Two Times Two

My uncle, Mom’s brother, picks me and my friend Mack up from school early. Mack’s dad is driving. He says we gotta go to Pocahontas, Virginia to handle some business. He stops at the filling station. My uncle gives me and Mack some money and tells us to buy a big bag of Funyuns and MoonPies and Salem 100’s and a bottle of Wild Irish Rose, the big bottle.

Mack’s dad speeds downhill around curves while we slide back and forth across the backseat and raise our hands like on a roller coaster and we say, Whoo, faster faster. He goes faster. We pass around the Funyuns and eat our MoonPies. Mack says, Dangit, Dad, we aint buy no sodas, I’m thirsty. My uncle hands the bottle of Wild Irish Rose to us and says, Dont drink too much, this aint no Kool-Aid.

With both hands Mack tips the bottle to his lips and says, Ahh, it taste like Kool-Aid. He gives me the bottle. It do taste like Kool-Aid, I say. They laugh. I give the bottle to my uncle, he drinks, gives it to Mack’s dad, he drinks, gives it to Mack, he drinks, gives it back to me. It goes like this until we get to Pocahontas.

We cross train tracks and park behind a brick building. The roof is caved in and windows half busted out. Poison ivy crawls up the side. My uncle says, You turkeys hold tight, we’ll be back in a few ticks. Mack, I say, look at your dad. We make fun of Mack’s dad because he has a jerry curl tied in a baby ponytail and wears the same thing every day: a red-and-black track suit and black Chuck Taylors. His pants are high and you can see his white socks. His stomach sticks out and he never wears a shirt under his jacket. He wears a gold rope chain with a bunny on it resting in his curly chest hair. Mack says, So, look at your uncle. My uncle got on blue jean bell-bottoms with a brown leather jacket. A blue-jean floppy hat. He don’t have a shirt on under his jacket either. They walk to a house with white paint peeling off. Half of the porch droops. A big Doberman is tied to a tree in the dirt yard. It keeps barking and running until the chain yanks it back.

Mack says, Lets see if we can bust out the rest of the windows. We throw rocks at the top windows. Mack is the first one to hit glass. He says, Thats why I’m the pitcher and you play leftfield. So, I say, I betcha I’ll hit way more than you. We throw more. He keeps hitting glass. I don’t. Mack says, I wanna practice my fastball. I find a broken broomstick next to the brick building. Mack collects a shirt-full of coal and rocks from the train tracks.

Mack throws a piece of coal. I swing, but it feels real slow. I’m getting a little woobly. See, Mack says, I told you my fastball was fast. Mack raises his leg to pitch but he woobles a bit. He laughs, I dont know whats wrong with me. He throws a piece of coal high in the air. I swing. Hit. It explodes. Dust powders my face. Mack laughs. Me too. Mack throws another. I miss. Mack says, You like Rhonda dontcha. Hell no, I say, who told you that. I seen that picture with yall holding hands, he says. I aint draw no picture of nobody, I say.

Whats taking them so long, I say. I dont know, Mack says, but I’m getting thirsty again. I think they left that bottle in the car, I say. We get the bottle and sit on the steps of the brick building. I drink, give it to Mack, he drinks, gives it back. It goes like this until it starts to get dark. You ever smoke before, Mack says. I took a puff of my uncles Salem one time, I say. I smoke all the time, he says. We search the car for the Salems but don’t find none. We can smoke leaves, Mack says, my cousin do it all the time. Mack tears a piece of paper out of his notebook. He picks some poison ivy off of the building. He rolls it into the paper and licks the seam. Thats nasty, I say, I dont wanna smoke your spit. I have to do that, he says, so it will stick. Mack lights the paper. He sucks on it. Coughs a little cough. Smoke rolls out his nose and mouth. He gives it me. I do the same but don’t cough. Mack says, You didnt inhale. You gotta make the smoke go in your lungs. I try again. Take a deep breath, Mack says. I choke. Smoke shoots out my mouth and nose. I drool on my shirt. Eyes water. I look at Mack. His face is melting. Mack smokes, gives it to me, I smoke, give it back. It goes like this until Mack’s dad and my uncle stumble out with their arms around each other. Their slow brown faces laughing and smoking.

In the car Mack’s dad says, What happened to all the Rose. My uncle laughs and says, Them turkeys drunk it all. Oh well, Mack’s dad says. My uncle says, Shit, we forgot to tell yall turkeys do ya homework. What yall got anyway. Um, I say, we sposed to be learning our times tables. Oh yeah, Mack says, we gotta do these worksheets. I hate times tables, I say, its too hard. My uncle says, Aw hell, it aint that damn hard. He takes out a pack of Salems and says, Look, its twenty cigarettes in this one pack. If you had two packs how many would that be. Forty, I say. Good, he says, you just did twenty times two. Now if you had three packs, how many is that. Mack says, Sixty. Good, my uncle says, thats twenty times three. Now do the same with all the times tables, just keep adding. See, that shit is easy aint it. Mack’s dad turns the yellow light on in the top of the car so we can do the worksheets. All the way home my uncle makes us recite all the twos to the twelves over and over.

Mack’s dad drives up on the hill to drop me and Uncle off. Everybody is in the street with the sheriff. My mom runs up and slaps my uncle in the face, Where the hell yall been, she says, I thought his dad kidnapped him, why you aint tell nobody you picked him up, you drunk muthafucka. My uncle says, Be cool, Jack. That boy is fine. My mom slaps him again. My uncle says, I said chill the fuck out. He did his homework and we fed him. My mom says, I had enough of you, you fuckin drunkard, got my kid runnin the streets, had me thinkin his dad kidnapped him. My uncle grabs my shoulders and kisses me on the forehead. He hugs me and says, Alright Turkey, get some rest and have a good day at school tomorrow. My lungs and my throat feel weird. My mom grabs me and says, Look at me boy, whats wrong with you. I throw up on her feet.