Blind Turn, page 6
“I can’t even get mad at you for that because you’re telling the truth. Let’s get this stuff and head home,” he said to the kid.
Tomorrow, there were poisons to make. Wednesday, he had to deal with Mr. Exit, and Thursday he had someone to kill. No matter which way he sliced it, there were never enough hours in the week to get it all done.
Chapter Six – Dirty
Determination.
If one were looking solely at Dex’s profile, it could easily be said there was a resemblance between him and the boy. The mop of dark wavy hair that had flopped over Dex’s eyes was gone, and now he could see the kid’s face. He was in fact a good-looking kid, and Joel couldn’t bring himself to imagine the nightmares the boy had endured for a bed and a hot meal. Joel also didn’t want to think about the chicken nugget boy Dex had mentioned earlier whom he considered to be his friend. That kid was no friend to Dex. From experience, he knew those kinds of kids which he’d run across in his youth as well as at the church summer camps.
There were boys who made fun of the gay kid in front of other bullies like themselves, but at night, they were behind the bleachers soliciting sexual favors. He’d caught more than one in the act and put a stop to the younger of the two boys being used. If there was anything in this world that pissed him off, it was adults and bullies trying to take advantage of kids. What angered him more than anything were the tactics use to punish the victim when the predator couldn’t have their way.
Joel was a testament to the dirty deeds of his foster mother. The woman was not only a predator but sadistic. Her intentions had been to prevent him from ever having use of his organ again, but the trauma she had caused, did in fact prevent him from producing children of his own. Maybe that’s what the Archangel saw.
“Four gotdamn kids though,” he mumbled aloud as he climbed aboard the tractor to do a load of work around the farm before heading into his lab.
A loud voice repeated what he’d said as he turned around to see Tootie standing beside the tractor, “What do you mean four gotdamn kids, Joel?”
For a plus sized gal, she moved quietly. He couldn’t even hear the fabric swishing as she walked, which amazed him. Even in a pair of jeans, he could hear himself walk, and he was only a buck and sixty-five nickels. He liked all of that about Tootie; all of it, especially how easy $1.65 slid into two bucks.
“Hey Tootie, didn’t see you walk up. To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the lady on a Tuesday? That small dose of Joel on Sunday wasn’t enough to get my lady through the week?” he asked, winking.
“No, your lady has been inundated for the last twenty-four hours with phone calls about your kid, or kids, and people wanting to know when we’re getting married Joel. You ain’t asked me about getting married. We’ve never talked about getting married,” she said, arching her perfectly trimmed eyebrows.
“I haven’t mentioned it.”
Tootie cocked her head. “Well, do you plan on mentioning it?”
“No, not really.”
“So, you have no intention of asking me to marry you?”
The baseball cap on his head shielded his eyes from the bright morning sun. Ribbons of sweat trickled down the sides of his face into the scraggly, dusty brown sideburns. A pair of Ray Bans sat on his face, atop a nicely shaped nose. He hated these kinds of conversations. Actually, he hated all kinds of conversations, but this type made his asshole itchy and nut sack twitchy, and his mood to become bitchy, but he inhaled slowly and took his time before speaking.
“I’ve never planned on getting married, Tootie, so asking you or any woman to be mine forever didn’t cross my mind for selfish reasons,” he said.
“You’re full of shit, Joel Thomas!”
“No, Tootie, I just never figured you wanted to have me as a permanent staple in your life,” he said, lowering his shades to stare her in the eyes. “Honestly, I thought that your Sunday thing was a way of sneaking into the Oreo jar for a treat while your Mama wasn’t looking. I never thought you wanted the general public to know you indulged.”
Her mouth opened wide in utter shock and disbelief. “Hold the hell up! Are you saying I’m a closet racist, and I sneak over here on Sunday while everybody’s in church to score some black dick when ain’t nobody looking?”
