Crapalachia: A Biography of Place (11 page)

The rednecks didn’t believe and just said, “Whatever. The fuck you do.” So Russell popped off his shoes and there they were. There were two feet. And there were, count them—1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11, 12 motherfucking toes wiggling around in all their glory. Russell was always good at math.

 

And then there was Naked Joe. Naked Joe used to run into people’s yards and rip bushes out of the ground. “Fucking bush, I hate you.”

One time an old lady said she was going to call the law. He better quit tearing up her shrubs.

“The law,” Joe said. “Well you better tell your bush to quit talking so much shit.”

But then that evening we sat in Bill’s room playing Madden. Joe came into the room real quiet and then disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later he came into the room and stood behind us.

“Who’s winning?” he said. He put his hands on his hips and said, “Man this game is getting good.”

I felt something brushing against my back. I felt something sitting on my shoulder. I turned around and shrieked because right there was Naked Joe’s dick sticking in my face.

 

I always wondered why people called him Naked Joe and now I knew.

 

Then there was Bill in the middle of it all. He stood around during our backyard wrestling bouts. He pointed to the mountains around us. He pointed to Beelick Knob and said, “That’s Beelick Knob. Guess what its elevation is?”

Then he told us the story about the Greenbrier Ghost.

Then he pointed to another—“That’s Shafers Crossing. Guess what its elevation is?”

But no one listened.

Then he pointed to another mountain and we didn’t care again. Only Tiertha listened. He dreamed of his home in the Himalayas. But we didn’t, even though Bill was telling us about where we were from.

 

He was telling us about our mountains.

Then Lee Brown stopped by.

Lee was 6’5” 275 pounds. He was 18. He came from a whole family of big people though. His older brother was 6’6” and his father was 6’7” and his little baby brother Dave was 6’5” and his mom was the itty bitty runt in the family. She was only 6’3”.

 

Lee once drove all the way to Lewisburg just so he could sit in a trust-fund hippie restaurant and order a 15 dollar hamburger (raised without steroids or preservatives). He ordered, “Yes, I would like your 15 dollar hamburger but can I get it with the steroids and preservatives put back.”

They refused and he shouted, “What the hell kind of restaurant are you running here?”

I thought these were the perfect examples of American youth.

 

So we hung out that evening looking through the phone book so we could make prank phone calls. Lee and I were looking through the phone book for names. Then Bill pointed out over the mountains and he told us about the elevation of the mountains. He told us about the Greenbrier Ghost. We weren’t listening anymore because we were looking for names to call. I looked up Ruby’s old phone number. I wanted to call it and see if she would answer. Then Bill told us about Beelick Knob. He told us about Shafers Crossing. He told us about Sewell Mountain where his family was from. He told us about Stephen Sewell living in a tree, and running from the Shawnee through the rhododendron bushes before they finally caught and killed him in the woods. He was telling us about all of these places. He was telling us something important though.

 

He was telling about where we were from.

 

He was telling us about home.

We were just looking for numbers to call. We called 438-6794, but no one answered. We called 438-5812 but then it was busy. We called 438-6494 but then Bill started whining again.

He said, “Guys, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Oh be quiet, crotchless panties,” Lee said giving him hell yet again about the pair of crotchless panties.

“My mom does not wear crotchless panties.”

It was true though. One night Reinaldo and Lee came out of the bedroom after they went through her drawers and Reinaldo was wearing the crotchless panties over his boxer shorts. It was true. Lee reminded him of this, but Bill just kept arguing.

“How do I know you didn’t sneak crotchless panties in her drawer just to put them on that night—so you could make fun of me?”

Lee said: “Why in the hell would we want to take the trouble to sneak crotchless panties in here. I know you’re sensitive about it, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

It was quiet for a second. Then he said, “Like I said it’s not that big of a deal—crotchless panties.”

 

Then Lee started giving him hell about his troll love. If it wasn’t the crotchless panties—it was the fact he collected troll dolls.

