Soldier Hill — Chapter 6

Coming of age fiction honoring sacrifice

6.

Following dinner, Eddie went out to collect for the Chronicle. After a few customers, he reached Joe’s. The lights were on as Eddie approached. He parked his bicycle, climbed the steps, and rang the bell.

The foyer windows glowed and Eddie figured Joe was somewhere else in the house. Eddie pushed the ringer again and waited. Nothing.

Eddie snuck over to the parlor window and spotted Joe in his armchair, facing the TV. Joe wasn’t some deadbeat Eddie had to chase down. Eddie had all week to turn in his money and would figure out a better time to collect from Joe. That’s when Eddie caught movement through the window and the parlor. Eddie watched Joe, alive and well, shift in his chair. What the heck? Eddie rang the bell once more.

Eddie watched Joe’s shadow splash the parlor walls as he made his way from the recliner. A slight pause before the porch dome lit Eddie and the deck up. Joe pulled the front door, stopping halfway. He looked down at Eddie, puzzled as if Eddie were a spring bug back from the dead. Joe continued to gaze, and Eddie had this awful feeling it was a bad idea to have kept ringing the bell.

The gleam in Joe’s eyes turned funky, looking like a Joe Eddie didn’t know or had never seen before. Was this the real milkman? The guy everybody talked smack about? The Joe that Karl told me to stay away from?

Man did Eddie screw this one up, he thought. Too late to turn around now, Eddie and Joe remained feet away looking at one other. Joe’s arm broke for the storm door, waving Eddie in.

Joe shut the door behind them and led Eddie into the parlor. There were photos spread out again and a bombed-out bottle of whiskey. Joe dipped back into his recliner and reached for his glass. He had the old shoe boxes broken out but these were different. In them were Air Mail letters with faded ink. The same type that Uncle Timmy used to send back from Vietnam. Joe remained silent.

Joe’s funky gleam started to go away, and he looked more drained to Eddie now. With no idea what was going on, Eddie sensed something had flown in here and grabbed hold of his friend. Some dark and mysterious fever. Personal and powerful, giving off the vibe that was a private moment and Eddie should have never intruded. The bottle of Old Crow whiskey to pilot the punishing night.

Eddie’s money was on the kitchen table, and that’s what he came for. Joe pointed Eddie down the hall to fetch it and be gone. Eddie breezed past the bath and master bedroom on his way down the hall. That’s when Eddie noticed the off-limits door slightly open, broken at the seams.

Eddie snatched the bills and headed back towards the parlor. His sack had bloated into a cue ball, dialing up a whiz. Eddie told himself to wait and squirt in a patch of woods on the ride home. The urge turned into pain, yanking Eddie as he passed the bathroom. If Eddie were to stop he needed to jump in and make it quick. But he couldn’t. Eddie knew better and rude not to first ask Joe to use the room.

When Eddie reached the living room, Joe had already dozed off. He still looked burned out, his head snapped back in the recliner.

“Joe?” Eddie said. There was a pause. Joe’s eyelids fluttered like the wings of a small bird. Not a what the hell do you want now, kid? Which felt like a good relief. His eyes reset and reloaded, now wide open.

“You get the money?” Joe asked.

Eddie nodded yes and thanked him. “Would it be okay if I use your bathroom?” Eddie asked.

“Of course. Go ahead,” Joe replied as his eyes rolled back again, quickly shuttered by his eyelids. More than just tired, Joe looked fried to pieces.

Something told Eddie to make this snappy. Do your business, and get out of the man’s hair. Eddie made the drain and washed himself off. He left the bathroom and stopped.

The mystery room only feet away and Joe was sleeping. Eddie heard Joe snoring from down the hall. With a clear coastline, Eddie sneaked over and pushed the mystery door open. Stepping into dark space, Eddie fished for a light switch.

The skylight revealed a freshly made sleeper and a bedroom kept as a shrine. Not with candles and stuff. More like something preserved, like the tomb of an ancient pharaoh.

Eddie entered a timeline of a little boy’s journey into manhood with all the relics and artifacts of growing up. A fielder’s mitt from Little League and a baseball bat. Grade-school portraits, yearbook, and graduation pictures.

Eddie turned towards the latest stuff and the end of the timeline. All army. Dog tags and military patches hung on the wall. There was a Gold Star in a frame. Below it, a soldier’s portrait. William. The same guy from the microfiche file at the library. An American Flag folded up in a wedge, a glass case, and mahogany trim hung on the wall, too.

That’s when Eddie spotted a picture of the tree outside his high school. And right next to that, another framed photo. A close-up of the tablet and inscription: In Memory Of Billy.

There were dedications and cards written by relatives, friends, cousins, a girlfriend. Each one expressing their love and grief. Eddie got lost in it all, unable to leave the room. And that’s when he turned. Joe filled the doorframe, looking down at Eddie.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” Eddie said.

