Go Tell It on the Mountains

Chapter 7: Dipping a Toe in the Water

Do you like swimming? I asked as I unpacked Tony’s clothes and spread them out on the bed, looking for the swimming suit we had bought him.

I…don’t know.

You can’t swim?

He shook his head.

Do you want to learn?

Scared.

I’ll show you. It’s fun. You’ve never been swimming?

No.

It’s a lot of fun. Why don’t you get changed? I’ll wait for you in the other room.

I placed his swimming suit on the bed, went to the door, but he simply stood there, as if he didn’t understand what I meant or didn’t know what to do.

Do you want me to help you? I asked.

He sighed rather heavily, glanced around the room as if looking for something.

Are you okay?

He did not answer.

I went to the bed, picked up the trunks, held them out to him.

Heather said he was very self-conscious of the scars on his body. No doubt the other children made fun of him.

It’s okay, I said. You don’t have to be embarrassed.

He bit at his lip.

Want me to help you? I asked again.

He took a deep breath, nodded slightly.

According to the reports in his file, about 40 percent of his body, including most of his lower back, his right hip, and his genitals, had been severely burned when he was four years old. His mother had been both cooking and smoking meth, was high out of her mind when something or other exploded, but had miraculously escaped without a single burn. It had taken a neighbor to point out to the responding emergency personnel that there was a child in the apartment she had forgotten. Tony had spent six months in the hospital receiving the first of many skin grafts. His mother received a lengthy jail sentence.

I helped Tony change into his swimming suit and tried not to react to the scars, not wanting to make him any more self-conscious than he already was.

But…damn.

Are you ready? I asked when we were finished.

Scared.

Don’t be scared, honey. If you don’t like it, we won’t go swimming. Okay?

True?

True.

He again seemed to stand a little taller as he straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, as though making a decision.

Surprisingly, he took my hand.

We walked across the carpeted floor and through the doorway to the room Jackson and I were staying in. Jackson was already dressed, had a towel over his shoulder and another towel for Tony.

You ready to go swimming? Jackson asked.

Scared, mister.

Oh? Why?

I don’t know.

It’s a heated pool. The water is really warm. You’ll like it. It’s good exercise.

Tony held my hand as we walked down the spacious hall toward the pool wing.

“Your house always makes me feel like I’m visiting a museum,” I said to Jackson.

“Just imagine what it was like growing up here,” he replied. “Every time I farted, the maid sprayed air freshener.”

I laughed.

“You think I’m kidding?”

“Poor little rich boy,” I said. “You must be horribly scarred.”

“Not as scarred as he is,” Jackson replied, glancing over at Tony. “He seems to have taken a shine to you.”

“I look like Jesus. What do you expect?”

“You look like an aging hippie who dropped too much acid in the seventies.”

“That too.”

“But since you’re a famous novelist, I guess you can do what you want.”

“And don’t you forget it. I may have to go out and get myself a muse, some fine-looking young thing who—”

“Oh, really?”

“All the really famous artists do it. The younger the better, although I’m not sure I would want someone who needs me to explain what disco was.”

“I will kill you dead, Cantrell.”

“You and what Union army, Ledbetter?”

“I don’t need an army. I’ll put strychnine in your sugar bowl, and don’t you think I won’t.”

“Do you know what you sound like?” I asked.

“What?”

“You sound like some fatuous gasbag from Mississippi.”

“You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s cold. That’s so very, very cold, Ledbetter.”

“I was taught by the best,” he said with a sly smile.

Our footsteps took us to the pool wing. The pool, on the ground floor, was ringed by balconies that led to guest bedrooms on the second floor. It was all very la dee da and pretentious, but Mr. and Mrs. Ledbetter swam every day and spent an inordinate amount of time in the accompanying Jacuzzi. There was even a sauna and a room with massage tables up there on the second floor. I tried not to be judgmental, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many orphans could have been fed for a lifetime with the money lavished on these luxuries.

We showered off, walked to the shallow end of the pool.

Tony hugged his arms to his chest as he gazed at the sight, perhaps wondering, as I had, whether gold bricks would fall from the ceiling and kill him dead.

Do you like it? Jackson signed, offering him a smile.

He shrugged.

Jackson stood at the edge of the pool. He pretended to lose his balance, made a big show of trying to right himself before falling backward into the water. He was a ham that way.

Tony’s eyes went wide.

I motioned for Tony to give me his glasses, which I laid on the deck with our towels. I eased myself into the shallow end, turned to look at him.

Scared, mister, he signed, pursing his lips, his arms still hugging his scrawny chest. I could see the scar tissue marching around his side and covering his right hip.

Don’t be scared, honey, I said. Want me to hold you?

He looked at the water as if trying to make up his mind.

Jackson dove underwater, swam for the far end.

The water is really warm, I told Tony.

He stuck a toe in it to check.

Come on, I signed. It’s nice. You’ll like it.

He sat down on the edge of the pool, letting his legs sink into the warm water.

You coming? I asked.

He shook his head.

I’m going to swim a little. Will you be okay?

He shrugged.

Not wanting to pressure him, I swam about, always keeping an eye on him. He swung his legs, roiling the water. There was a small smile on his face, and he seemed content.

Jackson tried to coax him into the water.

It’s fun, Jackson said. Want to try?

Tony looked at me, the gesture reminding me of how my son Noah always used to check in with me, always needing reassurance, needing to know it was okay.