Bill was famous for his troll love. One night a few weeks back Bill and Lee got into it. Lee said something to Bill about his mom’s crotchless panties and Bill just flipped. He punched Lee harder than shit in the shoulder and so Lee started chasing him. They ran outside the apartment building. Bill was barefoot and bare-chested and only wearing Dallas Cowboy boxer shorts. It had been raining. He ran out into the rain and the muddy yard.

Lee was chasing him—and then all of a sudden… Bill… slipped… his feet went out from under him… the troll flew high into the air.

 

And then everybody moved in slow motion too.

RAAAAAAAAAA
.

Bill fell into a mud puddle and the troll flew

Up

Up

Up

And then

Down

Down

Down a few feet beside him. And then in his slowed down motion picture voice—Bill shouted the words that made him famous. He reached and said from his mud puddle, “Save the Troll. Forget me.”

 

I whispered to myself now, trying to give Bill hell. “Save the Troll. Forget me.”

 

Then I stopped because Lee had already found another number to call—Junior and Shirley M. at 438-6494. He told Bill to do one. Bill didn’t want to prank phone call them, but he did it anyway. Bill dialed the number. I picked up the other phone to listen. The phone rang on the other end and then somebody picked up. It was an old woman’s voice.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello Aunt Shirley,” Bill said.

“Yes,” she said confused, and then I thought up something to say.

 

“Aunt Shirley, do you know who this is?”

 

On the other end it was quiet and then we heard Aunt Shirley shouting, “Praise Jesus. He’s alive. Honey, it’s little William. Billy, you’ve come back to us after all of these years. Billy, are you in trouble?”

 

Holy shit.

 

Billy?

What a fucking coincidence
, I thought.

But then Bill just played along even though his name
really was
William. His name really was Billy. His name really was Bill. She was confusing this Bill with another Bill she knew.

“No I’m fine, Aunt Shirley. I’m just down here at the Pit Row.” Pit Row was a gas station next to 7-Eleven.

 

He thought up a story to tell her. He came up with one quick and said, “I’ve decided to finally quit drinking firewater and come back home, Shirley.”

On the other end we listened to Aunt Shirley crying out loud with joy. “Oh Bill, you’ve reached out to us, you’ve finally reached out to us.”

So Bill started to pretend cry too.

But then he just kept going on: “Well Aunt Shirley, I’m down at P P P P P P Pits Row gas station.” Then he started doing this stuttering thing.

“I’m down at P P P P P Pits Row gas station and I need somebody to come pick me up.”

 

Bill took the phone away from his mouth and said: “Guys, we shouldn’t be doing this. It sounds like she really misses this person she thinks I am.”

I shushed him and so Bill started talking again. “Please, Aunt Shirley. Please come and get me. P P P P Please.”

So Aunt Shirley whispered in the phone. “I’ll get Junior and we’ll come and get you. You remember Uncle Junior don’t you? Of course, you were so little last time you saw him.”

 

Then she didn’t say anything for a long time, but then: “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

So Bill started hanging up the phone and pretending to cry. “Okay, Aunt Shirley. Okay. I’ll be waiting. I’ll be waiting, Aunt Shirley.”

And since Pit Row was just below Bill’s mom’s apartment—it was perfect. We looked out the window at the Pit Row gas station and waited on Uncle Junior and Aunt Shirley to show.

 

I just started laughing, it was so absurd. And then Bill said: “That was wrong of me to do. That woman thinks I’m someone she knows. She’s coming all the way down here for nothing.”

