Lee Johnson - Nitro Mountain

You shouldn’t have made him wait so long. Waiting is the worst. You deserve getting yelled at. Oh, you will, you will. I glanced again at my empty porch. I heard him say, “Peek-a-boo.” Fear almost tipped me over. His voice was coming from over by the neighbors’ house. I forced a foot through the leg hole and looked around. The voice came again, from another part of the yard. “I see you.”

I struggled to pull up my pants but had them on backwards.

Arnett now stood beside me. “Quit crying.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw you run over here with that little basket of yours. I’m just here to help. Don’t cover up your crying. Don’t cover up anything.”

“I know I’m late. But I need my sock.”

He stepped in front of me, put his arms around and held my hips in his hands. Two little pears. He slid his hands into the front pockets of the jeans against my butt. “You put these things on ass-backwards. Bless your sweet little heart. What are you going to do without me? Come here.” He pulled my head into his chest. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Shut up. There you are. Come here.”

“You were watching me.”

He stepped back and slapped my face. “Now, wait. I didn’t do nothing wrong. You know how long I was waiting on that fucking stoop? You know what they were asking about in jail? Cops coming in and taking me into rooms, asking if I knew Rachel. But they got nothing, no DNA. They just can’t find her, that’s all. Come on, Jennifer, I wouldn’t do something like that without a reason. I require reasons. You know this. Anyway, I came early as a surprise. For you. I can’t believe this bullshit. Just like every other bitch. Making you wait. Making you feel bad. Just like every fucking one.”

Then he hit me straight in the nose and I fell backward and knocked my head against the ground.

I think I said something, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

The sky was clear and moonless. I felt numb and far away and dizzy, like when the hospital had me on drugs. I’d known I was going to be late. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.

I tried to tell him but he said, “It’s all good now. I don’t got much time.”

His hands were hot. He held my face in them until I looked him in the eyes. My nose was bleeding into my mouth. “I forgive you,” he said. “Do you not hear me? Let’s get these pants on you.”

I sat up and he knelt in front of me and helped me slide them off. Then he undid his pants. “Be quiet.” He took my shoulders and pushed me back down. The moss was cool. He pulled down his underwear. The spread of sky above was poked with stars. I could see straight up so high, no end to it. Somebody told me one time that space is black because nothing’s up there, not even air. The sky was turning above us, the stars dropping with nothing holding anything in place.

He was hurting me and I made a noise. “What’s wrong with you?” he said.

“My socks. What good is only one?”

“You don’t need your socks,” he said. “You don’t need any of that shit. What you need to do is hush.”

He finished inside me and rolled off. It was my fault. I made him wait. He was waiting for so long. So was I. He stood up and I opened my eyes. He was nine feet tall. He walked across the yard backward. He got into his car and it went away backward.

Close my eyes. Help me listen. There’s something inside all of this. Inside of me. I can feel it. I know it. It’s already growing. I make the promise to myself: You are not alone. I say it out loud.

Lee Clay Johnson grew up around Nashville, Tennessee, in a family of bluegrass musicians. He holds a BA from Bennington College and an MFA from the University of Virginia. His work has appeared in the Oxford American, The Common, Appalachian Heritage, Salamander, and the Mississippi Review . He lives in St. Louis, Missouri.