Once in a Blue Moon, page 7
Opens the door.
Promises to rustle up coffee
black as midnight
fresh biscuits smothered in warm
brown gravy
crackling.
Uncle’s favorites.
He stays put.
Me too.
“Y’all both stuck.”
Gran looks sad for the first time in a long while.
“Time to let the past go. Aberdeen would want that.”
A WAY OUT
I was never stuck, Sister told me once.
“Like the Pole Star isn’t stuck in one spot
though people think it is.”
The Pole Star
is the North Star
is Polaris
one thing with three names.
A way out if you take it.
I have three names too.
Coward.
James Henry.
The boy who almost got his mother drowned.
But there’s a way out if I take it, Sister whispers.
I back up some.
Take another step
then another
and another
one two three or so
till I’m down the porch steps
with nothing but thick warm brown
North Carolina dirt holding me up.
GOING
Run
fast as you can
FIGHTING MAD
I
pass the pigpen
the outhouse
the deer hit by the car
the parts of him that ain’t ate up anyhow.
I bend
when the road does
lift my knees higher
pump my arms faster
ball my fingers tighter.
Try not to cry.
Not to stop.
Not to think about all the bad things
that can happen when you leave the house.
I stop
when I see what’s ahead of me.
Tree limbs down.
Weeds everywhere.
The path overgrown.
Turning in circles
kicking up leaves
I get mad at myself.
Lifting a branch
swinging it high
I hit the ground like it had a part
in me staying in the house all this time.
I smack a tree next
then two more
crying all the while.
What use did it do you hiding inside?
Who did it help?
Nobody.
Not Ma nor me.
Facing the lighthouse miles off
my feet pointed north
I wipe my chin and cheeks.
Not sure what to do.
TOGETHER AGAIN
When Hattie and her birds
catch up to me
she’s out of breath.
Bent over
with a stick in my hand
I draw circles in the dirt
three
planets.
She asks if I’m ready.
No.
Am I going to the lighthouse
or back home?
She wants to know.
Can’t say.
Ain’t sure.
She don’t say a word for a while.
Just watches me give Mars two moons.
Make people on Venus out of sticks.
“You nervous? Scared? Tired?” she asks.
I ain’t got the words for how I feel.
Hattie sits on the ground next to me.
Puts my helmet on my head.
Sits shoes at my feet.
“Take your time, James Henry.”
I know she don’t mean it.
TROUBLE
Whenever the teacher is late for school
Hattie takes over.
She isn’t fond of waiting.
With a eye on my handiwork, she says
“Come, James Henry. You’ll see
I’m right about that old moon.”
My stomach quivers.
Knots up.
Hattie stands.
I look over my shoulder
back the way we came
and there she is.
Lottie Jean.
Headed our way, fast as a train.
“He’s coming!
He’s coming!
He’s coming!” she says, passing us.
RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES
We run
one behind the other
up a path no wider than a set of steps.
Wobbling
me anyhow
trying to stay upright
me anyhow
to not tip over into a dried-out creek
filled
with wet rotten leaves
that follows Mulberry Road like a
shadow till it joins the Pee
Dee River
which empties
into the ocean a ways up
where the lighthouse
sits.
BREATHE
Wet
from head to toe
soaked
we use our fingers like rags
wipe our faces
and necks
send
sweat
flying
quick as bees
hunting pollen
and don’t quit running
till we’re standing in the middle of nowhere.
We’re gonna die out here.
NOWHERE
North Carolina has more trees
than God got angels, Gran says.
Redwoods
sugar maples
firs
cedars
gum trees.
Millions.
Gran swears
when slaves came
these same trees was standing
shading
praying over ’em
reaching for heaven
stomping the devil at the same time.
I’m sitting under a chaney ball tree, ruminating.
Sister’s birds, truly free for once
flitter from tree to tree
singing
complaining
along with all the rest.
THE PLAN
Sister plots our next move.
We’ll backtrack to Lottie Jean’s house
change
into clean, fresh clothes
eat
spend the night
leave.
I look at Lottie Jean
then at Sister.
They can’t go in dresses, they say.
There’s rocks to be climbed
a flashlight to be had
hats to keep their heads cool.
It’s a perfect plan, Lottie Jean says,
taking out something I didn’t know she had.
The pouch filled with my wrappers.
She saw it on the table
thought it would bring me comfort.
Handing it over
she slips her arm through mine
tries to force me to stand.
“I can walk on my own!”
I tie the pouch to my belt.
Fold my arms and don’t move.
Till Sister shares something
she’s never told me before.
“You think I can go off to school
with you forever inside the house?
No friends to speak of?
Ma and Daddy gone?”
I blink. Get to my feet.
She steps in closer
with a hug the size of Oklahoma.
“We’re twins, Brother.
We gotta look out for each other.”
I think about Ma and Uncle.
There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
“Can you do this one thing for me, Brother?”
I start walking.
GONE FISHING
Spotting pond water
with mosquitoes for guards
Lottie Jean runs ahead of us.
I look up and see something new.
One dark cloud.
What if it rains?
And the water rises?
Who’ll save Hattie?
I step back, still dripping wet.
Hide behind a tree.
And watch.
Sister spies the sky.
Skips across the grass
kicks off her shoes
looks back at me
runs to Lottie Jean.
A THIEF
We come across a field
next to a house
with clean clothes hanging on the line.
Lottie Jean swipes a dry shirt not my size
but for me anyhow.
