Deep in the Heart of Me (39 page)

I get on my feet now. I need to get out of here. I can't stay here, it's hot and close, and they're all listening and…I don't know what they want…I do. They want me like they had me. Like I've been to boy’s camp learning how to canoe. No. That ain't where I've been.

I don't take Sobe’s picture. That girl, I trust that girl, I know that girl. It's like she's separate from the real one with the teary eyes and the perfect tormenting beauty. I see her now like I've not seen her all along.

I've had my hands all over her, and I was the one to keep it…me, the rude, rough animal that I feel like. I was the one to stop us when I felt wild, and she would have let me, she had her hand on my leg and a question in her eyes, she'd of done anything for me, and I said we had to stop because it's her over me. It always has been.

"You won't leave, will you, Tonio?" Ebbie says, still on the ladder.

"Move."

I climb down. My father is there. He is wearing his coat and hat, and he hands me mine.

That's good. I'm going out. I see Maman's face, her pale, sad, worried face.

I don't want them to hurt.

I go out, and my father follows me.

We barely clear the steps, and his hand is on me, but he's pushing me. "Keep going," he says, "away from the house."

He shouldn't worry. I'm going. I think the barn but he tells me the bunkhouse.

I want to be alone, but I go in that direction. I get in there, and he follows, and he closes the door, and I stand there, hands deep in my pockets. I'm staring at the bed rolled now because Shaun doesn't need it and it's cold enough I see my breath.

It's dead in here, like a tomb.

He starts to build a fire, and he tells me to light the lantern, and I do even though it's noon. But there's no sunshine.

"Sit down," he says pulling a chair at the table there.

"I'll stand," I say.

He almost looks at me, but he's still arranging the fire, getting it going. There's more gray than ever in the hair along his neck and in his whiskers. It makes me feel worse.

"Best you stay out here," he says. "You come in for supper so your mother doesn't get her heart broken more than…."

"Just like them, telling me every move," I snap.

He finishes the fire and stands, dusting his hands. "I came home…from the war…it takes some time to get back to the regular."

I can feel my lips bunched, my chin too. I'm staring at him. "I don't need some damn lecture," I say because he needs to know I've had enough.

He stands on the other side of the table, his hand on the chair and he's looking at me pretty even.

"I'm going to give you a few simple things. You will respect your mother and me."

I'm just looking at him.

If I leave, Ulie won't have a place to come to, and they won't let him out.

"I didn't know I was leaving. I just…decided," I say. I ain't gonna hear about it rest of my life.

"You just took off," he says. "Don't say it like angels came down and moved you across the river."

"I ain't."

"I'm not going to provide the punch in the nose you're looking for," he says.

"First time for everything then," I say.

He looks pretty surprised. Guess we ain't supposed to ever mention how he used the strap on us boys when we didn't suit him.

"I got it set up with Frank. You can do delivery with him and Mike for a spell," he says.

"I got anything to say about it?" I say.

"No," he says back.

I laugh like he's a real prize, which he is. Big shot of nothing. I’m his son. But it doesn’t mean…what it did. I thought it was iron. Nothing could touch me. But I’m ripped apart now. I’m ruined.

"Yes, boss," I say like he's Massa. We only ever said that behind his back, but now I don't give one shit. "But so you know, it ain't gonna work you talking to me like I'm Joseph."

We do have a good long stare after that.

"You're right," he finally says. "You ain't yourself."

"You don't think this is me?" I pretty much sneer because I got news for him, this is it.

"Now you have to be a man about it. Those that feel sorry for themselves get caught there. You have to be a man now," he says talking over me.

"I can do a man's work and take a man's beating. Don't tell me I'm like you because nobody's throwing me a party. Not when you've been where I have."

He always told us how it was when he came home. How folks paid for his beer and invited him to their homes for dinner.

They were heroes.

He laughs some, but it's sad. "You're right," he says. "Guess you're going to have to work it out your own way. Guess you have to show them who you really are."

"And who's that? You can't say you ain't ashamed. Wasn't for Ulie I'd go away from here and let you forget about me."

“You’ll work with Frank, and you’ll stay put.”

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’ve seen you for real. You couldn’t do shit to get me out of that school.”

He's quiet for a spell then he grabs that table and flips it out of his way and the chairs, and he takes me to the wall then, and he's breathing hard, and I've got my hands on his arms, but I don't fight him, but he is dangling me over a place I've been too much over the year. I am holding myself way tighter than he is.

