I put it back to my ear in time to hear him say, “What happened?”
I spoke in a low voice even though I was the only one in the hall.
“Daddy and us, we were on a run, on that road where you said there’d been agents. A car started following us. It ran us off the road, and then pushed us over the side. I think we rolled a couple times. Easton said it was Murrys.”
Uncle Virgil coughed again, and said, “Damn.”
I waited and there came a long stretch of silence.
He finally said, “Juanita said Merritt’s hurt?”
I said, “Yeah. We’re at Wilkes General.”
“What’s the doctor said?”
“Nothing yet. I’m waiting to find out. Daddy wanted you to come get us.”
“Let me get dressed and I’ll be there quick as I can.”
He hung up without saying good-bye. I walked back the way I’d come and found two chairs in the hallway near the double doors. I sat in one of them, jiggled one foot, then the other. After a while, I noticed mud, bits of grass, and other debris from my shoes sprinkled over the shiny, clean waxed tile. This fit my general attitude at the moment, like I had no right to be sitting in this clean place operated by people who made a living by doing fine and upstanding jobs, people who were valued. Like the nurses I’d seen with their white dresses and shoes, pristine uniforms of mercy and kindness. I stared at the floor again, at what I’d left, and thought of what I’d read earlier on the wall by the phone. What was on the floor said, Jessie Sasser was here, without me having to write it down. I moved one foot and tried to scrape the mess out of sight. More fell and I gave up.
Before long, I began to realize how hungry I was. The peanut butter sandwich and milk was long gone. My stomach rumbled, protesting its vast emptiness. It was like my belly had a demon in it, growling at me. I only had the one dime left. I doubted it would be enough to buy anything from a vending machine, if they even had one. I got up and drifted down the hall again, passing by doors that said: “Janitor,” “Men’s Bathroom,” “Women’s Bathroom,” “Supply Closet,” and directions to other parts of the hospital. I found nothing, so I walked back the way I’d come, sat back down in the chair, and waited. Time slowed to a crawl, while I preoccupied myself trying to count each square of tile I could see without getting up. The doors finally swung open.
Daddy came out first; the doctor followed close behind, saying, “I can smell it, and see it. The boy is drunk.”
“If’n he is or isn’t ain’t none of your business.”
The nurse came next with Merritt, his arm swathed in a huge white plaster cast almost to his shoulder. At least it had a slight bend in it. He wasn’t grinning now, his color gone gray. The doctor left quick as he’d come. Daddy evidently wanted to explain the situation to the nurse, and he gestured at Merritt.
He said, “He had a little bit of something to help him with the pain until we could get here is all.”
The nurse waved a hand and said, “You don’t need to explain. My own granddaddy and grandma loved to sip the fruit bitters for what ailed them now and then. Doctor Barnes isn’t from around here. He doesn’t understand. This young man’s going to be in some pain as the days go by, but the doctor’s given me a prescription for you to fill.”
Daddy said, “Where do I pay?”
“We’ll send you a bill. He’ll need to come back—”
Daddy cut her off. “We ain’t coming back.”
“He’ll need to get that cast off.”
“I’ll see it gets taken off.”
She didn’t say another word. She wheeled Merritt back to the entrance we’d come in off the parking lot. The nurse gave Daddy a piece of paper just as Uncle Virgil came through the doors looking like he’d been in a fight with the ground. His pants and shirt were rumpled, and his eyes bloodshot. We made our way out to his car and I imagined to her we looked like a rough lot. I considered my family, and turned inward, assessing my own self.
My conclusion, A rough lot, to be sure.
Chapter 6
On the way home Uncle Virgil and Daddy talked about retaliation. Merritt sat hunched against his door while I leaned my head against the window, eyes closed and listening.
Daddy said, “First I’m gonna have Troy get his wrecker and haul Sally Sue back over to the house where I can get her fixed back up.”
Daddy trusted Troy Dalton because he’d go get his car, no questions asked.
Uncle Virgil said, “I can do the routes if’n you need me to.”
Daddy pulled hard on his cigarette. “I’ll see what calls I get. Everyone got what they needed only a couple days ago.”
Uncle Virgil said, “What’re we gonna do about it?”
“I got to think on it, but you can bet I ain’t gonna forget it.”
“Maybe I should try and find out where they got a still.”
“It could be useful.”
Uncle Virgil grunted. He dropped us off and since it was late, he didn’t stay. Merritt wobbled inside, and immediately went to his room. I trailed after him and watched as he sat carefully on the bed, grabbed his extra pillow, and then laid back using it to prop his arm up. His mouth was a straight line, his eyebrows lowered so he didn’t have to look at anyone. It was starting to dawn on him how hard it might be for the next few weeks. No ball games. Merritt held distant dreams of maybe being a major-league player, and for as much as he liked pitching, I’d seen the difference when we worked a still. He played ball, and he was good, but the way he talked about making and hauling liquor, it was like his destiny. There would be none of either for a while.
Daddy came into the room with a glass of water and set it on Merritt’s nightstand. He was in a begging mood apparently.
He motioned at the glass. “It ain’t gonna do me no good. My arm’s already killing me again. Can’t I please get me some more of that hooch?”
Daddy ignored him and I was glad.
He said, “Take these.”
He dumped some pills in Merritt’s hand. Merritt gaped at his palm with disappointment, then took them. I hovered in the doorway, and when Daddy went by, he shook his head, warning me against anything I might have to say. I was empty though, in more ways than one. What had happened to us fastened around me like when I tightened my belt to keep my stomach from hurting. We could’ve all been killed and no one would have found us for days. He went down the hall into his room and shut the door firmly, letting me know he was done for the night.
It was just as well.
I went into the kitchen. I didn’t turn on the light as I reached for the refrigerator handle, the peace of the house reassuring me I was safe. I opened it and the light inside came on, throwing out a half circle of brightness around me. I visualized one of them seeing me there, ready to point and laugh. I hesitated, then grabbed the beans, hot dogs, biscuits, the bottle of milk. I shut the door, and with the light gone, I let out a sigh. I didn’t think about what I was about to do. I pushed my negative thoughts aside as I lifted the tinfoil off the bowls, the crinkling sound loud to my ears. I waited a moment, then unwrapped the biscuits from the wax paper. I could see myself getting drunk off food like Merritt had gotten drunk off the liquor.
It began like it always did. I would start slow, chewing with care, until an urgency overtook my methodical approach. It happened when there came this need to fill