Jericho

    When I was little my brother and I used to go in the forest and chop down nearly rotted trees with an old axe we found one day in the shed.  Don’t ask why.  I know it doesn’t really sound like fun; it wasn’t fun; not at all.  It was just something to do.  You see, Benny and I weren’t that popular in the whole Making Friends Corporation.  So, we just naturally became best friends with each other.

    We used to spend hours and hours out there; taking turns with the axe.  We could have probably built the world’s largest dam, if we wanted to.  It could have been a beaver’s utopia.  Our favorite time to be out there was in the Fall.  All the inspiring colored leaves lit up my dreams.

    Benny and I used to find the thinnest and shortest trees and would play something we called Tree Wars.  One person would take both of their hands and pull the tree back as far as they could, and the other person would stand perfectly still in front of it.  Person A would then let go and the said tree would spring forward; resulting in a good smack to the face of Person B.  We would do that over and over again until somebody forfeited.  It was our own little version of Trading Hits.  We’d be all gory and bruised up.  But it was okay, we didn’t mind; it was sort of fun.

    Now, let me tell you how my younger brother almost died.

    One day when I was like fifteen and Benny eleven, we were in the process of taking down this huge, bitch of a tree when Benny announced that he had stolen something from our father today.  I asked him what, and he pulled a thin cigarette out of his jean pocket.  Only it wasn’t a cigarette.  It was a something we mysteriously knew to be a joint.  We looked at it with admiration for what seemed like a lifetime.  We had never seen one those things, mind you.

    Benny asked me if I knew how to smoke it.  I told him I didn’t have a clue.  “Easy as pie,” Benny said.  I looked at him with pity and annoyance.

    “Oh, and you know?”

    “Yeah, it’s freakin easy.  Jay Pappas told me how to.  Just put it in your mouth, light it, and blow the smoke out.”

    “We put the whole thing in our mouth?” I asked.

    “No, stupid.  Only half, you know, like a cigarette.”  Benny pulled out our father’s lighter and handed it to me.

    “What side goes in your mouth?”

    “Jesus, don’t you know anything?  The closed side; but don’t puff too hard or long or your lungs fall apart and your ears start to bleed.” 

    I stuck the right half of the joint in my mouth and lit it.

    “Blow a smoke ring,” he said, gazing at me in wonder.  “If you blow a smoke ring you get even higher.”

    I puffed down and immediately fell into a coughing fit.  Benny was laughing his little ass off, let me tell you.  “Something’s wrong with it.  It’s gone bad.”

    “Nah, man, that’s supposed to happen.  You get higher when you cough.  If you don’t cough then all that smoke goes down in your body and you have to pee it out, and your thingy falls off into the toilet; which means you turn into a girl.”

    I looked at my brother and laughed.  What the hell was he talking about?  I didn’t know, so I just took another puff on the joint and passed it to him.

    For the next half hour or so we smoked until there wasn’t even a roach left.  We were baked; laughing at the sounds the wind conjured; making jokes that made no sense whatsoever.  But, it was hilarious to us.  Why did the dead baby cross the road?  ‘Cause it was stapled to the chicken!  Hahahahaha!

    Then we heard a noise, and about this time we were really paranoid.  What was that sound?  Whatever it was it was getting closer.  Was it Death creeping up on us? 

    We felt stupid as the twelve o’ clock train swept past us, for that was the cause of the noise.  Well, before I knew it I saw Benny walking toward the side of the moving train.  Laughing, he picked up a brick and shouted for me to watch; it was going to be kickass.  Then he threw the brick as hard as he could at the train.  It ricocheted off of the steel siding and smashed into Benny’s face.  He was knocked out immediately, and I couldn’t stop laughing.  When I started sobering up I somehow carried him all the way home.  He had a couple concussions and a lot of stitches.  Benny still has a big scar across his face today.

    My brother, the guy who almost killed himself with a brick; a brick he threw himself.

 

 

    A knock at the door and ole Benny answered within a couple minutes.  It was obvious by his wild hair that he had just woken up.  His jaw dropped and his eyebrows shot up.  “Holy shit.  Maddox!  When the fuck did you get out?  Dude, what did you do to your hair?”

    “Got out today,” I said.