He's close to my face, and he's breathing. "You think you can piss on us because they let you out? You think you can boyo?" He's shaking his head, shaking his head and putting pressure on my shoulders and he pushes them even harder into the wall.

"Get off me Dad."

He holds me for a few more seconds. Then he drops his hands quick and his chin. He's looking to the side like he's surprised he pinned me. I'm surprised I let him.

He clears his throat and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. He’s wiping over his upper lip, then his whole face. Still he doesn’t look at me. "Up to you what kind of man you become. You took off before I could talk to you. You have to give yourself some time. That's all.”

It’s a tidy little speech.

“Now…you stay put, and I'll have the boys bring out your things and your supper. If you have to go…to see Pat or…whatever you need…all we ask is you let us know. There is church in the morning, and you can leave for Frank's. You can stay with him during the week."

"How long is this for?" I say.

"I don't know how long," he says. "Up to you. Your mother will want you back on the weekends. She…she misses you to the point she gets…it's hard."

"I don't want to be bothered," I say. "And I smoke now, so you know."

He looks at me again. I'm about sick of his long looks. "Not in the barn."

"No, Sir," I say like I did at the school, and it makes me sick to hear it.

"You have to respect yourself," he says to me. Thank God his hand is on the knob.

He does look at me now. "You have to respect yourself."

"I do," I say, but I've no idea. I held onto myself in there, I thought I did, until now. I seem so far away in my mind, so cut loose from all of this. I don't have any idea about any of it, I don't even know what he's talking about.

"We milk at four," he says. Then last thing before he’s out, “My guess is you went for Sobe.”

I look at the floor.

“It will get better. You have to give it time.”

“You don’t know about it,” I say.

“Well…give it time,” he says.

Thank God he goes out. There's no way to lock the door, but I stick a chair under the knob. Then I unroll Shaun's old bed, and I flop onto it and never, not even at State, have I felt such despair.

I hear the tapping through a haze of bad dreams and deep sleep. It's cold in here and dark. Is Ulie tapping on the wall?

No. I…I'm home. I'm in the bunkhouse.

I sit up quick, and my chest pumps and my mouth is open, and I cough, and I'm looking around.

The tapping on the door continues. I asked them to leave me alone.

I get up in the dark, and something scurries near my foot. I go to the fireplace, and there is nothing to spark up. I'll have to start over.

At the door, I dislodge the chair from beneath the knob, throw it aside and the door sticks but I pull it open, and it wobbles a little from the force because…I thought…I didn't even know…I just fell asleep, that's all.

Joseph stands there holding a big bundle of stuff. I don't move, and he comes anyway, pushing against me as I stumble back.

"You ain't staying," I say as he dumps his stuff…which is my stuff, on the floor and rights the table. I got my blanket around my shoulders, and I'm kind of surprised he's not listening to me. Then he goes around me and back out and here he comes with a plate of supper he'd left on the porch.

"I don't want all that," I say stalking back to my bed and flopping down on it.

I hear him at the fireplace scooping ash. He goes out and in a few seconds I hear wood dumped in the tub, and he's setting the fire. Soon there is the crackle and smell of kindling taking off.

Then he's fussing around like my maid.

"You ain't staying," I say without looking at him.

He doesn't say anything to that, but I hear him moving still, packing my clothes into my duffel, not that I'm looking.

Next, he's filling the lamp, lighting it and setting the chairs right and the food he's brought. Finally, he nudges me. "Here," he says.

It's the plate of food and the way this goes I say 'No. Now get.' But that's not how it goes. I'm hungry. And whatever else, it’s not hard to be around him.

So I sit up some, and the fire is starting to pierce the cold, just a little. "Mom send you out here?"

He nods and shoves the food toward me again and this time, I take it.

“Did you see Sobe?” he asks. Do they all know my business?

"I told her to go on to school. She can go live in Europe for all I care," I say. I lie. But I know Sobe Bell will do whatever she pleases.

"She won't go. Not with the fascists," he says confidently.

I stare at him for a minute. He's more of a quiet, person, not always so sure. But that sounded so strong I want to lean on it myself even though I know it comes from Dad reading them the newspaper.

"Didn't stop her before," I say. "Miss Rivers mustn't fear the fascists."

"She has family in England. She tells Dad England isn't dangerous."

"She can go back then. By herself."

"She's American," he says like he's memorized the 'Miss Rivers Times.'

I don't want to talk about her anymore.

