lives in there?”
Sean didn’t know, but he was tired
of Garth’s questions. “Come on, let’s sneak downstairs and go to bed. We can
come back out here tomorrow and check on it again, see if it’s still here.”
“OK,” Garth said, turning to go
with Sean. As they approached the threshold, Garth turned and said, “Thanks for
the food!”
Suddenly they heard the sound of a
baby crying behind them. Sean and Garth turned to look back at the junk pile.
There was the face again. It was the face of an infant, crying and carrying on
the way babies do. As they watched it changed into the face of a boy their age,
who smiled at them.
“Come back if he’s bad again,” the
face said. “I have more food.”
They both nodded and turned to
leave the garage.
Chapter Six
Garth paused. He took another bite
of his bagel and chewed. The waiter came by to check on them, and Garth’s
entire cup of coffee had gone cold, so he asked for a replacement.
“We would visit the boy
occasionally when we were hungry,” Garth said. “He wasn’t always there. When he
did appear, we would try to engage him, find out his name, why he was in the
junk pile. He would never say anything more than ‘I’m just a baby’ or words to
that effect. And after my experience with the goat head I never had the courage
to explore more of the pile. We were still scared of that area of the garage,
we just went there when our stomachs were growling.”
Steven was listening intently to
Garth. He had a million questions, but he didn’t want to interrupt Garth’s
narrative and make him forget anything.
“There was only one person we ever
told about the boy,” Garth continued. “That was Davy, who lived across the
street from us. He was a little older than us and would play with us in our
backyard when Frank wasn’t around. For some reason Frank hated Davy, and if he
caught us playing with him he’d kick Davy out of the yard and give us a
tanning. But we liked Davy a great deal, and we’d play with him whenever we
thought we could get away with it.
“Davy was over one day when Sean
and I went into the garage for food. He saw the boy. He went right up to the
junk pile and grabbed the hand sticking out, held onto it for several minutes.
Sean and I were too scared of the boy to ever do anything like that, but Davy wasn’t
afraid of him at all. They seemed to have some kind of rapport, as though they
were communicating on some level that Sean and I didn’t know about. I remember
asking Davy about the boy, and Davy told us that the boy hated Frank too. Not
because he knew him, but because of what he was doing to us. It felt like the
boy was our ally against Frank, and Davy could communicate with him.”
Garth stopped to take a sip of his
warmed coffee and placed the mug back down on the table.
“You’re probably wondering what
all of this has to do with Frank attacking you,” Garth said.
“I think it’s incredibly
interesting,” Steven said. “Please don’t edit yourself on my account. I’d like
to hear it all, everything you remember.”
“All right,” Garth said. “I’ll
continue. Things went on like this for a while, but Frank became more and more
abusive. We would escape to the backyard, Davy’s house, or the garage to get
away from Frank, who didn’t seem to care where we were as long as it wasn’t
around Davy. We wouldn’t tell him where we went, and we’d just sneak back into
the house at night to go to bed. The kitchen door was always open, because in
those days you never locked your doors.
“One day it came to a head. Frank
began beating on Sean again, I don’t remember why. Any little thing might set
him off. Sometimes it seemed he’d do it just to entertain himself. I ran out of
the house and hid in the garage, which is what I normally did when Frank was
wailing on Sean. When Sean came into the garage after this particular beating,
however, I was mortified. Frank had used the belt on him all over
Sean didn’t know, but he was tired
of Garth’s questions. “Come on, let’s sneak downstairs and go to bed. We can
come back out here tomorrow and check on it again, see if it’s still here.”
“OK,” Garth said, turning to go
with Sean. As they approached the threshold, Garth turned and said, “Thanks for
the food!”
Suddenly they heard the sound of a
baby crying behind them. Sean and Garth turned to look back at the junk pile.
There was the face again. It was the face of an infant, crying and carrying on
the way babies do. As they watched it changed into the face of a boy their age,
who smiled at them.
“Come back if he’s bad again,” the
face said. “I have more food.”
They both nodded and turned to
leave the garage.
Chapter Six
Garth paused. He took another bite
of his bagel and chewed. The waiter came by to check on them, and Garth’s
entire cup of coffee had gone cold, so he asked for a replacement.
“We would visit the boy
occasionally when we were hungry,” Garth said. “He wasn’t always there. When he
did appear, we would try to engage him, find out his name, why he was in the
junk pile. He would never say anything more than ‘I’m just a baby’ or words to
that effect. And after my experience with the goat head I never had the courage
to explore more of the pile. We were still scared of that area of the garage,
we just went there when our stomachs were growling.”
Steven was listening intently to
Garth. He had a million questions, but he didn’t want to interrupt Garth’s
narrative and make him forget anything.
“There was only one person we ever
told about the boy,” Garth continued. “That was Davy, who lived across the
street from us. He was a little older than us and would play with us in our
backyard when Frank wasn’t around. For some reason Frank hated Davy, and if he
caught us playing with him he’d kick Davy out of the yard and give us a
tanning. But we liked Davy a great deal, and we’d play with him whenever we
thought we could get away with it.
“Davy was over one day when Sean
and I went into the garage for food. He saw the boy. He went right up to the
junk pile and grabbed the hand sticking out, held onto it for several minutes.
Sean and I were too scared of the boy to ever do anything like that, but Davy wasn’t
afraid of him at all. They seemed to have some kind of rapport, as though they
were communicating on some level that Sean and I didn’t know about. I remember
asking Davy about the boy, and Davy told us that the boy hated Frank too. Not
because he knew him, but because of what he was doing to us. It felt like the
boy was our ally against Frank, and Davy could communicate with him.”
Garth stopped to take a sip of his
warmed coffee and placed the mug back down on the table.
“You’re probably wondering what
all of this has to do with Frank attacking you,” Garth said.
“I think it’s incredibly
interesting,” Steven said. “Please don’t edit yourself on my account. I’d like
to hear it all, everything you remember.”
“All right,” Garth said. “I’ll
continue. Things went on like this for a while, but Frank became more and more
abusive. We would escape to the backyard, Davy’s house, or the garage to get
away from Frank, who didn’t seem to care where we were as long as it wasn’t
around Davy. We wouldn’t tell him where we went, and we’d just sneak back into
the house at night to go to bed. The kitchen door was always open, because in
those days you never locked your doors.
“One day it came to a head. Frank
began beating on Sean again, I don’t remember why. Any little thing might set
him off. Sometimes it seemed he’d do it just to entertain himself. I ran out of
the house and hid in the garage, which is what I normally did when Frank was
wailing on Sean. When Sean came into the garage after this particular beating,
however, I was mortified. Frank had used the belt on him all over
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