The Memory Giver (#Wattys2014)

Chapter 15

                                                          Chapter Fifteen

        A.D. came back on Saturday July ninth nineteen eighty-eight.  Unlike the last time, Turtle didn’t discover his brother sitting on his bedroom floor. Instead, Turtle came upon his brother at The Lots.

         It was a hazy afternoon, the sun playing hide-and-seek among the clouds, cooking up waves of oppressive humidity. The sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and fresh grass, mixed with the garbage smell of the vacant lot lay heavy in the air.  The Lots had a fragrance all its own, neither good nor bad, fresh nor decaying.  Years later, after Turtle was grown, he would think of it as the smell of adventure.

        A.D. was seated under a large maple tree, his back against the bristly trunk. A can of diet Dr. Pepper was turned up to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly as he drank, making him appear as though he were starring in his very own TV soda commercial.

        Turtle had gone down to the deep part of the creek to fill his two super-soaker water rifles.  He was returning up top with the loaded guns to wait for Rita. The summer had begun with miserable heat, and stifling humidity, and Turtle thought it’d be a treat for them to have a soaking.  That’s what he and A.D. used to call it when they’d take their water rifles down to The Lots, spending all day hiding behind trees and in the tall grass, ambushing one another, putting down the Rebel Alliance, lasering water at each other until they were drenched from head to toe. 

        “This diet shit tastes awful,” was the first thing A.D. said.  Turtle had just come over the rise when he saw his brother sitting under the tree. A.D. wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.  “You’d think if they were gonna make something new they’d try to make it taste better.  What’s the point in making shitty tasting soda?”  He raised an eyebrow at his brother and smiled mischievously.

        “Diet Dr. Pepper’s not new,” Turtle said.  His voice came out huskily, as if he’d just awaken from a deep sleep.

        “It’s not?”  A.D. peered at the can with a quizzical expression, turning it this way and that, just as a doctor might peer at a tumor on a patient’s finger.  “You can bet this is the last one I’ll ever drink.”  He dumped the remaining contents into the dry earth beneath the tree, then tossed the can into the weeds.  “Whatcha got there?” he said leaning forward.

        The moment Turtle saw his brother his entire body went numb.  Head to toe he’d become a zombie, the only organ showing any activity was his stomach, churning butter-like bile that flowed up the back of his throat like lava, lapping against his tongue with molten acidity before ebbing back down.

        He gaped at his older brother, vomit rising into his mouth. He’d emerged over the rise carrying the super soakers along with the promise of a glorious day.  That was no longer to be. 

        Over the past several weeks, as A.D.’s absence grew longer, Turtle had gotten used to the idea that A.D. wouldn’t return.  He’d very cleverly convinced himself A.D. had never returned in the first place.  It had all been a dream, or a trick his mind had played on him. He’d had so much to deal with at the end of the school year it’s no wonder he’d been having such wild imaginings.

        The trip to Miller’s Grocery to steal the Tahitian Treat had been taken alone.  Of course he’d been alone which is why Mrs. Miller (rest-in-peace) didn’t see anyone but him.  He’d been acting out and using A.D. as his scapegoat. His parents were right, it was him who’d assembled the Millennium Falcon and left it on his brother’s bedroom floor for them to find.  He almost remembered doing so. 

        He’d been experiencing some form of temporary insanity.  Nothing like Uncle Johnny, mind you, hence the word temporary.  Now, with A.D. sitting right in front of him, Turtle had to revise his thoughts. 

        Crazy.

        He at first tried to tell himself the temporary insanity must have returned.  As difficult as that would be to accept, it was a lot easier than accepting the truth.  He didn’t want A.D. to come back.  As much as he loved his brother, as much as he missed him, Turtle no longer wanted him back.  With Rita in his life, A.D.’s presence felt like a complication.

        A.D. saw his brother going pale and lurched forward, his face flooding with concern.  “You all right, dude?”

        Turtle lied. “Yeah.  You were gone for so long I didn’t think you were coming back.”  A smile fissured onto his frozen lips.  How he’d managed it he didn’t know.

        A.D. relaxed a little and sat back.  “Sorry about that, Mushmouse.  It was unavoidable.  You know I wouldn’t leave you.”

        “I’m, uhh… glad… Welcome back.” He could feel life slowly returning to his limbs.  His smile broadened.

        “Looks like you been working out, Rambo,” A.D. said with a teasing grin.

        “Let’s get out of here,” Turtle said abruptly. 

        “Why?  We love it here.  And it looks like you’re planning a soaking.  Who’s the other gun for?”

        “No one special.”  Something in Turtle’s gut told him it wasn’t time to tell A.D. about Rita, and maybe it never would be.  “You,” he said. He thrust the gun toward A.D.

        “You don’t wanna mess with me, dude.  I’m the super soaking champeen of the world.” 

        “Were,” said Turtle.  “There’s a new sheriff in town, and his name’s Turtle,” he said affecting his cowboy drawl.

        A.D. grinned at his brother as he grabbed hold of the water rifle. He hefted it in his hands. It felt full. “You’re diggin’ yer own—” before the last word was out a stream of water hit A.D. in the face.

        “Talk’s cheap, pardoner,” Turtle said with a grin, leaping out of range before A.D.’s return fire could strike him.

        “May The Force be with you!”  A.D. cried out, scrambling to his feet and firing away.

        Turtle swerved away from the spray and into the brush. A.D. gave chase and waded into the tall grass, crouching low as he maneuvered himself deeper into The Lots.

        “Use The Force, Luke,” Turtle called, teasing A.D. with one of their favorite lines from Star Wars.  He skidded down the embankment toward the creek.

        “I’m gonna use it all right!” A.D. called back, giggling as he fired a shower in Turtle’s direction.

        Turtle began paralleling the creek bed. His maneuvering had purpose.  He needed to get A.D. as far away from the area as possible.  Rita would be arriving soon.