Venus was about to pop out of his forehead. Ian didn’t know what that meant but he heard a teacher at school talk about how the goddess Venus was born when she burst out of another God’s head. That’s what Ian felt like.
He sat up on his little bed and got a look at his reflection in the window. His eyes were red and puffy, the right one almost swollen shut. Blood had caked on his temple where one of the rocks Howie Shupe had thrown at him connected.
Ian pulled down the collar of his tee shirt, now ripped and holey. He looked at the slashes that cat had made. It wasn’t the cat’s fault. Howie had picked up the stray by the scruff, shook it in the air and then threw it on him. Still, Ian hated cats. He jumped when he touched the scratches the claws had made in his neck and shoulder.
His head was just pounding. He could see himself holding his head in his hands, his reflection divided by the crack in the window. He reached out and put his fingers on the crack, hoping not too much cold air would come in when the winter came.
“Boy!” He heard his uncle yell. It made him jump. Uncle Nate’s squalls always made him jump. “Boy, I said git yer worthless butt in here! Don’t make me come afta you!”
Ian was still a little wobbly but managed to get up off the bed and open the bedroom door. He could see his Uncle Nate standing there, hands on his hips and fire in his eyes. Before he could take a step more, Nate grabbed him by the scruff and yanked him the rest of the way in the room.
Uncle Nate slammed him down on the floor and pointed. “You give this kid that shiner?”
Ian tried to focus his eyes. The swift kick in the pants didn’t help much. “Answer me boy!”
The drawn back fist came into focus. Ian looked toward the two figures that had been in the corner of his eyes. There stood fat old Howie Shupe, arms crossed, smile on his face and a big black eye. Beside him was his Mama, hands balled into fists and steam coming out her nostrils.
“Don’t you even try to lie yer way outta this one, young man. Two other little boys already told me what you done.” Mrs. Shupe sneered.
Nate yanked the boy to his feet. Ian looked at his Uncle. “Yes, sir. I whomped him.”
“You got a devil in you child. I swan, you just the devil reborned.” Nate popped him on the back of the head. “Why’d you beat up this boy?”
“I didn’t beat ‘im up, Uncle Nate. I was a tryin’ to git away from ‘im”. Ian swore.
“You liar!” Howie had a speech problem, so it sounded more like “Ew why-ah!” He looked at Nate and then to his mother. “He done hid a hind a twee, den jumped on my back and beat me up! I tawt he gonna keyuw me.”
He rubbed his fat little hands together and faked some sobs to his mother. “I was so skeered, Mommy. I tawt I was gonna die!”
“Oooh, sweetheart.” Mrs. Shupe pulled the boy to her hip and kissed the top of his head. “The little rat is gonna get punished. Mommy promises.” She whipped her head to Nate.
Howie squinted his eyes and smiled at Ian. Ian waited for whatever was coming next. He knew he didn’t have a choice. It came in the form of his Uncle Nate grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
“Why’d you beat this boy?” Nate shook him and Ian struggled for breath. “He’s fat and ugly but that ain’t no scuse.”
Ian clawed at the hands around his throat. Mrs. Shupe reached over and swatted at his Uncle. “Lan’ sakes, Nate Ransom, don’ kill the little brat until we gets a good confession.”
Nate threw Ian down in the floor. His uncle kicked at the pile he’d made of Ian. “Kitch yer breath dammit, and tell me why.”
“I dint do it, Uncle Nate. I swear. I was jus’ tryin to git away. I swan!” Ian gasped. “He was a beatin’ me up!”
“Ew whyah!” Howie screamed.
Nate whipped his head toward Ian’s accuser. “Shut up, Butterball! I’m talkin’ to the devil. When I wants a list a yer sins, I’ll ask.”
“Nate Ransom, there is no sense in…”
“You, too, bitch.” Nate cut Miss Shupe off and raised his backhand. She grabbed her son and took a step backwards. “Now, what was the fat kid a beatin’ ya up fer?”
“Which time?” Ian had to ask.
“Which time?” Nate straightened up his shoulders. “Whatcha mean which time?”
