My Second Cousin Named Earl by, Harley B.

Jay

I can’t believe I did that.

The rain starts to drip, to drop, to splash onto my figure. It falls evenly along the cold, drenched, cobblestone streets as I wander aimlessly and stuff the check into my bag. It’s more crowded than expected for such a dreary day. But I guess you can never really expect anything from the human race. It’s so unpredictable and wild. One minute, you could be reading your son a book by the fire, and the next, your son could be gone, whisked away by a bad man with unknown intentions. You’re the bad man. But am I really that awful? Yes. I did what had to be done. Dragging the boy kicking and screaming, I sold him off to the factories and got the money I needed. I can still see the mother’s large coffee bean eyes pleading for me to give him back. Her straining voice had an underlying honey sweetness to it. Being that heartless made me nauseous, and forming in the depth of my stomach was a knot tying me down, getting bigger even still. But I had done the right thing. Now you’re happy, but what about the child? I did the right thing. Now the debt is gone. But the little voice in my head, my conscience, is anything but gone. It’s louder now than ever before. Did you?

Bernadette

I can’t believe that happened.

Drip. Patter. Pitter. Droop. Drop. Pat. Pitter. Pit. The inside space is too small for my larger-than-life emotions. Wading slowly through the air like it’s made from jelly, I step outside to let the rain consume me. It’s freezing, a shock to my small, weak body. Just like my mind, shocked by the events of the past few hours. My brain is still reeling from when the man just barged right in and took him- my sweet little Gilbert. He had almost turned six. For his birthday he had wanted to have a fairy themed party with his three best friends- Andrew, Nigel, and Adeline, even though everyone told him that fairies are “for girls”. We would go on walks together, like an old couple, even though he was only six. Blowing bubbles, we would sit on the front steps in the steamy summers. He was so understanding. He would just accept anything and keep skipping along like nothing happened. The way kids do after they’ve gotten a present or eaten a big cake, bigger than them. I loved him and he loved me. When Gil was gone I felt cold inside, the way I feel now. As the rain swallows me whole I think back on the way things used to be, just days ago. I walk along the stone walkways in town with no raincoat, no son, and no purpose. I’ll always be searching for him now.

Jay

To the rest of the world, I look like a typical man on a rainy stroll. I could be anyone else. Maybe I appear to be a father, or a fisherman, or a fraud. But really I’m a fleeing man trying to escape his wrongdoings. My pace increases without my mind telling it to and before long I’m on autopilot, heading top speed in whatever direction I can go. That direction happens to be a direct collision into a distracted lady with large coffee bean eyes and no rain coat. Squish!

“Oh… uh-sorry…” I babble.

“It’s fine,” she says, her voice sweet like honey.

Wait, says my conscience, don’t you know her? Large coffee bean eyes. Honey sweet voice. Oh. No. I took her son. My only thoughts after that, are the dire, pressing thoughts to get away as swiftly as humanly possible.

“Well… Yeah… uh, I, um… bye.” I stumble and stutter over my words.

My mind doesn’t think. My voice doesn’t even try to make real sentences. Only my legs are working now. Then she says what I absolutely, positively do not want to hear.

“Wait a minute. Hey! Come back! Don’t I know you?”

“Me? NO!” I say a little too loudly and a bit too harshly.

“Yes, yes I do! Earl?!”

At this point I’ll do anything to keep my cover, and if my cover has to be Earl- whoever that is- so be it.

“Ye-Yeah! How do I know you again… old… friend?” I say a little too inconspicuously, but I don’t think she notices, she seems quite distracted.

“We’re second cousins, remember? Gosh! I haven’t seen you in what… 20 years?! I’m in need of a family member to talk to, no matter how distantly we’re related. Can you please come back to the cottage and just let me spill to you? Please? I’ll make dinner and everything, I promise it’ll be worth it. I need help.”

What have you gotten yourself into Jay, or should I call you Earl, my conscience is back at it. Now a war is going on silently in my brain. Half of me says I should go to dinner with her, I owe it to her to listen to what she has to say and comfort her. The other half says, no way! I could get caught and killed! Eventually the war is won. Whether or not it’s won by the right side, I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Bernadette

“I- I’d be happy to!” he says.

I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think he would actually accept. Oh, what have I gotten myself into? I’m going to make such a fool of myself, bawling in front of him like someone has died. Well, I suppose he could have… couldn’t he?

“Great, I don’t think you can ever know how much I appreciate it. Oh! By the way, since we haven’t seen each other in awhile I guess we should, re-introduce ourselves? My name’s Bernadette, but you can call me Bernie, that’s what all my friends call me.”

Jay

If only she knew I wasn’t her friend.

“Alright… Bernadette. Lead the way,” I say.

