Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes (12 page)
Read Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes Online
Authors: Chris Crutcher
He slapped it away. “This foolishness has gone far enough,” he said. “If this little girl doesn't get herself together I'll drag her on home and let her get better there.”
Laurel said he'd have to get himself under control or leave, and he sprang from the couch like a predator, crowding, towering over her. I thought he'd hit her, but Laurel didn't back down even a step.
With my heart in my throat, I moved in their direction, hoping to hell Sacred Heart had a plan for events like this, because I knew I'd have to do something if he hit her, but tangling with Virgil Byrnes wouldn't be like tying up with Mark Brittain, or even getting your butt kicked by Dale Thornton. This would be like getting your butt kicked permanently. I have newfound respect for his madness now that I know for sure what he did to my friend.
To my tremendous relief, two attendants straight from “Wrestlemania Three” reached them ahead of me, one moving behind Mr. Byrnes and the other stepping between him and Laurel. The larger one said, “Sir, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave.”
“You can ask me all you want. This here's my kid
and if I leave, I leave with her.”
“I'm afraid that's not possible,” said Schwarzenegger Number One.
“You have no right to keep her here against my wishes.”
Laurel broke in. “I'm afraid that's not true. This girl is clearly in need of help. If you take her, I'll call Child Protection Services and report extreme emotional abuse and neglect. It'll get decided in a shelter care hearing, and you have a completely nonresponsive child here.”
A calmness descended over Virgil Byrnes, and when I think back, it was the most chilling part of the whole incident. His face went blank and he nodded slightly. “Very well,” he said, and turned to Sarah Byrnes. “Young lady, you get it together, or there will be hell to pay.”
He turned abruptly and walked toward the exit. Unfortunately I was standing in front of it. In a voice so low it almost sounded like a growl, he said, “Something's up and you know what it is, young Calhoune. Don't make the mistake of getting mixed up in it, hear me?”
“Yes sir,” crossed my lips before I could even think.
He nodded. “You're a smart boy. If my little girl is listening to you, you tell her she best get herself home. This is family business.”
Then he was gone.
The staff didn't leave Sarah Byrnes and me alone long enough for any conversation after that, and I have a feeling she would have remained a statue. Words can't describe the sense of menace that man puts out.
So I'm lying here under the earphones, thinking if I had the hammer Peter, Paul, and Mary are singing about, I'd sneak up behind Virgil Byrnes and give him a whack; do what someone should have done a long time ago.
It's amazing to me how things seem always to pile up on each other. It would be enough to deal with all that's going on with Sarah Byrnes, or with Jody, or even with just trying to get my times down before Regionals. But it's all there together. All I really want to do is the right thing. But how do you ever know what that is? I mean, I know some people who could help me with Sarah Byrnes's dilemmaâLemry for one, my mother for anotherâbut I promised not to tell. So is it right to go for help when I've promised I wouldn't, or is the right thing to keep my promise? The stakes are high. You don't have to look into Virgil Byrnes's eyes more than a second to know that.
And what about Jody? Truth is, I'm scared to death to start anything up, and not because she used to go out with Brittain. It doesn't make me proud to say this, but
even with all the work I've done on the shimmering nerd I once was, there is a scared little fat boy inside me who is terrified of being seen. And I think if you're going to be with somebody, you owe it to them to show yourself. High stakes there, too. I think I've been afraid to admit how much I wanted to be with her until it became a possibility. Maybe I should have gone ahead and had some girlfriends I wasn't interested in; you know, a few tune-up bouts before the main event. I hate going into this not knowing what I'm doing, hate having to act cool when I ain't. Funny thingâthis is the first time in my memory I've wished I had a dad. It pisses me off that mine left.
I've tried to look at Brittain from Lemry's point of view, and I really leave him alone away from the pool now, but if I had to go cold turkeyâwell, life wouldn't be worth living. He's been such an asshole since Jody and I have been seeing each other that today Ellerby and I decided to kill him on the two-hundreds to teach him some humility, letting him lead for seven laps before eating him up on the eighth. Twenty of 'em like that. He didn't even stay around to shower after workout, which means in an hour he'll feel like he's staked on an anthill from the residual chlorine.
Things are finally looking up for Sarah Byrnes. She's not completely out of the woods, but the cavalry is storming over the horizon. I'm glad, because I'm not strong enough or smart enough to carry this load myself.
The next time I visited Sacred Heart we couldn't talk because her dad was there. It was as if he was stalking us. After that we went outside, but he followed us to the landing at the top of the stairs where he could watch, and Sarah Byrnes couldn't talk. Finally, I took her hand. “Once for yes and twice for no. Do you think he knows you're faking it?”
She squeezed three times.
