In Memory of Gods and Heroes (Chapter One Excerpt)
by Esteban A. Martinez
PART ONE CHAPTER 1
I'm in my apartment, sitting at the table with my cousin Adam. He's a student at the community college where I teach. I'm helping him write a research paper about starving Somalians. We're looking at some photographs from Life. Photographs of starving children. Skeletons with skin stretched over their bones. The subject makes me seethe with anger, makes me want to hit someone, anyone, in this godless world. Adam is the opposite. I can see in his eyes that he'll never hit anyone, that he wants to touch the people in the photographs, to hold them, to feed them, and that he sees God everywhere, in everything. I sometimes become irritated by him because he always prays, gives thanks. We've been best friends since we were children.
My phone rings. I think of not answering. I don't have an answering machine and it keeps ringing. Its on it's fifteenth ring by the time I answer it.
It's Laura, my sister, and her voice sounds like she's crying or has been crying.
"Santiago, Kootie's in the hospital. She might die."
Kootie's real name is Chantel. She's a beautiful six-year old with big brown eyes, full lips and an intelligent mind. In fact, she owns an IQ of 152 according to some shrink at her school. She came from my other sister, Robin.
I replay Laura's words in my head and don't feel anything. Maybe I'm in shock. I wait for her to say something else. Then she starts bawling and her voice sounds the way it did when she was a kid, lost and afraid. I haven't heard that voice for a long time. It does something to me, makes me feel like a child. I'm startled and speak fast.
"Stop. You're not making sense. Stop crying."
She starts hiccupping and I become nervous, anxious.
I tell her to shut up.
The line goes quiet for about three seconds. Then the adult Laura speaks.
In control.
"Somebody burned Kootie's head with a hot frying pan. She's in critical condition. We're at Denver General. Robin and Tony are being questioned by the police and social services. Robin has burns too. On her neck and chin."
Then the child returns, sort of whimpers.
"Santi’. Come down here. Hurry."
I don't say good-bye. I hang up and call my Dad. I tell him the story, tell him I'll meet him at the hospital, that I'm leaving. Then I hang up the phone again and sit on the kitchen floor. I've forgotten about Adam until he touches my shoulder.
* * *
The road is bumpy. The hospital is ten miles from where I live. Adam sits next to me, silent. I'm thinking of clues, clues I never should've ignored, clues hinting that Robin's husband, Tony, beats her, that he abuses his daughter.
I hope Tony burned Kootie's head on purpose so that he'll do some time.
I curse an old woman driving a Cadillac in front of me. She's going too damn slow. I pass her and call her a name. Adam says my name.
"What?" I say.
"I was just remembering you."
"What do you mean?"
"I was thinking of when we were kids."
Adam always calls to my attention his left-field thoughts, thoughts that have nothing to do with the present. I look away from the road and stare at him with irritation.
"Why were you thinking about that?"
"You're so different."
"So."
"Back then you seemed so . . . so complete. I used to want to be you."
I'm thinking about what he's just said. Is he saying I'm not complete now?
I ask him. He thinks for about a full minute.
"No, that's not what I mean. What I mean is that . . . that you're different."
I'm upset about why were driving to the hospital, about Kootie, and give him another irritated look.
"Not now," I say. "Pray to your god."
Then I begin thinking of Robin, of how she used to be.
* * *
A small town near Rapid City, South Dakota. A pond about a mile behind our house. Eight years old. Looking for turtles and salamanders. Robin, eleven, sits in mud at the edge of the pond, makes sure I don't kill anything. Laura, thirteen, plays with the pussy willows behind us. Time doesn't exist until a clump of mud splatters against my face.
I look at Laura, follow her gaze to Robin who is staring at two boys I hate, Shane and Carol Stubblefield.
Shane is in Laura's grade and Carol is in my grade. I hate Carol because he calls me 'Cocheese' in school and I hate Shane because he told the kids at Laura's school that he fucked her. I'm not certain what 'fuck' means, but it doesn't sound good, especially because it made Laura cry.
I'm not afraid of Carol. I've beaten him to a pulp plenty of times, but Shane scares the shit out of me. Unlike his little brother, he doesn't have soft round features. He has a pointy chin, sharp little teeth and rat-pink eyes. And he's taller than any other kids his age that I know.
I want to tell my sisters to run, run like hell.
But when I open my mouth, Robin gives me a look that says shut up. I obey because I fear Robin more than I do Shane. Not only can she beat me in a fight, she can also make my life miserable by ignoring me.
Shane snorts and spits a mucous glob in my direction. Then he grins with his sharp little teeth.
"What are you shit-eating 'Injuns' doin' here? This is OUR pond."
I look from him to Robin. I want her to give us the order to run. I keep thinking, please tell us to run, please.
Instead, she scoots closer to the water and digs her hand into the muck, makes a small pile of it. Then she looks at Shane and speaks calm, matter-of-factly.