“Hey, you’ve never asked me on a date, so I thought that was all you wanted.” Joel said it in a way that nearly made him burst into laughter as he turned the tables on her in a move so smooth, she didn’t notice the diversion.
“I did ask you on a date Joel! I wanted to see the Avengers movie, but you downloaded some bootleg copy recorded by an asshole with the camera in his cap. All through the movie, the person with the small bladder two rows up couldn’t stay seated. I asked you out, and you said no! I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me,” Tootie exclaimed.
He didn’t say a word as she went into a tirade on the defensive about the last four years. She went over the number of times she’d asked him to the church social and after a while she’d plain given up. Tootie was giving up again now.
“I don’t even know why I bother with you,” she said, feeling the need to cry. “I don’t for the life of me understand why I even love you. You are an asshat.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but the asshat loves you back.”
“What?” Tootie asked, looking him in the face, but his eye darted to the house, seeing Dex come outside.
“Regina,” he said, using her given name, which he very rarely, if ever spoke, “that boy has some weird shit happening with his toes. He wore shoes for too long that were too small, and his toes look like they’re making a fist.”
“What? How the hell are you going to tell me you love me then go one about some deformed fucking toes!”
“Easy,” he said, moving closer. He lowered his head, kissing her gently on the mouth. “I may have to marry you once the girl arrives on Thursday. Can’t be a single man living in the house with a young woman. And I do love you.”
Tootie stared up at him in utter confusion. She could always tell when he didn’t want to talk about an issue head on. Joel liked to merge all of the thoughts into one big run on sentence, leaving the listener to decipher what was relevant and necessary to respond to at the time. Tootie knew exactly the thing she needed to respond to at the very moment.
Tootie poked Joel in the chest with her finger. “What? What in the hell did you just say to me?”
“I said, Dr. Regina Musgrove, that I love you and I’m probably, more than likely, am gonna marry you, not because I have to, but the idea of seeing that fat ass of yours first thing in the morning, every morning, would make an asshat like me really happy,” he told her, kissing her again. “Plus, them four kids are gonna need a Momma, and I ain’t the mothering type.”
“Joel What four gotdamn kids? Who said I was the mothering type? What makes you think I want to move into that damned farmhouse and help you raise four knot headed children? You are selfish. You don’t love me,” Tootie snapped, stomping away. She marched to the house towards Dex, whose eyes were wide. She called his name.
“Dex, get your twinkle toed ass over here, and let me look at your feet,” she said, stomping across the yard, mumbling under her breath.
Dex looked to Joel, who was smiling as he climbed aboard the tractor, started it up, and took off towards the back field. The items he needed to get were grown in the center of the soybean field. Looking back once, he saw Tootie reach the kid. Dex’s face said all he needed to know as he rode away chuckling to himself. Tootie wouldn’t make a bad wife at all. After everything he’d said, her mind went to the boy and his feet. It would take her a day or so to process the rest of what he said, and by the time he returned on Friday, she would have come to a conclusion about her decision. In the meantime, he had more to get done and more to do to prepare the home for the arrival of Mr. Exit and his family.
The issue he initially wanted to discuss had changed. Now he had new challenges to face. He hoped the Human Resource Specialist would help him in expanding his small company of doubting Thomases. Right now, the biggest doubter, was himself.
JEFFREY MICHAELS LIVED in a rural area of Arkansas, just outside of Conway. He’d lived back there for years, living off the land, hunting, and making his own food. The girl, the one he called Ayana, he had told everyone was his daughter. The first time most people learned about the child was when he enrolled her in school. It had been noted on the paperwork that no mother was recorded.
As long as the girl came to school clean and not smelling, no one questioned Jeffrey or paid much attention to the girl. Ayana was a quiet young lady who mainly kept to herself, didn’t have a great deal of friends, except for Dexter Lockhart, a boy known to openly play for the other team. The two made quite the pair, often seen huddled up and whispering; however, today was Tuesday and the boy Dex hadn’t been seen. The girl, looking panicked, caught her teacher’s eye, who inquired if she were in fact, doing okay.