Ian had had enough. He wobbled up off the floor and put his hands on his hips in defiance. “Ain’t that hard a question Uncle Nate. If ya wants to know why he was a beatin’ me up, ya gots to tell me if was this morning when he riled that old stray cat up and hit me wif it until I gived him ma lunch, or after school when he threw rocks at me cause he didn’t like the butter sandwiches I had in m’poke!”
“He ain’t done it!” He incensed mother insisted. “That child’s a lyin’!”
Ian was busy looking at Howie who was looking back with a grin. Ian almost yelled when he felt his uncle’s rough hands grab him. “Let me see you, boy.”
Nate grabbed Ian by the chin and craned Ian’s head roughly from side to side. He touched the bloody knot on his temple. Then he ripped up his shirt and touched the bloody scratches all over Ian’s belly. “I’ll be damned.”
Ian had never seen that look on his uncle’s face before. He put his hands on Ian’s trembling shoulders and he slowly turned his head until he locked eyes with Howie Shupe. Nate was on his knees, so he and the boy were eye to eye.
Howie Shupe started trembling. “I dint do dat. That kid’s kwazee, a kwazze whyah. He jump me aftuh school an’ beat me up.”
Nate stood up and reached behind the boy and his mother. Ian took a shocked breath when Nate whipped his shotgun from the frame of the door, cocked it and pointed it at Howie. Mrs. Shupe screamed.
Nate whipped his aim from Howie to his mother. “Shet the fuck up bitch. I got two shots. You wanna go first, open yer trap one more time…” Ian knew the man meant business.
“Now…” Nate pointed the Winchester back at Howie. “Fat ass, why you beat this boy up? He aint got nothing, and you decide ta whip ‘is ass fer his lunch. Then do it agin, cause ya didn’t like the spoilins?”
Howie was physically shaking. His tears weren’t fake this time. “I don’ wike buttah sanniches…” he wined.
“Sa that gives you the right ta jump this boy twict?” Uncle Nate’s eye was beading done the barrel. “Who’s the “whyah” now fat ass?”
Howie peed in the floor. “I sawwy.”
“Tain’t good ‘nuff.” Nate spit. “First ya beats this kid twict, then when he pokes ya in the eye ya go running home ta mommy like the fat ass sissy you is and lie.” Nate took a step toward the in shocked mother and the urine smelly kid. “Whip ‘is ass woman.”
“What?” Mrs, Shupe said.
He flashed the gun at her. “I said whoop his ass! Now!”
Sobbing, Mrs. Shupe turned the boy across her knee and swatted at his behind.
“I said whoop it, not tap his hiney!”
Ian could see the woman grit her teeth. The next crack made a pop. The next even louder. When she was satisfied Nate was satisfied she stood up and let the screaming child fall to the floor. Nate reached down and yanked the chubby boy to his feet.
“You listen ta me, kid. You ever come near Ian agin, if you so much as even look at him from crossed the road…I’ll kill ya.”
“Yeth tha.” Howie rubbed his eye and nodded. “I stay fah fah away.”
“Now git!” Nate kicked the door open. Howie was out almost faster than humanly possible for a child of his girth to move.
“There won’t be any more trouble Mr. Ransom.” Mrs. Shupe tried to be dignified.
“No they won’t.” He grinned at her, gun still pointed in her direction. “I never make a promise I don’t keep.”
Mrs. Shupe nodded her head and backed slowly out the door. When she disappeared from view, Ian saw her shaky hand come back and quietly pull the door to.
It was quiet for a moment, the stink of urine and sweat filled Ian’s nostrils. He should have been prepared for the swift whap of his uncle’s backhand across his cheek. It caught Ian by surprise and knocked him to the floor.
“Don’t you ever make me hafta fight yer battles agin!” Nate reached down and grabbed Ian off the floor by the shirt and britches. It knocked his breath out when he slammed him back down on the floor.
Ian could feel Howie’s urine soaking into his clothes as his uncle used Ian’s body as a rag to clean the floor. The urine stung the scratches already there and the new ones being made by the splinters of the old floor as he was drug back and forth across it.