"We're not Indians, we're Mexicans."
Staring at Robin, Shane takes a few steps toward me.
"I don't care shit head. Din't you hear me? This is OUR pond."
My heart races. I'm terrified. And I'm angry because I'm terrified. I look at Robin who is rising slowly. She motions me to her and calls Laura over.
Laura walks to Robin and cries.
Robin holds her hand.
Another mud clump sails through the air.
It lands on Laura's head.
Everyone except the toads and crickets are quiet for about five seconds. Then Laura sort of moans Robin's name and Robin screams a war cry.
Robin and I spend a lot of time with our father in bars. Have done so since we were toddlers. He's an alcoholic, a damn good pool player, and he likes to show us off. He never takes Laura. Damn near every word we've learned in the bars, Robin includes in her war cry.
"DAMN, FUCK, SONOFABITCH, COCKSUCKER, CUNTFACE, SHITHEAD, BASTARD, MOTHERFUCKER, ASSHOLE!"
Shane's eyes become wide.
Robin bends over, lifts some of the pond muck she's piled, runs to Shane and smears his face with it.
Along with Shane, Laura and I stare at Robin in disbelief.
Backing away from Shane and readying herself for his move, Robin looks like one of those all-star wrestlers I watch on Saturday nights.
Despite her confidence, the odds are against her. Shane stands at least four inches taller than she does.
Carol looks utterly confused. Slowly, he's backing away from his brother and Robin. I want to laugh because I know he's afraid.
Shane's face twists into a rattish snarl.
Robin tenses.
Then Shane kicks her in the crotch.
Robin doubles over. Laura screams.
Carol runs to Robin and kicks her in the face.
I charge, fists swinging.
Shane picks me up and throws me into the pond. The water is warm from the sun.
I don't know what to do; feel afraid. I look around and see that Laura is pointing and crying.
"Help her, Santiago! Help her!"
I look where she's pointing and see Robin wrapped around Shane's leg biting his thigh. He's screaming.
She won't let go even though Carol is kicking at her.
I feel some rocks under my feet, rocks bigger than my hands, bend over and pull a fist-sized one from the murky pond. Then I rush Carol and throw it at him.
He falls instantly and cries. I kick him.
Shane punches me.
Robin stands and begins boxing Shane's face.
Carol pushes himself up from the ground, abandons Shane. I see his head bobbing up and down through a swath of pussy willows.
Laura sits where she stood and continues crying.
Robin grabs Shane by his neck and wrestles him to the ground. He struggles with her, but she pins him on his back by sitting on his chest and digging her knees into his inner biceps. He tries to break her pin by bucking up and down, but she won't let him go.
"Get a rock!" she says.
Quickly, I find one, one bigger than both my hands, and run to her side.
She looks at me.
"If he moves anymore, crack his head with it."
Shane becomes very still.
I begin thinking of the rules my father gave us for fighting. At first they had been simple with a lot a room for interpretation. "If someone hits you, you hit them back. Don't let anyone pick on you."
Then, I accidentally broke a boy's arm in a school fight and our father changed the rules. "Don't go overboard," he said to Robin and me (not to Laura because she never fights). "Only use necessary force."
The way he said this, as if it were of the utmost importance, made me feel like a student in a karate movie. I vowed never to forget and always obey his new sacred rules. I can almost hear his voice.
Robin shouts.
"Hit him in the head!"
I drop the rock.
Shane bucks but remains under Robin's control.
"Get the rock. Hit him!"
I bend, grab the rock, then stand above Shane's head.
He quits bucking, stares at me, begins to stutter.
"Wu,wu,wu . . . wut . . . wut you gonna do?"
He sounds like he's going to cry.
Robin juts her face toward me.
"Stay where you are, Santi’."
Then she looks at Laura sitting by the pond, whimpering.
"Come here, Laura."
Laura looks at Robin, confused.
Robin motions with her head.
"NOW!"
Laura stands up, shaking, makes her way over.
Shane looks at all of us, puzzled.
I keep thinking of my father's fighting rules and wonder if Robin remembers them. She clears the phlegm in her throat and spits into Shane's face. He starts to cry.
She speaks. Softly. At first.
"You said you fucked my sister. How come? Why did you say that? SUCKASSFUCKER! Laura, stomp on his face!"
Laura doesn't move.
"LAURA!"
Laura whines.
"Why? I don't want to."
My mind returns to my father's rules. I don't want to be punished for "going overboard."
Robin shouts as loud as she can.
"STOMP HIS FACE!"
Then her voice softens.
"He said he fucked you, Laura. He lied about you. Stomp his face and he'll never do it again."
Shane's not very intelligent. The odds are against him. Robin on top of him, me with my rock and Laura, an unknown in the equation, should tell him to keep quiet.
Instead, he glares at Laura and speaks with a laugh in his voice.
"I told everyone you have a lot of pussy hair."
Laura lifts her foot and stomps his face.