Switching off who carries my bag, we stroll through town. At first I insist on carrying my bag alone, after all it’s not that heavy. But after awhile, it takes its toll and I give in. It’s hard though, to give up my bag, that backpack holds of the proof that I was the man who took her son, it has the check, the agreement, the letters, the whole shabang. After many long, awkwardly silent minutes of passing the sack back and forth, we arrive at her house. It’s quaint, and has grey-blue siding that’s peeling at the edges. The roof is crawling with ivy plants of all shades of green, from dark army to light lime. I doubt the fireplace still works because the chimney is toppling over. Despite the less than desirable condition, it looks like a friendly home to live in. Creak, slam! Finally, we’re safe from the rain. Stepping cautiously, further into the house, I catch a whiff of something… something delicious! I drop my bag onto the ground with a thud and turn my nose upwards, to inhale the aroma as much as I can. Bernie immediately throws her arms out and facepalms, as if realizing something she had forgotten.

“Oh! I’m such an idiot! I left the darn pot pie in the oven… I’ll bet it’s burnt itself by now. I’m so sorry- I- I just it’s been so hard, my son… he… oh, I’ll explain later.”

But she doesn’t need to explain, I can see her eyes welling with tears. She’s filled with sorrow, desperation, and woe and I know why, because I caused it. But as I look closer I notice something more, something deeper… something harsher. Swelling rage, about to burst. Being hurt does that to people. Then, a tear slips from her eye and slides down her cheek.

Bernadette

I quickly look down and lift my hand up to swipe the tear away with my sleeve. I can feel my face burning so I rush into the kitchen hollering back at Earl through the hallway.

“Come on in! Just leave your shoes on the mudmat! Dinner will be ready soon!”

I can hear the boards creaking as he slowly comes to the kitchen. Washing up plates, and getting out the napkins, I set the table. After a few minutes I’m done and ready to eat.

“Okay Earl! We’re ready, let’s eat!” I shout.

We serve ourselves generous helpings of chicken pot pie, string beans, wax beans, and sourdough bread and sit down. Preparing myself to tell Earl my story and ask for help, I suck in a deep breath. As if reading my mind he says,

“Now, what did you want to talk about again?”.

I put down my fork, give him a melancholy smile, and begin telling the tale.

Jay

She tells me everything. I don’t need to listen because I already know, but somehow she has me in a trance. I’m hearing my actions from another point of view and it’s frightening. First, she tells me about her son, Gilbert. He was only five, going on six and wanted to have a fairy themed birthday party. She tells me about his dad, who died when Gilbert was only three years old. Gilbert was all she had left of him. She tells me how on Saturday mornings she would make Gilbert heaping mounds of pancakes. She tells me how they decorated them together with strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips, and whipped cream. She tells me how Gil always wanted to feed the leftover to the birds in the park, and they always did. She tells me how cuddly, and compassionate, and warm hearted he was and how he always made her feel as happy as can be. Then she tells me about the bad man that took him from her. He came unannounced around seven o’clock at night- almost bedtime for Gilbert. It was the single most horrifying thing she had ever witnessed. She tells me how she didn’t understand how someone could be such a monster, have such little emotion. His actions, she said would haunt her forever. They’ll haunt you forever too, the little voice in the back of my head says. And suddenly I couldn’t be there anymore. I had to escape, I had to get out!

Bernadette

Slamming his chair back into the wall and standing up, he looked at me with a look that I had never quite seen anything like. It was horror, and fright. It was desperation and sadness with a hint of guilt. His mouth was slightly opened, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen with it closed.

“W-What are you doing?” I say, gently. “Did I frighten you? I’m so sorry if I did!”

He looked like he’s trying to form words, but instead he just backs up, stumbling over everything as he goes, knocking over lamps, accidently tearing down drawings.

“Are you leaving? Why…Why would you leave?” I yell, rushing after him. “At least take your bag!”

He keeps walking so I grab at the satchel for him. But then, I slip on water from one of the knocked over flower vases. The bag falls to the ground and spills its contents everywhere.

“Oh… Uh- I’m so sorry… I” I stammer.

He freezes and slowly turns on his heels. His once distracted and distraught expression turned to one of fear and guilt. Something isn’t right. Glancing down quickly at the mess I made, I can’t help but notice a check for $2,000. Then my eyes flick to something else of interest- an agreement. I don’t have time to read the whole thing, but I see enough.

“Once the child has been deposited at 3114 Montgomery Lane, you shall find a check for $2,000 at the bank on States Street. Thank you for the child, we appreciate your willing to break the law for the benefit of our workforce.” I read aloud, my voice hissing with hatred.

At first I was depressed, I wallowed in self pity. I was inconsolable. But the only thing I feel now is pure, untapped rage. Spinning around and standing up, I face him, standing taller than before and making him seem like the insignificant rat he is. My brain doesn’t think, my mouth doesn’t even try to make real sentences. The only thing I can do is shriek at him. Shrill, violent, shrieks.

“Y-You… You really thought you were going to get away with this didn’t you?” I mutter under my breath.

I stride forward confidently, snatching a glass lamp shard as I go. I find the sharpest one there, and lunge at the man I welcomed into my home. I lunge at the man that ate at my dining room table and ate the food that I generously cooked for him. The evil man that I mistook as a kind one. The man that sold my son. I thought I wanted my Gilbert back, but now I know, all I really want is my sweet, sweet revenge.