Lisey's Story(78)

He lands and falls on his knees in the blood on the boards and begins crying, shocked to find he is still alive, and then his father's arm is around him, his father's strong arm is lifting him up, now in love rather than in anger. His father's lips are first on his cheek and then pressed firmly against the corner of his mouth.

-  See, Scooter old Scooter you old Scoot? I knew you could do it. Then Daddy is saying it's over, the blood-bool is over and Scott can take care of his brother. His father tells him he's brave, one brave little sumbitch, his father says he loves him and in that moment of victory Scott doesn't even mind the blood on the floor, he loves his father too, he loves his crazy blood-bool Daddy for letting it be over this time even though he knows, even at three he knows that next time will come. 9

Scott stops, looks around, spies the wine. He doesn't bother with the glass but drinks straight from the bottle. "It really wasn't much of a jump," he says, and shrugs. "Looked like a lot to a three-year-old, though."

"Scott, my God," Lisey says. "How often was he like that?"

"Often enough. A lot of the times I've blocked out. That time on the bench, though, that one's stone clear. And like I said, it can stand for the rest."

"Was it...was he drunk?"

"No. He almost never drank. Are you ready for Part Two of the story, Lisey?"

"If it's like Part One, I'm not sure I am."

"Don't worry. Part Two is 'Paul and the Good Bool.' No, I take that back, it's 'Paul and the Best Bool,' and it was only a few days after the old man made me jump off the bench. He got called in to work, and as soon as his truck was out of sight, Paul told me to be good while he went down to Mulie's." He stops, laughs, and shakes his head as people do when they realize they're being silly. "Mueller's. That's what it really was. I told you about going back to Martensburg when the bank auctioned off the home place, right? Just before I met you?"

"No, Scott."

He looks puzzled - for a moment almost frighteningly vague. "No?"

"No." This isn't the time to tell him he's told her next to nothing about his childhood -

Next to nothing? Nothing at all. Until today, under the yum-yum tree.

"Well," he says (a little doubtfully), "I got a letter from Daddy's bank - First Rural of Pennsylvania...you know, like there was a Second Rural out there somewhere...and they said it was out of court after all these years and I was set for a piece of the proceeds. So I said what the smuck and went back. First time in seven years. I graduated Martensburg Township High when I was sixteen. Took a lot of tests, got a papal dispensation. Surely I told you that. "

"No, Scott."

He laughs uneasily. "Well, I did. Go, you Ravens, peck em and deck em." He makes a cawing sound, laughs more uneasily still, then takes a big glug of wine. It's almost gone.

"The home place ended up going for seventy grand, something like that, of which I got thirty-two hundred, big smogging deal, huh? But anyway, I took a ride around our part of Martensburg before the auction and the store was still there, a mile down the road from the home place, and if you'd told me when I was a kid it was only a mile I would have said you were full of shit up to your tick-tock. It was empty, all boarded up, FOR SALE sign in front but so faded you could hardly read it. The sign on the roof was actually in better shape, and that one said MUELLER'S GENERAL STORE. Only we always called it Mulie's, see, because that 'us what Daddy called it. Like he called U.S. Steel U.S. Beg Borrow and Steal...and he'd call The Burg Pittsburgh Shitty...and...oh dammit, Lisey, am I crying?"

"Yes, Scott." Her voice sounds faraway to her own ears.

He takes one of the paper napkins that came with the picnic lunch and wipes his eyes. When he puts the napkin down, he's smiling. "Paul told me to be good when he was gone to Mulie's and I did what Paul said. I always did. You know?"

She nods. You're good for the ones you love. You want to be good for the ones you love, because you know that your time with them will end up being too short, no matter how long it is.

"Anyway, when he came back I saw he had two bottles of RC and I knew he was going to make a good bool, and that made me happy. He told me to go in my bedroom and look at my books awhile so he could make it. It took him a long time and I knew it was going to be a long good bool, and I was happy about that, too. Finally he hollered to me to come out to the kitchen and look on the table."

"Did he ever call you Scooter?" Lisey asks.

"Not him, not never. By the time I got out there t' kitchen, he was gone. He 'us hidin. But I knew he 'us watching me. There was a piece of paper on the table that said BOOL! and then it said - "

"Wait a second," Lisey said.

Scott looks at her, eyebrows raised.

"You were three...he was six...or maybe going on seven - "

"Right - "

"But he could write little riddles and you could read them. Not only read them, figure them out."

"Yes?" Raised eyebrows asking what the big deal is.

"Scott - did your crazy Daddy understand he was abusing a couple of smucking child prodigies?"

Scott surprises her by throwing back his head and laughing. "That would have been the least of his concerns!" he says. "Just listen, Lisey. Because that was the best day I can remember having as a kid, maybe because it was such a long day. Probably someone at the Gypsum plant screwed up and the old man had to put in some serious overtime, I don't know, but we had the house to ourselves from eight that morning until sundown - "