Page 24 of Be Not Far From Me

Wayne showed me how to make a fist that day on the playground and offered to let me throw a punch at him just so I’d know how it feels. I took him up on it, and he walked away with a bloody mouth, but he was smiling, and it was probably the best recess I ever had.

I wonder what he’d think now that I used the same fist to break his brother’s nose, whether he’d tell me I lost my shit or offer to hold Duke while I took a second shot. There it is now, and I can’t ignore it. I pulled on that particular weed and it came up, root system and all, and I’ve got a big, gaping hole to stare at and figure out what I’m going to fill it with.

I’ve got two options, forgiveness or anger. I can’t act like I don’t care, the way Kavita has always been able to do about Jason. Something inside of me burns too strong and too deep. It doesn’t help that everything I feel shows on my face. Meredith’s always been better at making her face do what it’s supposed to, so maybe it’s her that should’ve been teaching me things on the playground instead of Wayne.

I don’t know, but I’ve still got this hole to consider, and I can just about do what Davey Beet and Jesus and everyone at Camp Little Fish wants me to do, which is forgive Duke for cheating on me. Then I think about those words—cheated on me—and I get angry again, my gut burning hotter than my foot.

When I found him with Natalie it felt like neither one of us could do anything other than cry, but I’ve had time to think, and I’ve got words to say now, lots of them. Some are bad and most are mean, but the one that keeps popping up and wants to be said is why?

Why’d he have to go and do that?

Why wasn’t I enough?

Why can’t a nice thing stay that way?

When his brother Wayne got shot in the ass for banging Kate Fullerton, we all laughed about it. Wayne was laid out on the sofa in the front room with a bandage on his ass, a bottle of whiskey going between him, me, and Duke. Wayne was telling it like it was a funny story, not like he’d just been shot and warned off a girl he’d been in love with. I was laughing because I thought I was supposed to, the whole time thinking, How is this the same guy who punched a boy for trying to kiss me?

Maybe time changed Wayne. Or maybe all boys are one way to their girls and a different way with everyone else. Maybe Duke tells stories about me to other guys when I’m not around. Maybe seeing Natalie made him remember how they had a nice thing going too, until he passed her up for me. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought, or maybe he heard me say Davey Beet’s name one too many times.

I don’t know.

One thing I do know is that Kate Fullerton got a dog out of that whole mess. Her family said she had some kind of stress disorder after seeing her dad put a load of shot into Wayne’s ass, and insurance paid for her to get a therapy dog. She took it to school and everything, and got to pet it whenever she was feeling sad, and all I could think was I’d wanted a dog my whole life and we never could afford one.

Maybe I’ll get a therapy dog out of this whole mess.

Good thing I don’t have one now though, ’cause I’d eat it.

When Kavita moved here from the suburbs she didn’t understand about hunting. She thought it was about killing things, so I showed her otherwise. When I invited her to come with me she’d given me a funny kind of side-eye but must’ve thought it was something like a dare, so she agreed. I got an even funnier look when we started hiking out to the woods and I didn’t have a gun.

“You’re fast,” she said. “But you can’t tell me you’re going to run down a deer and kill it with your bare hands.”

I just gave her a smile, and she seemed to think about it for a second and then added, “Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be all that surprising.”

I helped Kavita up into the stand I had in the woods, then settled myself into Duke’s, up in a tree a few yards away. Then we did the hard part of hunting, together.

“So what’s going on?” she asked me after maybe five minutes. “What are we doing out here?”

“Hunting,” I told her. “This is the part where you wait, and you watch. I don’t take a gun with me until I know there’ll be something to shoot at. And I only shoot at something I’m going to eat.”

She came out with me three more times, until I’d spotted the deer I wanted. I don’t trophy hunt; we can’t afford to taxidermy anything, so I kill for meat and not antlers. I found a doe I liked and let her know which one it would be. Kavita didn’t come with me the next time, and I get that.

Watching things die isn’t easy.

Neither is killing them.

I don’t have days to wait and watch and plan. I told myself I was putting some distance between me and the camper in the morning, and I will. But there’s got to be something more in my stomach than plants if I’m going to have the strength to do it. I don’t know these woods, or the paths these animals take. I can’t go to them, so instead I’ve got to bring them to me.

I’ve only got one thing to lure them with, and that’s my own rotting foot.

I find a good clearing not too far from the camper just as the sun was going down, a chill rising in the air. I toss the bit of foot out of my bag and settle in nearby, hoping it’s something small that comes. Something I can clobber with my walking stick.

It’s a possum that shows up, of course, its long snakelike tail switching back and forth as it scents the air. I got lucky, and it came into the clearing from upwind, the smell of the lure way stronger than anything I’m giving off. It settles in, snacking on my toes like it’s a bag of chips, and while I’m thrilled my plan is working I didn’t prep myself for watching something eat my foot.

I’m all right when it takes an experimental bite. I even hang in there when it pulls off a shred of my skin. It’s the snap of my bone cracking underneath its teeth that sends me across the clearing, walking stick in hand, ready to bash its brains in. I move as fast as I can, swinging wide as soon as the possum is in reach. I get it in the side and it goes sprawling, spitting out one of my toes and a surprised bark along with it.

I’m screwed because I missed what I was aiming for—the head. It’s not stunned, and it’s going to bolt, the caterwaul it just made scaring off anything else that might have been coming to investigate. Everything’s lost, and I just fed my foot to a wild animal for no good reason because it got what it came for and now it’s going to make a run for it. But it doesn’t. Instead, the possum gets up and rounds on me, back up, showing its teeth.

That’s when I spot the babies.