Thunder and Lightening: Chapter 12Home « Thunder and Lightening Index « Previous

- Chapter 12

Posted: November 24, 2004 - 09:10:38 pm

It was almost eleven before Jerry arrived from the mall with his son in tow.

Knowing that his son was going to get his clothes dirty while working on the

car, Jerry had bought him a new outfit while at the mall. His son, Bill, was

overjoyed at getting new clothes. It turned out that Bill only got enough

clothes to replace what he had worn out or outgrown. Often, his wife had bought

him used clothes from thrift stores. Jerry was angry when he heard that and

hadn't realized that his wife had been treating his son like a second class

citizen.

Pulling up in front of the house, Jerry was surprised to see Martin waiting for

him. The two got out of the truck and went to the Caddy. Martin greeted him by

saying, "I thought we were going to start earlier."

"Sorry, had to buy some clothes. Martin, this is Bill. Bill, this is Martin."

The two examined each other and decided that they could get along. Jerry went

into the house and brought out the toolbox. In minutes, the three of them were

working to get the engine out of the car. Jerry and Martin worked on the engine

while Bill handed them tools, watching what they were doing. Working on a car

was a totally new experience for him.

The day was threatening to be a real scorcher. Before long, all three of them

were sweating under the hot humid air. Jerry looked up after they had been

working for an hour and said, "We don't have an audience today."

Glancing around, Martin noticed some of the guys sitting by the car across the

street. They were shooting negative looks in his direction at the perceived

sucking up to the white man. He said, "I think a few people are upset about how

you treated Kenny."

"Who?"

"The kid last night. His name is Kenny." Martin avoided looking at his friends.

"A lot of people are upset."

Surprised by that, Jerry asked, "Why? I didn't kill him."

"I think people were a little shocked that you threw him twenty feet. You're a

big man and Kenny is pretty small. You're white and he's black. Around here,

that makes him the victim."

"It doesn't matter that he was breaking into my place?"

"Not at all." The flatness of the voice conveyed as much information as the

answer.

"What do you think?"

There was a long silence as Martin thought about it. "I don't know."

Eyeing the young black, Jerry wondered how it was possible that he didn't know

what he thought about it. Changing the subject, he said, "Let's get to work on

that engine."

For the next two hours they took the engine apart, examined individual parts as

they were removed, and cleaned up the sludge left by the oil that had been too

long in the engine. It was dirty work as grease and oil seemed to leap from the

engine to the men. They washed the parts in a small pan of kerosene, scrubbing

the engine block with kerosene to get rid of the sludge that had built up on it.

Engine solvent would have been better, but this was a poor man's operation.

Martin was amazed at the difference in the condition of the engine they were

working on with the engine of the previous day. The parts were less worn, but

much dirtier. With the engine clean, the men went to work cleaning their hands.

Washing their hands with kerosene and then with soapy water, they managed to get

most of the oil and odor of kerosene off their hands.

The three went to the porch and sat down to take a break from their work. Sweat

poured off their brows, trickling into their eyes burning them with the high

salt content. The heat and humidity was taking its toll on them. Much longer

without fluids and they would get ill.

Jerry stood up to go in the house to get some soft drinks when the biggest man

he had ever seen, other than himself, came strolling up the walk. The man was

dark black with his head shaved. Sweat was beaded on his brow and bald head. The

sleeves were ripped off his shirt, showing arms bulging with muscles. These

weren't the kind of muscles that one got at a gym, but the kind that came from

doing hard physical labor. The shirt was pulled tight from the muscles that

rippled under it.

Studying the man for a moment, Jerry went into the house and picked up the soft

drinks. As he returned to the porch, he passed Bill heading into the house.

Stepping out, he noticed that Martin had moved out of the way. The neighbors

were gathering to watch what would happen. A tense expectation of violence

settled on the neighborhood.

Holding up a can, Jerry tossed it underhand in a slow arch to the black without

saying a word. Sitting down on the porch, Jerry patted the place next to him.

The black man stared at Jerry not knowing what to make of him. He did know that

if it came to a fight, neither one of them would win. When nothing happened,

Jerry said, "Have a seat."

Wary, the black man sat down next to Jerry and opened the can. Taking a sip, he

looked out at the street observing all of the people watching them. He couldn't

believe the white guy sitting next to him was actually a little bigger than he

was. In a low voice that carried the threat of harm, he said, "You beat the shit

out of my neighbor last night."

Jerry took a sip of his drink and didn't answer right away. After sighing, he

said, "I feel like a bandy roster at a cock fight. People are throwing you and I

at each other to see what will happen."

The black man stared at Jerry wondering where he was going with it. Looking at

the neighbors, he could sense the undercurrent of excitement at the possibility

of a fight between titans. The analogy was accurate, but it didn't change the

reason he was there. "So?"

"I'd rather disappoint them."

"That doesn't change the fact that you beat the shit out of Kenny."

"I caught the kid trying to steal my tools. I picked him up by the belt and

threw him out of the house. I'll admit I dropped him once on the way. The way he

was thrashing around, he hit the wall a few times," replied Jerry with a look

that suggested that Henry could take it or leave it. He took a sip of his drink,

trying to act a lot calmer than he felt.

"He said that you beat the shit out of him." He narrowed his eyes as he stared

at the white man. Implicit was a challenge for him to call the kid a liar.

Jerry didn't bother to look at the man sitting next to him. He could see Bill

looking out the window at the men, fear written on his face. "What would happen

if you hit that kid?"

"Shit, one serious punch from me would kill that little fucker."

Jerry smiled and turned to look at the man seated next to him. "You don't think

the same thing would happen if I hit him?"

"You'd kill the son of a bitch, too."

Satisfied that the two had reached an understanding, Jerry extended a hand and

said, "I'm Jerry Smith."

"I'm Henry Buckman," replied the black man. He reached over and shook hands with

Jerry. Their grasps were firm, but it wasn't a test of strength.

Henry finished the drink and set the can down with a hollow ring. Standing, he

said, "Thanks for the Pepsi."

"Thanks for talking with me," replied Jerry. He knew how close they had come to

serious violence. Both men knew that.

Henry nodded and walked away, pausing to look at the two cars under the oak

tree. A thoughtful look crossed his face and then he left. Jerry watched as the

neighbors, disappointed that nothing had come of the meeting, returned to their

normal activities. Martin came back to the porch and took a seat while Bill came

out of the house. No one said anything for a long time.

Bill that broke the silence as he asked, "Could you have taken him?"

Grunting in a non-committal fashion, Jerry answered, "Both of us would have

ended up in the hospital."

Surprised at the answer, Martin turned and stared at Jerry. He couldn't believe

the factual tone of voice used by Jerry in giving the answer. Looking across the

street, the crowd had dispersed. "Looks like everyone is gone now that the show

is over."

"Yea, nothing like the possibility of a fight to bring out an audience."

A silence settled on the three. Bill handed Martin a soft drink and opened one

for himself. Jerry had already finished his, so he waited for the other two to

finish theirs. Martin said, "You were lucky. If Henry hadn't been satisfied, the

whole neighborhood would have turned against you."

Jerry shook his head acknowledging that there were things about living in this

neighborhood that he hadn't figured out and doubted that he would ever figure

out. It seemed strange to him that he would have to explain throwing a thief out

of his house. Turning to Bill, he said, "School starts tomorrow. Are you ready

for it?"

"I guess so. I'm still not so sure how that idea we talked about is going to

work out," answered Bill. He was worried about getting into a fight and not

fighting back.

Jerry slapped his leg, wanting to improve the general mood of everyone. It was

time for him to start taking a more active and positive role in his son's

education. This was a responsibility that he had not met for a long time having

let his wife run everything dealing with the kids. He said, "I tell you what.

You keep a journal of how many hours you study each marking period and I'll pay

you for your grades."

"Pay?" asked Bill very interested in the possibility of getting money.

"Yes. I'll pay you a dollar an hour that you study for each A, fifty cents an

hour for each B. If you make a D, you get nothing," answered Jerry.

"Let me get this straight. I write down in a journal how many hours I spend

studying and then you'll pay me a dollar an hour for each A and fifty cents an

hour for each B. What about for a C?"

"Nothing. You can do better than a C and we both know that," replied Jerry. His

son wasn't going to end up as a B and C student facing a dead end future. Maybe

a little money would motivate him. His mother wasn't going to motivate the kid.

"Okay. So what do you want in the journal?"

"How about the time and subject studied. If you spend an hour on a history

report, just write one hour and history report."

Martin listened rather amazed that Jerry would spend that kind of money. He

asked, "What about you Jerry?"

"Pardon?"

"You are trying to better his grades and future. What are you doing for your

future?"

