimmer in
the light. It was pretty, but as soon as I got home, I knew I would take it off
and store it away somewhere, never to look at it again.

“This
will protect you, you know,” he said in a serious tone.

“Protect
me from what?” I knew where the subject was headed. I had experienced firsthand
what copper could do – the good and the bad – and was ready to act oblivious.

“You
know. Copperbacks.” He sounded almost sick, saying it. I knew that it wasn’t
the words that made him sound that way, but the thought of them.

I
couldn’t help but think about how I had just called Job that before leaving. It
was so wrong of me to use such a filthy word when he was upset and scared. I
had to keep my thoughts from Job for the rest of the night, or I would fall
apart. I cleared my throat before talking again.

“You
mean the Sayner? But there aren’t any around. The only one I’ve ever seen is the
one you own, and you said he ran off. That was a week ago. I’m sure he’s long
gone by now.” The knot in my stomach came back, but I ignored it, sticking to
the lie and staying calm.

“I
doubt he made it very far. I’m sure we’ll find his body in the woods somewhere.
I hope he’s dead. My dad hasn’t let me forget that I was responsible for him.
After he was gone, I had to pick up his slack at the farm. I probably would
have had to anyways, even if I still had him.” Derrick seemed distant and
angry. He had placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands, breaking his over-the-top
air of esteem.

“I
don’t understand. Was he a bad worker? I saw him that day, and he seemed to do
anything you said.” I was treading in rough waters, and it was going to be hard
to get back to shore.

“No.
He was a hard worker, when I could keep him in line. He would have been useless
to us for at least a few weeks, though, since there was no way he was going to
be in any shape to work.”

I
already had an inkling that Derrick knew about the beating, but I continued
feigning ignorance. I certainly wasn’t about to give away that I was hiding Job
at my house.

“What
happened to him? Did he get hurt? I thought they could do that shift thing?”

He
pulled back from his thoughts, and looked directly at me. I was able to stare
back, since my questions were honest.

“He
was out of line, and I took care of it. It’s kind of hard to shift when you
have two inches of copper buried in your gut.” He was angry, and seemed
disgusted to even talk about it. “He had no right to scare you like he did.” He
brought his anger down a notch, and even seemed slightly remorseful. “The guys
and I roughed him up outside the bar but…things got a bit out of control. I
thought we might have killed him, and threw him in the back of the truck before
anyone saw. We went in the bar for a couple of cold ones, but by the time we
came back out, he was gone. I don’t know if someone took him, or if he left on
his own. When I find him – I’m going to finish the job.”

My
stomach turned at what I was hearing. I had to have been mistaken. I knew my
voice was shaky, but I had to ask.

“So
you and Chase took care of it?” I sat and waited for his answer, scared to
know.

“Naw.
Your brother wasn’t even with us. He beat us there by a couple of hours. He
took off just after we got there. I’m sure he would have liked to join in, if
he could.” His laugh was hideous.

I
sat across from the person that had put Job in my basement. He hadn’t just
roughed him up, but had almost killed him. He was the reason for the screams
and pain Job was suffering through, and the reason we were going to have to
take his leg in the morning. It was all because Job had scared me. It was my
fault. My stomach couldn’t handle anymore.