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 cwazee, a cwazze 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment