Thunder and Lightening
Chapter 12
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

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 rooster 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 as 
that one over there. I could get it for 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.

