Jackal, page 5
Before I get there, I stumble because I can feel someone watching me. Small-town watching is so different from city watching. In the city it’s a quick glance, the person being watched might look back. Here people will stare, utterly unaware of themselves. I turn around to find that I’ve drawn the eyes of the man who saved the day. Mel’s brother.
“Hey, Nick.” I make myself smile wide. “Beautiful ceremony.” He’s at the edge of the doorway between outside and the barn.
“It’s official. Mel’s not a Parker anymore. She’s a Washington now.” The name sounds rank in his mouth. I know Nick despises more than Garrett’s last name. The first time I went over to Melissa’s house to hang out, Nick tried to put rubber cement in my hair. A few visits later he tried to burn me with a lighter. When I screamed, he told me, Niggers aren’t supposed to feel pain. Wouldn’t be the last time a white boy told me what did or didn’t hurt. He got grounded for that. I notice a faded American flag tattoo on his hand. His reddish-blond hair is buzzed short. Though he isn’t much older than me, his face has a rough quality to it.
I flash him another full smile, begging him to wipe it off my face. “You did a great job with the venue.” That’s an honest compliment.
“Least I could do.” It’s like pulling teeth to get him to be excited. This is easily one of the nicest parties this town has ever seen and he should know. He threw it. Yet, he looks absolutely miserable.
“How have things been?” I ask.
“You still working in sales?” He drives the conversation.
I correct him. “Wholesale and imports. Just got promoted to manager of Northeastern Regional.”
“Son of a bitch.” Nick nods. “You left town and just—” He makes an explosion noise. “I might be coming into a promotion myself soon.” He literally puffs up his chest; I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. “I’ve been qualified for detective. Just waiting for the right time.” The last Mel said, he was a rookie. A beat cop scrambling to get ahead. Thinking about it now, that was back when Caroline was a toddler.
My small talk falls away for an honest question. “Then why build all this?”
Nick gives me a beleaguered smile. “Titles and money aren’t the same thing.”
Amen to that.
“Auntie Liz!”
I whirl around at the sound of Caroline’s voice. “What’s up, Care-bear?”
She shows me a battery-powered candle. “It’s a game!”
“O-kay?”
Caroline launches into a dizzying explanation that boils down to: “We’re throwing lights into the woods outside the barn!” She points to two of her cousins. Their hands are filled with bunches of battery-powered votives.
“I’ll tell the kids to put them back,” I say to Nick.
“Let ’em play,” he says. “You good to keep an eye on her?”
“Yeah.” Whatever the game is, it seems like much more fun than forced small talk.
In the sticky summer humidity, Caroline’s hair blossoms as she sweats. She has a powerful arm. When she throws, she does so with her entire body. Every limb organizes to accomplish the task at hand. Her little cousin Petey’s throws barely break the tree line. Tyler can get the candles to whiz pretty far, but Caroline’s throws sink deep into the woods every time. It takes two rounds for one of the boys to beat her.
“It’s your turn, Auntie Liz.” Caroline hands me a candle.
I face the forest.
Here I am after all this time. I wait for the panic to come. For my heart to race. Nothing. Even in the dark, with long shadows dancing between branches, when I look out at the woods, they look like what they are: trees.
I throw the votive. It spins off my fingertips and lands lamely a few feet in front of me. Caroline laughs. I take up the candle again. When I throw it, it curves through the branches; when it hits the ground, it rolls. After many rotations, Caroline’s is still farther than mine.
“I got ’em,” Tyler says, preparing to collect the votives.
“I gotta go!” Petey whines, stopping his brother in his tracks.
“Then go,” Caroline says.
“No, I gotta,” Petey’s voice sinks to a whisper, “do number two.”
Caroline lets out another high-pitched laugh.
Tyler looks at his little brother. “There are bathrooms inside, Petey.”
“Mom said not to go alone if I’m not at home.”
“Yeah, but this is…different.” Tyler is clearly making this up. “You can go alone here.”
Petey thinks, picks up one foot after the other, pinches his knees together, and waddles his way to the bathroom. Tyler runs into the woods.
The lights flicker like little fireflies in the tree line. They float, one by one, as Tyler gathers them. Seeing Caroline in her dress, I can’t help but be reminded of school. I hope it’s better for her than it was for me.
“How’s school going, Care-bear?”
“Fine.” Caroline hides her response behind her hand as she wipes her sweat off her face. I know that tell all too well.
“What’s up? Kids being assholes?”
Caroline grins at my swear. I forget that I shouldn’t do that around her. I’m her godmother, mentor, and role model. But since she doesn’t flinch, I think she understands that bad words exist and that sometimes they need to be used.
“My best friend, Vicky, couldn’t come. Her parents wouldn’t let her.” Caroline frowns. “Said only dumb people are out tonight.”
“Her parents sound dumb.” And overprotective. “Any dumb kids at school?”
“Vicky and I…they don’t tease us or anything like that. It’s just…I don’t know.” Caroline’s gaze drifts off.
I get it. Vicky is Black. She and Caroline are probably the “onlys” in school. I’m glad they’re friends. I know that wasn’t the case for me. Johnstown isn’t as much white as it is segregated. Not officially. Just in historical ways, like by postal code.
“You two are different.” Which, at the age Caroline is heading into, means potential devastation. “I know people can make that seem like a terrible thing. It’s not. They’re just afraid of what they don’t know.”
“I want to be like everyone else.”
If the phrase wasn’t coming out of a nine-year-old, I would have mocked her for sounding clichéd. She’s so earnest.
“Well, you aren’t.” A pained smile crosses my lips before I can stop it. “That’s not a bad thing.” I’m repeating a version of the hard truth from my mother. Caroline leans into me and I wrap an arm around her. Instead of pushing her in one direction or the other, I stay present in this uncomfortable moment. I hope I’m not the only person in Caroline’s life to do so.
“Oh!” She hops up and rushes to the edge of the barn. She comes back with her sketchbook and crayons. “I didn’t show you my drawing.” She opens the book and shows me her depiction of the ceremony. The level of detail she got out of the crayons tells me that she clearly sketched through dinner.
“It’s good.” An honest compliment. “Too good. Did you eat a bite of your food?”
She avoids my question and sits on the ground. I join her. She looks up at the stars. “I gotta get the stars right.” She grabs a yellow crayon and maps them out.
“It’s almost the first day of summer. Make sure you get the Summer Triangle. Three of the brightest stars in the sky. I find them using their constellations.” I try to spare her the Latin and point out the shapes in the sky. “In the winter there’s Orion and, um…” I search for the name. “Canis Major?”
“What do they look like?” Caroline asks. I sketch them out. I miss this. There are no stars in the city. Not like this. If there is anything I miss about home, it’s the stars. They feel more like home to me than anywhere else. Looking up, I remember memorizing the patterns and constellations and stories as a kid.
Tyler emerges from the trees and dumps the candles on the ground in front of us. Caroline is quick to pick up the game again. I need another diversion.
“I’m getting something to drink. You two want anything?” I ask. Tyler shakes his head no.
“A Shirley Temple?” Caroline seals the request with a smile. She has already reached her quota for the night, but now that I know she’s running on sugar, I’m getting her another one.
“You got it. Stay here, where I can see you.”
When I step back into the barn, I’m distracted by a roar in the corner. I look and see Nick laughing loudly with a group of men across the way. They all carry that telltale stiffness to them: They’re police officers. Or military. From the look of it, at least half the department must be here. Most of the people I know from town are here.
It looks like everyone stayed connected; all of their stories woven together and added to the fabric that is Johnstown. In this room full of “friends” I am alone. The fact that I’m dressed up makes it just unbearable enough for me. As if I needed any more reasons, I make a beeline for the bar.