I take a good look at him. He's skinny and knobby and catching up to this deep voice he's got. Catching up some, but there's a way to go.

“Miss Pat's all right," he says.

"It's that side-car, ain't it? You take up for her because you like that ride."

"She's Sobe's guardian," he says.

"She doesn't know when to quit," I say. I don't know why I'm talking so much.

I just eat then. If he wasn't looking, I might lick my plate. Then I do anyway.

"Want more?" he says.

I think about it. What I want is to see Sobe. I don't like the way we left it. We were doing just fine before…well before we weren't. If we could just be by ourselves for a while. I should not have gone to that school. But she didn’t want to be Maman and I…I didn’t want her to be Maman. I had no plan to put so many children in her. I should have said that.

But that time has passed us by. I have a feeling the wheel won't hit that mark…. I broke with her. All this time…I am broken off with Sobe.

"What's it like in that State School?" Joseph says.

I laugh some while I get a smoke out of my coat. "You think I want to talk about that?"

"They say some of those places…they whip the boys and that," he says.

The way he's looking at me…I know how he can get. He lets things break his heart so easy.

"I'm home, ain't I?" I say lighting up.

He's going to ask me for a drag, but I'm not going to start it. Then he'll be bumming off me all the time, and that won't do.

Not that I'll be around much apparently.

"What do they say about it round here?" I say.

He chews on his thumb for a minute. "They say…'why'd he kill him?' That kind of thing. They say a lot, but we don't answer.

Except Ebbie…he fought a couple of times and Tillo hit him, and Ebbie lit into him. He's got a wallop."

I sit up. "When this happen?"

"Pat took care of it," he says. "I went over and told Uncle John."

"Not Dad?"

"He…was gone…seeing to you."

"Why'd Tillo go for Ebbie and not you?" I say. Joseph and Tillo are same age.

"I ignore it," he says.

"Ignore it?" I say.

This is travesty. It took me years, well all my life to get it fixed in their minds…don't mess with Clannans. And I'm gone one year, and we're knuckling to the Smiths?

"Well, I'm home now."

"No, you're not," he says. "You have to leave tomorrow to stay with Uncle Frank."

"I can take care of the Smiths before I go," I say.

"Utz ain't around. He works for Otto now."

"Since when does Otto Smith work?"

"Since he took poorly. Utz quit school. Tillo is hardly there. He'll quit altogether is my hope."

"Why do you keep going?"

"Well, Miss Pat…. Anyway, it's not so bad."

Miss Pat this and that. Lord, it's worse than I knew. She's got her claws in all of them.

"You wanted out worse than me," I remind him.

"It's something to do," he says.

"Oh...you sweet on someone?"

He gets very red.

"Oh," I say. Same age as me when I fell for Sobe.

I know I've pledged several times in my life, even at State School to do better by him.

I like this, smoking…maybe being with him. He's close to Ulie though they ain't much alike. But I been in this place…boys around. Most I won't give another thought to, even if they haunt me some. I can't fix their lot.

Ulie, end of May we're going for him.

I fall asleep somewhere in there, listening to him go on about the dairy Dad plans to build. It's comforting to know they carried on, and it hurts some too, but hurt doesn't keep me awake like it used to.

We wake for milking. Joseph does, then me. I feel heaviness on me.

It hasn't changed. Dad wears his goofy winter hat that covers his ears and snaps over the top of his head. Ebbie works quiet. Joseph too. That milk hits the pan, and it's warm in here, warm enough they let it down, and our hands grow warm on their big teats.

State school…it was the comfort, the closest thing to being home…milking. For a minute I’m confused. Where am I? And Joseph calls out to Dad, and I know.

I’m home. I kissed Sobe in here first time. I've gotten better at it, kissing. I ain't mad at her anymore. I don't know if I ever really was. I’m just sad now. Twisted inside.

At the house, Mom makes over me, and I go in back, and Pee-Wee has drawn my water, and I take my time washing up cause I haven't washed good since coming home. I remember…this…water splashing in the pan, the smell of Fels-Naptha…the others laying the table and the chatter. The gaggle…and the wounded herd that can’t hold its own with Tillo.

And I think of that cold lavatory at State and how they beat me there, those soap slick boards against my face. I won them over. But what if…that’s all I do? I just lose now. I keep losing? What if I used all the luck God was ever going to give me to stay alive in State School, and now…I’m out?

Tears sting my eyes, and it makes no sense at all. I wash them away. I scrub.

