1984
I was damn near seventeen the night my life changed.
It started with a dream that came to me before the new social services lady was to come by our house and observe our family situation.
Our house, if that's what you'd call it, was a flimsy little clapboard in upstate New York. Just me and momma livin' there next to the P&R rail line in Cattaraugus County. Nuthin' more than a two-bedroom little cabin on a weed-infested patch of mud. Whenever the old P&R came rumblin' through town, the whole place shuddered and shook. Even the church next to the feed-lot trembled. Chickens flapped their wings, hounds bayed. When it came through on Sunday mornin', the holy doors would fly open and scare the crows squattin' on the steeple cross.
So, this social services lady was to check in on us to see if any illegal, immoral stuff was happenin’. See if the rumors were true bout men comin' and goin' after dark to see momma. I guess the authorities wanted to know that I was gettin' a proper raisin'. So they insisted a lady come over and write reports on our family ways. Early on, every one of them old ladies they sent quit cuz of how difficult momma and daddy were to work with. So they sent a new one, young and pretty. She'd been by twice already and didn't seem much bothered by momma and daddy's temperament.
You see, early on, I never knew I had a daddy. He’d left us before I was born. That’s why it ’warn’t until I was ‘bout six or nine when I remember first seein' a big tall fella standin’ in the kitchen. I gave him a wonderin’ eye, thinkin’ he might a been in the wrong place. Momma said he was my daddy. It was after that he started showin’ up at unusual times. She’d have to remind me again who he was. But I never got used to his comin’ round, cuz things could get awful testy. Daddy had an awful aptitude for needin’ to lay with momma. Momma’s aptitude was for sayin’ no. Times were when they started kickin’, swingin’, and throwin’ stuff around. Black eyes, broken bones, and bloody noses got the attention of the sheriff. So daddy learnt to mind his manners when social workers showed up. One thing that Daddy was sure enough scared of was the law. He didn’t shine much to spendin’ time in the jailhouse. Which I understand he spent a fair amount of time in.
So there I was on that muggy, hot August night, sittin’ all alone and waitin’ on the social services lady to meet with Momma and Daddy. But that evenin’, they warn’t there to meet her. You see, earlier in the day, Daddy rolled in drunk, angry at the world. They went at it, momma and him, slingin’ accusations and a-cussin’ and all. This time, it went too far. He tore up the place real good. Wreckin’ the house like he did got the deputies in a tizzy. It ended with everybody down at the station house till dark. All ’cept me, just a awaitin’ on who would show up first. Momma or the social services lady.
Remember that dream I mentioned earlier. Well, it had been wet and sticky. So I was nervous. Fidgety. What would happen if I did it again, like in the dream, right there in front of that pretty lady? I’d never been able to completely control those natural urges when it came to girls.
Finally, a knock rattled the screen door. I knew it was her.
“Hi, I’m here to see your momma and daddy,” she said, all frilly and clean smellin’. I just stood there starin’ like a dumb-ass mule. I guess cuz I’d never been alone in a house with a girl before. A few times, I’d gotten’ frisky in the woods, touchin’ em where boys ain’t supposed to touch em. We’d never got past pokin’, teasin’, and a little smooch here and there. But there was that one time under the school bleachers. A most unpleasant ending that turned out to be.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Even though I was sixteen, they considered me still a child. I was big, six-two and a little over two hunnert pounds. Momma once kidded that ten pounds of that were mostly penis. It didn’t bother me none.
So, the social worker was there on my account. She was right out of college. I liked seein’ her pretty face and her soft-lookin’ body. She always smelled so good. A right full-fledged woman she was. More filled-out than the skinny girls I was used to playin’ with. She talked real professional and pleasant, never scarecrow-stiff like the other government nannies who had problems with what momma did on the side.
So, it was just me and her sittin’ and waitin’ for momma to show up. I figured Daddy wouldn’t show. Good thing cuz the social services lady was a foreigner in his eyes, someone not to be trusted. Momma treated her cool too. Maybe because she looked dark-eyed, had a curvy body, and a sorta sexy personality. Suspicious in momma’s eyes. Anyone she thought might teach me bad things was disreputable. Disreputable was a word momma learned at night at the community college. She never let her nighttime business get in the way of learnin’. Nothin’ more important than an education, she always tole me. Even in the root cellar hidin’ place where we used to hide from daddy, she would read to me in candlelight. I learnt ‘bout gettin’ smart from her. She got me into college too. That’s another story for later.
Considerin’ how fastidious momma was about order and cleanliness, the girl looked surprised at the mess Daddy had caused. She made a note of it in her book. Ouch. Momma’d be pissed if she ever saw it.
While we waited, the lady showed concern after hearing about the fight. Maybe even a little affection for me. We passed the time with small talk and lookin’ through magazines together, which led to casual finger touchin’.
When that happened, small talk was over.
She pulled off my ball cap.“I’ve always had an itch for big boys. Especially quirky ones with gawky personalities in big boots. You like to dance, boy?”
“No, ma’am.”
Her hands pulled my hips close. “I’ll teach you.”
Oh no.
That wet dream came to mind.
No. Oh Gawd, no.
“Ever have yearnings?” she asked, sliding up on me.
I fidgeted, embarrassed when she took my big clumsy hand.
“You’re nervous, boy.”
When two young people meet and spend time alone, one a buddin’ red-blooded male and the other a flirty filly, the world tilts and rockets take off. It’s just biology. Things happen. And sure enough, us teasin’ and touchin’ lit the fuse. I was on her, flat to the floor, workin’, sweatin’, just like in the dream. ’Cept it warn’t no dream. She was beatin’ and screamin’ and yellin’ for me to stop.
No way.
Momma showed up. She musta found the lady’s report book on the kitchen table and saw the bad note ‘bout her. When she came in on us, tangled up on the bedroom floor, and saw the social services girl on top a me growlin’ and a-ridin' like a horse, I learned how far momma would go to protect me.
It was commin’ up on midnight, the moon bright.
Pushin’ and draggin’ the girl, we stumbled out past the cattle pens, across the railroad tracks, through weeds and black sooty gravel. The girl struggled sumthin’ awful. Under the relentless condemnation from momma and me pullin' and draggin' her along with momma yellin', it was useless. It wasn’t long before the girl lay pinned on the tracks, under the streetlight across from the church where Father held his fraudulent services. Rusty spikes skewered a wrist and an ankle to the creosote ties. Mother stood breathing heavy, watching the girl twist and scream until the sound of the old P&R freight train came whistlin’ from round the bend. Her caterwaulin’ died at its approach. She reached up with her free hand, fingers splayed, pleadin’. She even reached up to momma, who stood next to me with a hammer lay’n at her feet. Cigarette smoke curled up from her mouth into her eyes.
From out of the dark came a man, a giant stumblin’ up on us cryin’. He fell to his knees and whispered, under his breath, into the night. “Father, forgive him.” Over and over.
But the thunderin’ train came with its screamin’ whistle, brakes squealin’, hissin’, sparks flyin’ over the iron rails. Neither prayer, canticles, nor abracadabra could stop the big black beast.
All this came out during the trial.
Twenty years. That was my court-declared sentence.