FIVE
The bar isn’t too busy, but I don’t see the bartender. I see Lauren. She is content to wait. I have no other choice but to stand next to her. Dancing isn’t my thing. Or it is, but only when I’m alone in the safety of my apartment. The people on the dance floor are jumping. That isn’t my thing, at all. There isn’t any style or grace on those boards, just pure movement and joy. Some people find a strange rhythm in their abandon. I do not.
“I haven’t been to a party like this in years—remember Bonfire Nights?” Lauren smiles. Her voice warms with the memory.
“I didn’t go to bonfires, I just went to the…um, the last one, you know?” Tragedy settles in me like a stone. Lauren doesn’t notice.
“They were amazing! Why not—” She catches herself. “Oh.” A respectful heaviness enters her voice. The dead must be respected. I try to shift the conversation, but Lauren insists. “I’d almost forgotten about that…” She lowers her voice, now self-conscious about her previous delight. “Wh—what was her name again?”
“Keisha Woodson.” Every letter is burned in my brain. I’ll never forget Keisha’s face.
“You two must have been really close, right?”
“No more than you and I.”
“But you two…” Lauren starts and purposely doesn’t finish.
“What?” I see her trying to work around the logic in her head. In Lauren’s mind, Keisha and I were as thick as thieves because of the color of our skin and its difference from her own. I don’t feel like explaining how not all Black people know one another, especially not in this horrible context. It’s clear that Lauren is used to thinking of Black people as a monolith, because when confronted with the spectrum, she can’t see it.
I end the conversation. “What happened was—”
“Terrible,” Lauren finishes for me. “Wait.” She’s unable to control her need to gossip. “Did you hear about how they found her?”
I can’t help but give Lauren a look. “How could you forget?” That shuts her up for a moment.
Keisha was found by a hiker in the woods a week after Bonfire Night, with her insides strewn across the forest floor. A gash from under her chin to the bottom of her sternum ripped her chest cavity open. Like an animal. Once all the parts of her were gathered, they found that her heart was missing. Taken. There was evidence of other things done to her too. Sexual trauma. But I never knew if that was kids embellishing an already awful truth. After a long investigation, all this was ruled out. “A very bad fall compounded by animal activity” was what I heard. I never delved. I didn’t want to think about what animals would do to a body left out in the open for long.
“Having a good time, Rocher?” It’s Mr. Parker, Mel’s father. Never thought he would come to my rescue.
“Yes. Congratulations.” I smile and stay on guard. Nick learned his racism from somewhere. I’ve long suspected Mr. Parker. Always hiding behind a smile, he knew how to mask it.
“Glad to hear it.” He grins. The expression doesn’t reach his eyes. His teeth are a telltale smoker’s yellow. “Haven’t seen you back here in years—this place exciting enough for you?”
“No.” I tell the truth.
Parker laughs long and hard at that. He did always appreciate a dry sense of humor.
I scan for the bartender.
“Where’s your plus-one?” he asks. “Mel told me she had you down for two.”
“Ah. That. We broke up.” I’m too sober for this conversation.
“That’s right. That’s right.” I can tell by the way his face flushes that he knows he’s just put his foot in his mouth. Mel told him about my breakup, but he got distracted by something. He’s nervous. He recovers and leans against the bar. “You’ll find someone else. There are plenty of men in that city.” He makes the city sound like The Dating Game. It is, if the game is a sick carnival booth of “Guess Who’s a Narcissist.” (The secret is: everyone.)
The bartender returns. Parker turns to me.
“What’re you having, Rocher?”
Before I can answer, the bartender cuts in.
“Liz? Liz Rocher?”
I am so sick of being recognized. I never know who I’m going to get. When I finally look at the bartender’s face I know exactly who it is.
Chris Hartmann.
He was the first boy to make me feel heady. In my thirties, he still can. Suddenly teenaged again, my voice crawls under my sternum and refuses to come out.
“Chris?” I mouth, questioning reality for a moment.
“Hey.” He looks at me like he’s seeing a ghost.
