A Wave From Mama

Chapter 2: Raccoons

Chapter 2

Raccoons

“LOOK AT MY eyes, and you won’t see anything else. It’ll all be over before you know it,” the boy said to his captured raccoon as he slit the animal’s throat and began the process of preparing his dinner for a slow roast over the fire. His extended stay in the woods of Virginia would serve him well—he wouldn’t go hungry. A horse carriage passed on the outskirts of the wooded area where he hid behind a bush, and the sound of the whip on the horse’s back made him scramble up a nearby tree, where he curled up in a ball and started counting in multiples of three: “three, six, nine, twelve…” After passing one hundred, he opened his eyes and checked on his lunch, which was about to burn, and slid down the tree trunk to eat.

His stomach full, the boy turned his attention to other matters. He thought, Got to stay low, can’t let those men spot me. I just need to make my way to the carriage. Need that rope. He darted from tree to tree toward an unoccupied carriage on the side of the road, which had a section of rope hanging from a nail. After grabbing the rope undetected, he dashed back into the wooded area.

Traps always fascinated him and he learned how to improvise with different materials, but rope made trapping so much easier. He used a strong piece of wood to prop up a five-pound flat rock, attached the rope to the end of the wood, and placed a piece of his leftover raccoon lunch under the rock as bait. The last step—he needed to find a spot close enough to pull the rope in order to trap his kill when the moment arrived. This will do. He climbed high enough on a nearby tree so as not to be seen, but close enough to trigger the trap. Yes, this is the perfect spot.

The sun started to go down and the view of the surrounding area provided a sharp contrast to New York. He liked being back out in nature and remembered the time he spent in the woods in Virginia, when he and his mother got their chance for freedom. The boy recalled what his mother told him once they arrived in New York. “We free. Nobody gonna own us no more, and nobody gonna tell us what to do, but we got to find a way to put a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. Mama’s workin’ on everythin’, don’t you worry.”

The child’s thoughts remained on his mother. Tears streamed from his eyes and onto the branch upon which he rested his head. Once at the end of the branch, the tears dropped onto a leaf, like little rhythmic raindrops. The pattern mesmerized him—his head drooped, and his eyelids closed. His dream took him back to the boardinghouse in New York, right before it all happened.

The screaming and yelling from the streets made tracking the progress of the men advancing up the stairs difficult, but their arrival was imminent. The expressions of the men alternated between sneers and smiles as they discussed the punishment as well as the fun. Which should come first was the main point of contention.

“I’m gonna whip that w***e and make her pay!”

“Damn fool, why do you want to whip her before the fun! I’m first!”

“I’m second!”

“No, we’ll do the whipping first on her back, and flip her over for the fun. Won’t make any difference to us, big difference to her, though!” They all laughed.

“What about her boy? We’ll be doing the world a favor by getting rid of the little freak.”

They laughed again.

With only a few more moments available to give instructions, the mother told her son, “Remember, family takes care of family and now I takin’ care of you by tellin’ you to go to your spot through the window. Don’t worry, my little baby, they’d never kill a woman—gonna be like we back in Virginia for a spell. I know I told you to try to keep your head up to be eye-to-eye with people, but this time you can keep it down, and if you can’t help yourself, lift your head, but only stare at my eyes. Understand? A few minutes of staring in Mama’s eyes and it’ll all be over. Like we back in Virginia for a short spell. Remember, we got through that, and we gonna get through this. Go on, jump through the window and go to your spot. I’ll come for you later.”

The boy jumped out of the window and landed on the rooftop next door. He crawled to his spot behind the chimney and witnessed his mother stand her ground, knife in her right hand, torso slightly crouched, with her feet shoulder-length apart. The men stormed into the room.

Crash! The sound of the falling rock jarred the child out of his dream, and he climbed down the tree to check on his catch. This animal had done him a favor and tripped the stick on its own. He lifted the rock and saw his dead catch with the bait protruding from its mouth. He dropped the rock back on top and walked away—any living thing that would eat its own was not for him.