He tried to open his eyes, but he was so tired and scared. He hurt all over. Venus wasn’t finished coming out of his forehead. He kept hearing voices…voices through the pounding in his head.
“Papa?” The little voice said. “Papa, I’m here…”
He felt something, someone squeeze his finger. People were moaning and crying. He couldn’t focus for all the tears and the moans. There was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up from his own sobs.
“Mr. Justyn?” The nurse said. “It’s time to go.”
He felt arms go around his waist and a head lay on his shoulder. Something tugged at his fingers. Ian looked down. He was breathing so hard he was having trouble focusing his eyes, but the tugging on his fingers.
He was there, in his arms, and his perfect little hand tugged his finger. “My baby…” Ian choked. “My boy…”
“He’s beautiful, Ian.” Aunt Hil said, trying not to sob.
Ian looked at her, eyes red with tears, but a strong smile on her face. “Com’mon son. It’s time to go.”
She tried to help him take a step toward the door. Ian looked back. He knew he shouldn’t, but he had to. He only caught a glimpse of her face before they pulled the sheet up. His knees buckled with a sob.
He felt hands all around him, holding him up, clutching him. There was so much pain, his body was racked with it. He felt himself being led to the door. He wanted to go back. He couldn’t leave her alone.
Someone grabbed his chin. They made him turn his face toward them. “Child, look at me.” He felt the pull on his chin again. “Look at me.” Aunt Hil’s voice said. “You gots to move on, honey.”
“It hurts Aunt Hil.” Ian’s lips were trembling so he could barely speak. “It hurts so much.”
“I know. Believe me I know.” Ian felt her strong warm hand slip from his chin to the back of his head. “But she’s still here. Look, child. She’s still here.”
He let her gently push his head down to focus on the bundle in his arms, the baby tugging at his finger. The child opened his eyes and looked back at him. They were Taylor’s eyes…and her little nose. He felt the baby’s strong grip pulling his finger to his perfect little mouth, her lips.
All the black, black hair; just like hers, just like his. Ian’s heart leapt. He was holding his wife in his arms, but she wasn’t still. She wasn’t that gray lifeless color. She was pink, and warm and so, so tiny.
The baby sighed. The baby looked at him and sighed.
Ian trembled. There was so much pain. He hurt all over. He looked up and saw the figures in the hallway. Jude and Janie and Kyle, all clutching each other and all wailing so loud. It made his head hurt.
He looked down at the child, the sweet innocent child.
Suddenly he was somewhere else, cowering in the corner terrified. His Uncle Nate was standing over him, smelling of liquor and his own vomit. Ian shook his head.
His mind roared back there. The bodies were the same, but the faces were different. The cowering child in the corner had his wife’s face, his baby’s innocent eyes, and the drunken man in the dirty underwear was him.
He wanted to scream. He tried so hard to cry out, but his voice would only escape in piercing silence. He pulled the baby boy to his chest. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Ian held the little head with his hands and held it to his tear stained check. He was so warm and fragile. How could he stop that from happening this baby? How could he keep him away from the life of tears and pain he had already been born into?
He focused on the figures across the room. They had noticed him standing there. They wiped their eyes and tried to look strong. No one said a word. No one could kill the horrible silence hanging between them.
He started to cry again. The tears stung his face as they dripped from his eyes down his cheeks and off his chin. He took a heavy step, clutching his son so tight.
Ian knew he had to get there. He knew it was the only way to save him. He throbbed with pain. Another step, his feet were like lead pulling through cold tar.
“He’s so perfect.” She said, eyes so red and cheeks so puffy.
Ian kissed his son’s head and pulled him down to look at him. The baby squirmed ever so gently. His little fist went to his mouth, and he opened his eyes and smiled. Just a little, just enough to make Ian have to catch the sob hurling from his chest.
“He looks just like…” She couldn’t say it. Kyle’s hand went to her back to give her strength.
