Edward Lee - Header

HEADER

Edward Lee

Header.

Havin a header tonight, we is!

Wese gonna have ourselves a header so fierce ol Tully Natterll be shittin in his grave!

Hed heard the term, in all its variations so many times, but he just couldnt figure it.

Header.

What was it?

The little boys eyes widened in the dark, blooming like night flowers. He hid in the closet, a crouched and frozen shadow; he cracked the door half an inch, but couldnt quite see them. His curiosity burned.

He had to know, he had to know what this thing was they were doing.

Hed heard them speak of it many times only, though, in the least formed whispers, behind the slickest grins and eyes narrowed to forbidden slits. Yes, Daddy and his grandfather. Like just today, when Daddy had brought his tractor in from the graze field.

That blamed Caudill up an cut my fence, Daddyd railed. Grandpap looked up from his work table. Again?

Yeah, shores shit! Lost six more sheep! Gawd Almighty, wese gonna have to do somthin bout this!

And thats when Grandpap had smiled that feisty, whiskery smile of his. What wese gonna have to do, son, is have ourselves a header.

Dag straight! Fucker stole my sheep, third time this year. Tonight, wese gonna have a header fer shore! Teach that cracker som-bitch ta steal my sheep!

See, thats what theyse always called it whatever it was. A header.

Like one time hed overheard his Daddy whispering to Granpap, whispering like creaky, tiny etchings. McCraw burned down one a Meyers grain sheds, Pap. Hes havin a header tonight, wants us ta join in. So later on, theyd corn-liquored up and left, and they didnt return till almost dawn.

The little boy couldnt imagine what a header could be, but he knew this: next day at school, Jannie McCraw wasnt in class, and she was never seen again

..

Sweetheart? Cummings leaned over the bed, gently nudged his wifes warm shoulder. Christ, he thought. Bleary morning light seeped in through the window: starlings chirped. Groggily, then, Kath looked up and smiled.

Special Agent Stewart Cummings smiled back. My love, he thought. What would he do without her? And this this crushed him. To see her so sick all the time, so despondent. She deserved better then this, for sure. And what am I doing to make her life better? Cummings dared to ask himself. At the very least, he was doing the best he could.

But that wasnt good enough.

She was always so pale, always sniffling. The dark circles under her eyes, like smudges of charcoal, only reinforced her turmoil. What would I do without her? Shed come through for him, hadnt she? Waiting tables at the Village Pump while he finished his degree. Now she was sick, and it was his turn to pay her back.

But it was sohard.

Be careful at work, honey, she peeped to him, so loving, so real.

Wheres your prescription? Cummings asked. Ill pick it up on the way home tonight.

No, no, she insisted amid the sheets. Ill get it later. I just need a little time to get going, you know.

Sure, Kath.

And you work so hard, Id feel terrible if you had to drive all the way into town just for my medicine.

Honey, its no troub

Hush! she insisted, sniffling once more. Some kind of walking pneumonia, the doctors slip had said. Shed been like this for months now. You go on. You do enough for me, Ill get my medicine later.

Cummings kissed her full, pink lips. He wanted to cry.

He left the house, got into his unmarked car, and started it up. The light of dawn seemed like the color of misery. Poor Kath, he thought. Would she ever get better?

And another question rose, with the same heat as the sun.

Her medication cost $450 per month. Not to mention the mortgage, the power bills, groceries.

And what would his father say, if he knew what he was doing?

Shit, Cummings thought and drove off.

..

Header.

Grandpap, whats aheader? Travis recalled askin just after his 16th birthday. The day before, n fact, hed got up an busted fer hot-wirin Cage Georges 74 Hemi Cuda, drunk on shine, and wreckin it with that cute lil Kari Ann Wells sitting right next ta him, stroking his bone an eventually poppin a good, hot creamer right in her purdy face. Bone, see, was what they called a fellas dick these parts, but quad was what they called Kari Ann Wells after that wreck. Werent Travis fault shed broke her blamed back when he drove inta that bridge buttment. But fore that, Travis had heard about headers many times, heard his Daddy talkin bout it with Grandpap, just weeks, nfact, fore his Daddy and Mama got kilt, but they was just the tiniest whispers, see, so tiny Travis never learnt really what it was. And ol Grandpap Martin, later on that same fine day, whiles sewin up a pair of workboots an sipping some shine hisself, had answered. Caint be tellin ya that, son, not till ya got some hair tween yer legs.

Travis figured this was Grandpaps way of suggestin that he was too young to hear such things, an never mind that he already had a good plot of hair tween his legs and could squirt a man-sized nut any ol time. But what miffed Travis most was this: if he were too young ta hear about headers, how come the blamed county prosser-cueter hadnt felt he was too young to be tried as a ay-dult? Its cos yer hillfolk, boy, yer creek people, Grandpap had attempted to explain on sentencing day. The fine old man had tears in his eyes sayin it. Aint no one round here cares bout hillfolk. All a bunch of dirt redneck crackers tryin ta act like fancified city folk, they is. Ya gots ta do yer time now, boy, and ya gots to be good whiles yer in the blamed stone motel, otherwise theyllse keep ya longer.

Longer? Chrast. That fancified queer-loving judge had dropped five years on poor Travis head.

But, shore enough, Grandpap had been right. Those five years hed gotten fer the candyass GTA had turned ta eleven a might quick. Russell County Detent werent no picnic, and havin ta beat the livin shit outa fellas piled those extra years on faster n shit through one a Dumar McGerns chickens. Travis aint had no choice, less he wanted to get butt-fucked ever night and have a bunch of big, dirty fells callin him baby. Hed busted some heads, he did, spent a lot of time in the hole fer it BEV SEG, they called it, thought, fer Behavioral Segregation, whatever in tarnation that meant and then there was that one night when some fella from Crick City doin a pound for armed robbery had held a prison shiv to Travis throat and dropped his drawers. Suck it, cracker, and suck it good. Suck it like you suck yer daddy, cos everybody knows all yous crackers are queer, this fella ordered. Suck out that nut, cracker. Be the best meal ya had since the last time the chow hall served cream a broccoli soup. Make yer daddy jealous, sugar. Well, for one, Travis daddy was dead, and he didnt much like ta hear talk like that, and two, there werent no way in Hades place that Travis Clyde Tuckton was gonna suck dick getting sucked, shore, but doin the suckin hisself? No way, uh-huh! So he snapped that shiv right outa that fellas hand and poked him good in the eye. Stuff came out that looked like cranberry marmalade they sold down Hulls General Store. Didnt matter much what it looked like, thought. Just added more time to Travis hitch.

But now he was back. And, havin no place ta go whiles he were in stir, the huse that his daddyd left him were hit by lightning and burnt down sos he tromped straight ta Grandpap Martins neat little clapboard cottage out in the woods.

Travis Clyde Tuckton! Grandpap had about fuckin rejoiced upon seein Travis big shuck-an jive grinning mug.