The question stunned Jerry. Going back to school at his age didn't seem like a

realistic thing to do. He was still searching for an anger management therapist,

but he wasn't having much luck. Tomorrow he was going to call his doctor and see

what he could recommend. Was that enough? Perhaps it was time for him to learn

how to use a computer.

A nudge from Bill brought Jerry back to the present. Looking over at his son, he

asked, "What?"

"Martin is ready to get back to work on the car."

The three of them returned to work on the engine. It took time, but they

reassembled it replacing all of the parts that needed changing. When the engine

had been replaced and Jerry had finished tightening the motor mounts, it was

nearly dinnertime. They stood around the front of the Caddy looking at the

engine pleased with a job well done.

They had attracted an audience by the time they had finished. It seemed that

there wasn't enough to do around the neighborhood so that watching them work on

the car was the best entertainment around despite the misgivings about the

evening before. It shocked him to think that watching other people fix things

was unique and novel in the area.

Martin left to return home and clean up. He was going to eat and get some rest

so that he would be ready for work the next day. Jerry and Bill made the trips

necessary to bring all of the tools back into the house. Scrubbing their hands

over the kitchen sink to remove all traces of grease and oil, they shared a

friendly silence. Once the hands were clean, Jerry said, "Take a shower and put

on your new clothes. I'll keep these here in case we work on a car together

again."

The day had been a revelation for Bill. In the course of the afternoon, he had

learned all of the tools in the toolbox. He'd never been exposed to tools before

and it felt like a manly thing to know. It was as if he had gone through some

minor rite of passage, led through it by his father as fathers had always done

for their sons.

Jerry went to the mini-fridge and removed two soft drinks. He opened one and

handed the other to his son. Bill accepted his and drank it down, replenishing

the fluids that had been sweated out over the course of the afternoon. With a

parting belch, he headed to the front of the house to get his clothes. Carrying

them in the bag in which they had been purchased, he went into the bathroom to

shower.

Removing his shirt and pants, Jerry went into the living room and sat down on

the floor. The sound of the water in the shower reminded him that he wasn't

alone in the house, even if was for just another hour or so. It felt good to

have company. He wondered what to do about dinner and decided to take the kid to

an all you can eat buffet. It was about that time that he realized they had

skipped lunch.

Bill came out of the shower, dressed in his new clothes and stopped at the

bedroom where his scooter was stored. Only a month more and he would be driving

it around. Looking at it, he knew that as soon as he showed up at home with it,

his sister would be getting a new one and a better one just to put him in his

place. He didn't really care, it was enough to be the first to get one.

Going into the bathroom, Jerry showered. He laughed as he stood under the cold

water knowing that he couldn't blame Bill for using all the hot water. He

lathered up and rinsed off as fast as he could. There was nothing worse than a

cold shower and he was going to have plenty of them over the next few months.

Jerry came out dressed and feeling fresh.

Bill was slouched down on the Futon with his legs crossed at the ankles and his

hands laced behind his head. As far as he was concerned, this was a great place

and was much better than home. At least here he was accepted for who he was.

"Are you up to Chinese Buffet?"

"You bet," answered Bill as his stomach growled at the reminder of food.

"We're going to put a real dent in their profit tonight, my son," quipped Jerry

relaxed and ready to go eat.

"I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."

"After tonight, they just might have to serve horse."

The two of them laughed as they made their way to the truck. Climbing in, they

drove off with Jerry taking care not to hit any potholes. Coming in their

general direction was Abe on his scooter. Jerry slowed down and stopped to wait

for Abe to pull up. Abe stopped and grinned over at Jerry. He said, "I heard

that you met Henry today."

"He was that little feller that came by?" asked Jerry with a grin.

"Oh, that's a good one," replied Abe as he wondered how Henry would react to

that characterization of him. He said, "I better get home for dinner before my

Mom sets the table. She'll tear me a new one if I'm not there."

As Abe rode off, Jerry turned to Bill with a smile and said, "I like Abe. He's a

good kid."

The statement bothered Bill more than he would admit. It seemed to him that his

father preferred Abe to him. It was obvious that he spent more time around Abe

than they could spend together. Jerry started the truck as he said, "This is

great. Me and my son are going out to eat dinner together."

The words reassured Bill as he looked over at his father. The smile on his face

was genuine and that meant a lot to the boy. Sitting in the truck, he looked

over at his father watching him drive.

The Chinese Buffet was not very busy that night. Apparently, most people coming

home from their Labor Day trips had picked up carryout. Those that had stayed at

home were cooking out on their grills. As it was, the restaurant was basically

barren. They loaded up their plates with food and sat down at a table. They

didn't talk much, spending most of the time eating and refilling their plates.