“I’m just worried about Dex. I’ve been trying to reach him and no answer,” Ayana said softly, wanting to say more, wanting to ask for help, but she didn’t know how.
In retrospect, she wished she had. Ayana arrived home to find her father waiting in an agitated state. She detested when he was this way. It made her skin crawl. This afternoon was different.
As she massaged away his agitation, today, Jeffrey forgot to lock the front door. An unexpected visit from his brother Amos interrupted the soothing session between father and daughter. Relief washed over Ayana’s face as her father cringed in embarrassment. This was her chance to speak to another adult to explain how she no longer wanted to live in the house with her father.
Uncle Amos pulled her to the side. Shame covered her as she held her head down, hoping he would offer some hope for her future. The massage sessions were wrong, and she knew it as well as her father. So did Uncle Amos.
“How long has this been going on between you and your father?” he asked.
“Since I was eight,” Ayana said, refusing to hold her head up, praying Uncle Amos was going to be of some help.
“Has it progressed passed what I witnessed in there?”
“No Sir, I won’t allow him in my room. I don’t go into his either,” she told him. “Will you help me?”
It was the way that Uncle Amos looked at Ayana which changed her mind on what she needed to do and how. The matter of money was no longer an issue. Either she would run and take her chances or stay in an environment that was a danger to her mental and physical well-being. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.
In her pocket, she pressed the record on her phone, waiting for his words; dirty, filthy words that rolled off his tongue as if there was nothing disgusting about him or his mangy mongrel of a brother. She hated them both as he leaned in with brown teeth, sour breath, and greasy, dust covered hair.
“I’ll be glad to help you, but what you gonna do to help me?” he asked, rubbing the front of his pants.
Ayana held up her phone. “I’m going to play this for the police when I call them to get me the hell out of here, you filthy, disgusting man!”
“Oh, you didn’t seem too disgusted helping out my brother,” Uncle Amos said.
“What is wrong with you people? This is wrong. This is so wrong. I’m your niece. He’s my father and this is abuse,” she said. “It is abuse.”
“It ain’t wrong if we ain’t no kin to ya,” Amos said, licking his lips.
“What did you say?” Ayana asked, suddenly finding strength from a place where fear had held her tight.
Jeffrey came out of the door, ready to confront his brother, having lived down the shame of being caught with his daughter’s hand in his tiny cookie jar.
“Amos, gone now! Git! Shut your filthy mouth! Leave my baby alone,” he yelled at his brother.
One ugly word bled into another, and before long, the brothers were on the ground, fists flying and dust kicking up in the air. All Ayana could think about were Amos’s words. If they were true, it would explain a great deal.
She didn’t look back.
She didn’t run.
At a steady pace, she began to walk down the long driveway to the main road. In a last-ditch effort, and saying a prayer, she called Dex. Tears filled her eyes when he answered the call.
“Help,” she said in the phone.
“Where are you?” Dex asked.
“Walking down the drive to the main road,” she said in a flood of tears. “I can’t stay another night. I just can’t. Please help me.”
“Get to the corner store. Let me make a call, get some help for you. Stay safe until I call you back,” Dex urged.
He didn’t know if he should tell Mr. Thomas about his friend or stay quiet. Dex knew more kids were coming, but Ayana may not have been one of those children. Instead of bothering his mentor, he scrolled through his phone and called the number of the man who’d arranged to get him here. He prayed the line would be answered.
“State your need,” the Archangel said to the boy.
“This is Dex. Dexter Lockhart, Sir. You helped me and got me to Joel Thomas’ farm in Monroe County,” he said.
“How can I help you, Dex?”
“My friend Ayana, she’s in trouble. Her father, he’s a bad man. A very bad man. She left home and is waiting for a call back from me at the corner store. Please, can you help her, Sir? She’s not fit to be out in the world. She don’t have the skills to survive,” Dex said.
