Because of Dad’s job, Mother knew everything that went on in Harlow. She just didn’t talk about it like Pearl did. Maybe somewhere along the line, she learned a lesson, as Pearl eventually would, about when to keep her mouth shut.
While she listened to Maria Callas, Mother would be in the kitchen cooking up a feast for Pearl and me to disperse to those who couldn’t do for themselves. The baskets on our bikes were loaded with sweet potatoes, jars of chicken soup, leafy salads that she’d picked out of her garden that morning, tubes of salves, headache pills, and a list of names that had to be scratched off before we were allowed to come home and enjoy our own day of rest.
Sorry, I get long-winded in my memories. I miss those old days when Teg Saidlow walked the world, and my mother hummed to Maria Callas as she cut up vegetables. Things were simple, but they weren’t always clean. I get so damned angry sometimes listening to people wish for the past because it was so pure and perfect, I’d like to hit them upside the head. The world was bad then, too. Teg would tell you that if he could. The world has been a mean, ugly place since Cain and Abel, and to think otherwise, well, you might as well be as dead as the past.
Now that morning, my heart sunk, because Loreen Bowman’s name was on my list. The last thing I wanted to do was walk right into enemy territory. Big Mike had laid off Teg since Lehigh came into the picture. And he’d decided to make me an example to every other kid in our class who got better grades than him. After I snitched on him for copying off me in history class and told him that I wasn’t ditching a test so he could be at the head of the curve, things got even more physical. I tried to trade lists with Pearl. I even offered to get lost on one of her outings, but she just laughed and sped away on her bike.
Loreen was on solid bed rest for a week. My dad had seen her the night before. The story was that she had miscarried, but even my father was unsure of whether that was the truth or not, even though he didn’t come right out and say it. He’d seen her in his office the week before and told her that Lehigh’s baby was healthy as a horse, growing in her womb just like it was supposed to. I heard him tell Mother after he came home that things didn’t add up. Of course, he took it personally when some sort of tragedy took place. He should’ve seen it coming, prevented it, saved a life, but he didn’t see this, and it hurt him badly. My dad had a weak stomach when it came to losing babies. Mother had miscarried after I was born, leaving her unable to have any more children, and it broke my dad’s heart. He relived that pain and suffering every time a baby failed to take that first breath of air.
The Bowman place was about a mile north of town, hidden by a ridge of pine trees. I saved my delivery to Loreen for last. By the time I arrived, it was nearing noon, and most of the Bowmans were at the main house eating Sunday dinner. Don’t get the wrong idea when I say “main house,” I don’t mean to imply that it was anything grand. Very simply, the Bowmans lived in a collection of ramshackle houses and rusted trailers with no wheels. There was no sign of prosperity. Those years were long past. The main house was a collection of add-on rooms on an old farmhouse that had been built by carpetbaggers and pioneers.
Lehigh’s house sat at the back corner of the property, and I had to peddle past an empty barn that was guarded by a pack of yapping mutts. Mosquitoes swarmed over a green-scum pond just to the left of the house, and the stench coming from the barn was stinky enough to knock a buzzard off the fertilizer spreader.
Teg was sitting on the front stoop reading a book.
“Hey,” I said.
Teg looked up from his book. He was reading White Fang. The jagged haircut was gone; someone had shaved his head for the summer. There’s nothing worse than ticks or lice living in your hair, especially during summer, but I figured whoever had shaved Teg’s hair did it more for economic reasons than for Teg’s personal comfort. I had never seen Teg at the barber with Lehigh on Saturday mornings. He was still skinny as a rail, and he wore glasses that weren’t quite as thick as Coke bottles but pretty doggone close.
“I got some stuff for your momma.”
He closed his book and stood up. “Momma’s in bed. What do you got?”
“Medicines from my dad.” I wanted to drop the bag and go, just in case Big Mike showed up.
“You’re Doctor Kent’s boy, ain’t you?”
I nodded. “Brady,” I said.
“I know your name. Lehigh’s people are taking care of her. You better just get on home. Momma said she don’t want to see Dr. Kent anymore.”
“Well, I gotta leave this package somewhere, so I might as well leave it here and be on my way.”
“Nothin’ stoppin’ you,” Teg said. His momma coughed inside the house and I saw a shadow drift past the screen door.
I shook my head. This was the first real conversation I’d had with Teg, and it wasn’t too pleasant. Normally, I would’ve just turned and gone on my way, but there was something there, like he wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t. Now, I didn’t normally make it a point to strike up a friendship with someone younger than me, but the fear in Teg’s eyes made me curious and sad. I forgot all about Big Mike. Besides, what was the worst thing the crazy lunk could do? Beat me up? He’d already done that. I’d just make up another lie to my mother about the scratches and bruises I came home with. Somehow, I’d managed to keep my war with Big Mike Bowman a secret, even from Pearl, and I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but right then, I didn’t care. I saw a little bit of loneliness that I recognized all too well.
I set the package down beside the bike, shifted a bit, and looked around past the house to the woods. “You found the swimming hole down at the old quarry yet?” I asked.
Teg looked over his shoulder and stepped off the stoop. “Momma’s gonna get real angry if you don’t leave,” he hissed as quietly as he could. “She starts makin’ a ruckus, it’s hard tellin’ who’ll show up.”
“I was just trying to be friendly.”
Teg looked at me funny, then said, “I don’t need no friends, so don’t be doin’ me any favors.”
“Well,” I answered, “I’m gonna stop for a dip on my way home. I was hoping not to go by myself.”
Loreen coughed again, and then appeared behind the screen. “Is everything all right, Teg-Baby?”
“Yes, Momma, it’s just Dr. Kent’s boy bringin’ you some stuff.”
“Tell him to go home.”
“I already did.”
I knew that was my cue to get out of there, but before I climbed up on my bike, I told Teg, nodding at the book on the porch, that if he liked Jack London then he ought to read Treasure Island. He said he already had.
The quarry had been deserted for years. The water was deep and clear, surrounded by fifty-foot limestone cliffs. The limestone that came from the quarry was now part of the Empire State Building in New York City. I’d seen pictures of it in Mother’s photo album, and I always dreamed I would go there someday. She said I would, if I wanted to bad enough. She was right. I went to New York City for a while, touched the limestone on that tall building as if it was a monument to Teg, but somehow, I ended up back in Harlow. Funny how things come full circle, but that’s another story, and really, I don’t think I got time enough to tell it. The only important thing is that when I was old enough, I wanted to get as far away from this town as I could. But the ghosts of the past followed me every damn place I went, so in the end, I figured I might as well just come back home and look ‘em in the eye.