“Billy’s my son. This is all I have left of him,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. “The Road Runner I bought as a coming home present. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. How proud of him I was. And still am.” Joe paused. “He never came home. Never made it back.”

“Joe, I had no idea…,” Eddie said.

Joe composed himself quickly and stared off. “It’s okay. You know, I’m getting better. The pain never goes away. He was a good kid. For years, God, it was so painful. I’d go to bed, wishing I wouldn’t wake up.” He paused again. His eyes turned towards Eddie’s.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be all right.” With that, he rose from the bed and led Eddie back up the hall. Joe also told Eddie he’s not supposed to drink, but at times like tonight, he couldn’t help it.

Joe didn’t have to share the rest of it with Eddie. If not tonight, then someday Eddie would figure things out and piece them together. Billy’s death ambushed Joe. Turned his life upside down, inside out, and all the rest. Joe carried on, blaming himself for supporting Billy’s decision to enlist and go to Vietnam. Joe never forgave himself for Billy’s sacrifice.

Joe became an alcoholic. For years, he’d work, drink, and sleep. Like most drinkers, he’d function enough to carry himself through the life motions. Hiding the disease in plain sight from the customers on his dairy route and the everyday folk of Maple Valley.

Joe’s wife found her comfort with the church, as Joe found his through the dark and lonely avenues of dead-end bars. The marriage began to crumble, and the Mrs. decided to move out. They separated, then divorced.

“You want me to stay?” Eddie asked.

“No, that’s all right. It’s getting late. You have school tomorrow. Don’t feel bad, Eddie. You’re a good kid. I’m glad you know.” Joe placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder like Pop-Pop used to do. Eddie tugged the bill of his baseball cap and heard the door shut behind him as he creaked across the wooden porch.

Eddie left Joe’s and went straight home, losing the desire to go on collecting. The early night, already so black and blue. Just like Normandy, Joe would have to crash the dark drop, not knowing where he’d land. Eddie knew his buddy was in for a tough one.

When Eddie hit the high school the next morning, the zone with Billy’s tree had split wide open. The entire hedge line by the gym mowed down and fried to pieces. The wall next to it smashed to rubble.

As the construction ramped up, Eddie searched the vista for Billy’s maple tree that was no longer in its spot. Instead, Eddie noticed an uprooted tree on its side. Billy’s maple along with the entire group of timber unearthed and headed for the scrap heap.

Eddie staggered the front steps in a daze, while this sinister game punched his heart out. Eddie turned from the workers and pushed himself through the main doors of the school. The usual crush of students swarmed the lobby. Any moment the bell would ring, wiping the place out and ending Eddie’s mission for good.

Turned out Eddie wasn’t the only one gazing at the hard hats and their activity. Mr. Becker grinned over the fireworks on the knoll, while a posse of preppies gathered around him.

Fay McKinley, his star student, stood in the fuddy-duddy’s circle. Becker and his faithful gawked at the work and incoming future. Ready to swell up and zoom in like a surfer’s dream wave. Eddie approached the huddle where Becker worked his wise-ass mouth.

“It’s about time we’re getting rid of that tree. I never thought it was a good example for our kids. He was a dropout, and it’s a war we should have never fought. They could give it to Maple Tech for all I care, or just throw it out. It doesn’t belong here,” Becker said.

The brainiacs all looked at each other. To them, one of the master’s fickle deliveries. None of them knew what Becker was talking about. Eddie did and wished he had the nerve and energy to slug Becker in the jaw. In a perfect world maybe, but high school isn’t perfect, and he’d never get away with that one. Once Becker spotted Eddie, he singled him out.

“That’s something you should do,” Becker said to Eddie as he passed.

“Do what?” Eddie asked.

“Quit school and join the army,” Becker told him.

That’s when Eddie noticed the hatred in Becker’s eyes. The animosity simmered, telling the world how Becker thought of Eddie and guys like Billy. To Eddie, Becker would always be a sad, spiteful, and dark soul.

Becker knew all about Billy and used his tenure to kill the memorial. His snobby agenda to dig up Billy’s tree and order it destroyed. Once the bell rang the school scrambled for roll call, draining the halls.

Not Eddie. He ignored the first bell and gazed through the picture windows instead. Eddie stood peaceful and quiet as if it were a funeral, and he had to savor these last moments with Billy’s tree.

Knotted up in a fog, Eddie never heard the late bell. A silence he couldn’t sense hugged the halls. Eddie remained in the lobby, marooned until Meathead skipped up.

“Hey, what are we doing?” Meathead called out. Nobody told Meathead that Eddie grabbed fire watch because the vice-principal is thinking hooky all the way. Eddie wished to protest the hard hats’ game and put a stop to this insanity, but couldn’t find the words. Instead, Eddie looked up at the vice-principal, tilting his head like a confused dog.

