Ripples Through Time (8 page)

Hard.

Time stopped. Everyone in the vicinity froze in place,
afraid to move.

Rickie almost fell over she hit him so hard and his cheek
started throbbing immediately. The look of utter shock on his face was exceeded
only by the look of horror on Emily’s.

She raised the hand to her face, mouth hanging open.

“Oh my God, Rickie I’m so sorry.”

He turned and ran.

“Rickie!” she screamed after him as he dodged through the
crowd and disappeared out of the barn. “Rickie! Come back!”

He didn’t stop.

Calvin found him about an hour later, hiding in the overhang
of their trailer. It was a small space enclosed above the hitch where they
stored all of Mountaineer’s racing gear. Rickie had gone there to hide because
he wanted to get away from everyone.

His eyes were still puffy and his face still hurt, but he’d
stopped crying by the time Calvin came in. Calvin climbed up to the overhang
and leaned against the wall beside Rickie, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t
say anything, just sat silently.

A minute passed.

“How did you find me?” Rickie asked

“I followed you here,” Calvin said. “But wanted to give you
some time. Your mom’s outside crying.”

“I’m sorry I ran,” Rickie said, rubbing his eyes.

Calvin sat up. “No,” he said, “it’s alright. But your mom is
sad. She feels terrible, Rickie.”

Part of him didn’t care. She 
should 
feel
terrible. She had hit him. And not just hit him, but hit him hard.

“But it wasn’t her fault,” Calvin said.

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” he said. “It’s my fault.”

“You didn’t hit me.”

“I didn’t do my job,” he said. “I’m supposed to take care of
you and your mom. And your brother. I’m your father. But I haven’t been doing a
good job of it.”

Rickie didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

“But that’s over with,” Calvin continued. “I’m going to do a
better job from now on.”

“Okay,” Rickie said. “Dad, why did Mountaineer lose?”

Calvin hesitated. “He just got tired,” he said. “You know
how sometimes it just isn’t your day? Horses have that too. He just had a bad
day.”

“But he’ll do better next time?”

“Maybe,” said Calvin. “But he doesn’t belong to me anymore. Next
time we can just cheer for him from the grandstand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I sold him,” Calvin said. “And the trailer actually, so
we’ll have to leave pretty soon.”

Rickie leaned back and sighed. “So you’ll get a different
horse?”

His dad shook his head. “No. No more horses. I thought…I
thought I could do the horses 
and 
the family. But I can’t. It
has to be one or the other.  Do you understand?”

“I guess so,” Rickie said.

“Can you do me a favor?” his dad asked. “Forgive your mom.
She feels terrible for what she did, and it wasn’t her fault.”

“Okay,” Rickie said. “Okay, dad.”

Calvin leaned in and gave him a hug.

They started climbing down from the overhang. Calvin helped
Rickie down and then Rickie opened the door.  Night had fallen outside and it
was quiet. The clouds held dominion in the sky, blocking out the moon and
stars. He paused in the doorway.

“Hey dad,” he said, “If you aren’t racing horses now,
what 
are
 you going to do?”

Calvin was silent for a few seconds and then he shook his
head. He looked really sad, and it made Rickie feel bad for him.

“I don’t know, Rickie,” Calvin said. “I don’t know.”

1966 -
Rickie
Greenwood

“And I wish I could say it ended there,” Calvin says.

I never knew this about Rickie, but I guess it does
explain a lot. I think about my own children, and how they would turn out if
something like that happened to them. It terrifies me, to be honest. The
thought of hurting them at all, even accidentally, makes me feel sick to my
stomach.

“Kids can overcome a lot,” I say, but even I don’t sound
convinced.

“They can,” Calvin says. “But, I was a lot to overcome,
and Rickie got the worst of it. I got a job at the factory. Tried to do better.
But then Beth was born and I started feeling trapped. Like, is this my life? Is
this it?”

I’m not quite sure what to say. “Is that when…?”

“Yeah,” Calvin says. “That’s when I started drinking.
Like really drinking, like it was my job…”

Little Bethany wouldn’t stop crying.

It was Rickie’s birthday, not hers, yet 
she
 wouldn’t
stop crying. She was ruining it. Ruining everything. Rickie had been looking
forward to this day—
his 
day—for weeks now, and now that it was
finally here his stupid little sister wouldn’t stop crying. Didn’t she
understand that not everything was about her?

His mom had even cancelled his birthday party because Beth
and Jason were sick. Rickie wasn’t sick, but that didn’t matter. So now,
instead of a party with all of his friends, he was in the backseat of a car
with his crying sister going to…

Rickie frowned. Where 
were 
they going?

