~ * * ~
“I hear there was trouble at your school today,” Tony mentioned casually from the doorway of the bedroom Nicky and I shared as he took in the cuts and bruises on my face.
I shrugged.
“Jack was great!” Nicky enthused. “He let those bullies beat up on him just to protect Benjamin.”
“That was mighty generous of you,” Tony noted, attempting to hide his amusement.
“Tony, this is serious,” Mrs. Ramirez remonstrated from the hallway. “Jack could have been seriously hurt.”
If it hadn’t been for Officer Ramirez and his wife taking us in after the Shaw fiasco Nicky and I would have been separated, Nicky going to new foster parents and me to a boys’ home. I had pleaded with Mrs. Phelps to keep us together, even though it went against the grain to beg, but to no avail. There just wasn’t anyone willing to take someone like me. Eventually I resorted to attempting to ‘guilt’ her into doing something reminding her she had been partially responsible for, however unwittingly, allowing what had happened to us.
Tony Ramirez and his wife had been married for five years and even though they had been to special doctors and tried ‘everything’—I didn’t want to know what ‘everything’ entailed—they were still childless and had decided to offer to become foster parents in order to take Nicky and me.
I knew it was Mrs. Phelps’ original idea, although both Tony and Mrs. Ramirez seemed happy to do it, and she hurried them through the process. It wasn’t long before Nicky and I were installed in the Ramirez house and, even though it meant changing schools, I considered that a good thing since it allowed both of us a fresh start.
Mrs. Ramirez had loved Nicky on sight, everyone did, but I could see her eyeing me doubtfully for the first few months whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.
At first, Mrs. Ramirez was scared of me, I was tall for my age and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t force a smile on my deadpan face. Even when I managed to force my lips to move out of my perpetual expressionlessness, which wasn’t often, it always looked more like I was in pain than anything else. I tried practicing in front of the mirror, but gave it up as a lost cause; it had been too many years of disuse and my smile muscles had atrophied beyond all hope.
Because the Ramirez family was our only chance of staying together, I decided I would work harder than I had ever worked in my life to make things easier for Mrs. Ramirez. I insisted on taking out the trash, mowed their small lawn, kept our room tidy, and even helped out with whatever housework I could like dishes and laundry, even though I hated housework.
Once she discovered I was a passable cook—the Shaws were lazy but liked to eat well so I had to learn in order to avoid more punishment for Nicky—she would sometimes let me help her out in the kitchen.
Eventually we reached a type of understanding, which over time developed into a mutual liking and respect. My obvious attachment to Nicky was what finally won her over, and once she was able to relax around me, I found it easier to be more natural around her. We even discovered a similar sense of humor, which helped a lot. I still called her Mrs. Ramirez but, since I had trouble thinking of her any other way, I doubted that would ever change.
“You’re right, Claudia, and I’m sorry,” Tony turned to give her a peck on the cheek. “It is serious and the school is in a lot of hot water because of it.”
“How come?” I asked interestedly.
“The two teachers who should have been on duty were apparently taking an unapproved smoking break when Nicky’s friend was being…got hurt,” he substituted “and so the principal is dealing with a liability issue. If you hadn’t been there, Jack, he could have easily been killed. It was touch and go for a while, but it looks like he’ll be fine…or as fine as he can be with his medical issues.”
“Can I go see him in the hospital?” Nicky asked anxiously.
“I think he’d like that,” Tony smiled at him tenderly. “Would you like to come along, Jack?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged noncommittally.
“Come with us, Jack,” Nicky begged. “Please.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Supper’s ready,” Mrs. Ramirez called from the kitchen. “Get washed up.”
“Why don’t you start washing up, Nicky,” Tony suggested kindly. “And we can go visit your friend…”
“Benjamin,” Nicky chimed in.
“…Benjamin as soon as we’re all through eating.”
“Cool,” he hopped off the bed and sped past Tony on his way to the bathroom.
“Something’s on your mind,” Tony commented as he moved into the room to sit on Nicky’s bed.
“He has Duchenne’s,” I said glumly.
“And…?”
“I spent the afternoon in the school library looking it up.”
“Yeah, I got the feeling the principal was so grateful to you for intervening he would have given you the moon on a silver platter if you’d asked,” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe the one time there were no teachers…”
“It wasn’t,” I contradicted him in disgust. “Those two teachers always leave when they’re stuck with recess duty.”
“You don’t miss much,” Tony said ruefully. “I’m sure those bullies realized it, too. So what did you find out about what Nicky’s friend has?”
“Sometime soon, probably in the next two years, he’s gonna end up in a wheelchair and after that he….” I couldn’t finish.
“Ah…” Tony nodded in understanding. “You’re thinking he might be better off if you hadn’t intervened.”
“I don’t know. I’m just not sure I did him a favor.”
“He has parents who love him and good friends like Nicky…and now you…I’d say he’s pretty lucky.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Look, Jack, you and I both know nothing about life is fair, but Benjamin has people who care about him and from what his parents told me, he’s a happy kid most of the time.”
“You talked to his parents?”
