by COOPER FITCH

It was winter on the coast and the rain came constantly like a blanket of misty fog. They were two girls and a boy. Moved like ants past the broken mossy frame of an old trampoline and ran fast through the puddles that dotted the muddy graveled pathway into the first of a series of barns that extended out ahead of them, all connected in one way or another. They stopped there and stood still next to the covered hulk of a long-abandoned car for a moment, hearing as the rain intensified and pounded the thin metal roof like a million pop rocks crackling in their mouths. Benny, the boy, shivered in his thin, gray Old Navy sweatshirt and shoved his hands into the pocket at the front for warmth.

Mandy was his cousin. She led the troupes of neighbors and tagalongs that congregated at Papa’s house on the weekends and breaks at school. He was in kindergarten this year and he didn’t know how old she actually was, but he knew that she was a few years older than him and had been recently promoted to helping Grandma when she cooked eggs and bacon and made her special homemade maple syrup for their pancakes in the mornings. She was short and skinny, with smiley green eyes and pale skin. The other girl was Amber. She was in middle school and was abnormally tall. She had buck teeth and long brown hair that hung to the butt of her Wrangler blue jeans. Her dad wasn’t his uncle by blood, but he was Papa’s son and came over most nights to drink beer and watch TV with him. He’d been in some kind of machine accident that had cut his hand in half so that now there was just a meaty club with a thumb at the end of his wrist. He still managed to use it to hold his cans of Hamm’s.

They stepped over soggy bags of fertilizer, ducked under the bow of a rotting drift boat, and wove around a mini quad with a seat covered in an inch thick layer of dust and rat poop. Moving through the maze they got to an opening that led across the single lane dirt and rubble track which led ahead to the rotting remnants of what had been the hay barn. He stomped in the puddles along the track as they walked along, giggling and happy, free from his parents and only responsible to the whim of his instincts.

The hay barn was more of a three-sided lean-to that protected the pyramid of hay and alfalfa from the constant drizzle. The roof was very high, maybe a hundred feet, with bales and bales of hay stacked up together underneath. It had once been flattened and in rows for easy access by tractors, but now the last of the milk had been sold off to the local co-op and only the children found any use for it. Benny started his climb, wary of the holes from mildew and rot that created false floors and a minefield of danger. He loved to climb the bales. Feel the accomplishment as he conquered each step of the staircase with his small, stocky trunk legs. His sweatshirt was dark with rain and the air whipped a merciless cold into him. His arms goosebumped under the soggy fabric.

The three of them stood on a stable section that created a plateau of sorts high up on the mountain of bales. Benny looked around, spinning and jumping with excitement at his achievement. He did not notice what the girls were doing until he heard their tittling laughter from behind him. He turned and saw them huddled together across the plain, whispering so that he couldn’t hear anything they said.

“What’re you doing?” he said, feeling suddenly nervous.

Mandy looked at him quickly, then back to Amber. Amber giggled, her buck teeth vaulting forward as her cheeks retracted.

“Nothing,” said Amber. “We’re not talking about anything.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, his gut turning inside out. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s girl stuff,” said Mandy. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. He did not know why, but his face grew hot and red. Girls were still just a concept to him about which he felt confused yet ambivalent. He turned and looked over the far edge of the platform they were standing on. It opened up into a dark chasm that disappeared into the depths of the barn, filled with hundreds of spiders and who knew what else. He felt a jolt of fear that he knew only his mom’s embrace could quell.

He heard simultaneous screams behind him: “Ben!”

He turned and a mass of hands grabbed him, pulling him back toward the edge. He stepped to steady himself but slipped through the rotten hay. His foot fell off the edge of the precipice, dangling freely. He thought for sure he would fall into the abyss, and he screamed as loud as he could. For his Grandma. For his Papa. For his mom and dad who were off somewhere else for the weekend without him. The fear in his heart squeezed him frozen, but then the hands reached and grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled him back. They let go and he lay flat on his stomach on the face of the bales, shivering with fear and breathing heavy with adrenaline. Above him, he heard the cackling laughter of his cousins.

“What did you do that for?” he screamed.

They just laughed at him.

“Do what?” they said in unison.

“You…you…” he trailed off. A painful snake slithered its way up his throat. His eyes were filled with tears. The wet drops felt cold his cheeks with the wind blowing in on them.

The girls snickered behind him. He wiped his eyes and pushed himself up until he stood straight, face round and pink and screaming, angry. He walked up to them, finger pointing: “I’m telling grandma,” he said. “I’m telling grandma!”

“No!” Amber screamed, grabbing him. She shook him violently and said, “No, no you’re not.”

He cried, loud and feral with drool dripping from his mouth.

Mandy lunged and grabbed him. Amber shoved him into her and they hit like two bulls in a pen. A pair of animals wrestling, limbs interlocked in battle. After a moment, she managed to get his wrists, turning him as he fought her until he righted them and pushed as hard as he could back on her chest.

They both fell back. Butts hit the hay and shook the whole stack under their feet. The trio held still in a kind of shocked silence. His breath was hot and rapid after the fight. Behind him, Mandy started laughing. He stood and looked, confused, as she sidled up next to Amber. She too, looked confused.

Mandy screamed, “You touched my boob!”

“Huh?” he said.