“Where are we going?” he asked his mom, kicking her seat to
get her attention. They were on the road somewhere in town, but it was too dark
outside to spot any landmarks. And any landmarks he could see from his lower
perspective would have to be pretty tall anyway.

Mom had gotten a phone call, and now they were on the road.

She was slow in responding. “Into town,” she said finally.

“Why?”

She sighed the way only a mother can. “We just are, Rickie. Can
you check on your sister?”

“She’s crying,” Rickie said. He used his best ‘duh’ tone,
glancing over at the annoying creature on the seat next to him. Rickie had just
turned seven today, and the squalling monster beside him would be one in only a
few weeks.

She had even tried to steal his birthday.

“I know she’s crying,” Emily said. “But 
why 
is
she crying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try to get her to stop. Sing her a song or something.”

“Make Jason do it,” he said, crossing his arms and scowling.
Jason got the front seat, which should have been Rickie’s. He was oldest.

“He’s sleeping.”

Rickie shrugged. “Want me to wake him up?”

“No,” his mom said, exasperated. “Just…I don’t know, play
with her. Get her to think about something else.” 

“Like that we should be at home?”

“Rickie…”

“Okay, okay,” he said. He idly put his hand out, tapping
Bethany on the nose. She stopped crying, her little hands grabbing his fingers.
She tried to put one in her mouth and he jerked back.

“Ew, gross,” he said. “I don’t want baby germs.”

Bethany started crying again. He heard Emily sigh from the
front seat.

“Why are we going into town?” he asked.

“Rickie…” she said in her ‘I’m not mad but I will be’ voice.

“Its dad, isn’t it?”

No response.

The car turned, entering a parking lot, but from Rickie’s vantage
point he could just barely see the sign above the door. The words were clipped
in their lighted glow, but he knew what they said anyway. ‘The Rusty Nail.’

It was the bar his dad liked. The one Mikey worked at.

“Wait here,” Emily said, stopping the car and glancing in
the mirror. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Okay,” Rickie said. Emily disappeared out of the car,
closing the door behind her.

Rickie tapped the window with the nail of his left hand and
let out a sigh. He was bored, so bored, and more than a little bit angry.

And hungry, he realized. They’d been planning on having
dinner at home, but his mom had gotten the phone call before cooking anything. He
hadn’t eaten since late that morning. It felt like his stomach was eating
itself.

Maybe Mikey would cook him something…?

Bethany was still crying. Jason, Rickie checked, was still
sleeping.

He counted to thirty, then opened the door and headed for
the bar entrance.

The lights were dim inside and it wasn’t very crowded. Soft
music played, too faint to make out clearly, and it smelled of stale smoke and
ash. It wasn’t busy. It never was, at least not on the few times Rickie had
been here. He still liked it though. It was big and had a lot of tables, and
other than the smell it was a pleasant enough place.

He also liked his uncle, Mike. Calvin called him Mikey, and
whenever he brought Rickie here Mikey would make him a sandwich and give him
something to drink. That’s why Rickie wanted to be inside now. Calvin had made
him promise to never tell his mother that he brought Rickie here. 

But Rickie’s stomach was eating itself, and right now he
couldn’t think of anything better than one of Mikey’s sandwiches. He could just
pretend like he didn’t know what the place was and ask for food. Surely on his
birthday Mikey would make him something?

He scanned the bar and spotted his mom and Mikey standing
near the counter. Mikey was leaning over the bar and talking quietly, and
neither of them noticed as Rickie walked up.

“…since six,” Mikey said. He was tall with blonde hair and a
smooth face, several years younger than his mother. He had on his dark brown
jacket—leather—and Rickie had never seen him without it. He’d let Rickie wear
it a couple times, but it was too big for him. But he liked the way it felt.

“Then why did you wait so long to call?” his mom asked. She
was speaking in a hushed whisper, which of course made it easy for Rickie to
hear too.

Mikey shook his head. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I do,” Emily said. She sounded sad.

“He had a rough day at the factory and he wanted a chance to
relax,” Mikey offered.

“Every day must be rough,” Emily said bitterly. “And getting
rougher.”

“I’m sorry Em.”

“For what, helping my husband drink himself to death?”

Mikey didn’t respond, but instead stared at the counter in
front of him.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair,” Emily said.

“It’s true enough.”

“He’s your friend.”

“You’re my friend too. And you’re right. About his drinking.
Maybe we should tell him that.”

She hesitated. “I did.”

“Is that where you got that shiner?”

Emily didn’t respond. Rickie didn’t know what a ‘shiner’
was, but he was kind of hoping it was food. He didn’t really know what they
were talking about, but he decided it had been long enough. He climbed up on
the stool a few down from his mom and smiled at Uncle Mikey.

