Page 15 of Scythe's Salvation
Never in mywildest dreams did I expect to find Tamara and her little boy at my favorite fishing spot. I spent many hours here, either alone or with Brick, Banshee, and Kracken, when I was a kid. The darkness tries to intrude when I think about the time before RiffRaff found me, but with Tamara and Chance chattering away as we fish, I’m able to look at it in a different light.
My biological mom died of an overdose when I was two, which put me into the foster care system, since my sperm donor was nowhere to be found. The first home I was in was okay; I was cared for as if I was one of their own children, and while the situation itself wasn’t ideal, I was a happy little guy. I did well in school, had a few friends, and even got to play little league for two years or so, until it all went to shit when the foster family I was living with experienced a tragic house fire, which killed the father, severely injured the mother, and sent me back into the system.
It was the second family I stayed with that irrevocably changed me. They were only foster parents for the money, and had three other kids, all boys, in the house along with me. Daily chores, as well as beatings when we didn’t get them done fast enough or to their liking, became part of my life. I held on, hoping the case worker would notice something wasn’t right during her visits, but nothing ever happened.
The day that I decided I had to run away started like every other one before that; I was woken up by the foster father yelling at the four of us to ‘get our lazy asses up and get to work’, which wasn’t unusual. When we got to the kitchen, it was to see an absolute disaster as our foster mother had decided to make a huge breakfast. Every pan was used, and the counters looked as though she spun around with the pancake batter in her hand or something. Even the cupboards had streaks of it running down.
Were we allowed any of this breakfast? No, we got our standard oatmeal, which had congealed in the bowl. Still, if we didn’t eat, we’d get cuffed around the head, and I was tired of being struck so I managed to choke it down. Arlo, however, couldn’t stop gagging every time he took a spoonful. He had issues with textures and looking back, I suspect he might have been on the spectrum for autism, not that it was as well-known as it is today, of course. When Barry saw him, he picked up the bowl and flung it to the floor where it shattered, with clumps of the oatmeal clinging to the shards. He then grabbed Arlo by the back of the neck and pushed him until he was on all fours and demanded that he ‘eat it, all of it, boy, or else!’ and I watched in horror as Arlo tried to do as he was told.
Blood, tears, and snot ran down his face as the pieces of the bowl cut his mouth and lips. Still, Barry egged him on, telling him he’d make him lick the whole floor if he didn’t get busy and finish,since one of our chores for the day was to make sure the kitchen was spotless. By the time Arlo was finished, he was covered in so much blood, he looked like Carrie after the pig’s blood was dumped on her. He was silently crying and rubbing his stomach and I suspected that he had probably swallowed some of the bowl as well as the oatmeal.
A few hours later, while we were scrubbing the last of the cupboards clean, he turned to me and said, “I don’t feel so good,” before he passed out, hitting his head on the counter on the way down. With blood pouring from the wound, I yelled for one of the two adults in the house to hurry and come help. While Barry didn’t want to call the ambulance, Merlita, his wife, who wasn’t always terrible to us, overrode him and she called. I watched my friend be taken away on a gurney, only to find out that he ended up dying in surgery. The glass from the bowl had perforated not only his esophagus, but also his stomach and small intestine. When the doctors opened him up, there was nothing they could do.
During the drama that ensued at the house with the police coming to arrest Barry and Merlita, I grabbed my meager belongings, stuffed them in my backpack and slipped out of the house. I wasn’t in much better shape than the other two boys who were still there; I had bruises covering my torso, and at least three ribs that were either cracked or broken because it hurt to breathe. My left leg ached from being kicked and I knew something was wrong with it as well because walking was difficult.
Still, I made it into town and hid out in the alleyway behind a bunch of restaurants because it was warm. I’d been there maybe a week, scrounging in the trash after hours to find food that was edible enough to eat when I heard a gruff voice ask, “Son, whatthe fuck are you doing? Come on, let me get you some food that doesn’t come out of a dumpster.”
That night, meeting RiffRaff, changed my life forever. He didn’t care that I stunk to high heaven; he loaded me and my bookbag into his truck and took me to the Roanoke Raiders clubhouse, where he gave me my own room, one I didn’t have to share, told me to take a shower and get cleaned up, then he’d have the club doctor look me over.
At ten years old, I found a family that I’ve clung to ever since. Brick, Banshee, and Kracken pulled me into their lives, showing me what being a kid was really about. I learned to fish, hunt, and track with some of the best men I’ve ever known and was made to feel as though I belonged.
“Scythe? You okay?” Tamara asks, lightly touching my arm.
Shaking my thoughts away, I grin at her and reply, “I’m in my favorite fishing spot with a woman I want to get to know better, and a little guy who isn’t scared of a man with a lot of tattoos. That means I’m perfectly fine, darlin’.”
“You just seemed a million miles away is all,” she says. She then stands and walks over to the cooler, which Chance and I have been steadily adding to, and announces, “I think we’ve got enough, y’all. Let’s get this over to Memaw’s house so she can do the cleaning.”
“Wait y’all don’t clean your own catch?” I query. “That’s not right at all. How about this, we’ll take them there but we’re going to help them clean the fish, right, Chance?”
I watch the little boy’s eyes light up as he nods. “Memaw lets me help her all the time!”
“Then let’s get this party started,” I tease. “I’m guessing the cooler is going in the back of your car?”
“Unless you want to strap it to your bike,” Tamara sasses, making me want to smack her delectable ass.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, there’d be fish flying everywhere,” I reply, smirking.
“Flying fish would be funny,” Chance says, carrying his rod and reel like a seasoned fisherman. “But I’d rather eat it.”
“Me too, buddy, me too,” I tell him as I pick the cooler up and start walking to where Tamara’s SUV is parked. Once it’s loaded, along with the fishing gear and camp chairs, I look at her and say, “I’ll follow you over there if you’re sure I’ll be welcome.”
“Amara said to bring you, so you’re coming,” she states, grinning up at me. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand, Chance!”
“Hurry up and start driving, Mommy, so I can say ‘punch it, Judy’,” he says, getting into the back seat. I watch him settle into his booster seat and buckle himself into place. “I’m ready,” he yells.
“Let’s not keep him waiting.”
Hester, as she told me to call her, continues to bread the fish we helped clean then put them into a cast iron skillet that’s one of the biggest I’ve ever seen in my life. “Y’all done good,” she says, flipping several of the filets. “Chance, how much longer before the hush puppies will be ready?” she asks.
Chance, who’s working at the island in the middle of the kitchen, glances down at the bowl he’s been working on then at the platter where a stack of round-ish balls sit. “I think there’s enough for five or six more, Memaw,” he replies.
“Well, get a move on, I’ve got the oil heating up,” she tells him. “We’ve got hungry folks who wanna eat, my boy.”
“Okay, Memaw. Do you want me to get the table ready when I’m done?” he asks.
“After you clean up your work area and wash your hands, absolutely,” she says. “So, how do you know Tamara?”
I’ve been waiting for this inquisition. I already played twenty questions with Amara while Tamara grimaced and held her hands over her face. But I answered each one because Idowant to know this woman and hopefully make her my own.