The last time I spoke to Chris was fifteen years ago, at the party in the woods Keisha Woodson disappeared from. It was dark. Chris and I looked at the stars. I’m not a junior at a graduating-senior party anymore. He’s not the twenty-one-year-old buying beer for high school kids. When he smiles, he gets crow’s feet. The lines in his forehead stay there despite the sweat on his brow. His eyes are still that striking green. His thick golden curls proved untamable, so he has sheared his hair short, like mine.
Mr. Parker orders for his wife, giving me time to gather my thoughts. Which is good because, dear lord, my teenage crush is exhausting. A quick reply is beyond my grasp. In college, I looked Chris up on the internet, but he didn’t have any social media accounts. Or at least, none in his given name. I haven’t looked again since. By the time Parker leaves the bar, I’ve coaxed my heart back down from where it had climbed into my throat. I finally notice that Chris is in all-black attire.
“Um…so, are you the barkeep for this evening?” Feeling grounded, I start to go through my bag of tricks, eager to show off the wit I’ve acquired since high school.
“God, I hope so, or else I think I might have crashed the wrong funeral,” he replies in mock horror. I give him a laugh even though it’s a bad joke.
Lauren laughs louder than me.
“What can I get you?” He asks me the order like it might save him.
“Red.”
The bottle he starts to pour from empties. He struggles to open a new one. I notice how focused he is. His shoulder is rolled forward. He’s trying to escape Lauren’s attentions. Back when I cared about things like who Chris Hartmann was dating, Mel told me he and Lauren were a thing when she was in college. Judging by Lauren’s ring finger, I’d say she is married. Looking at his bare hands, I assume Chris is not.
Lauren is at my side before I know it. She rests a hand on my wrist.
“How’s today going? Not too much for you?” She doesn’t care how I am, she’s just trying to get Chris’s attention. “Weddings alone are always so hard. Right?”
“I’m having fun.”
“When I saw that you”—she barely drops her voice—“took off your wig, I got worried. So happy this is a breakup haircut and not cancer.” She gives a quick glance to Chris; he’s still working. “Men have no loyalty.”
Chris hands me my wine.
“Oh, I know, Lauren.” I cheers her, thank Chris, and leave the bar. There’s only one drink in my hands and I came for two. I’ve forgotten Caroline’s Shirley Temple. I’ll try again when the bar is less treacherous.
I take in the room. Standing there in my dress, I feel my old high school hope mounting. I breathe and remind myself that Chris probably has a girlfriend. Maybe even a kid. Or there’s something else, something horribly wrong with him. There is no way a man like him is still single. Then I realize I have no idea what kind of man he has become.
SIX
Outside the barn, night and a pile of votives greet me. Their battery-powered embers pool orange light. I pick one up and look for my playmate.
“Caroline?” I spot a group of teens just outside the barn. They’re sneaking shots. I can tell by the faces they make after they drink. Caroline isn’t among them. They probably wouldn’t have taken her in. I look for Tyler and Petey. A quick glance inside the barn shows me they both have returned to their mother. Little Petey is asleep in her lap.
“Caroline?” I yell.
I walk the perimeter of the barn. Even though it’s dark, she should be easy to spot in her sparkly white dress. A careful lap around and I’m back to the candles. I go to the tree line. The cool dark of the forest spreads out in front of me. I call her name again.
“Caroline?”
I look at the edge of the woods and will Caroline to emerge. I’ve checked inside. I’ve walked the perimeter of the reception. This is the last place.
No. Look again.
Back to the barn. I confirm, yes, Petey and Tyler are with their mother. I look through the crowd of cops. Nick is nowhere to be seen. At the bar, someone else has taken Chris’s position. Lauren is much less interested in them. No Caroline weaving between the barstools. Mrs. Parker and the aunties are gossiping at a table. Garrett’s family is uncomfortably seated, because of course they are. The disconnect between Garrett and his family glares back at me. His family is laughing and smiling, but there is a tightness. A guard. For two families recently joined, they couldn’t be more separated. I search the brown faces for Caroline’s. She’s not there. Garrett and Mel are on the dance floor. She holds the end of her dress in one hand and her husband in the other.
