The Boy

In Bramwell West Virginia, in the southern part of the state, where there is no more than 300 people livin’. A place of mostly farmers and open fields, plenty of rain, and little to no excitement happenin’. My family had travelled out there four summers ago to settle my grandparent’s estate and burry my grandfather. They owned almost 200 acres of land, cows and chickens, they were a huge part of the supply and demand. The plan was to sell the farm, gather my grandmother, and head back to Missouri, for her to live out the rest of her days.

It was early Saturday morning when we arrived. My mother had a funeral to plan and her brothers were to sell the farm. So as soon as we arrived, the family got to work. I was 20, just starting my second year in college. My older brother, Thomas, serving in the navy at the time, flew out from Georgia wearin’ his dress whites. As well my younger brother, Drew, who traveled with my folks, having to take time from his senior year in high school.

We arrived before the rest of our family members, the aunts and uncles, and their children, but they would be arriving shortly. Most of them we hadn’t seen in years, our family didn’t get along much. Most of the fallin’ outs happened when I was little so I wouldn’t remember them much.

I stepped out of my car and took a deep breathe, the freshness of the farm was nostalgic. I played here summer after summer as a kid, baking with grandma Kitty, and helpin’ papa milk the cows. I’d be up early to help collect chicken eggs and spent my afternoons running with the old dog in the yard. I’d never forget those days, and now I felt guilty that I hadn’t been back in so long. Papa suffered a bad stroke and none of us could travel here quick enough to be here by his side when he left us.

It wasn’t long before my Aunt Linda showed up with her husband and kids, most of them my age or younger. I headed toward the barn to avoid the awkward “hello’s” from strangers. My mother’s sister wasn’t very pleasant from what I can remember. They were city people and felt high and mighty around everyone else. She was a stay-at-home mother and her kids were snobs just like her. Her husband made decent money doing who knows what and they liked to show it off.

Kitty had a dog running on the farm, not the same one I grew up with but didn’t stop me from lookin’ for him. I walked into the barn, the goats were held up in, to find him sleepin’ on the cool ground. “Hey boy, how’s it going. You been takin’ good care of Kitty for me?” He wagged his tale and let it thump on the ground as I approached. I sat down next to him and pulled my book from my bag. “Nice and cool in here bud” I scratched his head and started where I left off. I could hear more cars pulling up to the farm, people hollerin’ and horns honkin’.

My pops didn’t take long to find me, as he made his way into the barn and approached with a smile. “Come, don’t be rude. Everyone’s arriving and Kitty wants us all to be there to see each other.” I rolled my eyes and stood, he put his hand on my shoulder leading me out to the yard.

Kitty was huggin’ her family and smiling, mom puttin’ on a show of being greatful to see her family, and my brothers stood in back attemptin’ to avoid the “pleasantries” of “how ya beens” and “look at yous”. My two aunts and their families, and one of my uncles and his family, all giving out hugs and smiles. Every damn bit of it fake as can be, and everyone aware of it, except poor Kitty. The next moment we heard the poppin’ and rumblin’ of an old truck coming down the drive, behind it a rusty old four door car. They approached and parked behind the rest of the vehicles. Then out came some of the most hick, ragged people I’d ever seen. The kids were all fairly young, shirts and dresses dirty and torn, my uncle Tim, with a mouth full of dip. His wife was actually a pretty woman but looked a little torn up, like she’d been in a fight, and not one she had won either. Then there was another woman, she was older, a lot older, and scowled as she approached us.

“Family” He spit every few moments and it turned my stomach. “Ain’t it nice to be here together again.”

My pops, bein’ the gentleman he is, reached out his hand towards him, “Tim, been a while, good to see ya,” he said with a forced smile.

“Good to see you too, Jacob.... My family!” He began, not caring ‘bout what ever conversation was bein’ had. “My wife, Angie, and this here my four girls, Tina, Taylor, Tara, and Tiffany. And last but not least, my mother-in-law Karen.”

None of them looked like very happy people, they looked more like trouble to me, but I smiled at each one as they were introduced and played the part just like everyone else. The four girls took off towards the chickens, pickin’ up rocks to throw and kickin’ their feet.

“Wanna handle that, Tim?” asked my pops.

“Handle what?” said Karen “Those is my grandbabies and ain’t no one gunna tell them what’s what. Especially Taylor, You all leave her be, she is special.” She demanded “She’s The Boy.”

What the hell, I looked toward my brothers, raisin’ my brows. They shrugged lookin’ just as confused.

“That baby survived a house fire at four years old, not a burn on her. You understand me?” She was yellin’ at this point, Aunt Angie looked concerned but had nothin’ to say. She looked scared when her mother spoke.

“Thats the way it is, you leave her be” Said my uncle. “We don’t tell her no way to live.”

All of us stood there, stunned, havin’ no idea of the horrors we would all face in the comin’ days.