Archangel stated, “I’m sending help.”
“Who or what should I tell her to look for?”
“A red van driven by a lady in a red hat,” he replied. “She will keep her safe overnight.”
“Red van, lady in a red hat,” he repeated, but the line had gone dead. Quickly, he returned the call to his friend. Ayana answered right away. “Look for a lady in a red van, wearing a red hat. You’ll stay the night with her, and help will be there in the morning, okay?”
“Who is this lady? How do you know this lady? How do you know she’s not going to hurt me, Dex! She could be a human trafficker!”
“Calm down. You are so dramatic. Go with the lady or go back home to your Daddy. You make the call,” he said. “I’ll call you back in the morning.”
“Dex, thank you,” she mumbled into the line. “I’m grateful. I’m also scared out of my mind.”
“Don’t be scared. Help is on the way,” Dex said with a confidence he’d learned from experience.
The way Ms. Tootie had held his feet as she carefully examined each toe had made him long for a mother to care for him. Right now, Tootie was the closest he’d gotten to a motherly figure showing any interest in him other than manual labor or a built-in babysitter. In some instances, he was there as a punching bag or worse.
He liked Ms. Tootie. She may not be able to cook, but he imagined she gave great hugs. Ayana would do well having a lady like Ms. Tootie to give her hugs. He didn’t even mind the idea of Mr. Thomas giving him a hug and a kiss on the temple every now and then. Not often, but every now and then would be cool.
Joel called for the boy, who snapped out of his daydream of living in a house with an actual family which had a Mom and a Dad who cared about the kids. Ayana as a sister would be great, and she would be safe. He didn’t think Mr. Thomas would touch her in a bad way. Plus, Ms. Tootie would be around passing out more of those hugs that he fantasized would feel like rainbows mixed in with sunshine and fairy dust.
“Dex, you seem to be off in your head. You okay, kid?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, looking down at his bare feet. Suddenly, he wasn’t embarrassed by them anymore. “Ms. Tootie said she could fix my feet by cutting them and inserting rods to extend the toes. I would want her to do them one at a time, so I won’t have both my feet all messed up. Plus, I have chores around here to take care of for you. I can’t let you down.”
“You want to have the surgery?”
“I’m thinking about it and a couple of other things, too,” Dex said, looking up at Joel, wanting to say what was on his mind, but not swerve into a lane where he really wasn’t permitted to drive.
“Speak your piece.”
Blushing furiously, Dex balled up his hands, opening and closing them before gathering his courage. “I’d be okay with you marrying Ms. Tootie. I like her.”
“Oh really? Just like that, I’m going to get married, and all of a sudden, we become a family.”.
“There are worst ways to spend a day or a lifetime,” Dex said. “At least this way, you’ll be around people who love you.”
The boy walked away, still looking down at his feet. Joel remained rooted to the floor, filled with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. More than anything, he felt connected.
“A family,” he mumbled aloud, feeling stupid for enjoying the sensation of being loved. It had been so long that the sensation felt out of place. He planned to change that going forward.
Going forward he planned to change a lot.
Chapter Seven – Blight
Action.
Joel was up early and pacing back and forth in the kitchen. He didn’t like people in his home, and on top of Dex, there would be three more children with weird habits, odd personalities, and grubby hands touching his stuff. He tried hard to even his breathing, not panic, or call the Archangel and tell the man he was retiring his traffic sign. Yet, a part of him reveled in the excitement.
Mr. Exit and his family would be arriving around dinner time, and they would stay the night. In general, the house was tidy enough, considering until Dex, no one had used the main bathroom. No one used the other two bedrooms either. A teen girl would be living in his home. She would need a space for her girl stuff.
“Shit, she can’t share a room with the guys,” he said, looking at his office. “I can fit a twin bed in there, I guess. That’s also what the Archangel suggested so I figure it could work. Tootie will have to decorate it with pink sheets and crap because I’m not doing that!”