“Yes, and they’d very much like to meet you and Nicky so it would be nice if you came with us. Okay?”
“I suppose,” I capitulated reluctantly.
“Good…now let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
1972
“I want to go,” I said stubbornly.
“That’s understandable,” Mrs. Ramirez replied reasonably, “but I don’t want you missing school.”
“My grades are good enough and I’ll make up anything I miss,” I promised, “Please, I need to go.”
“Alright,” she gave in smiling. “You’re a good big brother.”
“He’s all I have left,” I said fiercely.
“I know,” Mrs. Ramirez acknowledged sadly. “Tell you what, be ready at the end of fourth period and we’ll pick up a burger and fries on the way to the appointment.”
“You don’t like us eating junk food,” I said suspiciously, wondering what she wasn’t telling me.
“One time won’t hurt,” she grinned and added, “We won’t tell Tony, it’ll be our little secret.”
“Okay,” I responded gratefully, adding thoughtfully. “He is a cop, so we’ll have to destroy all the evidence.”
“You and Nicky take care of demolishing the food and I’ll dispose of the trash.”
“Agreed,” I replied, solemnly offering my hand for her to shake which she did with equal solemnity.
I hurried out of the house to catch the bus. The conversation had made me later than usual, but I was able to make the corner just as the other kids were getting on. Taking my place at the end of the line my heart sank as I realized that Daphne was looking back at me trying to get my attention. I deliberately avoided her eyes.
When would I learn to butt out of other people’s problems? I wondered in exasperation.
Probably never, I conceded.
I tried to mind my own business, but whenever I caught someone acting the bully, I had troubl
e ignoring it.
Ever since the Benjamin incident, I’d lived with perpetual black eyes. Finally, Tony decided that since I continually insisted on being the champion of the underdog, putting myself between the bullies and their victims, it would be a good idea to teach me how to defend myself as the bullies had no problem whatsoever switching their attention from their original target to me.
He’d boxed since before he was my age and began taking me to the gym with him in the evenings.
At first, I only sparred with Tony, but as I began to show improvement, he let me try out other partners, eventually allowing me to compete, and it wasn’t long before I was at the top of my weight class.
Tony said I was a natural. I was just glad not to have any more black eyes.
As I headed down the aisle looking for a place to sit, Daphne smiled at me and patted the empty seat beside her. I pretended not to see and walked past to an unoccupied one, preferring solitude, hoping if I ignored her, she would finally take the hint and realize that I didn’t want a girlfriend. I just hadn’t been able to stand by and watch a couple of guys trying to force their obviously unwelcome kisses on her. I would have done the same for anybody, but she didn’t see it that way. She seemed to think I had a secret crush on her or something.
Girls, I snorted in disgust.
As I settled into my seat, my thoughts turned to Nicky. I was scared. Nicky had been sick for months, the numerous doctor visits hadn’t yielded any positive results, and I was worried that it might be serious. Instead of getting better, his cough seemed to worsen every few days. He’d lost weight and seemed much weaker than he had just a month earlier.
At each appointment, the pediatrician would write him a new prescription for a different antibiotic, but nothing seemed to help. However, after finding unexplained bruises during the last visit he had immediately sent Nicky over to the hospital to get blood drawn.
Nicky had practically giggled, which was good to see, as he’d explained that ‘drawing blood’ was a simple blood test and not as fun as it sounded.
He’d shown me a cartoon he’d penciled while waiting for the technician to call his name. The picture was of two cowboys standing twenty paces apart and as they approach each other, they counted off ten paces. Reaching the middle, they ‘grabbed leather’ and pulling syringes out of their holsters each attempted to stick the other in order to suck out their blood.
That was as close to laughing as I’d come in a long time, but my humor had been short-lived as I took in the dark circles under Nicky’s tired eyes.
The doctor’s office had finally called saying that the results from the blood test had come in and asking Mrs. Ramirez to bring Nicky in later that afternoon. Although it had taken me quite a while to persuade her to let me go with them, I persisted. I had a bad feeling in my gut and knew I needed to be there.
The year had been hard on Nicky and me. Because I was in seventh grade, I had to go to a different school than Nicky for the first time ever. The separation made me almost physically sick with anxiety every day wondering if some bully was picking on him, not able to be there to take care of him as I had for the past four years since our parents’ death. He was small for his age and too sweet and trusting, even after our horrible experience with the Shaws, and I was scared for him even while I envied him.
How he could smile every day, be so stinking happy about life in general, was beyond me. Life sucked, there was no getting around it, but he didn’t seem to realize that. I wished I could be so oblivious.
Again, I was grateful for whatever part of my brain stored information with very little effort from me. Nervous about Nicky’s appointment later that afternoon, I barely paid attention in any of my morning classes, too worried to concentrate. Thankfully, all I had to do was study the board and the pages assigned and the information was safely stored in my head. I just had to make it through four classes.
I always sat in the back of the classroom and slid down in my chair avoiding eye contact so the teacher very seldom called upon me in class to answer anything. My grades were nothing to write home about, but they were passing.
