Swing Low: Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

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Installment #21 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Chapter 20When your life does unravel and nothing fits the way you would have it, will you keep your perspective? Maybe you don’t think you have goals. You do. We all do. We may not write them down at the start of each new year, but we have them. Then, when life gives us the choice to act on them, we promptly, almost unfailingly, abandon them all. Later, when we realize that things aren’t what we’d have hoped for, we remake our goals, or devise entirely different desires that fit the world we’re living in. Then we abandon those new goals and expectations all over again. It’s like nobody is satisfied by making a difference. Few are the people who decide to make a real difference then actually do something about it.The next morning, I woke up alone. It was a Saturday morning and Duy never did come back from his night of partying. Jhon and Charles were sleeping. They tended to sleep almost till noon whenever they could get away with it. Thing Two wasn’t here, and, oddly enough, neither was Thing One.Maybe that wasn’t so odd. Thing One had become unpredictable lately. He would disappear for days at a time, only to return and lock himself in his room to catch up on missed schoolwork. He blamed his absence on his work, but even I knew that the New Tum Police Department didn’t keep those kinds of schedules. Thing One wasn’t even an official police officer. He was just one of many social workers who dealt with the logistics of moving troubled youth from one home to another. I don’t think he ever made any of the trips himself. He just coordinated the activities.Not my problem, though. What he did with his time was his choice. For that matter, same went for Duy and Thing Two. Duy was the one who’d put me in that awkward position last night. Well, sort of. Where had all my courage gone? During the summer, I could have done anything. Maybe my mother's ladle had whacked some sense out of me. Anyhow, if Thing Two was so concerned about Duy’s immortal soul, then why was he trying to get me to do all the heavy lifting? All I could manage to shoulder was a giant yoke of embracement. Both Duy and Thing Two thought it was hilarious.If I was to be honest, I did care about Duy forsaking his God. I was finally coming around to the opinion that Believers might be onto something. The faithful ones took their devotion of God to a higher level than most religions I knew of. I was only just beginning to realize the importance of faith in my own life. It was something that I’d experienced firsthand over the summer. It was something I was about to experience on a completely different level over the next couple months.Despite my concern for Duy, he was a free agent, and probably understood God better than I did. What choices he made, he made purposefully, in contradiction to his own knowledge. I’m sure the black-and-white lines he was toying with were somehow gray in his head. Still, he was the one smudging those lines.I cleared my mind of him and tried to think past Lien and her mocking seductions last night. I pulled out my notepad to write about the dance party. I had a hard time finishing. I kept wondering why I'd allowed myself to get sucked into that degrading situation. It felt wrong from the beginning.Was I slipping? I put down my pen and closed my eyes. My zeal from the summer had diminished some. I wasn't pursuing truth to the degree that I'd wanted, so the light was leaving me. This caused a shiver, and I told myself that during the next month or two, I needed to start focusing on finding the truth about God, if the truth could be found.When I put down my pen for the second time, my article was finished. In actuality, the story was more about last year’s party. I’d attended that one, also. Both were basically the same. The only difference was that for this one I couldn’t focus on anything aside from my humiliation.Maybe now that I was finished with my article, I could move beyond that night. Of course, I’d need to proofread it before turning it over to Krystal for publication. I wondered if she would marvel at my ability to surmise the party after having needed rescuing by her.Oh well. Let her think what she would.Just then the front door burst open. Duy came in laughing with Thing Two. They seemed in good spirits until Thing Two locked eyes with me. Duy continued to the bathroom, but Thing Two walked up to me. He looked down and saw my draft of the news article. He ripped it from my notepad, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room.“What was that for?” I protested.“You ditched us last night. I needed you there to help me keep Duy out of trouble. Do you want to know where he spent the whole evening?”“I’m guessing it was at the same place you did,” I ventured.Thing Two slapped me across the face. I fell backward off my chair. My butt landed hard on the floor, but I hardly registered the pain. Thing Two had never been violent with me before. Belligerent, yes, but not violent. I didn’t know how to respond. I sat on the floor looking up at him. He looked as if he wanted to kick me. Then he stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him.My skin tingled with hot anxiety. The slap to my face was nothing compared to the slap to my dignity. Shaking, I stood, walked over to the wall, and picked up my crumpled notepaper. My heart thumped in my chest and my breathing came in gasps. Why did Thing Two assume that I was the only one responsible for Duy’s transgressions? I went back to my room, sat on my bed, and hoped I wouldn’t see Thing Two for the rest of the year.Duy came in. His hair dripped with water and his eyes were ringed in dark circles. He looked over at me as he pulled on some fresh clothes. “You okay, Iddo?”“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered.“Look, sorry about last night. I didn’t mean for Lien to be so—well, you know.”Thanks for being a real pal and bailing me out! I wanted to accuse. “No big deal,” I said instead. “It seems that Thing Two didn’t have a much better night, either.”“What are you talking about? We had a crazy-awesome night. We went back to—”“Stop.” I raised my hand. “I really don’t want to hear about it.”“Riiight. I know you’ve got your reservations about Believers. But sometimes I think you’re closer than me to that lifestyle.”“Do you actually believe everything they tell you?”Duy studied me for a moment. Or was he studying himself? “Yeah, I suppose so.”“If you consider yourself a Believer, then why last night? Doesn’t that kind of lifestyle conflict with how Believers are supposed to act?”Duy shrugged. “Why are you asking me that?”Because I'm curious and want to know more, but I don't know if I can even ask you about that way of life anymore. “I’m just a little concerned for you is all.” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Why couldn't I ever just say what I really meant? I hoped he wouldn't give me one of those who-are-you-to-judge-me sort of reactions. Luckily that didn’t happen.“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I haven’t stopped believing. I just—just don’t you worry about me.”I shrugged. I could almost sense his guilt, like he was more worried about me associating his actions with Believers than with himself. But he was trying hard to suppress it. The more he grayed the black-and-white lines of his moral conviction, the more easily he could get away with living loud and reckless. He knew what he was doing.As it turned out, over the next couple months, Duy fell more and more away from the Believers’ way of life. He still claimed to be a Believer, but nobody believed him anymore.The semester break finally arrived. Those who celebrated Christmas went to their homes for the holiday. After sending a card home to my mother, explaining a possible delay, I packed a bag and went into the woods. All previous attempts I’d made before had ended in disappointment.Granted, I didn’t have much time to search the woods on the few weekends that I’d been able to break away. I’d get into the woods, search for a day, then come back exhausted, just in time to sleep off the hike before school the next day. Now I had two full weeks to search for Midnight.I was more prepared for an extended stay in the woods than at any other time before. Not that I packed a lot of extra food. The hangman’s orphans had taught me how to forage. Mostly what I brought was a good knife and a light pot with a lighter to start cook fires with. I’d have no problem as long as I could stay away from the dark cottages that I now knew speckled the deep woods. I had no desire to spend another stint with a witch.I printed an aerial photo of the woods and used it to find the prominent lakes that pocketed the region. The hangman’s last big camp had been by a lake. It stood to reason that he’d search out another such location. Large ponds or small lakes could often be relied on to supply fish. Not only were they a good source of protein, but the small streams or springs that fed them were good for drinking water.I could either hike to the northwest of the hangman’s last camp, or I could go to the southeast. The woods stretched on much farther to the northwest, over two hundred kilometers, and contained more little lakes that would work well for another camp. To the southwest, the trees and brambles got thicker and were harder to travel through. After about a hundred kilometers, they met a rough and rocky seashore. Considerably fewer lakes and ponds populated the terrain in that direction.Since the northwest appeared to be the most likely spot for moving a large group to, I decided to focus my search in that direction. I started by hiking to their last camp, which became my first camp for this trip. In the morning, I took out a cheap compass and set my course toward the next closest lake—or, rather, pond.That day I hiked several kilometers, visited two lakes, and skirted around one suspicious cottage. That home might not have belonged to a witch, but who else would live out here? I didn’t care to chance it. Day two was much like day one, except I found no sign of people, and I got lost for half a day before finding the pond I was hiking to.On the third day, I rolled my ankle while crossing over a fallen log. Nothing beats hiking alone through a vast jungle with a crippled ankle. Nothing that is, except for just about anything else. It hurt, really bad. Each step felt like a spiked spring expanding in my joint.I struggled onward, limping heavily for the first hour, but the more I walked on it, the less it pained me. Of course, continuing to walk on it was extremely stupid, but I pressed on until I reached my next pond.The next morning when I woke up, my foot looked like I'd filled it with compressed air. It was swollen like a latex balloon and I couldn’t even put my shoe on over it. I had to soak the bloated thing in cool water before it was small enough to fit back in. Since I wasn’t going anywhere fast, I used that soaking time to bathe in the pond I'd camped by that night. I'd neglected bathing to this point, and I sorely needed it. Every time I moved, a whiff of pungent air billowed from my shirt to my face.Late that morning, I debated hiking some more, or catching fish and letting my ankle rest for a few more hours. I chose to stay put. I was also a little depressed. I’d hoped that I would’ve found some sign of them by now. Afternoon came, but I decided to stay in place. I slept one more night. There wasn’t even any fish. I was reduced to eating stale bread and whatever roots I could claw out of the dirt.The next morning, I set out again. It was a Friday and I covered three more small lakes, none producing any results. My discouragement deepened. According to the printout I’d made, I still had over a hundred and fifty kilometers of zigzagging to go before I exhausted this side of the forest. It would take months, and I wasn’t even sure that I’d chosen the right direction to search for them.Late Sunday afternoon I exited the woods on the west side. I was tired and frustrated. Part of me wanted to continue searching. But I had spent a whole week without seeing any clue as to where they were. I caught a bus and rode it for two and a half hours as it slowly made its way to my hometown.I arrived at my mother’s house late that night. My mother was still awake, and very happy to see me. It was Christmas Eve. We didn’t celebrate the holiday in the same way that an American or Christian might. For us it was mostly just a time to spend with family.