Chapter 50: Monsters 

May

Well, it's official. I'm a high school graduate. I walked across the stage last night and accepted my diploma. And the whole time I was up there, I heard the whispers, saw them point, and imagined they were laughing at the dumbass who was a blind fool, so stupid that he almost married a girl he didn't love to raise a child that wasn't his.

It's so humiliating. As if I didn't feel dumb enough already.

So, I've been laying low, only going to school when absolutely necessary, avoiding my friends and family, teachers and coaches. I used to look forward to talking to people, but now, everywhere I look, I only see monsters who've come to feed on me. They eat up the scandal and gossip as if my pain is their delicacy.

The night I left Bree at the hospital, I came back to the ranch and went straight to the cabin that was supposed to be Colt's home. I picked up the sledgehammer and channeled all of my rage and hatred into demolishing the rest of that space. I kept it up until sunrise, got it all nearly done too. And the next morning, when I opened the door to the cabin, Homie was sleeping on the front porch. I let him in, sat down to pet him, and he climbed into my lap. I fell asleep with him lying on top of me. And that's where I've been ever since, sleeping amongst the dust and rubble.

"Dust and Rubble," by the way, should be the title of my autobiography.

When the contractor came in with his crew a few days later, Homie and I refused to leave. So, he put me to work, which was just fine with me. I've learned all kinds of useful skills—plumbing, drywall, electrical, how to install tile, wood floors, and countertops. The place is coming along now. Today I'm going to finish buffing the floors, which are six-inch white pine planks and stained a light gray, so they look a bit like driftwood. For the counters, we used a white soapstone. The bathroom is almost finished, which means I won't have to go to the main house as much. Ma and Dad keep trying to get me over there so we can "talk," but I'm not really up to it, to be honest. They'll want to know about my future plans and other bullshit I don't feel like thinking about. I just want to stay busy and shut out the rest of the world.

Homie watches from across the room as I move the machine in long straight lines. The last corner of the room is all that's left, so I power down the buffer machine. When I turn around, I nearly jump out of my own skin.

Joe is sitting on top of the newly installed counter. Homie sits beneath his feet.

"Jesus, Joe. What the hell you doing here?"

He grins. "I knocked, but you was making so much racket with that damn thing you didn't hear. So I let myself in."

"No, I mean...why are you here? At the ranch?"

He shrugs. "Just thought I'd stop by and check in."

I narrow my eyes. "Ma call you or something?"

"Nope," he says, hopping down. He squats and scratches the dog behind the ears.

"Jesse then?"

"Naw, son." He looks around the place, trailing his finger along the tile backsplash.

"I'm not in the mood to fuck around, Joe. What's going on?"

He looks up at the exposed wooden rafters. "Dad's worried about you."

"And he called you?"

"That's how I knew it must be serious."

"Fucking ridiculous. Why can't everyone just leave me be?"

"They might could do that. Let you stew in your own juices for a spell. But eventually, you gotta climb out of the muck, clean yourself off, and keep moving."

I shake my head. "There's nowhere I wanna go. I don't give a shit about anything right now."

"You seem to give a shit about spiffing this place up," he says walking through the room. "I used to bring Liza here. Did you know that? Back when you could nearly fall through the rotting floorboards, we had all kinds of fun on those bunks." He glances into the bedrooms. "You tore those out too, huh?"

"Yeah, and now I'm glad I tossed those mattresses."

"And you're sleeping there?" He points to an air mattress and blanket in the corner.

I nod.

"Son, you're about two steps away from hobo-town."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "I guess they told you about...everything."

He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to one side. "Why don't we go for a walk? Get you outta here for a spell."

We follow the path that leads to the forest with Homie trailing at our feet. Joe takes out his Marlboros and packs them like he does. He offers me one. I shake him off, so he shrugs and lights one for himself.

We continue walking toward the swimming hole. "Glorious day," he says, blowing smoke up into the warm spring air. I glance over at him with the sun on his face, eyes closed, soaking it up. Even though he's only twenty-four, life on the road has made him wiser, not as hard as he used to be. Most of it was an act, I think. Deep down, he's just as sensitive as everyone else. And maybe more self-aware than most.

"Wanna go for a swim?" He asks.

"Why not?"

We strip down to our boxers and scramble up the rock ledge to where a rope swing hangs from a giant oak branch above. Joe takes a running start and squeals as he flies through the air and splashes into the water below. Homie barks at us from the beach.

"Damn, it's fucking freezing!"

"Had a lot of rain," I say, reaching out for the rope as it swings to a stop.

"My sack's gonna be frozen solid. Couple of ice balls."

I remember the day in the barn with Peyton. She would love this rope swing. I wish I could have brought her here some time.

When I plunge into the water, the cold takes my breath away. But it feels good. I think I needed a shock to the system.

Joe stands waist-deep, squeezing the excess water out of his long curls. He's still sinewy, with muscles clearly defined under his tanned skin. But I'm taller now, bigger. He doesn't seem so tough to me anymore. We wade up to shore and sit in the sun.

"The way I see it," he says, lighting another cigarette, "you dodged a bullet." He takes a drag and blows smoke rings.

"I guess. But I'd rather not have been shot at in the first place," I say. Homie sits with his little rump leaning against my thigh. He likes to stick close.

"Once the gun's been fired, ain't no taking it back. You should be hella grateful. Get down your knees and thank God you don't gotta spend the rest your life with some smokeshow you don't love raising a kid that ain't yours."

I shake my head and look up at the birds calling to each other.

"I know it's hard. I bet you feel like a damn fool, too. You took a hookin, took a big old hookin, but you gotta get back up, gotta face that monster that took you down. You can't run away. You can't go hide from the world feeling sorry for yourself, dwelling on all the monsters that surround you."

"People suck," I say.

He nods. "People fuck up. They fuck up bad, and we pay. That's the way it goes. You're connected to people, whether you wanna be or not, which means you're connected to all their sin. All the shit they do comes back to you."

"That's why I'm staying away from them."

"Can't do that, son. That's no life at all. It's all part of the risk, life's rich pageant and all that bullshit."

"Bullshit is right," I say. The words taste bitter in my mouth.

He looks over at me, one eye closed. "What about that other'n?"

"Other one?"

"The Moon Goddess." He smiles.

"I forgot I told you about her." I didn't forget her though. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since everything happened.

"Probly cuz you were three sheets to the wind. You told me you loved her."

"I did?"

He nods. "I distinctly remember because I was thinking what the hell is this numb nuts doing marrying one girl while he's pining away for another?"

"Yeah, my relationship with the Moon Goddess is dead and buried."

"Why's that?"

"Well, Joe, getting engaged and having a baby with someone else is probably what put the nail in the coffin."

He giggles. "You're fucked six ways, son."

"Thanks, Joe." I sigh.

He puts his arm around me. "Now, you listen to your old brother Joe. No more wallowing. You gotta figure out what you want outta this life. Then, make it happen."

Homie jumps into Joe's lap and licks him on the face.

"Looks like this little Coffee Bean agrees with me."

"He's pretty agreeable, in general."

Joe scratches him behind both ears and gives him a kiss on the snout. "Welp, I best be getting on. Gotta be in Tyler by five. You wanna tag along?"

"No, I think I'll stay. Finish up what I started."

"Alright," he says, pulling his jeans back on. "But no more hiding from monsters, ya hear?"

I nod.

"Repeat back to me."

I roll my eyes. "No more hiding from monsters."

"Damn straight, Chief. You're a Chaplin. Ain't no cower to us."