    “Holy Gawd, man.  I haven’t seen you in like what, five years?”

    “Ten.”

    “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

    “So, you gonna invite me in or are you gonna let your big bro freeze his ass off out here.”

    “Nah man, get the hell in here.”

    His trailer was trashed.  Empty beer bottles, fast food wrappers, and cigarette butts made a river across the carpet floor.  “Just make yourself at home,” Benny told me.  The white, smoke stained wallpaper was slowly peeling away and the odor of cat piss reeked from the crawl space underneath.

    “Hey,” I said, “please tell me you still have the same phone number from before I got locked up?”

    “Yeah, man, sure I do.  Why wouldn’t I?”

    “I dunno.  I’m expecting a call, though.”

    “Yeah?  From who?”

    “My daughter.”

    “Oh yeah, what was her name again?  Fuckin Katie or something like that, right?” 

    Wasn’t he a great uncle?  “Kristie.”

    “Oh yeah, that’s right.”  Benny motioned toward a torn up couch and said, “Sit down, man.  You wanna beer or something?”

    “No, I quit.”

    Benny stared at me in bewilderment disbelief.  “Yeah, and Hell’s blue.”

    “No, seriously, I’m off that shit; drugs, too.”

    “Well … good for you, man.”  Benny grabbed a bottle of MGD out of the refrigerator and sat down on a broken lazy boy across from me.  “So … didja drop the soap?”

    “Fuck off, Benny.  No, I didn’t.”  I was telling the truth.  What?  Why are you looking at me like that?

    “Prison sucked then, I take it?”

    “Isn’t something I would like to do again …”

    “Does that mean you’re done with Vincent King and all that?”

    “Yes, that’s what it means, Benny.”

     “Is there any way you could mention my name to him, please?  You know, put in a good word for me?”

    “Maybe, I’ll think about it.”  I already knew my answer though; there was no way in hell I would let my brother work for that monster.  Benny was the one who always wanted to be the gangster.  He used to fantasize about being in one of those crime movies he watched so much.  When we played Cops & Robbers, Benny was always the robber and I was always the cop.  Go figure, huh?

    Benny was telling me something else, but I wasn’t really listening; just nodding and responded at appropriate times.  Yeah; uh-huh; oh yeah?  Cool.  My mouth was on autopilot and my eyes were focused on the wireless telephone lying on the coffee table in front of me.  Just waiting, waiting for the call.  Would she call?  Would Sheryl let her?  She was telling the truth when she said she had never shot heroin with me.  So that meant those scars were fresh.  God, that house was no place for a teenager to live in.  I knew how stupid it was of me to do that shit back then; I just prayed that she would forgive me.  I hoped that we could start over.  What if she started with the drugs?  I didn’t want her life to be ruined, too.  What was this world coming to?  The only thing to do it seemed was to either get high, get drunk, kill or buy useless junk.  Our lives had been devoured by consumerism.  Back in 1998 it was bad, but Jesus, now it was horrendous.  

    Please call Kristie, I begged in my thoughts.  I need to hear your voice.  Please.

    “Hey, you listening to me?” Benny asked, getting suspicious.

    “Yeah.”

    “Okay, then what was I saying?”

    “You were telling me how bad you wanted to work for King.  But, Benny, I’m not meeting him ever again.  I’m done with that shit, bro.”  I wasn’t lying, either.

    “I’m just saying, if ya happen to run into him again just tell him about me, will ya?”

    “Yeah, Benny, sure,” I sighed.  “Hey, can I stay here tonight?”

    “I don’t care.”

    I was in the living room -- on the filthy carpet, doing push-ups -- when the telephone rang.  I sprung up to my feet and answered it.  Oh please, let it be Kristie.

    “Hello?” I whispered.  If it was her, what would I say?  Hey, baby, I’m your druggie loser of a father?  I was half tempted to just hang up the phone, but then I heard her voice.  The voice of an angel’s.

    “I remember you,” was what she said.  My heart froze.  She remembered me!

    “Y-you do?”

    “Yes.  I don’t want to talk on the phone, though.  Can you come pick me up?”

    “Where, the apartment?”

    “Yeah, I’ll be waiting out front.”

    “Okay, I’m on my way.  I love you.”

    “I love you, too.”

