Nebraska

I’ve seen the commercials for the old men running to the bathroom every five minutes but I still haven’t seen anything for the teenage equivalent. My mom always tells me it is nothing but a nervous tick; it always seems to act up just as she was getting deep into the sales rack at Dillard’s or during one of my thousands of chores. If she only she could see me now standing out here in the woods pissing while my best friend, Jared Angelo, is in the shed getting ready for the greatest afternoon ever. Jared had recently found a cave at the back of his families property and today we are going exploring to see what we can find. We both felt to be safe in our journey, we would bring a gun and some explosives (just in case we get trapped inside the cave and need to blow our way out).
I finish marking my territory on a tree and trudge back to the barn. I pause twice on the way back; once to dodge a pile of leaves that I mistake for a snake and the other, when I hear an explosion in the shed.
I spend the time before the police and ambulance arrive watching the shed go up in flames. At some point, both mister and misses Angelo run outside and watch the building crumble to the ground. It makes it worse that they have no idea Jared was inside. I try to make it back down to the house but it seems the time I spent standing, mud had shackled my boots in the ground. Finally, someone notices that I was the lucky winner of wearing the orange jacket so as to not be shot by hunters and sends an officer up.
“We were just going out into the woods, doing something with some animals,” I tell the officer knowing better than to unveil all of the days plans in much detail. “Sir, is Jared dead?”
The officer takes off his sunglasses to see me, “Son, your friend blew himself into bits and pieces cause you boys wanted to go out and fuck around.”
I feel a trickle of tears begin to make their way down my cheek. Officer Nelson pats me on the shoulder.
Since no one answers the phone at my house, Officer Nelson offers to drive me home. He reminds me to remember all the bad men that had sat in the backseat before me and to never be like them. The lecture gives my mind a few moments to stop thinking about Jared. It seems every time I do, I start crying all over again. I remind myself that the men who sat back here before me were criminals but I’m sure they didn’t cry like a baby and wipe my face clean. My eyes catch the clock on the car’s dashboard. It turns ten fifteen. I watch the car turn down Victory Lane. I can see through the bars of the backseat that there are a few extra cars at our house tonight. It seems awful strange that Aunt Lula’s car is here. God, what family event did I forget about?
“Mrs. Victory?” Officer Nelson asks as he steps back enough for Mom to open the screen door. “We tried to call.” I sneak inside under Mom’s arm and make my way through the house. I end up in the living room and stumble upon the family meeting I had been dreading since I saw the cars in the drive. My sister Anna (who usually hates these things more than I do) sits on the couch in between Uncle Eddie and Aunt Sharon.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t even there,” I said wondering how everyone knew so fast but couldn’t be bothered to come pick me up. I slide in between Anna and Uncle Edie and wrap my arms around Anna. “It’s okay.”
“I’m pregnant,” Anna tells me. I resume sniffling; my eyes open up and continue until I feel like I have no more tears left.

After an emergency school board meeting, it was deemed best if I take some time to be close to family and understand that what happened wasn’t my fault. I’m happy because I don’t have to go to school, I can help out Anna, and find out who the father is. That is anyone’s guess.
My first week home was spent jocking for position among the hoards of church ladies to talk to Anna any longer than hello. I took the hint, moved everything vital to my living into my room, and put sheets up over the windows. This week, I’m adapting to life as a mole.
“They said you can come back to school on Monday,” Mom opens the door and tells me.
I put up my hands to block the light from hitting my eyes. “What day is today?”
“Saturday. Make sure your homework is done and don’t shoot anyone on your first day back,” Mom smiles at me, the first I’ve seen in weeks.
When I return to school, I accept that my classmates can be kind of mean, (I even took part in the pranking of a student who had a terrible case of narcolepsy), but I am not prepared for the actual response I get the moment I walk through the front doors.
“Murderer!” “Coward!” and “You’re sister’s a whore!”
I ignore the first two about me but when anyone feels the need to put Anna into the mix, I can do nothing but take exception. “What did you say about my sister?”
“Hey fucker, I said she’s a whore. What’s it to ya murderer?” the crowd separates for Derek Anderson, the football star to step in front of me, his chest hits my forehead. I pull my arm back, praying someone will stop this fight fast, but before I can finish my forward motion, Derek twists my arm behind my back and slams me against a row of lockers. He leans close to my ear; his lunch burrito breath smacks me in the face. “Her pussy tastes so sweet,” and with that, picks me up and slams me onto the ground.
I still feel the bruises from the rest of my talk with Derek when our principal, Mister Sendrick, advises me strongly to take some time off and take more time with my family. If only my family were that easy. I consider a protest, remind Mister Sendrick that I am privy to most of Anna’s activities but I remember the death threat Anna promised me if I said anything about her “possible baby daddies” and reconsider.
I use a secretarial phone to call home. I think for a moment about calling Dad at work but since I got the wrong end of his belt last time, I don’t even try. I decide the enjoyment of being in the sun (and the delay in time of getting home) sounds fun so I walk home. I arrive home, a little sweater than earlier. I notice a new set of cars parked in the driveway. Inside, the standard church lady crowd sits in the living room, watching Dr. Phil.
“You have to stop being who you are!” Dr. Phil screams at a lady sitting beside him, crying her eyes out. The church ladies all clamor, agreeing with his tactics. I realize it is not my place to be so I stop by the kitchen and take a peek in the cabinets. With Anna eating for two now, it seems not even my oatmeal cookies (my favorite, Anna’s least) are safe from her hunger. I take whatever scraps I can find back to my bedroom. I toss a few pair of pants out of the way and find a comfy position on my beanbag. I yank at some cords and uncover my Playstation from a stack of clothes by my bed. Before I can locate my controller, Anna opens the door.
“Can I come in?” her belly is already outgrowing her shirt.
“Sure,” I tell her tentatively, not knowing what mood she might be in this moment. Even from my room, I still hear Anna’s response when Mom cookies bacon instead of sausage for breakfast.
“I took care of Derek,” Anna smiles at me and glances over my plate, “what cha got?” She leans in closer, her knees pop adjusting to the added weight.
“How did you know? It just happened, like today.”
“You think my friends don’t still watch after you when I’m not there?” Anna grabs a few pieces of beef jerky from my plate. She kisses me on the forehead and uses my head as a prop to get back to her feet. “It will be okay Benji.” I run my fingers through my hair and try to get my cowlick under control. Anna closes the door leaving me to stare at a poster of Nolan Ryan throwing a fastball back at me.

