Page 9 of Saving Grace

People around town were looking at me like I was crazy. I understood why. A five-foot, seven inch, hundred and sixty pound, twelve-year-old girl pulling a red wagon behind her would turn some heads.

I didn’t care about what any of them thought. Nobody seemed to like me anyway. I knew most of it stemmed from them not liking my Momma. “She’d fucked a whole bunch of them bitches’ men,” was what I’d heard my Granny tell her friend. But as long as they left me alone, I was good.

When I got to the lake, Atticus wasn’t there. I knew where he’d be though. I took the trail up to old man Bynum’s house. Atticus was outside hitting a rock with a stick when I walked up. He looked really mad. Which was funny to me. Yesterday he hadn’t even wanted to take the stuff I was giving him, now he seemed mad because he thought I wouldn’t show up and bring him more. Instead of saying that, I quickly explained to him why I was late. It didn’t seem to matter though. He only smiled when I showed him the goodies I’d brought. I wasn’t offended at all. I’d never gone a day in my life hungry, but I could imagine it was tough.

He couldn’t believe I’d stolen a whole pound cake. “My granny won’t miss it, it’s all yours, I don’t even want any.” I’d eaten all the treats I wanted while helping her cook. I was stuffed.

I had also brought him milk and a sub sandwich. It was big around as my head, but what he seemed to like most was a tray of boiled crawfish, crab legs, shrimp, sausage, and potatoes. I suggested he save the sandwich to eat for later since it wouldn’t go bad as fast as the seafood would. After he ate we used some of the water, the bucket and laundry soap and bleach to clean on the inside of the cabin, there wasn’t a lot to do. There were only three rooms. The living room, bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom that he couldn’t use since there was no running water. He had boarded that up to keep the smell from escaping and he’d already thrown away most of the dirty furniture.

All that remained was a dirty mattress that lay on the floor. I gave him clean sheets that we doubled up for him to sleep on. The horrible smell of death and decay was replaced with the smell of bleach and Tide. After everything was clean we walked down to the lake and he took another shower. I had a whole ten dollar roll of quarters. I told him to use them sparingly because I didn’t know if I’d ever be that lucky to get that many again. I promised to bring him jugs of water so he could wash when they ran out, so he wouldn’t have to go to the lake and possibly be caught.

Later, walking side by side back to old man Bynum’s place. He had looked at me with those strange eyes and asked me. “Why are you doing this?”

I smiled. “You saved me, so I owe you.”

He stopped me, pulling me by my arm to face him fully.

“You really don’t owe me nothing. That wasn’t right what he was going to do to you. Anybody would have helped.”

I shook my head no because I didn’t believe that. At only twelve I was already cynical. I’d heard enough stories from my granny and her friends to know that not all people were good or cared about others. I was almost positive most people would have walked right on by.

“No, everybody wouldn’t have stopped and helped and even if that’s so, it was you that did, so we’re friends forever as far as I’m concerned and no friend of mine goes hungry as long as I can eat. What’s mine is yours. If I got a dollar you got fifty cents.” I repeated the words my grandma had instilled in me.

She’d left Georgia running from an abusive husband. Her best friend Ms. Hattie had helped her— even though she didn’t have much of her own. My granny was big on being a loyal friend.

He smiled but blinked like he was going to cry. I knew if I made a big deal out of his show of emotion, he’d be embarrassed. I was a girl and I didn’t like anyone to see me cry, so I couldn’t imagine what a boy felt like crying in front of someone. I pretended not to notice. I walked ahead of him, back towards the house. I needed to get my belongings and start the walk back home anyway; it was getting late.

I’d be back though.

A few days later we were laying on his mattress head to foot, just staring at the ceiling. We did a lot of that; sitting quietly or fishing quietly. Hell, most things we did, we did quietly. Neither Atticus liked to talk much. I could tell he was the brooding type. At least he seemed like the type that heroines in the books snuck and read described as brooding.

He mumbled something, but I didn’t hear him the first time, too caught up in my own thoughts.

“What you say?”

“My Daddy beats me.”

I shook my head, “I figured,” I replied simply.

Then added as an afterthought. “I’m sorry,” because I didn’t know what else to say.

He didn't speak again until after a minute of contemplative silence.

“This time it was really bad. I woke up after the beating and it was night outside, he’d started beating me around midday. Did this to me.” He sat up and I sat up too. I watched as he removed his shirt. I gasped. His whole right side was scabbed over. The word fag was carved into his skin.

“Why would he do that?” I cried out, it looked horrible. Tears came to my eyes so quickly, my vision blurred.

“Shh.” he shushed me and pulled me into his arms.

For the first time in my whole life, I wanted to physically hurt somebody. I couldn’t believe someone would do such a thing to his own child.

“Why,” I wanted to know, though it didn’t matter really.

His voice cracked as he told me. “The neighbor’s son picked a fight and I lost. My daddy said only faggots lost fights and I’d embarrassed him. This was his way of making me remember that.”

“I hate your daddy.” I declared honestly. No child deserved to live through such things. I cried into his white t-shirt until I couldn't cry anymore. Then I noticed a familiar scent.

“You smell like me.”