Chapter 12
If you’re wondering if we ever did get our mate Bruce Patterson, well, we didn’t. We planned it out and everything, but we just never went through with it. There were more important issues at hand at home, like the frostiness that was afforded to Rube and me by Mum and Dad. They were obviously pretty unhappy about the kind of lives we were leading, and the way we had this knack of em
barrassing them. You might also think that this frostiness may have dampened our enthusiasm for somehow getting back at Bruce for Sarah, but it didn’t. Not really. Steve told us to let it go as well. He was back to his “I’m better than you people” routine and he told us we were idiots. It all intimidated me just a little, but not Rube. He was as keen as ever, and he truly believed that we weren’t responsible for next-door’s dog having a heart attack. He explained to me that we couldn’t help it if the stupid mutt was weak as water.
“Hell, it’s not illegal to play soccer in your own backyard, is it?” he asked me. “I guess not.” “You know not.”
“I s’pose.”
Stewing over it for a few days, Rube finally came into our room and told me what the plan was and what it all meant. He said, “Cam, this is gonna be my last job.” You’d think the guy was Al Capone or something. “See, after this last effort, I’m retiring from the robbery, thieving, vandalism game.”
“How can you retire if you never even had a career?”
“Ah, shut up, will y’. I admit I’ve had my ups and downs, but it’s gotta stop right here. I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’ve gotta grow up.”
I thought for a while, in disbelief, then asked, “So what are we doin’?”
“Simple” was the answer. “Eggs.”
“Ah, come on.” I turned away. can do a lot better than lousy eggs.”
“No, we can’t,” and this was the first time I’d heard Rube speak on this subject with reality in his voice. “The truth, mate, is that we’re hopeless.”
To this I could only nod. I then said, “All right,” and it was decided that we would go to Bruce Patterson’s house on Friday night and egg that beautiful red car of his. Maybe his front door and windows too. I was truly glad as well that this was the last time because I was getting sick of it.
Another unavoidable fact also made this whole thing harder than it should have been. It was the fact that I still couldn’t get my mind off Rebecca Conlon. I just couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I thought of her and wondered if she would be there this week, or if she would be off again, having a life without me. It hurt sometimes, while at others I convinced myself that it was all far too risky. Just look at Bruce and Sarah, I told myself. I bet that guy was as obsessed with Sarah as I am with this other girl, and I bet he promised himself never to hurt her, just like I’ve been doin’ — and look what he’s done to her. He’s left her a crumpled mess, lyin’ on her bed all the time.
When Friday evening came, I think Rube and I were too tired to go through with it. We were sick of ourselves, and with two cartons of eggs sitting in our room, we decided not to go.
“Ah, well, that’s it, then.” Rube said it. “If you have to think about it so long, it isn’t worth doin’.”
“Well, what are we gonna do with all these eggs?” I asked.
“Eat‘em, I s’pose.”
“What? Twelve each?”
“I guess.”
For the time being, we left the eggs under Rube’s bed, but I myself still took a trip out to Bruce’s place.
I went down there after dinner and walked past his car and imagined myself throwing eggs at it. The thought was ridiculous, to say the least.
It made me laugh as I knocked on the door, though the smile was wiped off my face when a girl I assumed was Sarah’s replacement answered. She opened up and stared at me through the flyscreen.
“Bruce around?” I asked her.
She nodded. “You wanna come in?”
“Nah, I’ll be right.” I waited out on the porch.
When Bruce saw me, he looked pretty confused. It wasn’t like he and I had been good mates or anything. It wasn’t like we had a pool and he’d thrown me around in it or as if we’d kicked footballs around together. No, we’d barely even talked, and I could see he was afraid that I might be here to give him a serve. I wasn’t.
All I did was wa for him to come out of the house so we could talk. Just one question. That was all I had, as we leaned on his front railing, looking onto the street.
I asked it.
“When you first met my sister … did you promise yourself never to hurt her?”
There was silence for a while, but then he answered. He said, “Yeah, I did,” and after a few more seconds, I left.
He called out, “Hey, Cameron.” I turned around. “How is she?”
I smiled, raising my head, resolute. “She’s okay. She’s good.”
He nodded and I told him, “See y’ later.” “Yeah, see y’ later, mate.”
At home, the night wasn’t finished. An act not of vandalism but of symbolism was to occur.
At around eight-thirty, Rube walked into our room and something was different. What was it? His beard was gone.
When he presented his post-animal face to the rest of the family, there were claps and sighs of relief. No more animalistic face. No more animalistic behavior.
I myself kept hearing Bruce Patterson telling me that he had promised to never hurt my sister. It hunted me, even as I sat through an extremely violent movie on TV. I kept hearing his voice, and I wondered if I would ever hurt Rebecca Conlon if she would let me get near her in the first place. I was hunted all night.
It’s jungle and I’m with her. I can’t see her face, but I know I’m with Rebecca Conlon. I lead her by the hand and we are moving very fast, ducking around twisted trees whose fingers are branches spread like cracked ceiling under gray sky.
“Faster,” I tell her.
“Why?” is her reply.
“Because he’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?”
I don’t answer her because I don’t know. The only thing I am completely sure of is that I can hear footsteps behind us through the jungle. I can hear a hunching forward, coming after us.
“Come on,” I say to her again.
We come to a river and plunge in, wading hurriedly across the freezing cold water.
On the other side, I see something upriver and I lead her there. It’s a cave that crouches down amongst some heavy trees above the water.
We go in. No words. No “In here.”
She smiles, relieved.
I don’t see
I know it.
We sit down right in the back corner of the cave, and we hear the meditative water of the river outside, climbing down, down. Slow. Real. Knowing.
She falls.
Asleep.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, and I feel her in my arms. My own eyes try to sleep as well, but they don’t. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought. I can’t even hear the river anymore.
When.
The figure enters the cave. He walks in and pauses. He sees. Us.
He has a weapon. He looks. Smiles.
Even though I can’t see his face, I know he smiles. “What do you want?” I ask, afraid but quiet so I won’t wake the girl in my arms.
The figure says nothing. He keeps stepping forward. Slow. Reeling. No.
There’s a sound, like a slit, and smoke rises from the weapon the figure is holding. It rises up to his face and wraps itself around it. It tells me that something terrible has happened, and Rebecca Conlon stirs slightly on my lap.
A match is struck.
Light.
I look at her.
Know!
This.
She’s hurt, for sure, because I see blood dripping from her heart. Slow. Real.
I look up. The figure holds the lit match and I see his face. His eyes and lips and expression belong to me.
“But you promised,” I tell him, and I scream, to try and wake up. I need to wake up and know that I would never ever hurt her.