 

So we waited and waited. It wasn’t about ten minutes later that this old rickety van showed up popping and cracking and popping into the Pit Row parking lot. Then the door opened.
BAM
. Then this big man in a cowboy hat stepped out and an old woman. She looked just like somebody’s aunt. Lee watched them. I watched them too. They got out of the vehicle all fast and nervous and walked into the gas station. We watched Aunt Shirley walk around inside and Uncle Junior stood at the door smoking a cigarette. It looked like Aunt Shirley was talking to the guy at the counter. And then she walked out and looked at the pay phone on the outside. Shirley and Junior walked around the corner. Then Uncle Junior said something to her. Then Uncle Junior threw up his hands like whatever. “Where the fuck is he? That boy is nothing but trouble.”

 

It was like she was begging him to do something. “I think they’re leaving. I think they’re leaving,” I said.

 

And so they did.

 

Aunt Shirley didn’t want to, but they did. Lee said: “We should wait awhile until they get back home and call again.” And by this time Bill was starting to feel even worse about what we were doing. Bill wanted to speak up again and say they shouldn’t be doing this, but by this time he was arranging his NFL collectible troll doll collection.

 

So Lee waited a half an hour and called her again. He handed the phone to Bill. Bill didn’t do anything for a long time but then finally he said: “Aunt Shirley?” And Aunt Shirley sounded all out of breath and even more concerned, “Hey, where were you, honey?” We could hear Uncle Junior shouting in the background, telling her to put the phone down. He was telling her we were just punks messing with her—that’s all. This wasn’t her real nephew calling her out of the blue. Bill whispered to us: “What should I say?” And then he came up with something.

“Oh Aunt Shirley, I’m sorry. I had to go poop. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I drank so much firewater and then the pooping started. It was horrible, Aunt Shirley.” And then he said: “Aunt Shirley, will you come down here and get me again? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be here this time.” I couldn’t believe it. I could hear Uncle Junior shouting on the other line.

And then Aunt Shirley whispered she was sorry about what Bill had to go through. She was sorry that his parents got divorced. She knew the divorce was hard on him and his brother. She knew it was bad, but she wanted him to know that his parents loved him. She knew the divorce had a lot to do with his problems. She knew the kids teased him. She was sorry Bill’s mom was never around.

 

It was as if she wasn’t speaking about her Bill anymore, but our Bill.

 

And so Aunt Shirley showed up at Pit Row fifteen minutes later and parked the car. I watched her. Of course, Bill wasn’t even looking out the window now. He was just sitting on the bed like he was stunned. He was sitting on the bed like he was scared. So Aunt Shirley got out of the car and walked inside just like she did last time. I watched her walk around the aisles and then I watched her asking the person behind the counter a question. She walked outside to the pay phone. She walked around the Pit Row gas station—once, twice, and then three times before walking back to the pay phone. She sat down on a sidewalk and waited. She waited and watched the cars passing by on the street. Then she waited some more—a half hour, an hour, two hours, three hours. It was dark. She put her hands over her eyes and buried her face in her fingers. She was crying. Bill said: “Someone should go out there and tell her we were just joking. Someone should tell her that she doesn’t know me. She has me confused with another person.”

 

But no one did. I just sat up in the window and watched her waiting. And she was still waiting there that night when we opened 40 ounces and drank them. She was still waiting there the next morning when we awoke. We started playing video games, and we didn’t say anything to one another. Bill didn’t say anything either. He acted like he didn’t want to leave the apartment ever again—like he knew something no one else knew.

 

 

He knew there were two lives apportioned for each of us and there were families who we’ve never known who are out looking for us tonight. Even tonight they are out there searching for us. They are wishing to tell us who our true mother was. They are wanting to tell us who our true father was.

 

Listen: They are coming for us.

 

They are wanting to tell us our true names.

I took her to the Methodist church she used to always go to. Usually she only went once a year. She went on Mother’s Day because they gave a fruit basket to the woman who had the most children. Since Ruby had 13 children, she always won the fruit basket. Of course, she could care less about the yearly sermon, but she always liked the free apples and oranges. So I was surprised when she called and asked me to take her that Sunday. It wasn’t Mother’s Day and they weren’t offering any prizes. I borrowed Bill’s car and I drove her to the church.