it was 1990, i was eight years old, and despite being at one of the poorest moments in our family history, my brother and i attended the lone private school in town because it was also the only catholic school. i will never understand how my parents managed to pay our tuition, and i am certain that they will never explain it to me.
regardless, somehow they paid it, allowing kyle and i to be st. mary's midgets.
1990 was the first year that kindergarten became an all-day class, so while three years prior, i only attended school in the afternoon, my brother was now in the building as many hours a day as i was... every morning, i'd hold his hand as we walked from the car to the school's ominous front doors, two towering stretches of glass that never seemed to suggest of the vibrance and life held within them... always dark and cold, hidden beneath a heavy stone arch. at the top of the stairs, we'd stop each day and turn to wave goodbye to our mom.
inside, i'd send him to mrs. breckenridge in the basement, and i'd climb to the top floor to join the rest of my third grade class in greeting the first and second graders, just as we did every morning.
at the end of the school day, i'd fetch my brother, then we'd wait outside as the long line of cars paraded slowly by, children shouting the moment they spotted the one they belonged to. we'd wait and wait until finally we saw the familiar silver two-door of rita, our afternoon babysitter.
i hated riding home with rita.
the car always smelled of cigarettes and motor oil. it was small - full of all the other children rita picked up before us - and with kyle on my lap, i couldn't provide proper protection for both of us from the onslaught of wet willies, purple nurples and indian rug burns from the other kids. the nine blocks in that car from school to rita's house were the worst four minutes of every day.
...and every night at home, i'd let my mom know about it, begging her to let kyle and i walk to rita's after school.
"but mooooom, it's not very far. i'm old enough to walk to rita's," i'd plead.
"brett, we've been through this," she'd reply tersely, tired of having the same argument.
"but moooooooooom," i'd counter.
"you're eight, brett, and kyle is five... you simply aren't old enough to be walking that far with a small child."
"jeff walks all the way to his grandma's house everyday... that's way farther than rita's."
"brett, i said no."
"rita's car doesn't have enough seatbelts for all of us and most of the time, kyle sits on my lap," i offered, knowing i had just won.
the next day, i triumphantly walked into school with the note staying further torture in the silver dungeon. we could walk.
and that afternoon, we did just that. i grabbed kyle from mrs. breckenridge and threw open those glass doors, glancing over at the sorry sacks who had to wait for their ride. we were no longer like them. we each had two feet, and we got to stepping.
the walk was long, and i'm sure kyle complained here and there, but overall, it was a million times better than riding in rita's car. despite the heavy backpacks and sore feet, we both agreed on that.
after about 20 minutes, we finally made it to rita's house. i helped kyle up the stairs and, for some reason i can't even begin to remember, i rang the doorbell. perhaps i thought she might not have returned with the other kids or maybe i was just being polite, but nonetheless, i rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.
and some awkward stretch of time later, someone did.
only someone i had never seen before.
a man, probably in his early thirties, with dark brown hair that was showing signs of recovering from a mullet and a five o'clock shadow that had to be pushing three days old, opened the door. he extended one arm to keep the screen door open, while lazily leaning against the doorframe, a can of pabst blue ribbon in his dirty, leathery hand.
he opened his mouth to speak, but...
"who're you?" i asked right away, shuffling in front of kyle and holding him in place behind me.
he gave me a look, that look people give you when they are both a little pissed at you and a little impressed by you.
"well, well... real mannerly, aren't we? i could ask you the same now couldn't i? you rang my doorbell afterall," he half-snidely spewed.
i stood still and just looked back at him.
he didn't say anything. just stayed standing in the doorway, holding open the screen door. he took a tug from the can.
"is rita here?" i asked, guessing the answer before he spoke.
"nah."
"what about kris? is she here?" i hoped, knowing that sometimes rita's daughter would watch the kids if rita needed to leave or step out or was sick.
"nah... just me."
"are they coming back soon?"
"don't know."
"they didn't say?" kyle squirmed a little behind me. he probably had to pee. i know i did.
"nah."
"where are the other kids?"
"with 'em, i guess. don't know," he said, clearly getting a little agitated by my questions. he took another hit from the can, and shook his head to toss hair from his eyes.
"well, where did they go?" i exhaled, trying to keep kyle still, while maintaining eye contact with the stranger in the doorway.
"look kid, they had some kind of emergency or appointment or something. i don't know what. you coming in or not?"
i turned and looked at kyle only to see that he was looking to me for answers. answers i wasn't sure i had.
"i... i don't know..." i said.
"well, those bags look heavy and you're probably hungry," he said, showing the first traces of kindness since we got there. still, i didn't like him, and i knew he wouldn't let us pick what to watch on tv.
"i don't think so," i responded, shrugging off my backpack, tossing it toward the top stair and pushing kyle to join me.
"suit yourself then," he blurted, shutting the door just as we sat.
we didn't see him again. in the 2 hours that kyle and i waited on the front porch for our mom to come pick us up, the man never once checked on us or opened the door again. from my backpack, i pulled the remains of my lunch, which we snacked on while i made kyle do his reading homework. i had him look for mom between sentences, while i kept a constant eye on the door, failing to really check that kyle was reading the sentences correctly.
when our mom did arrive, she was puzzled to see us outside, waiting for her.
"just take us home," i said as she bolted from the car to us.
in a move quite unlike her, she obliged, and only asked what was going on once we had pulled away from rita's block.
in the nine blocks and four minutes to home, i told her about the man.
that was our last day at rita's.
in the weeks after we stopped going to rita's after school, rumors started circulating about abuse and molestation at the hands of her daughter's boyfriend, a man named tad or buck or butch. not long after the rumors, rita and her daughter left town... i don't know if buck went with them, but i know he was the man from that day on the porch.
that day i might have changed everything for the better.
posted by brett @ 12:14 PM
2 Comments:
wow, brett
thanks for sharing
wow, i just got chills. nice work.
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