“Three? Oh, âI don't know.' You want three to be âI don't know.'”
Once.
“You're not going home with him, are you?”
Twice. Hard.
“Good. You want me to try to get you some help?”
Twice. Hard again.
“Wait,” I said, “hear me out. What if I could work it out so you were protected? I'm not sure, and if I can't I won't do anything, but if I could, would it be okay?”
Twice.
Sarah Byrnes didn't trust anyone. She'd been “helped” before. Still, I didn't believe I could just let her dangle in the wind like this. I also knew if I betrayed her, it would be the last time.
“Look,” I said. “I'm going to sneak my notebook and a pen into your room, under your mattress. You tell
me what to do, or at least tell me what you're going to do. You must have a plan. It's making me crazy to be in the dark. Okay? If I leave it, will you write in it?”
Once.
Mr. Byrnes said, “Any luck, boy?” as we passed him on the back stair, Sarah Byrnes staring straight ahead.
“No sir. I talk because they said to keep things as normal as possible, but she doesn't answer.”
“This is bullshit,” he said, looking past me to Sarah Byrnes. “She's hearing every word, and I'd bet you know that, Calhoune. Tell you what, if I find out it's true, there'll be hell to pay for you, too. Won't always be this hospital to protect her. Or you, either. If you know something I should know, you best spill it.”
I stopped and stared directly into his eyes. “Look, Mr. Byrnes,” I said, “I'm a lot more afraid of Sarah Byrnes not talking than I am of what you might do. If she was talking to me, the whole world would know it.” My heart pounded
lie!
so hard I thought he would hear it, but he looked hard at my eyes and said, “Okay.”
God,
he's scary.
Sarah Byrnes's room isn't off limits, so I had no trouble planting the notebook between the mattress and the box spring when Mr. Byrnes was talking at the nurse. But Mr. Byrnes was there when I went back to get
it two days later, so I had to wait. Sarah Byrnes and I walked the courtyard again under his ever-present glare. The weather was springlike, though that kind of weather never lasts long in February, and I carried my coat over my arm. “Did you write in the book?”
Once.
We walked in long, slow circles with me babbling about Lemry's class, Ellerby and Brittain, Carver and the way he stood up to my mother, whatever I could think of to wear down Mr. Byrnes's patience. But he stood at the landing atop the stairs, waiting like some bird of prey.
Then I told her about Jody, and to my surprise, I told her
all
about Jody. I told her how good I felt to be with her and to have her want to spend time with me. Before I knew it I was talking about the abortion. I had promised, but there I was, and I didn't think to try to stop myself until it was over. Tears ran down Sarah Byrnes's cheeks. I had never seen that before, and I remember thinking absently how they meandered along the scarred crevices of her face rather than in a straight line like they would on a smooth one. I didn't know why she was crying, but I stopped and I stood looking at her, and then I hugged her. She didn't hug me back, but I felt her relax a bit and fall gently against me, and
more tears came. When the tears dried I took her back up the steps. Passing Mr. Byrnes I said, “Nothing,” but it's a pretty safe bet he didn't believe me.
Old man Byrnes's radar was working overtime, and he bird-dogged me every step so I didn't dare go into her room for the notebook. I had to come back late the next day. Sarah Byrnes was sitting through a group therapy session, so I just told the nurse I had left a notebook with my homework in her room. These people really do treat me like I work here.
Dear Eric,
They've been telling meâin case I'm listeningâto write things down ever since I got here, and now they would be satisfied, except they won't know, because if you show this to anybody I'll rip out your intestines and strangle you with them. I have never trusted anyone completely, not even you, and I don't know if I do yet. I'll find out by whether or not I give you this or just rip it up. Here goes.
I can't ever go home again. My dad is getting crazier, and like I said the other day, there's nothing too mean for him to do if he thinks he needs to. Eric, just believe that and don't get
stupid and try to call the Child Protection people or the cops. They can only help after something's happened, and the threats they make don't mean anything to my dad.
I came here because I thought I was going to kill myself, and even though it seemed like a good idea, I was afraid. I needed someplace safe to decide if I could or should do it. I considered running away, but I might as well just admit it, I'm so ugly that even if I do get away from him, my life will always be like this. There's no running from what he did. For a long time I thought the trick was to make myself as mean as he was. That's what
Crispy Pork Rinds
was all about. I wanted to be as mean as I could to all the people who had been mean to me, and I needed my dad then, because being around him kept me feeling that way.
