Wiley Cash - This Dark Road to Mercy

He might’ve snuck in three or four times before that, and we never did much except whisper to each other and tell stories about our lives and our families. We lay down side by side on the bed together one time, and the last time he’d snuck in we’d given each other a quick pop-kiss before he left. I didn’t know if he was my boyfriend or not, but I thought he might be.

Tonight we sat on my bed with our backs against the wall. Our feet hung off the side of the bed. It looked funny to see my pale white feet beside his black sneakers in the little bit of light coming in the window. He smelled good, and I knew he’d put on some of his dad’s cologne, but I didn’t know what the name of it was. We’d already run out of stuff to talk about, but only because he just wanted to know one thing: who the man was that I’d been talking to at the baseball field.

“His name’s Wade,” I finally said.

“Who is he?” Marcus asked. I took a deep breath to let him know I didn’t want to answer that question; I didn’t want to talk about Wade at all. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “I just thought it was weird.”

We were quiet for a second, and then Marcus’s hand slid across the bed. When I turned my hand over he put his fingers through mine. We just sat there holding hands, neither one of us saying a word.

“He’s my dad,” I finally said. I waited, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You told me you didn’t have a dad,” he said.

I looked over at him. “Maybe I said that just because I don’t want the one I got.”

“What does he do?”

“Who knows,” I said. “He used to be a pitcher a long time ago.”

“Really?” Marcus asked. His voice sounded excited. “Who’d he play for?”

“The Gastonia Rangers,” I said, “and a couple of other teams you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Did he make it to the big leagues?”

“Not even close.”

“Did you ever see him pitch?”

“A couple times when I was real little, but I don’t really remember it.” That was the truth. My clearest memory of going to a Rangers game was the last time Mom took us not long after Ruby was born. Rowdy Ranger, the mascot, was going around to all the kids in the stands and giving them high fives. He had on a white cowboy hat and a black mask over his eyes. When he saw me and Mom, he came trotting down the stairs toward us, but right as he reached out his hand to slap mine he tripped over the last step and spilled my Coke all over Ruby. She was just a little baby, and she wouldn’t stop crying once she got wet. People around us started fussing, trying to give Mom napkins to dry Ruby off, but Mom took one look at Rowdy Ranger and another look at her sopping-wet baby, and she packed up all our stuff and took us right home. That was the last time I’d been to a baseball game.

“Sammy Sosa used to play for the Gastonia Rangers before he got called up to Texas,” Marcus said.

“I know. My dad used to play with him.”

“Wow,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, and I saw Michael Jordan at the Food Lion.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing.

“Of course not,” I said. “I don’t believe a word my dad’s ever told me.”

“Sosa hit another one tonight against the Giants,” he said. “That’s forty-nine.”

“He’s still two behind McGwire.”

“I know,” he said, “but he’ll catch him.”

My palm had started to sweat, and I thought about turning Marcus’s hand loose, but then I felt his thumb rub mine real gently, and I decided that it felt nice no matter how sweaty my hand got.

“Do you think your dad will try to get you back?” he asked.

“He might,” I said. “But I don’t think he can, and I don’t want to go with him if he does.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. Then I said, “He told me today that he’s afraid somebody’s going to adopt us soon just because we’re white.”

Marcus sat there and didn’t say nothing, but I could tell he was thinking about what I’d said. “He’s probably right, you know,” he finally said. “I bet y’all would have a better chance of getting adopted because of that.” We were quiet for a minute. Then Marcus whispered, “Did you tell him anything about your grandparents?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to think about that. Not yet anyway.”

“I know,” Marcus said. “I don’t want to think about that either.” He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed his back. “But what if you have to go?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We don’t even know them. We’ve never met them. It’s kind of like they’re not even real.” I looked over at Ruby and thought about what she’d said earlier about us going to Alaska. “There ain’t no way it would be a good idea for us to just show up in Alaska.”

“So what’s your plan?” he asked.

I leaned my head against the wall and smiled. “You really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said.

I closed my eyes and told him that I’d do whatever I could to make sure that me and Ruby stayed in the home until I was eighteen because then I’d be able to adopt her and take her with me wherever we wanted to go.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“College,” I said. I told him that I wanted to take Ruby with me and get her in a school near the college. We’d both go to class all day, and at night I could get a job because Ruby would be old enough to stay home by herself.

“You think you can take her with you to college?” he asked. “Think she could live with you in the dorm?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We could get a little place of our own so we wouldn’t have to live with anybody else. Besides,” I said, “I’m sick of living with other people anyway.”

“My cousin Janae goes to Gaston College,” he said. “She’s got a little girl who’s three. They have an apartment.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but that’s just community college. That’s just right down the road.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just want to go to a real college. The kind you have to pack up and leave home for.”

He asked me what I wanted to go to school for, and I told him that I wanted to be a police officer because it was the easiest way to explain it. I didn’t tell him that I really wanted to be in the FBI.

“I think you’d be a good cop,” he said. “I wouldn’t mess with you.”

“You’d better not,” I told him. “I’d throw the cuffs on you.”

He laughed, and then he unlaced his fingers from mine and put his hand in his lap. “Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Why do you only talk to me when I come over here at night?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You don’t ever talk to me anywhere else,” he said. “You won’t even hardly look at me: not at school, not after school. It’ll probably be the same way on Monday too.”

I didn’t know what to say because I hadn’t thought about it before, and I didn’t know how to explain myself.

“You wouldn’t even let me meet your dad today,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean nothing,” I said. “Nobody’s met him. I don’t hardly know him.”

“But you’ve met my mom and dad,” he said.

“One time,” I said. “I met them one time after school, and you didn’t even tell them I’m your girlfriend.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure.”

“You wouldn’t think so by how you act.”

“I just don’t want nobody knowing my business,” I said.

“That means you just don’t want them knowing about me.”

“That’s not what it means.”