    Did you hear that?  She said she loved me, too!

    I hung up the phone and raced into Benny’s room and shook him awake.  “Benny, Benny!”

    “Ah, what, man?  What time is it?”

    “Two-thirty in the morning.  Where are the keys to my Camaro?”  Before I got locked up I had let Benny borrow my car.  It should still have been in his hands.  I hoped it was.

    “In my pants, man.  Here ya go.  Where ya goin anyways?”

    As soon as he handed me the car keys I was out the front door; Benny just shrugged and fell back asleep.  Even though it was dark out, I could see that he had not taken care of my car too well.  Dust smothered the black skin and fast food wrappers were scrambled everywhere in the inside.  I stuck the keys in the ignition and smiled when I heard the welcoming roar of her engine.  I drove as fast as I could to the apartment and saw Kristie standing out front -- just where she said she would be.  She was wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans.  Her shoulders were pushed up to her ears to block out the cold wind and her frozen hands were stuffed into her pockets.  Kristie’s long black hair covered up the right side of her face; it was just like from when she was little.  I didn’t know why she liked it like that; she just said it ‘felt good’. 

    I pulled along side the curb and Kristie hurriedly got in on the passenger’s side.  I stared at her and she looked back and smiled.  “We should probably get going,” she said, “Mom and Da -- I mean, Craig -- don’t know I left.”

    “Alright, off we go then.”  I drove off into the frosty night of nervous silence.  After a few minutes I blurted out, “Where should I go?”  This was my first night back out in the real world, after all, so I had no idea what was where.

    “Keep going straight and turn right at the light.  There’s an all night diner there.”

    “Alright.”  It took about three minutes to get to the destination.  I stopped the Camaro in an almost empty parking lot and stepped out.  I planned on opening the door for Kristie, but she was outside before I even was, and heading towards the diner.  I locked up and hurried to catch up to her.  A sign in the diner told us to seat ourselves so we followed its directions.  We each sat across from another in a vermillion colored booth.  When the plum-shaped waitress with the brown bun in her hair approached us Kristie and I still hadn’t said anything.  The waitress was wearing a light green uniform with a button pinned to her chest declaring her name ‘’Lisa’.  She quickly took our order; two cups of coffee.  You wouldn’t believe how astonished I was when I heard my little girl say she wanted coffee.  Coffee! 

    The dim light over our heads went out but quickly flicked back on.  “So,” I said, “How’s school?”  What else was I going to say?  I was completely blank.  Lisa brought us our coffee and walked off into the back room. 

    “School’s okay,” Kristie finally answered, stilling her sugar and cream.  She looked so grown up doing this I almost cried right then and there.

    “Good grades I hope.”

    “A’s and B’s.”

    “Really?  That’s great to hear … “  We talked for another half hour about school.  It turned out she was one of the smartest kids there.  She was a talented Poet who had won countless awards for her Poetry.  It was such terrific news; I was so proud.  Around our fourth cup of coffee the topic of conversation began to change.

    “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you at first,” she choked out, and tears began to roll down her cheeks.  “I just feel so bad --”

    “Hey, now don’t be crying; keep your chin up.  If anything I should be apologizing for being such a sh -- crappy Dad.  But, Kristie, I swear I am changed.  I want to start over.  Can we do that?  I want to be the father you never had.”

    “Of course, Dad.”  She called me Dad!  “I want to live with you; I can’t take it in that apartment.  It’s impossible to live with Them.  All they do is get high and drunk and beat each other and even me sometimes.  I hate it.”

    “Who beats you?  Craig?”  I would kill the bastard.

    “Daddy, leave it alone, okay?  I’m sick of all the violence as it is.  How can I live with you?”

    “Well, I highly doubt your mother is going to be signing over custody so I’ll have to take her to court.”

    “Let’s do it,” she said.

    I chuckled.  “It isn’t that easy, sweetheart.  I gotta get a lawyer, and a good one probably costs between fifteen and twenty thousand.”  I saw the look of despair overwhelm her exquisite face.  “Hey, it’s okay.  I’ll get the money, that isn’t a problem.” -- It was a huge problem, actually -- “We’ll be together, Kristie, I promise.  I love you, sweetheart.”

    “I love you too, Daddy.”