Both of them were shocked, but he could tell his mom was
also angry.

“I told you to wait in the car,” she said, narrowing her
eyes

“But I’m 
hungry,
” Rickie said. “And the baby
won’t stop crying.”

“You mean Bethany,” Emily said. Rickie shrugged. “I told you
we would get food after.”

“Why can’t we eat here?” Rickie asked. “I love Mikey’s
hamburgers.”

Oops.

Her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Luckily, her anger
was directed at Mikey, not him.

“When?”

“When what?” Mikey asked, playing dumb.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she said. “When was he here?”

She gestured vaguely at Rickie. Mikey threw up his hands in
defeat. “A few weeks ago. They just stopped by for a couple burgers.”

“Just burgers?” she asked.

Mikey coughed.

“And it was just the once?”

Mikey went back to staring at the bar.

“Goddamn it,” she said. “It’s one thing for him to…to…but
for him to bring Rickie. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Mikey looked scared. Rickie felt bad for him. But at least
his mom wasn’t mad at 
him 
this time.

He glanced over and spotted a bowl of peanuts, then grabbed
a handful.

“Look, I didn’t think it was a big deal—”

“Not a big deal? He’s six!” she said. She was practically
shouting now.

“Seven,” Rickie said, through a mouthful of peanuts. They
ignored him.

“I know. I just…I’m sorry,” Mikey said, shaking his head.

Emily sighed and the anger drained out of her. “No, it’s not
you I’m mad at.”

Mikey didn’t respond. The only break in the silence was
Rickie crunching on peanuts. Mikey glanced over at Rickie. “So it’s your birthday
today, huh?”

“Yup,” Rickie said.

“Get anything good?”

Rickie shook his head.

“We haven’t gotten to open presents,” Emily said
offhandedly.

Rickie perked up at the mention of presents. First he’d
heard of it.

“I was hoping,” Emily continued, “that Cal would be home on
time. Like we planned. But…”

“He said he was only going to have a couple. When I figured
out that wasn’t true I called.”

“I know. I’m sorry Mikey. I shouldn’t be taking it out on
you.”

“It’s alright Em,” he said. He turned to Rickie. “But, when
he came by, he also mentioned that it was somebody important’s birthday.”

Mikey reached behind the counter, and when his arms
reappeared he was clutching a wrapped up towel in his hands. He handed it to
Rickie, who felt his eyes pop open in excitement.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Well you have to unwrap it to find out,” Mikey said, then
shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have wrapping paper, but we have plenty of extra
bar towels. Don’t lick it though. It’s probably got half of a bottle of whiskey
soaked in.”

Emily sighed in exasperation, but Rickie saw that she was
smiling a little bit. He quickly unrolled the towel, and a G.I. Joe fell into
his hand. His face lit up.

“Awesome!”

“Like it?” Mikey asked, grinning. “That’ll be me in a few
months.”

“Well Rickie, what do you say?” his mom asked.

“Thank you Uncle Mikey,” he recited, super excited.

“And, I have something for you too, Em. I wanted to give
this to Calvin earlier, but never got the chance. And I ship out tomorrow so I
probably won’t see him again until I’m back. Can you give this to him?” 

He slid a watch off his wrist and handed it to her. Rickie
glanced at it, but didn’t see any numbers. It was just a bunch of ‘I’s and ‘V’s
on it in gold coloring on an ivory background. He’d been learning how to tell
time on watches and clocks, but without numbers it was useless. 

Still…it was pretty.

 “Oh, this is…” she said, seeming to recognize it. “This
was your dad’s watch, wasn’t it? You can’t give this away.”

“It was just a watch my dad bought, not a family heirloom.”

“Every family heirloom has to start somewhere,” Emily said. Mikey
laughed.

“Touché. But I couldn’t take it with me anyway. From
everything I’ve heard it’s always hot and humid over there and it would destroy
the internal mechanism after a few weeks.”

“So what you mean to say is: if you take it you’ll gamble it
away?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a shrug and smile.

Emily hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” Mikey said.

“We’ll hang on to it for you, okay? As soon as you get back
Calvin will return it.”

“Deal,” Mikey said. “And, if I don’t see him again before I
ship out, tell him bye for me too.”

She smiled sadly. “Okay. Be safe over there Mikey. And
write. Everyday.”

Mikey laughed.

“Well, maybe every week,” Emily said. “But you’d 
better 
write.”

“Got it.”

A minute passed.

“Well,” Mikey said, leaning back against the counter. “He’s
in the back passed out. Need help getting him to the car?”