By the gleam in Meathead’s eyes, Eddie kick-started that famous killer switch. Meathead loved to bag wise guys sneaking off to skip school. That was his rep. Meathead’s grin split wider, waiting for an alibi. Eddie didn’t have one and Meathead looked amused by Eddie’s baffled look. He had a live one hooked and paused to watch Eddie squirm. Once this comedy wore off, he’d command Eddie to his office and dole out the punishment. Detention, a suspension, expulsion? Eddie still couldn’t think straight.

“I better get going,” Eddie said. Meathead fell for it, knowing this wasn’t a truancy scheme. Way too obvious Eddie was a dreamy kid who parked his head in the clouds and lost track of the time.

Eddie turned and pumped his legs towards homeroom, leaving Meathead behind to catch real delinquents. The VP stood in the hall, shaking his head, wondering what planet guys like Eddie come from.

Eddie stewed through homeroom, still in a daze when the bell for the first period sounded. As kids packed the halls, Eddie joined the herd, walking more like a zombie than a sophomore.

Eddie drifted through the rest of the morning, his head all fuzzy. With no sense of time or direction, every lecture, lesson, and intercom message went white noise.

Eddie mind-dialed Pop-Pop in the cafeteria while Dave and Robbie Tarobetta hashed last night’s ball game. The bullpen blew up, and they debated the pitching change. Robbie argued the starter was still throwing smoke, and the relief staff had been shaky all week. Eddie remained quiet since baseball was the furthest thing on his mind.

Eddie continued calling on Pop-Pop to solve this mess. All he needed was a five-minute, one-on-one. He’d give anything to ask a few questions. Instead, the lunch bell rang, sparking up the afternoon drive and home stretch in this nightmare of a school day.

With history on deck, Eddie banked on Mrs. Cassidy’s tenure. Billy needed a pinch-hit in the worst way. Eddie could tell Mrs. Cassidy all that went down, and she could help him tag team Meathead and Becker before it’s too late. Mrs. Cassidy to the rescue!

Eager to talk with Mrs. Cassidy, Eddie rushed for history hoping to end this day from hell. When Eddie showed up for class, he discovered his favorite teacher had called out sick and a beatnik sub turned his last shot to save Billy’s tree into a lounged-out study hall. Aaarrggh!

After the dismissal bell, Eddie left the high school feeling seasick all over again. He picked up the papers at Mr. Gordon’s garage, and pedaled through the route, afraid to make Joe’s stop.

Eddie imagined the scene in his head as he headed for Joe’s street. The movie in his mind showed an ambulance huddled in Joe’s driveway, snout to tail on the Divco. The rear butterfly doors wide open, as a team of medics hustled oxygen tanks and a stretcher to retrieve and revive the sickened Joe.

Eddie felt his insides twist and his heart thump as he wobbled through the turn for Joe’s house. Eddie did his best to keep the bicycle steady, raising his bum and goosing his neck to view Joe’s empty house. No Divco in the driveway or on the street. No medics, ambulance, or chaos either. No news was good news today. Eddie tucked Joe’s edition behind the storm door and pedaled off.

On the ride home, Eddie detoured by Valley High. Somewhere between after school and quitting time, a fleet of machines were brought in to wreak more havoc on the high school. Among the heavy metal, a wood chipper to grind Billy’s tree into sawdust. Great. As Eddie drew closer, he spotted tractors and lifters that could dig, move, and push the dirt around.

Billy’s maple remained, covered by the same tarp. It looked like a raft, waiting to be torched and floated downstream in a Viking funeral. And just like a funeral, by tomorrow, Billy’s tree would be gone forever.

Following dinner, Eddie paced his bedroom in search of a solution. No idea what homework was due, nor did he give a crap. Eddie went to use the upstairs house phone. His head remained scrambled and needed to shake things loose. He came up with an idea, more like a scheme, and grabbed the horn to recruit Dave.

“I need a favor. I wanna steal your father’s pickup truck,” Eddie told Dave when he answered the phone.

“Hold on a minute,” Dave said.

“I don’t mean steal, you know borrow, but he can’t know about it. I’m gonna bring it back.”

“You don’t even have a license,” Dave said.

“Don’t worry about it. I can drive. I need another favor, too.”

“I didn’t even agree to the first one,” Dave said.

“You’re coming with me. You have to. It’s important, Dave. We have to do this,” Eddie said.

“Do what?”

“Steal a tree.”

“You need my father’s pickup truck to steal a tree? When did you start hangin’ out with the burnouts, man?”

Eddie took a deep breath and told Dave all about Billy. A young boy who rode his bike through the same streets and played Little League on the Maple Valley field. How that same kid reached manhood, hit the army, and sacrificed for his country. Eddie explained that Billy’s father is a friend of his. Joe’s on the paper route, and a combat veteran too, just like Dave’s dad.

Dave was on deck. Yowsa! The boys agreed to meet at midnight.