Ian could only nod his head. The pain was more than he could stand. One more burst of energy was all he needed. That was all.
It was hard. He wanted to hold him close. Instead he held the perfect child to her. He saw the look in her eyes. He had to lean in just to keep standing up, almost crushing the innocence between them.
He felt her take him, hold him. He felt her warmth. He could see her look in his face, Taylor’s face, and smile. She looked up at Ian.
It ripped all his skin away, but Ian took a step back. Janie looked at Kyle and Kyle looked in Ian’s eyes. Ian could feel the salt spraying over the wounds where the skin of his heart had been.
He looked down at his baby boy. The baby opened his eyes. His touched his little nose and brushed the pad of his finger gently across his cheek. Ian closed his eyes and memorized the sweet pink softness of the baby’s skin.
His kissed him, so gently. A tear fell to the baby’s forehead. “I love you. I love you with all my heart.”
Ian stood up straight and took a deep breath, then turned around and walked away into the darkness of the pain.
It was dark. Uncle Nate was passed out in his bedroom. Ian had to run and hide again. He had found a place in the hayloft. He could stay up there for hours and no one could see him or find him. There was just enough of a hole for him to look out. He could see almost all the inside of the barn from there.
If he crawled real softly he could get to another place where he could look down and see Mister Jude’s room. He had watched him sleep several times, so he knew that he couldn’t be seen. Ian decided that if things got bad again, he could live there. He’d be fine, unless Uncle Nate got some cows or something and needed the hay. That would be the day!
He liked it there. He could hear the cicadas outside, and he liked the smell of the hay. The barn was musty and old, a little drafty, but it wasn’t much worse than the house. Ian always made sure that when he came out of his hiding place to shake off real good, and to use Mister Jude’s mirror to make sure there wasn’t any hay stuck anywhere to give him away.
Ian had slept a good while. He didn’t know what time it was. He figured he’d stay the night, and crawl down about the time the sun came up and make breakfast. The chickens were getting old and there were only three eggs on most mornings, but that was enough to feed his uncle and mister Jude if he came by.
Ian was just about to fall asleep again when he heard the barn doors squeal open. “Jude? Jude?” A voice called. “You here?”
He could see a woman standing in the moonlight. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, but strong and more than plain. She looked around the barn and called again. “Jude?”
“Prudie?” He heard Jude’s sleepy voice. “Prudie, is that you?”
“Oh, Jude.” The woman rushed to Jude as he appeared from the tack room. “I heard you was back.” She held on so tight.
Jude pushed her back. “Prudie Mae, you shouldn’t be here, tain’t proper.”
“What you care about bein’ proper, Jude Shoun? Never entered yer mind afore.” She said refusing to let go.
“Ga home, Prudie.”
“I will not.” She held firm. “I will not until you tell me why. Why you not come fer me as soon as you got out?”
“Aw, woman…” Jude kicked at the loose hay. “I ain’t got no money. Ida come to ya, but…”
“Whatcha need money fer, Jude.” She put her hands on her hips. “I ain’t never charge you afore. Why would I now?”
Jude plunked down on a bail. “Ain’t right, Prudie.”
“But I love ya, Jude. You know that.”
“Why would ja love a man like me?” He looked up at her.
She smiled. “Why would ja love a girl like me?” She searched his face and hung her head. “I know.”
Prudie sat beside him and sighed. “I ain’t the kinda girl ya marry. I’m just the kinda girl ya screw. It’s awright.”
“Things is diff’ernt now. I couldn’t come to ya. Ya got that little girl ta feed an’ I ain’t got no money. But I’m helpin’ Nate out here, and we’s gonna split the crops. When I…”
Prudie put her hands to his lips to shut him up. “I wouldn’t take it, Jude. That ain’t right. You know if it wernt fer her…I know if it wernt fer her.”
“Aw don’t ja go talkin’ ‘bout…”
“Jude ya left me twict, you done crawled outta my bed, outta my lovin twict cause a her. I knowed it. Both times ya broke ma heart and left me a cryin’ an’ knocked up.”
“Twict?”
