A Family Affair

Charles' chest was heaving, as much from anger and fear as exertion. "I'm not stupid," he panted the words through gritted teeth, into the chill air surrounding him. The bicycle made a rusty, squeaking sound as he tried to manuever his large, ponderous body through the dirt path, perspiration forming little clear beads on his forehead. He wiped his upper lip with one hand because the beads were beginning to tickle, and then he took a deep, deep breath and bent back over the bike. He wished he could take his jacket off, but he didn't want to stop. They might catch him then, and he didn't want that. Anything but that.

The bicycle continued to protest Charles' girth, grinding and growling as he wobbled his way through the forest lane until he came to the end. The road was gone, and all that was left were the trees-and the grass and the little animals that poked their heads out from behind logs or scuttled furiously away at the sound of impending doom. He tried to keep driving his bicycle, but as soon as the wheels hit dense brush he went sailing off the seat and landed with a hard thump. And Charles wasn't a small man, not by any means. The fall hurt and he lay there, grass in his mouth, tears welling in his faded, dull eyes until the snap of twigs and the swish of approaching humanity prompted him to heave himself up and attempt to hide behind a tree. It was a ludicrous idea, considering his size.

When he heard his mother's voice he cringed. He didn't want to see her; see her disapproving frown and hear her harsh words. He'd run from it and now he was trapped. Trapped like a rat in a maze with no way out. But there was a way out, he thought as he gazed into the tree he was standing beside. He wasted no time. He scrambled up, trying to stifle his grunts and gasps as he worked himself up and into the branches. When he made it he wanted to cackle with glee. Something was finally going his way.

He looked down, heard his mother call, "Charles, where are you?" Her voice was sharp but rough, like a razor that needed to be run across a strap. He didn't breathe when he saw her thin, imposing form wander towards him. He pressed his lips together, turning them white, when the branch holding his weight began to bend slightly, making a small creaking sound. She stood there for a long time with her hands on her hips, her ancient housedress blowing in the cool breeze, and he saw her draw the old blue sweater around her more tightly. He could even see her shiver and he felt kind of sorry for her, but not too much.

Finally she sighed, a sound from deep inside her chest, and she turned and slowly walked back towards the road. He heard her talking to someone else, real faint. "I can't find him. I know he's in there somewhere, but I'm cold and I'm tired, Sheriff. He'll come out when he gets hungry enough. And God knows he'll get hungry." She said the last part derisively, contemptuously, and Charles felt that feeling, the one he always got, that gaping hole; it couldn't be filled no matter what he did. He almost started crying right then and there, but he held back. He wasn't going to get caught, not this time, not for something he didn't even do. He heard her again as the voices faded. "Remember Sheriff, he's slow. He can't tie his own shoes so he'll show up eventually."

Dusk settled into the woodsy area. Charles sat in his tree and began to hum. His humming got louder because he was enjoying his own tuneless song. A voice startled him, and he had to hold tight to keep from falling out of the tree. "Charlie," the voice hissed into the wilderness, "Charlie, I know you're in there. Come on and talk to me, Charlie." She had already heard him, heard his tuneless song that he hadn't meant to share with anyone. Charlie gathered himself and jumped down, shocking Livia almost out of her skin, he could tell. She shook her head after she regained her balance. "Charlie, what am I going to do with you?" Livia ran a trembling hand through brown curls and tried to smile at him. "Everyone's gone home so it's okay to come on out."

Charles stared at Livia, and not for the first time he thought about how much he loved her. "I'm not going back, Livie. I'm not going back so Mama can call the Sheriff and make me go back to jail. I'm not doing it."

Livia took Charles' plump hand and held it. "I know, and I don't want you to. I want you to come with me. You're going to live with me, would you like that?" Livia was peering at him, at Charles' small blue eyes, at his uncertain posture, and she cursed her mother inside her head. "Charlie," she continued, "I've talked to the Sheriff and I told him you didn't take those things. I told him everything. They've got Mama, Charlie, and she's going to have to pay for this herself, for once."

Charles sucked in air as his eyes widened. "They've got Mama, Livie?" He began to back away. "Oh no, Livie, no. I don't want them to get Mama. I'll tell them it was me, it was all me. Mama didn't take them things. She didn't break in and-"

"Charlie, stop it!" Livia looked mad. "Mama made you take those things and she's going to pay for it. She's done this to you for too long. Remember last time?"

Charles nodded his head. He did remember last time in Clayton county jail, and then in the state prison. He didn't want to go back there, not ever, but the thought of Mama...his heart began to pound so very loud, and he felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He wanted to tell the elephant to get off him, but he couldn't talk. He fell to his knees gasping, wanting to get some air into his body. He clawed at his throat. He heard Livia from somewhere far away. She was telling him to get up, what's wrong, what's happening. He didn't know what was happening. Before he fell asleep, the elephant still snug on his chest, he thought about Mama in the state prison and what those men would do to her, and he didn't know; should he laugh-or cry?