Come on, I motioned. Want to hold my hand?

I held out my hand.

He reached out and took hold of it. Looking as though he were grinding his teeth, he let his body slip off the edge of the pool into the water, which was about waist deep for him. He looked up at me. Something in his eyes told me he was scared and yet determined to make me happy.

I crouched down in the water so I’d be on his level, offering a reassuring smile. He continued to cling to my hand. Very slowly, I held out my other hand, motioning for him to lie on my arms so I could let him drift on the water. He moved closer, leaned back into my arms. I gently swirled him about in the water.

He smiled.

I nodded toward the deeper water, as if to say Want to go out farther?

He nodded.

I let him drift as I carried him down the pool into deeper water, pausing now and again to turn a circle. He smiled as the water washed over his body.

After several minutes of this, I went to the side of the pool and reached out with one hand to grasp the edge, showing him how to hold the edge to keep himself afloat. I nodded at him. Try it, I was saying. He grabbed the edge of the pool, and I slowly let go of him. He held himself, kicking his feet but then relaxing when he realized he would not sink.

I held on to the edge of the pool next to him, smiled. I tilted my head toward the shallow end, telling him to follow me. Holding on to the edge of the pool, I drifted back into the shallow waters, pulling myself along. He followed, seemed to think this was great fun.

Back in shallow water, he felt confident enough to wade around, his hands skimming the surface of the water. He looked as though he had never experienced the simple joy of swimming. At this point his hesitant, uncertain smiles had graduated to full-on happiness. But when Jackson picked him up, intending to play with him, he keened suddenly in the back of his throat, jerking his legs about and beating at Jackson’s arms with his small hands in sudden panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jackson said gently, letting him go.

As he continued jerking about in a panic, his head went below the water. Jackson righted him almost instantly, but he was spooked and broke into tears, choking and spitting out water as he did so. His “voice,” rarely used, sounded like a lot of things, but not that of a child crying.

“Hey,” I said, waving at him to get his attention. “Hey!”

I motioned for him to let me pick him up, but he seemed paralyzed. He hugged his arms to his chest, bawling, completely terrified now. Rather than the usual fight or flight responses, he merely stood there as if helpless to do anything to change his fate.

I crouched down and very slowly put my hands out, nodding at him as if to say I’m going to take care of you now.

He did not protest when I picked him up and carried him to the edge of the pool, where I sat him down.

“Uuuhhhh,” he moaned in a strange voice. His face looked completely stricken. He hugged himself so hard, the whites on his knuckles were showing. “Uuuuhhhhhhh.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, coming to stand next to me.

“Uuuuhhhhhhhhhhh. Aaaaaahhhhhhh.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

I held out my hands again so Tony could see them. I moved them forward very slowly, showing him I intended to take him into my arms.

He did not prevent me.

I pulled him to me.

“Aaaaahhhh. Huh! Uuuuuuhhh.”

“Okay, baby,” I whispered in his ear. “Everything’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He gripped his hands tightly together, holding them to his chest.

“Everything’s going to be fine, sweetie,” I said, rubbing his back. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

He had a meltdown, but he made no move to run, to hide, to fight back. He was caught in the grip of something and stoically enduring it.

Jackson looked at me, frowned.

“It’s going to be fine,” I said.

“He has a lot of problems, Wiley.”

“I know, but he’s the one we’ve been waiting for. I know it.”

“You say that about all of them.”

“But I know it this time.”

“Well, I’m sorry I scared him. He doesn’t trust me yet.”

“Give it time.”

I rubbed Tony’s back, whispered “Hush” and “Shush” in his ear, trying to convey by my body language that everything was okay, that it was safe, that he had nothing to fear, that nothing and no one was going to hurt him, that it was okay to cry, that I would be patient. He responded by laying his head in the crook of my shoulder and leaning against me. I picked him up so I could pull him closer and hold him.

“Hush now, honey,” I cooed into his ear. “Hush, hush, hush.”

I knew he couldn’t hear me, of course, and I was sorry for that. Whatever terrors and trials he had been through in his life, he had endured them in utter silence, without a comforting voice or word.

I rocked him gently back and forth, and I kept speaking. He eventually put a hand on my throat, as if to feel the vibrations of my words. After a while, he put his arms around me and stopped resisting. I pulled him closer, cradling his head with my hand, shifting my weight from one foot to the other so he would have a rocking motion to calm him.

I eased myself out of the water and carried him upstairs.

Jack followed, looking guilty and upset.

I set Tony down on the bed, crouched, gave him a long look.

Did J-a-c-k scare you? I signed.

He gave Jack an unhappy look.

J-a-c-k is sorry, I said.

Jackson nodded, offering an “I’m sorry” face.

Tony looked at him for a moment, lowered his eyes.

Want me to hit him for you? I asked.

He glanced at Jackson.

I pretended to give Jackson a swat on the arm. Jackson pretended he was terribly, terribly hurt.

Tony smiled a very small smile.

He’s a bad boy, I signed.

Tony nodded.

But he’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you. We don’t want you to be unhappy. Okay? We want to be your friends.

Friends…me?

Yes.

He looked at Jackson again, lowered his eyes.

Are you okay? I asked.

Scared.

Don’t be scared, honey. We’re here. We’ll help you. It will be okay.

He pursed his lips.

Let’s get you changed, I said.