Dinner didn't last long enough. Before long, it was time to take Bill home. The

trip there was made in silence as both thought their private thoughts. Jerry

drove to the house in which his wife still lived. Looking at the lawn, he

realized that she had not mowed it since he had left. He said, "Let me guess.

She makes you take out the trash."

"Yes," replied Bill with a sigh. His sister didn't have to do a thing around the

house. His mother called her the princess and treated her like it. She got new

clothes almost every week. He was lucky if he got bargain basement clothes that

fit. As far as he could tell, he was the beast in a life that had become some

twisted parody of a fairy tale.

Jerry shook his head wondering what he could do to make things easier for his

son. He could imagine the hell that his son was experiencing living in that

house. Of course, a slum wasn't the best place to raise a kid, but it had to be

better than at that house. Until a judge ruled on custody, things were going to

have to remain this way.

As Bill was about to leave the truck, Jerry turned to him and said, "Son, tell

me how school goes the next few days. I know it is going to be rough, but hang

in there. Remember, the kid that looks at you with respect can become a friend."

Bill turned around and hugged his dad. The move took Jerry by surprise; he'd

never been hugged by one of the kids before. Getting out of the car, Bill said,

"Thanks, Dad. I'll call you at work after school."

"Great. I'll look forward to your call," answered Jerry.

He watched as the kid returned to the house, observing how the boy became tenser

the closer to the front door he got. It reminded him of when he used to return

home from work, his shoulders knotting up as he opened the door. The sight of

his son acting in the same manner pained him.

He pulled the truck to the curb in front of his new house. A large dark shape

moved on the front step attracting his attention. Looking around, he noticed a

number of the neighbors watching him and the house. He had a feeling that he

knew who was sitting on his front porch. Shrugging his shoulders, he got out of

the truck and approached the house with wariness.

As he got closer to the porch, his guess that the person on the porch was Henry

Buckman was confirmed. Stomach tightening, he walked over to the big man

wondering if all hell was going to break loose. He extended a hand and said,

"Hello, Henry."

The black man slowly rose from the step and shook his hand. "Hello, Jerry."

The two men stood there looking at each other for a moment. Finally, Jerry

asked, "Would you like to come in?"

"Nah, out here is fine. Houses too hot this time of year."

"I've got air conditioning," replied Jerry.

"Shit, that's worse. I'll never want to go home." A deep rolling laughed emerged

from deep within his chest as his white teeth flashed in the dark.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Got any beer?"

"No. I'm afraid not," replied Jerry. He didn't know how to say that he didn't

like to drink because it made it too easy for his rage to escape. Instead, he

said, "Not always a good idea for a big man to drink."

"You're right," agreed Henry. "I'll take a Pepsi if you got any left."

Jerry unlocked the door and entered the house looking at the ruined doorframe.

He had forgotten that he was going to install a deadbolt this evening. Picking

up two cans of soda, he returned to the front porch. Henry was looking at the

doorframe and shaking his head. Looking up, he asked, "Kenny do this?"

"Yeah." Jerry handed a can over to the man. The damage had been rather

significant and he knew that the repair job was pretty sloppy. It wasn't

difficult to rebuild the frame and do the job right. Considering the late hour,

it wasn't going to happen that night.

"Did a shitty job repairing the damage."

"I know. I was in a rush. This morning I bought a deadbolt, but I'm going to

have to do a better job on the repair before I install it." Jerry acknowledged

the shoddy workmanship that he performed the night before.

"Why didn't you do it earlier today?"

"I had promised Martin to work on his car today. I also wanted to take care of

my kid."

"Sounds good to me," Henry nodded as he thought about it. It was nice to know

that the man kept his word to others even when it might inconvenience him.

Moving over to the step, he sat down popping open the can; holding it away from

his body in case it sprayed. Jerry joined him, his actions a copy of the other

man.

Jerry held the can to his forehead, reveling in the cold and wet feeling. Henry

said, "I'll come over tomorrow evening and we can fix it then."

"Sounds good to me."

"This is my neighborhood," remarked Henry, "and I like to keep it quiet. I'm one

of the few people who actually owns their own house rather than rent it from the

slime ball. I know there are some folks that use drugs and there's not much that

I can do about it. When people start getting violent though, I come down on them

like a ton of bricks."

"I've noticed that it is pretty quiet around here."