But then I got up here and things changed. They care about you here, and I've seen some kids that have a lot more wrong with them than I have except you can't see it. There's a boy here who was shut up in his closet when he was three years old with his puppy that his stepdad killed. He was there for at least a day but probably it
was longer. And there's a girl who watched her dad kick her little brother to death from a place under the stairs where he couldn't see her, and she still hates herself for not stopping him, but she was only six. I was sitting in the group, pretending I'd been beamed up, when she told that story, and all of a sudden she was shrieking and crying and she ran across the circle and hugged me and told me not to give up and that she feels on the inside like I look on the outside, but she couldn't stand it if I gave up because the ones of us who are scarred have to stick together. I wanted to talk and tell her I would stay and fight, but I couldn't because if I talk they'll think I'm better and send me home. It hurts so much inside me I can hardly stand it, and I've thought more about killing myself, but I know I won't. I feel worse for their lives than I do for my own, except I wish I could hide my scars on the inside like them. I just want to be able to keep mine a secret some of the time.
I'm writing this because I don't have to give it to you. Anyway, ever since that girl hugged me, I know I'm not the only one in the world who hurts, or even the person who hurts the
worst. If the ones who hurt the worst stay, then I can, too.
I've started having these dreams about when my mother was still around. I was pretty, Eric. I was pretty. People said that. In these dreams I see myself that way, and even though I know something was really wrong with my mother, it still feels like love when I remember it. And they aren't like real dreams, they're like memories. Our group counselor says they're important because we can hitch our new lives to them.
I remember how my mother and I used to hide after my dad beat her up and we'd hold each other in the dark, but I also remember her laughing and playing with me when he was gone. She loved me in her way, Eric. She really did. It's hard to stay mean when you remember how that feels. I forgot about it until I got here and saw these kids trying to dig out the little bits of love in their lives, and when I saw they could find them, I started to look for mine. I owe these kids a lot. Sometime before I leave I'll have to talk because I need to tell them they've made things better for me. I also need to tell them about my life because it isn't fair that I know
about them and they don't know about me.
And I know I have to quit remembering my mother as loving me because it hurts too much. There's only one way she can help me now, and that's to come back and tell the truthâand put that son of a bitch away.
The ink color has changed because it's the next day. It was hard to let you take this. I was relieved yesterday when you didn't get a chance to get it out of my room. But I can't let myself chicken out now; I'm out of good choices. And then there's you. When we were younger I kept you around because you were an easy friend. And it's only been since I got here, since that girl hugged me, that I figured out if I have a chance it'll be because I let somebody like me. You saved me, Eric. God, remember when you first turned out for the swim team and you started losing all that weight and got scared I'd think you were leaving me? So you ate like two pigs instead of one? When I found out you were staying fat for me, I went home and cried and cried. Nobody ever did anything like that for me. I cried again the other day when you told
me about that Jody girl, and you might as well know it's because I was afraid you'll go away from me. I know I'm not pretty anymore, Eric, but I'm a girl under all this mess. I don't love you or anythingâat least not like thatâbut it makes me afraid. I also cried because you told me she had an abortion and there've been so many times in my life I wished that's what I had been.
These kids up here, they act like the toughest kids in the world, just like me, but this is the first time I've ever seen under that toughnessâin anybody else or in me. I'm really scared, because if I'm going to have a life, I'm going to have to act different, and I don't know if I can.
So there it is, and by God I'm going to give this to you and you better not give it to anybody else. And one other thing: When I start talking again don't expect me to act like this letter all the time, because I won't.
“I need to talk to you off the record,” I said, standing on Lemry's porch after midnight.
“You want to stand out here and freeze,” she said, pulling her robe tight, “or would you like to come in?”
In the light she saw the red rims around my eyes.
“Mobe, what's the matter?”
“You sure we won't bother your husband?”
She smiled. “My husband goes to work out at five in the morning. He does not wake up for midnight callers. Now what's the matter?”
I burst into tears.
Lemry put her hand on my back, and guided me to the couch. “Sit. Tell me what's the matter.”
“God, I think my heart is going to break.”
“Is this about Jody?”
I shook my head. “That would be easy.”
“Tell me.”
“It has to be off the record.”
“I'll promise if it's at all possible I'll keep it to myself, Mobe, but if it requires outside help, I always have to consider that.”
I watched her carefully.
“You'll just have to take a chance.”
It boiled down to this: Somebody a whole lot smarter than me and Sarah Byrnes needs to help keep her old man off her and get a start on the life she got a glimpse of writing that letter. If I didn't do
something,
Sarah Byrnes would either get dragged back home by her dad, or she'd run away and be alone. The letter was clear: shaky as I was, I was her only friend. I'd rather have
her hate my guts and be safe than love me and be alone.
I handed Lemry the letter.
She read it and tears rolled out of her eyes like big sad pearls, and I knew she'd do the right thing because she felt just like me. She read it again and said, “She's right, Mobe. Her mother's the only person who can set this straight. We better find her.”