“I wasn’t sure you’d make it here.”“Well, I spent a little extra time hiking through the woods. Did you get my letter?”“Yes, but it didn't really explain why you'd be late. Why spend any more time in the woods than you'd have to? Is everything okay?”“I’m fine,” I began. Then, whether due to exhaustion or just needing to talk, I told her all about the hangman and the orphans he’d adopted. I even told her about Midnight and my commitment to her. Explaining this all felt incredible, like shrugging a bag full of heavy rocks. Of course, I still left out the part about the witch. Mother didn't need to know everything.I don’t know exactly what my mother thought of it all. If I were to guess by her stiff posture and tight-lipped expression, she disapproved. She continued to listen quietly, keeping her own thoughts to herself. I figured she'd have some reservations, it would be hard not to. The whole time we talked, I kept a wary eye out for her kitchen ladle. Eventually it became clear that she wasn’t going to scold me for making a foolish promise to a strange jungle girl. At least if she was, she was going to use sugar instead of a rod to change my mind. But even hints of doubt were scarce. She really seemed like she was trying to accept my decisions.Christmas Day started nicely. A faint smell of cinnamon from the neighbors drifted on the morning air. Childhood memories flooded back to me. Like so many times before, I longed for my father to be back with us. I imagined that if he hadn't died, that somehow Mother would have convinced him to let me change schools.I took in a deep breath, savoring the best memories and ignoring the unpleasant. I'd always loved these kind of mornings."Well?" My mother asked.She'd started mining me for every little detail before even kindling a fire on the stove. She wanted to know all about Midnight. If she was upset, which I think she might have been, she hid those feelings well. I think she was trying to convince herself that I was smart enough to be making a good decision. Her way of doing so was to learn as much about it as possible. She hung on every word as if my tale was fascinating. In a way, I felt a little awkward with the degree of attention that she focused on my story. I'd already told her much of this last night, but she wanted it all again, and in as deep of detail as possible.The more I told her, the more she wanted to hear. Neither of us worked that day. We just stayed at home or went on small walks. Mostly we talked. Eventually, she would exchange a story about her younger life for stories of my new life. In the space of only a year and a half, our relationship had completely changed. She was still my mother, but we were also like two adult friends. I learned stories from her that I couldn’t imagine her doing. They weren’t bad, it was just that she’d hadn’t told me much about her life before she married my father. The whole day was fascinating in a way I’d never anticipated.The next day she had to go into work. Her situation upset me a little because of her health. A year and a half ago, she had a cough. Over the summer she’d masked it well enough, but I could tell that she was weak. Now it took all her energy just to hide her poor health from me.As I watched her walk off to work, she carried herself as well as she could until she thought I might not be watching anymore. She was several hundred meters away, almost far enough to be obscured, when I saw her nearly collapse. She caught herself against the side of a building and paused for a minute. Standing straight again, she sneaked a glance back at me, to see if I’d noticed her lapse.I pretended to have my attention elsewhere. I could almost feel her relief at not letting me see her infirmity. She continued on. I wanted to rush out to her and bring her back. She needed caring for. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of my own selfishness. I hadn’t once considered my own mother’s needs. For my whole life, she’d taken care of me. I loved her with all my heart and she was slipping away. I couldn’t think of what to do.My mind raced through every diagnosis that a second-year medical student might know. The top contenders were tuberculosis or cancer. Neither were good. Then a thought entered my mind that scared me even more. What if she was being so good about my decision to marry Midnight because she knew she wouldn’t be around much longer to see me happily married otherwise? Is that why she'd asked to see Midnight if I could find her before my classes started up again?I couldn’t think about my mother dying. I resolved that I needed to find a way to take care of her and Midnight together. But how could I do both and still go to school? I sat down, staring into the distance. Even if I could find a way to take care of all of us, how would I bring my mother to New Tum District? She wouldn’t survive the hike. I couldn’t afford to bus her around the woods. Even if I did scrape the money together, she wouldn't allow me to use my college money for it.The only other option was to quit school and come back home to be with her. But we couldn’t afford a doctor, and if I didn’t finish my schooling, how could I even hope to take care of her? Being a doctor might not make me much money, but I would gain the skills to help her. Unfortunately, I was convinced that by then, it would be too late.Click here to read Chapter 21Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.