If she had to smell me one more second
she’d faint, she says, fanning herself.
LOTTIE LEADS THE WAY
Lottie Jean looks left and starts walking
like she knows these parts.
Sister follows.
We go down a hill
running some because we gotta.
We pass a stone quarry
filled with stagnant water
and logs
put in to keep us kids from swimming in it
going under
never coming up.
Gran and her friends fought for that.
The girls jabber on with me close behind
counting my wrappers.
They stop after a while
pull up orange poppies
roots and all.
Not bothered by dirt
falling on their clothes like rain.
Or mosquitoes eating me up.
A NEW KIND OF TROUBLE
I try to tell Hattie to slow down
wait up
take care because you never know
what might be lurking for you.
She rushes ahead anyhow
like she’s been waiting to be free a long time.
Last to turn the bend
I find them two frozen stiff.
“Now what?” Lottie says
eyeing the trouble facing us.
THE APPLE WARS
The Baker brothers
ditch
apples
they were swiping
from a tree known for easy pickings
that branches out over the road.
Hattie steps ahead of us.
“Y’all boys go home now,”
she says in Gran’s quiet after-church voice
though it’s Saturday.
An army of hellions,
Gran calls them Bakers—but never on Sundays.
Their cousin Red smiles.
Squints at the sky
blinks
like sand’s been kicked in his face.
Not one to ever join in
he follows
like rain after thunder
once the others start walking our way.
The eldest Baker stops. Spits.
“Good to see ya, James Henry.”
Hattie Mae takes off
running
disappearing in trees
a stone’s throw away.
Sweat beads join one to the other
on their way down my nose,
dripping on my shirt like tears.
They’re gonna kill me out here.
Sister returns with both hands full.
She’s not the captain.
But she gives Lottie Jean orders.
“Hold tight to Brother’s hand.
Don’t let go. No matter what.”
Lottie Jean does what she’s told.
Hattie steps in front of me.
Lays one branch down
lifts the other high in the air like a spear.
Elbow to elbow
them Bakers stand in the road
six feet away or so
and laugh.
Not Red Baker, though.
“Hattie Mae”—
Titus, the eldest, does most of the talking—
“wears the britches.”
Blu
second born
thinks I should be in skirts
wear a bonnet on my head.
Lottie Jean speaks on my behalf
not that I ask her.
“Leave him alone. He has seen
his share of troubles.”
They dredge up what drowned in the ocean
pants I wore in
and the log that snagged ’em off
courage
I
took in with me but left behind
and Dog.
It’s Ma’s woes and Dog’s loss
not the other
things I left behind
that set
me to tearing up.
It’s no help to me
that Lottie Jean wipes a tear away.
Titus squeaks.
Calls me a coward
a mouse.
Blames Ma’s situation on me.
Hattie flings the branch their way.
Claps at the sight of it hitting
Graham Baker upside the head
knocking him off his feet.
So, I guess you can say she starts the war.
LOSING COURAGE
The Bakers
four out of six anyhow
snatch apples off trees and the ground
hurl ’em our way one at a time
two and three at once
until Hattie’s hunched over kneeling in the dirt
beside me and Lottie Jean
more scared than I’ve ever seen her.
My mouth dries out
my lips itch.
Lottie Jean drops my hand
doubles over
covers her head with her bare arms.
Sister is my shield.
Grabbing another branch
she stands
throws
misses.
Pants and skirts are all the same to the Bakers.
Hands filled with apples
they come for us like elephants.
Dust
floats
flies
into our mouths and eyes
with every step they take
every move we make.
Coughing
I keep my eyes on the sky
and wonder
if I’ll ever get my courage back.
NO CRYING
Lottie Jean jumps up
lifts her dress
runs like the dickens
into thickets and thorns
that rip her hem and sleeves
but cannot stop her.
Hattie bends low
whispers in my ear.
She
is the captain
right now anyhow
so
I must do what I’m told.
“No questions asked.”
She stands
straight and tall in the apple rain.
Me too.
No crying
no matter how much it hurts.
Those Hattie’s words.
I do what I’m told.
ATTACK!
Hattie Mae tells her birds to go get ’em!
Nutcracker spreads his wings
leaves his spot
on top a weather vane
stuck high on a barn up the road some.
He flies
dives over our heads
circles them Bakers
aims for Blu’s face
claws out.
Blu turns chicken
runs.
Hattie Mae picks up apples
throws and misses.
Pullman finds Parker’s scalp
pecks until he hollers.
Hattie claps. I cheer.
Them Bakers scatter like spilled seeds
cup their hands like nets to protect their heads.
Hattie eyes the trees over yonder and hollers
“Lottie Jean!”
Then looks my way when she gets no answer.
THE BAKERS STRIKE BACK
The Bakers don’t take well to losing.
Who doesn’t know that?
Seems like they can smell
when one or the other is in trouble.
Sure enough
out of nowhere
comes Bobbie Baker
with a rock in his hand.
Up it goes
flying higher than Nutcracker
falling
fast
catching his wing on its way down.
“Bull’s-eye!”
a few Bakers say.
Nutcracker is on the ground
his neck twisted one way
his wing bent back
broken I suspect.
Sister screams.
I go back to the ocean.
The day Nutcracker led Uncle to me.
The Bakers fight on
all except Red Baker.
He walks through the apple storm
paying it no never mind.
Knee
by
knee
I get to my feet