The months go by and visitors continue to come over and watch Anna’s belly grow. Me, I’ve been working on a beard, though, I’ve only got three long hairs on my chin and one growing out of my cheek. Most important to my safety and isolation in the house, I have begun to track Anna’s doctor days and feeding times. Today is Wednesday, which means I should be clear for a few hours this morning while Mom and Anna are at the doctor and Dad is at work. I grab the remote to turn on the TV but the Gilmore Girls are already talking a million miles a minute at me. I pause for a moment and enjoy two good looking girls who get face to face tossing spit at each other while they argue over some boy but the anger is short lived because the boy picks one and ditches the other. Finally, I have had enough and turn the station to The Price is Right. I’ve watched this show since I was five and yet Bob Barker hasn’t aged a day. Maybe they keep him in a cooler over the weekends. I try to convince an old lady from Boston to bid five hundred twenty three dollars (her neighbor bid twenty two) but she seems determined to hit it right on the mark and dig through Bob’s pocket for a hundred dollar bill. The whole crew of contestants bid over (even though my guess was wrong too at least it would have been a better educated guess than ten thousand) and has to all put in new bids. I am midway through deciding what to do when Anna walks up behind me.
“What are doing in here?”
I hesitate to answer. “Well, it’s Wednesday and I thought that you would be at the doctors all morning with mom.” As I finish my statement, Mom walks in and joins our conversation.
“What are you doing in here? I could have had church ladies here today and then I would have to explain everything again.”
“I’m sorry,” I set down the remote and head to my room. “I’m sorry.”
“We can’t even go out in public anymore with people staring at us wondering about you.”
I stop and turn back to the living room but stand firm. “You ever think maybe it is cause you have a teenage mom carrying a bastard child.” I look over at Anna, tears building in her eyes. Mom sits her down on the couch and cuddles her. Anna’s cries are louder than ever. I feel I have been awake long enough today and go back to bed.
By the time I wake back up, it is dark outside and rain taps on my window. I peek out my bedroom door; the entire house is pitch black and silent. I dig through the fridge and find a chicken leg left over from dinner and a Sierra Mist. I turn the power on for the TV and repeatedly hit the volume button down. I’m able to bring the volume down before Billy Mays screams at me to buy some cheap no one needs (at least that what dad says about him). I naw on my chicken for a while and watch TV on a screen that is bigger than my wallet. I sleep without dreams and enjoy a peaceful night sleep on the couch getting some fresh air.
Unfortunately, when I wake up in the morning and return to my bed, I see how things have changed. My Nolan Ryan poster no longer throws at me. I only get a smile and wink from Cinderella and walls of Pepto Bismol. I stare at the walls for a little bit but the pain fumes begin to get to me so escape to the garage. I find my things are all conveniently already out here so I set up my own corner of the room and adjust to the new smells of exhaust and burning oil. I will learn to like it.

