John McManus - Born on a Train - 13 Stories

Barbara was scared, but she tried to concentrate on listening. She exposed one ear to the air outside her shield and focused hard, and Pa said, No, I cain’t, and Floyd cursed. He grabbed the gun from Pa and fired, and everything was silent. She wondered why the screams had stopped a good ten seconds prior to the shot.

Doors slammed. She heard more muffled noises but didn’t know what they meant. It continued well into the night, and she tossed and turned, too sleepy to identify the sounds, and fell in and out of dreams. At four in the morning Pa came into her room and stood above her and barked, They was some bats out there causin a ruckus somethin fierce. I hope it didn’t scare you too much.

She was still confused about how Coogar had been related to her. She knew Garrett was her third cousin. She didn’t see why Thompson was his surname, which belonged to no one else she knew, not even Coogar.

* * *

Garrett was tired of waiting for an employee at the gun rack, so he took Barbara back to toys to look at soccer balls. She followed him through aisles of fishing rods, light switches, tire cleaners beneath a ceiling twenty feet above her, like four of herself stacked up on shoulders. Garrett said he could jump up and touch it if he wanted to.

No you couldn’t.

I just don’t want to, he sneered. He was ugly and had one eye lower than the other and a nose bent sideways. His ears were small and high and his hair and freckles red-blond, and he said, Your daddy’s stupid, and laughed. Barbara was mad but didn’t speak as they turned a corner toward the toy department. Say, said Garrett, pushing Barbara’s shoulder.

What?

Your daddy’s dumb, Garrett said. He waited for Barbara to answer, but he hadn’t asked a question so Barbara said nothing until he added, And them jeans is fucked.

Your pa was the one that got em that way, Barbara said.

Listen to me. Don’t you talk about my daddy. He’s dead. He weren’t stupid the way yours is.

I can talk about whatever I want to.

You listen, he said again. You ain’t even the earl. It’s Floyd gets to be the earl.

There ain’t no earl.

Your daddy told me all about it. He must of told me five times. He said if it weren’t for Floyd bein oldern me he’d adopt me, so I could be the earl.

He ain’t adopting nobody, Barbara said.

He’d of give it to me before he’d give it to you.

Barbara’s eyes were burning. Garrett whined just like his old man, whose final gurgles Barbara had heard two weeks ago, from her bed. She’d peeked out the window. He’d bled from underneath his mullet cut and coughed and died. Garrett had been away on a Scouts trip and didn’t know till Tuesday, when Pa first took him in and fed him. Garrett didn’t say a word that night or all day Wednesday. On Thursday he started talking but wouldn’t say anything other than the Boy Scouts’ creed. A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent, but Pa was nervous. He asked Garrett if he was okay.

Always be prepared, said Garrett.

The police done took care of it while you was gone, Pa told him. You don’t need to be botherin them none about it.

Garrett didn’t answer.

Did you hear me? Pa said.

Garrett barely moved his head.

How do you feel about what I just told you?

Thrifty.

Cut this bullshit out, now.

Brave, said Garrett. Loyal.

* * *

Two well-dressed girls giggled as they passed Barbara and Garrett in the aisle near the toy department. They were eleven or twelve years old, and Garrett scowled. I hate girls, he said. Come here and watch this. He pulled Barbara by her hand around a corner to a shelf of dolls.

Look at this shit, he said.

Barbara shrugged.

I bet you wish you could buy ever one of these dolls.

She shook her head.

Yes you do.

No I don’t, she said. She was getting mad at him.

You listen.

She didn’t like the sound of Garrett’s voice. She thought of telling him what Floyd had done; she didn’t like his voice either. They both yelled when they talked, just like Pa. It made her jumpy. Garrett was unzipping the fly of his ragged jean shorts. What are you doing? Barbara asked him, and he laughed as she scanned her eyes along the ugly rows of pink-boxed Barbie dolls and cars and Barbie houses, Barbie dresses, Barbie shoes.

Garrett doused the dolls with a steady stream of piss. He knocked some down behind the stacks. With one hand on his hip he turned from side to side and soaked the entire shelf and the one below it. Plastic rippled loudly when the stream hit it, and Barbara watched, amazed, as shallow puddles formed on the beige modular shelves.

Watch this, said Garrett. He pointed his penis straight up and sent a fountain of his urine arcing toward the shelf top, which was four feet high, but the stream fell short. He drenched a row of Kens and dribbled several drops on the floor when he was done, and Barbara heard footsteps. She was scared. You smell that? said Garrett, grinning, and stood and pointed at the wide cascade of drips, and Barbara laughed. She thought it was about the most worthwhile thing he’d ever done.

We’d better get out of here, she said.

You’re chicken shit, he said.

We’ll get in trouble.

Speak for yourself, chicken shit. I didn’t do nothing.

A woman in a red uniform stood at the end of the aisle, and Barbara’s heart caught. Her tag said assistant manager, and she cried, What the hell is going on? What is this? Oh my God.

Garrett giggled.

You. You nasty little pig. Oh my God.

She did it, said Garrett, pointing at Barbara.

The woman looked at the dolls and back at Garrett. Where are your parents? she demanded.

I swear it was her.

That’s impossible, she hissed.

You should have seen it.

Where are your parents? she asked again.

I ain’t got none.

What’s that supposed to mean?

A bad man came and shot my daddy, Garrett said.

Who are you here with?

I live with my daddy’s cousin now. They went and shot my daddy down.

Is he here with you?

No, he’s up front.

The woman hung her mouth open. Garrett looked down at his penis peeking out from his shorts, and he zipped the fly up with both hands and pulled hard, biting his lip. Piss dripped down from doll boxes onto the floor. You’re a disgusting boy, the woman said. She didn’t seem to know what to do; briefly she looked at Barbara and shook her head. I’m gonna find your parents and make them pay for all this, the woman said finally.

I ain’t got no parents, Garrett said. I done told you.

Where’s your mother?

I never did have no mother. I got cousins, though.

Here with you?

Some of em is.

Where?

I just told you, they’re up front, where the manager’s yellin. Cain’t you hear it?

She turned her fat head as if it might help her hear better. Large hoops of silver dangled from her ears. As soon as Garrett stopped talking, the woman heard a husky voice yelling, coughing, and cursing on the other side of the store.

* * *

He’s one of those men that’s no good from the day they’re born, Pa was saying to the manager, his flustered face bright red. That bastard had another thing comin. He thought he could take whatever the hell he wanted.

The men behind the counter looked at each other.

Say, Pa said.

We’re going to have to ask you to leave, said the manager in a nasal whine. He looked like he was worried.

I ain’t leavin till I get my pants.

Like I said before—

I know what you said before, goddammit.

If you want new pants, sir, you’ll have to pay for them.

I’ve got a lifetime guarantee, Pa snarled. He held the jeans up in the air with his fist. They didn’t tell me nothin about no bullet holes, and they didn’t say nothin about mud. It was forever. It was a lifetime guarantee.