And now Amber laughed at him, too. Both of them creeping toward him, a wall of breath and fire pushing him further back to the edge.

“What do you mean ‘boob’?” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But that made them louder. They turned to each other, screaming and imitating him. He felt small and alone.

“You don’t know?” Amber said to him. “You really don’t know?”

“No, no, I don’t know,” he cried. “What are you talking about?”

Amber grabbed her chest and laughed at him. “You know these? Like your Mommy has, Benny?”

He shook his head. Stepped back unconsciously and felt the air just below his feet. Stumbled and caught himself.

“You really don’t know?” said Mandy. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he blurted out.

“Liar,” she said back to him.

“No,” he said. “Shut up!”

She smiled at him and quickly lifted up her shirt. Her bare chest was exposed and white, shining back to him. There was nothing there but small, pink round nipples that looked like his. Flat and muscled flesh covering organs and hearts. He didn’t see any boobs. He didn’t really know anything about boobs at all. Only that sometime the year before he’d accidentally walked into grandma’s room and found her facing away from him, putting on her bra. She’d jumped and turned back to him with surprise, but the beige lace and fabric covered everything that he could have seen.

“You’re gonna be in trouble,” said Mandy. “I’m gonna tell grandma that you touched my boobs. I will!”

“And I saw the whole thing,” said Amber. “You think she’s not gonna believe me?”

“I…I…” he said, head bouncing between them, trying to process the place he was now in. “You guys are being mean. I didn’t do anything.”

“You touched her boob!” Amber screamed and pointed a finger at him.

And then Mandy started to cry. She curled up into Amber’s chest. Amber held her tightly, looking disapprovingly at him like a mother protecting her child from a playmate.

“How could you do this?” she said to him.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I didn’t do anything.” He wanted to run. He wanted to get far away from here, back in the house and under a blanket by the wood fireplace. He wanted his parents to come back and hold him. He wanted them to cover him and hide him away from them and this place and everything that had happened.

He felt hot. His chest hurt. His throat was aching. He knew he had to give in. There was nothing he could do. The pit lay behind him and the girls stood in front of him.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell grandma.”

And just like that, Mandy stopped. She wiped her face with her grimy sleeves and straightened herself out, smiling brightly and easily.

“See,” she said. “That’s right. That’s all you had to do.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” added Amber.

And then they all stood there in silence, the brisk breeze running through them. Layers of spiderwebs moved in waves over the bales. The girls looked at each other, not speaking. Then Mandy smiled.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said.

“Yeah?” asked Amber.

Mandy peered at him. She took a deep breath and curled her lips. “You need to pee,” she said.

“What?” he answered automatically.

“Over there,” she pointed to the darkness behind him. “Go pee or we’ll push you. We’ll push you over the edge.”

“Yeah!” Amber added. “Go pee. Go pee!”

“No,” he said, small and cold.

Amber rushed him and grabbed his sweatshirt. She pushed him toward the darkness and held him out at arm’s length, his feet clinging for purchase. Mandy joined. She slapped his face and laughed at him. His heels were slipping as they hooked into the weak and moldy hay. If Amber let go, he’d fall.

“Do it! Mandy screamed. “Do it or she’ll drop you!”

“I’ll do it,” said Amber.

“Pee, pee, pee,” Mandy rejoiced.

He gave in. He blubbered. He was cornered. The pit lay imposing beneath him. There was no other option. He hadn’t even done anything.

“Okay! he yelled. “I’ll do it.”

And just like that Amber pulled him up. She and Mandy backed off as he stood there, tears flowing and snot bubbling out. They watched silently, huddled together, as he choked, voice erupting in staggered howls. He swallowed hard and reached for his belt. Avoided their gaze as he turned back to the darkness. Undid his pants and pulled the zipper down. The girls moved around to his side for a better view.

“Turn this way,” said Mandy.

He did. He stood there, cold wind whipping into him, and let it go.

In the back of the car, he looked out the window and stared at the lush greenery. The river winding small but strong over craggy boulders as their car zoomed past. The trees tall, hovering over them, creating a shawl of darkness even in the early morning light. Small spots of snow lay speckled along the edges of the road, holding on to themselves against pressures insisting they melt.

“Did you have a good time playing with the girls, honey?” He heard his mother say. He could sense her turning her head to look at him from the passenger seat, but he didn’t meet her eye.

“We got a little lucky at the blackjack table,” his father said. “We were thinking maybe we could get you a present.”

Murmurs up there as they took in his silence. He kept his eyes on the moss. The leaves. The boughs. The rocks. The stream.

“You know, honey,” his mother said, “Dad and I were thinking maybe it’s time we get you that PlayStation you were talking about.”

He did not speak. Just listened to the whir of the tires on the road. The cars passing in the other lane. The periodic crashes of rain falling onto them from high-above boughs.

“You’ve been a real good boy lately.”

Ω

Cooper Fitch is a writer originally from Portland, Oregon, now living in Los Angeles. He works in the film industry and spends his free time whitewater kayaking and playing speed chess.

Jay Daugherty discovered Tibetan Buddhism as a homeless teen traveling around America and subsequently built a life from scratch. Now based in Oxford, England, where he earned a graduate degree in Tibetan and Himalayan Studies, he is a teacher and studio artist. His work explores the idiosyncrasies of immediate experience in contrast to a transcendent sublime.