Other than the cold, the smell, and the lack of sunlight, the garage isn’t all that bad. I never have to make my bed and I always get to say goodbye to my dad before he goes off to work. Sometimes, it is nothing more than a “get out of the truck” (where I sleep on the colder nights, letting the car run for a while to pump some hot air in and then turning it off before I choke on the fumes) but it is nice to see him every day.
After he pours in a little extra cold on his way out, I have my solidarity. I used to really enjoy playing with some of the kids around my street but since I have my room area of the garage, its kind of fun. I’ve gone through a ton of old boxes out here and find all kinds of board games, playing cards, and even some old GI Joes. Last week, I had to destroy Snake Eyes while playing cards because he refused to show his hand after he won a pot. Said it was no different than wearing sunglasses to protect a tail but Cobra Commander said he saw Snake Eyes try to slide a hand back in the stack that didn’t look like it could have beat a pair. On non-poker nights after a solo dinner, I try to keep in shape and do as many push ups and sit ups as I can. It helps drain any leftover energy from dinner or the day in general. Once I lay down for the night, my sobbing gives me a nice rhythm to lull me to sleep.

Last night was the worst I have had in the garage. It was so cold that the door into the house from the garage was frozen shut. I couldn’t even get the keys to run the engine much less find a nice place to curl up on the couch. I finally resorted to piling a stack of dirty clothes along the front seat of Dad’s truck and burrowed as far as I could underneath. This morning, I know I have a few extra minutes to clean out the truck before day takes off on his Saturday golf adventure, so I wiggle my finger and toes to try and get them to warm up. While I try to open and close my hand to get circulation going, the garage door flies open and Dad comes to the car.
“Get out of the way,” Dad yells at me opening the driver side door. I slide over to the passenger seat, bringing as many clothes as I can with me. I look up at Dad and expect him to get me for making a clothes mess inside, but he focuses on revving the engine and doesn’t seem to notice I’m even in the car. I sit quietly, hoping this rush means he doesn’t have time to kick me out of the car. The garage door flies open with Mom helping Anna to the car. I jump out and help. Anna pulls herself into the truck, moaning, Mom at her back pushing her the whole way. Mom jumps in and places Anna’s head on her shoulders.
“Get out of way Benjamin,” Mom tells me now caressing Anna’s head. I shut the door and follow the truck down the driveway waving goodbye. The morning holds the cold air around me waking me up more as much as two cans of pop. I am now awake enough to hear how loud my stomach is grumbling.
I stand in the middle of the kitchen; every cabinet opened trying to decide what I want to eat. I devour a sleeve fig newtons that I find stashed in the back corner of a cabinet but other than that, nothing else is edible. I find a half eaten package of hot dogs from our last freedom celebration and pop them in the microwave. I luck out and have to only use one heel to roll my weenies up in, the rest go on real pieces of bread. I plop down on the couch and turn on an episode of the Gilmore Girls.
After my hot dogs are eaten, I take a shower and walk down to Saint Mary’s hospital and check in at the front desk.
“Are you family?” the nurse asks. I pause and consider my answer. “Should be some people in the waiting room,” she tells me without waiting to hear my response. I visit the waiting room to see close family and the distant ones as well. The men puff on their pink candy cigars and the ladies talk about what name will be given to the newest family member.
“Loretta, Andrea, Gertrude!” everyone has a say. I talk to a man whose wife is in surgery. He says it is fifty fifty if the cancer has beaten the time clock of the surgeons. I wish him luck, give a glance to my family, and walk out of the room.
I find labor and delivery and sneak back to see Anna. I really don’t want to hold the kid but I would rather that than have anyone else back there. I peek my head around the curtain and see Anna sticking her finger in the babies face.
I walk inside and give Anna a hug. “I think I’m going to leave.”
Anna looks up at smiles and me. “It’s okay silly, you aren’t going to infect Gloria with anything,”
“No, not that.” I stop talking while I stick my finger in Gloria’s face. “I’m going away for a while. Maybe even Tahiti.” Anna stops playing with Gloria and looks me in the eyes. She knows how to read me and she seems determined to see if I’m telling the truth. After she does, she reaches over and grabs an envelope from the table. I glance inside and see a stack of money bulging out.
“Come on now,” I try to hand it back to Anna but she has returned her focus to Gloria giving me no place to return to sender.
“Send me a postcard,” she says then laughs with Gloria. I kiss my hand and place it on Gloria’s forehead. I back out of the room.
Back at the house, I go to work cleaning up my spot in the garage. I box everything up and shove it as far back in the corner as I can get it. Dad would find me just for leaving the boxes far enough out that it would block his truck from getting inside. I stop by the bathroom, pee, and wash my hands. In my parent’s room, I dig through Dad’s pants for his wallet; he always leaves it in times of crisis. I sit down at the computer and begin a search for Tahiti. There are a lot of pictures of sandy beaches and pretty girls so I know it is out of my price range and move on. Mexico seems cheap and easy to fit in. We had family friends that moved to Durango and said they only took one thousand dollars and they lived doing nothing for six months. My envelope had to hold twice that much. I type in the credit card information and print my bus ticket to Mexico via San Antonio. I grab my bag and start walking. I hope my neighbor on the bus doesn’t mind a little sweat. It is a long way to the bus stop.