“Ya gots another baby girl, Jude. I named her Taylor. It’s pretty like her.”
“She’s mine?”
Prudie just looked at him. “I was gonna tell ya, but she started makin’ eyes yer way an’ I knew you was gone.”
“Ya shoulda tol’ me, Prudie.” Jude had anger in his voice went he stood up and faced her.
“Why, Jude? What good it a done me?” She stayed sitting on the hay. “She had ever thing that counted. I just had yer dick. An’ I couldn’t compete. As much as I’d a liked her ta be, she weren’t no whore, an’ I was.”
“I’d a done right by you…this time.”
“Mebbe.” Ian could see the pain in her face. “But I’d a been doin’ wrong by you.”
She patted the hay beside her and Jude sat down. “We just ain’t that kind, Jude.” Prudie put her head on his shoulder. “She’s gone now, Jude. You come to me if’n you want to. I promise ya I won’t make no fuss.”
“I don’ wanna hurt you agin, Prudie. Tain’t fair ta none of us.”
“Don’cha worry none about breakin’ m’heart agin. Don’t reckon I got one left ta break.”
Ian wished they’d quit talking. They were making so much noise. He wanted to sleep, and his head hurt so much. He put his hands over his ears. He just knew Venus was going to show up any minute.
He hurt all over. I couldn’t move. He couldn’t open his eyes. He felt a cool hand on his cheek.
“Baby Doll?” He heard in the distance. “Ian, honey?” He heard again. “Get the doctor. I think he’s trying to wake up!” He heard feet running. “It’s okay Baby Doll, everything’s gonna be fine…”
The woman’s voice was soothing, but he didn’t feel fine. Every bone is his body ached, and he wanted to vomit. He dropped to his knees and put his hand on the tree and unloaded his stomach. He barfed so hard that puke came out his nose, too. It stung and stunk so bad. He could hear the bailer grinding away.
He could hear Uncle Nate screaming, “Help me, oh dear God, somebody help me”. Then he heard snap and a gargle, and the bailer just churning away.
Ian looked up and saw blood spurting everywhere. The bailer seemed to move around the field on its own spitting out bloody bales as it traveled. Ian threw up again. His head hurt so bad…
“Mr. Justyn?” He heard a slight snap and smelled something vile. “Mr. Justyn?”
Ian was scared and nervous. He wasn’t used to sharing a room. Hell, he wasn’t used to people, and he still saw Uncle Nate all chopped up in the hay when he closed his eyes. We wondered if it would freak this Billy kid out when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night.
Billy stuck his hands in his pockets. “Since we’re gonna be living together for a while, I guess I should just come clean with you. I’m kinda nervous. I never been away from home much. I’m from a big family with lotsa noise all the time. The quiet of just one person around may drive me crazy.”
“Well, I don’t have any family. Was just me and my Uncle, and he died. So I’m not used to being around people. I know I’m sorta weird.”
“I guess we’ll balance each other out then, kinda like dots connecting…”
“If you say so. Let’s just make a pact to tell each other when we are about to climb the walls…”
“Or acting unbelievably stupid in public…”
“I wonder why they always stick the poor kids together?”
“Maybe they think we’ll bring out the best in each other.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice…now if we only knew what the best was…”
Ian was surprised at how much he missed home already, what there was of it. He really didn’t miss his Uncle, but he wished he could close his eyes without seeing him…like that…he missed Aunt Hil’s sweet ice tea. She taught him how to make it, but it wasn’t her’s.
He kept seeing the blood spurting everywhere. Uncle Nate was wobbling trying to call out to him, a whisky bottle still in his hand. Ian could feel the body weight on top of him. He was in so much pain.
“Here kitty, kitty…” He heard the drunken screech in the darkness. “Where’s my pussy at? Here kitty, kitty…”
Ian sat up in the darkness. His heart tried to beat out of his chest. He had to run. The stumbling footsteps were getting closer and closer. He closed his eyes and prayed that Uncle Nate would be so drunk he could fight him off this time.