Henry nodded at the characterization of his neighborhood. Looking over at Jerry,

he said, "Your moving in here was a bit of a problem for me. I figured that we

would have more than a little tension."

Chuckling, Jerry replied, "You can blame Abe for me moving in here. He did his

best to talk me out of it."

"I've seen him driving his little scooter around. Heard you helped him get it."

"Just co-signed the loan for him. He was the one that went out and found one."

"I put the word out that if anyone screws up that little scooter, that I would

personally take offense," replied Henry. He had seen the changes in the boy over

that past few weeks and liked what he saw. Not many of the boys in this area had

a strong male presence in their life. There wasn't anyone to teach them how to

use tools, take care of things, or behave in a healthy manner.

"Does he know that?"

"Probably, but no one will talk about it," said Henry.

"I'm glad you're looking out for him." The idea that someone would break the

scooter had never occurred to Jerry.

The men sat there for a minute without saying a word. The cicadas filled in the

silence with their calls. Henry said, "That Caddy. How much will it be worth

when you're done fixing it?"

"About eighteen thousand," replied Jerry. It was going to take a lot of work to

get it in that condition.

Henry whistled and said, "Martin will be able to sell it and buy a new car with

enough money left over to fix up another one."

"That's right. Of course, I imagine he'll buy a new car before that one gets

fixed."

It was old news in the neighborhood that Martin was working for Jerry at the

auto parts store. "Why would he buy one before he finishes working on this one?"

"That's his mother's car for one thing. He's still walking to and from work.

There's a lot of work to do on it yet. Exhaust system is shot, it needs body

work, a new top, and an interior. It won't be worth much for a couple of

months."

"Hum, I didn't think of that," remarked Henry realizing that he should have

thought of it. Changing the topic a bit, he asked, "I could pick up another

Caddy that is about the same condition at that one over there. I could get it a

grand. Do you think that is a good deal?"

"Are you going to fix it or have it fixed?" asked Jerry.

"I'll fix it myself." Henry was a trash man and proud of it. Although the

politically correct term was Sanitation Engineer, he felt that trash man was a

better description. He often picked up stuff and repaired it for sale. Old

tables, chairs, desks, lamps, and other things brought in good money when

refurbished. Although the job of throwing trash into the back of the truck paid

well, it only constituted half of his income.

"Well, it will cost you about five thousand in parts. Another couple of thousand

will go for the finishing such as touches, paint, fabric, roof, and chrome. The

real question is what is your time worth. You could end up spending more than

two hundred hours on it," answered Jerry. He knew it was a non-answer, but it

hopefully gave him a clue.

"Well, that tells about what I need to know. Any special tools required?"

Jerry shrugged as he answered, "I can lend you some of the specialty tools.

Timing light and that kind of stuff. Some you'll have to rent. Things like a

metal inert gas wire-fed welder are just too expensive to buy. Even I rent them

when I need one."

"Hell, I never even heard of that kind of welder," remarked Henry as he tried to

imagine what it might be.

"I'll help you with that," replied Jerry.

He decided that he would buy the car. There wasn't too much to do around here

except gossip and Henry listened to gossip with a trained ear. He knew the good

people and the bad ones. He watched the ones that were in-between the closest.

Abe and Martin were both good kids. Changing the subject again, he asked, "So

how come you are helping Abe and Martin?"

"They asked," answered Jerry. He asked, "Why?"

"Just curious, that's all." Henry stood up and looked over at the car for a

moment. He said, "Well, I better get back home. Got to be early to work

tomorrow."

"Take it easy."

"Always do," replied Henry as he walked into the dark. The big man moved with a

grace that belied his size.

Jerry sat on the step of the porch for a minute and then headed into his house.

Closing the door behind him, he turned on the light in the living room. The cool

air from air conditioner blowing on his sweaty shirt brought goose bumps to his

arms. He was tempted to turn off the air conditioner, but realized that the room

would heat up before long.

As he slowly undressed, he realized that he had made another friend in the

neighborhood. There were three types of people that he found it difficult to be

around. Big men like him tended to end up in pissing contests to see who was

stronger and meaner. Small wiry guys wanted to show how tough they were by

taking him on. Smart guys tried to make him look like he was a stupid jock.

Getting on the Futon, he thought about the days faced by his son. Tomorrow the

smart kids would harass him. The next day, one of those wiry guys would try to

prove how tough he was by picking a fight. He'd be damned if he fought and

damned if he walked away. He hoped that Bill would call him tomorrow and they'd

talk some more then.

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