When I first started school everything I did was always perfect—I already knew how to read, write and do simple arithmetic by the time I was four years old—but it hadn’t taken long for me to realize that good grades simply made me a target for every stupid bully in school.
After a couple of years, I found myself deliberately putting the wrong answers, and by the time I hit junior high I had perfected the art of ‘just getting by’. No one had a clue.
School was deadly boring, and I spent a lot of time checking out books in the library and reading them during classes. My parents had both been teachers before their deaths—my father taught high school science my mother junior high English—and encouraged my interest in reading. The subject of the books never matter to me, although I enjoyed learning about other countries the most, and I devoured whatever I could find desperately needing something to keep my brain occupied.
Of course, Mom and Dad had been disappointed when it became apparent that I was going to be a mediocre student, but they managed to hide it fairly well. I felt guilty about my deception and had always planned sometime in the future to tell them, but because of the accident never got the opportunity.
Mrs. Ramirez and Nicky were waiting for me in the parking lot when the bell rang for lunch, she having already called the school to let them know I would be absent for half of the day, and I forced myself to walk calmly to the car, nerves stretched to the breaking point.
Nicky’s smile, in between coughs, was just a ghost of what it used to be. I could see he was scared so even though he had considerately left me the front seat I climbed into the back with him, reaching over and squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Searching my face, Nicky visibly relaxed. Practicing my smile in front of the mirror had been for naught, but I was glad for Nicky’s sake that I had been able to perfect my poker face during our time with the Shaws. Nicky had no idea that I was even more nervous and scared than he was.
The trip to the doctor’s office was all too short. I wanted to know what was wrong with Nicky, but at the same time wanted to deny that there was anything wrong. My nature was such that I usually preferred to face problems head on and deal with them, but not when it involved my little brother.
Nicky was the best part of me, the only part of me that was worth squat, and I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him.
Sitting in the waiting room, Mrs. Ramirez kept up a lively stream of chatter, asking about my day and giving me encouraging looks obviously expecting me to produce more than my normal monosyllabic answers. She was apparently as on edge as I was and seemed determined to keep Nicky’s mind occupied.
Grateful to her for her sensitivity, I obligingly made up a story about some of the bullies at school getting their comeuppance from Jackknife, Nicky’s superhero name for me.
I was good at making up stories. During our time at the Shaws, whenever Nicky couldn’t get to sleep, usually because of the pain inflicted on him by those two monsters, I would make up wild stories to take his mind off of his injuries. The worse the damage the more improbable my tales became, so I had Jackknife doing everything from jumping off tall buildings to swimming whole oceans. Fortunately for Nicky, he was easily distracted.
He was the one who decided after the Benjamin incident that I needed a secret identity and had dubbed me Jackknife for two reasons: firstly because it sounded so much like my real name, Jack Knight, and secondly because a jackknife was my only possession that meant anything to me.
When our parents died, they had very little money and so everything had to be sold in order to pay their debts. The only thing I managed to salvage was the small jackknife my father had inherited from his grandfather and had given to me on my eighth birthday.
I wasn’t sure how far back the knife went, but it was at least a couple of generations. The ja
ckknife represented the only tie that Nicky and I had with our parents as well as our heritage and I was careful to protect it, hiding it in my shoe for safekeeping.
Although it squished my toes together, I alternated which shoe I put it in every other day so my feet wouldn’t get deformed and be any uglier than they already were, unwilling to allow it out of my care for any length of time.
“Nicky Knight,” a professional female voice called from an opened door.
“That’s us,” Mrs. Ramirez said briskly, standing and leading the way towards the nurse.
“Hello Nicky,” the nurse smiled sweetly at him as we passed and entered the private office area, dropping the impersonal tone she’d used for the benefit of the other people in the waiting room and adopting a much more casual attitude.
“Hi Teresa,” Nicky returned, showing his dimples, and asked, “How’s Tito?”
“Funny you should ask,” Teresa replied mischievously. “Just this morning he decided that I simply didn’t need my comfortable work shoes and took a huge bite out of a vital part of my footwear.” As she ushered us into a room she leaned on the doorway and picked up her right foot to reveal a partially chewed heel. “They are…were…my favorite shoes,” she amended mournfully.
Nicky laughed delightedly and Teresa winked at him. Because of Nicky’s frequent visits, everyone in the office had gotten to know him well, but Nurse Teresa was his favorite, always regaling him with stories about her Jack Russell terrier’s many misadventures.
I’d thought she was making up all of the stories just to entertain Nicky like I usually did, but apparently her dog was a menace to society as well as Nurse Teresa’s footwear.
“And you must be Jack,” Teresa turned to shake my hand. “Nicky talks about you all the time.”
“Much like you talk about Tito no doubt,” I returned gravely, winking at Nicky.
Nurse Teresa laughed and said, “You’re right, Nicky, he is funny.” With her hand on the doorknob, she sobered for a moment as she spoke to Mrs. Ramirez. “Doctor Saunders will be in shortly,” she informed her and then asked doubtfully. “Are you sure you don’t want to speak to him alone first?”
Mrs. Ramirez quickly glanced at me and then firmly shook her head. “We’re fine.”
Teresa nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.