Quietly as he could he stood and slipped out of his bed. The regular beatings had stopped. They had come out and told Uncle Nate if they saw one more black eye or if he had one more broken bone they’d take him away. Nate beat him one more time for good measure and then it seemed to stop.
If he could just hold out until he was sixteen, just a couple more years. He could drive then, and maybe he could just drive off somewhere and make it stop for good.
“Here kitty, kitty….”
Ian shook his head. The regular beatings had stopped, but another kind of torture had taken its place about a year ago.
He leaned over and reached for the door. It was too late, the door was slammed open wide.
“There’s my kitty kitty.” Uncle Nate stood there, bottle in one hand, blocking his escape with the other.
“No, Uncle Nate.” He said firmly. “You just let me walk on outta here.”
Nate just grinned and dropped the empty bottle to the floor. Ian watched it roll on the uneven rotting floor towards him.
“I’ll hurt cha.” Ian put out his hands in defense. “I swear I’ll hurt cha.”
The drunk lunged forward and Ian threw a punch. He connected with his Uncle’s jaw. His head shot backwards.
“I like it when my pussy fights back.” The man growled in that deep smutty voice. Before Ian could run, Nate kicked him in the gut with his heel.
Ian doubled over in pain, the worse thing he could do. He felt Nate grab him by the hair and slam his face into his crotch.
He rubbed Ian’s face hard up and down his hardness. Ian knew he was going to puke, but he also knew that wouldn’t stop him. Ian tried to lunge forward with his next breath, but he felt Nate sweep his foot and Ian’s feet fell out from under him.
“Uncle Nate, NO!” He fought and yelled as he felt the momentum of his body working against him. One arm was pinned under his body and Nate was on top of him. Ian clawed with his free hand, balling up his fist and flailing the man as hard as he could.
Ian felt is underwear being ripped. “God no…please…Uncle Nate…please don’t…” He begged feeling the rip of pain as Uncle Nate forced himself in.
He kept beating the best he could with his fist. The more he struggled the better his Uncle was able to force his legs farther apart. Ian cried out in pain, giving up the struggle just willing it to be over with.
He unballed his fist and let drop limply to the ground. Uncle Nate grunted as Ian’s knuckles pinged on the glass surface. Ian felt for the neck of the liquor bottle. Once he felt it tightly in his hands he stopped struggling all together and submitted.
“Mmmmm…kitty’s ready to play.” He heard Uncle Nate growl. The drunkard thrust deeper and then pulled out to flip him over.
Ian tried to use the quick shift in his weight to roll out from under his Uncle. He was drunk out of his mind, but the man was strong and quick. He flipped Ian over and pinned his legs over his head. Ian felt the rough penetration, and screamed in pain. He took a deep breath and swung the bottle.
It connected with Nate’s head and burst into pieces. Nate stopped a moment, just a moment and gritted his teeth. Ian turned his face to look into his uncle’s eyes. Blood was running down his head, a stream curving around his grinning lips. Ian felt the bed start to squeak again. He felt the violation continue, harder, more violent.
The bloody face pulled in so close, he almost had to cross his eyes to focus on it. Ian had to focus on something other than the pain. His face was so close all he could see was the bubbles of blood.
When they popped they said “Darla Hutton”.
Ian opened his eyes and screamed. He sat up in bed. Pain shot all through his body and he screamed again.
There were people all around him. He didn’t know who they were or where he was. He wanted to go home. He could see them rushing around. He could see their mouths move but he couldn’t hear them.
A woman came and put her arms around him. She made him feel safe. “It’s okay Baby Doll...” she cooed. “Everything’s just fine…”
Ian looked at her. He knew her. There was a man in a bed next to him. He was sitting on the edge of it, his arm in a sling. “It’s okay buddy. You’re fine. Just lay back down. Let us take care of you….”
Ian shook his head. He knew him, too…
And the little boy, there was a little boy with her eyes looking back at him in both relief and fear. “Papa? Papa it’s okay…”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. Why did he hurt so bad? Why hadn’t Venus finished with his forehead...and who the hell was Darla Hutton?
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