Pee-Wee watches me from the doorway, and I smile at him while I work the rag back of my neck some. I try to hide the trouble I feel, and he is shy and too bold all at the same time. He looks like Joseph. He acts like him too, maybe some Ebbie thrown in, and that's a strange combination for sure.

We have a good breakfast, and I don't have much to say, but Maman gives me too much food, and I eat all of it. Ebbie comes in from taking the milk cans down, and he used the sled.

It hasn’t changed. But I have. That’s the thing. Dad says to give it time, but I already know it won’t go back like it was.

"I'll hitchhike into Mauman."

"In this weather?" Mom says.

"It don't bother me," I say, and they are quiet and all looking at me, and even Granma is looking at me like I've sprouted antlers. "Well go on and talk," I say. Then they do, but it sounds like they are play-acting at first.

"We know you went to Sobe last night,” Elsie pipes up. “You have no right to tell Sobe she can't go to school or do anything else, Tonio Clannan."

I can't believe my ears. I look up from my pancakes and Elsie is giving me the evil eye. The spirit of Rivers is everywhere!

"Who asked you?" I say.

"You can't even write a letter, not one letter in a year!" she says.

"I wrote Mom," I say.

"The most pathetic letter…no news at all. You had her worried," Elsie yells.

I feel no pressure to defend myself. If I'd of written the truth, they wouldn't have allowed it to be sent, and I'd been in trouble. Not that I'd have written anyway, and never Elsie. It didn't pain me at all to not hear from her. I wish her no ill, but she's only given me grief. Mostly grief. I'm proud of her, but I don't require much other than her doing well and making the folks happy. So I've got nothing to say. Nothing I want to bother with.

My father would have me say how sorry I was, but I'm not sorry so I motion Joseph should speed it up.

"Go on and ignore me just like always," she says. "And we're supposed to all be happy because the little Lord and Master has returned. Well, I for one…I don't care!" She bolts from the table then, jarring everything some.

Mom says her name as Dad says, "Here, here."

I look at Joseph and shrug, then Ebbie, only he looks sympathetic to his twin.

Little Lord and Master? Where does she get her jibes? She's meaner than ever apparently.

Elsie is quickly back, finger in the air. "And you should apologize to Miss Rivers. She's the best thing to ever happen to this family. She's going to help me the way she's helping Sobe."

I am watching this performance and refusing to give her what she wants. She is driving the knife in me, but I’d die before I knuckle to her.

I don't like Rivers. And I might not like Elsie. Not very much.

"Good for you," I say, draining my glass of milk and standing.

"Oh, go on. I wouldn't want to make you late. But if you think about it, Sobe has many more boys around her now. Real gentlemen," Elsie says. “Fact is, Sobe doesn't want to get married until she's eighteen!" Elsie says in this loud ringing voice. "But you won't take no for an answer. I swear you are an embarrassment, Tonio," she says very dramatically. "She probably wants to go to Europe just so you can't follow!"

"All right," Dad says, barely lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

"It's true, but no one will say it," Elsie continues.

"How is it God gave us so many disobedient children," Dad asks Mom. "Children who can't even hear their own father when he says, that's enough!"

"We're the ones who had to go to school and answer all the questions and the taunting. Did Dad tell you how they threw eggs at our truck? We came out of church, and everyone saw it. Dad had to attend meetings, the church board, the school board. He got off the boards for not being able to rule his own house. They wanted to punish him…punish all of us for what you did!"

Dad stands quickly. "That is enough Miss Elsie," he roars.

"Why can't he know?" Elsie thundered back. "Why is he so favored that he can't know what this cost us in pride and money? Short-handed and the boys taking the brunt of it at school, what is so special about Tonio that he can't answer for his sins but if I don't put the dishes away in time I have to go to bed an hour early when all I want to do is study anyway!"

"Elsie!" Maman says.

"I'm sorry Mother. Dad. But Sobe is my friend too. He caused all this trouble to our family because he wouldn't listen to Sobe. He's a thief and a fool. It's common knowledge he stole Otto Smith's mule. He broke up the school, he's been in jail and reform school. He won't go to church, you just watch him. And now he smokes. He sets a poor example for the boys, he ignores the girls like they are beneath him, he's not home one day, and he's got every eye on him, all the attention, everyone worried because he doesn't have the sense God gave a billy goat when it comes to thinking of others. He sees his mother is ill, and he adds to her sorrow. I say…I say get yourself to Mauman and good bloody riddance!"