It went on.
I started to dread seeing him at times. Sometimes I would call him just to see what he was doing. He would come over and talk, or we would go for a ride. Things would be good for a while. He would be funny. I would see him in there again.
Then the Number would rise like a dead body floating in sour water, bloated and gnawed upon, and I would hear all of it again.
Then weed.
He talked about getting me high all the time. Said that I needed to loosen up and let him straighten me out. I was running out of time. Soon I would be married and it would all get to be so much more complicated.
“Gotta get a spot of land. Nothing too big, just something I can put a trailer on. When the kids grow up, they can put trailers on it too, and I can keep an eye on them.”
“Good, do it fast. Make sure it is in Waynesville school district. Looks like Little Man and Dewdrop are going to be going to Laquey school,” I said. They had moved out of Uncle Wrath’s trailer when he sold it, and were now living out past the church out of Waynesville school district.
“Nah fuck it, I like where they are.”
“If you moved right down this outer road, right here, they could go to Waynesville. It is a much better high school. They would have more opportunities.”
“No, fuck that. I don’t want them getting hoity, toity. They can get by just fine with Laquey. It will keep them right where I want them,” he said. “Not everyone needs to graduate like you and try to get into college. The world is run by working stiffs, Jesse, not snooty assholes.”
“I don’t want to be a snooty asshole. I just want to teach literature.”
“My God, you’re serious,” he said after taking his eyes off the road to look at me for a second or two. “What does the world need with literature? You’re gonna teach them how to read and shit? Everybody knows how to read, Jesse. And most of them read good shit. Not the crap you’ll be slinging. Listen, you gotta come work with me. Fuck this school shit. The Army didn’t work out anyway, you’re not going to college. You can work at the factory like a man instead of doing that literature crapola.”
I was looking for a better paying job. One that I could use to get a car and save up money for college.
“Tell me about this factory.”
“Well it’s in Lebanon. But don’t worry about that, I go every day. You get the same shift as me and you are made. We can share gas and go to work together. Spend more time with each other. Most importantly they pay 15 dollars an hour. Every job you can get around here is gonna be 8 at best. They have paid holidays, paid time off. Health insurance. Pension.” He looked at me and lifted his eyebrows.
“You get in the factory, work for 20 years, you’re what, 19? You bail at 39. Then you get a cushy job at Walmart greeting customers as they come in to give yourself a little breathing room and you made it. Work that for twenty years, your only 59 and you have two pensions.” He smiled. “No college, no useless fucking literature. 59 and you’re done.”
I had no plans on being a lifer at a factory, but 15 an hour was insane, and all the benefits. I could put back a lot of money and go to college on Post. “How do I get in? Can you get me in?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to my boss about it. He will set you up on a machine next to me. We are back in business. It’s us all over again.”
And I wanted it bad. I wanted it so bad. I dreamed of a day when he would give up on me taking up the life of the Number and maybe I could show him that. I was beginning to realize that me and Uncle Ball were bound together in some strong and real way. Maybe we could make it work again.
Two days later. “Boss says that they only hire through a temp service now. It’s called Penmac and you work with them for a few months. If the bosses love you like I know they will, then they take you on full time. You have to do shit for maybe three months.”
“Never was afraid of paying my dues. Makes it all sweeter.”
“Cool, Thursday is my day off. I’ll pick you up at about ten in the morning. Be ready.”
Penmac and I have a few tests to take to find my skills and my strengths. Math, and my dyslexia is killing me. But I get it done in less than half an hour and we are out.
One month goes by. Not a call, not a peep from Uncle Ball. Then one day Rose calls me. “Your uncles are over here, Ball’s got big news. I think it’s about the job.”
Up in a hurry and I’m at my mom’s house. Uncle Wrath is standing behind Ball in the dining room chair. I drop down excited, ready to get started.
“So when do I start?”
“Well here is the thing, mister high school grad, mister college here I come. I asked my boss about you joining the team and he said that you failed the test. He can’t use you. The kid can’t do math,” he said. Uncle Ball interlocked his hands and slid them behind his head as he leaned back. “Gotta try something else. Probably Pizza Hut for your whole life like your dear old stepfather.”
I fell back in my chair and looked at Rose, her smile beaming. Looked up to see Wrath with smile beaming.
“Where is your book learnins, Jesse?” Wrath said.
They sat there for two hours telling me that my high school education meant nothing. I was no better than any other Mocking. Ball smiled.
“Told you, Jesse. I have been trying to teach you the ropes for all of your life and now we see why it didn’t work.”
I didn’t see him for about six months. A few times, he knocked on my door and I ignored him. I read the poetry book I had been given by Uncle Hope and I made pizzas. I sat at a motel all night for three nights a week and I worked 60 hours a week.
All dreams of college vanished. All talk of college vanished. I stopped writing, after a while I stopped reading. Poetry had to be going over my head. I had to be reading it wrong. Had to be. Without a teacher to walk me through it, I was just lost. Had to be.
When I did see him, I was at Stone’s house. It had a big shaded porch with screens to keep the bugs out. Stone had a throne out there and there were plenty of other places to sit. I was sitting and waiting for Stone to wake up from a nap when Uncle Ball pulled up.
He looked broken. He looked exhausted.
“Where have you been?” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you avoiding me?”
“Trying to get back on my feet.”
“Look, it’s fine. You can find a different job somewhere that will make you some real money. Get married, you’re still waiting for that Destiny chick to show up. She has a great body. She is the preacher’s daughter, so she can probably suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.”
I lifted my hand and Guardian dropped a dead stare on him.
“Fine. Look, I have been thinking. You and me need to make a pact. Right here, right now.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“When everyone is dead, your mom, Wrath, Aunt and your grandparents, and our kids have all picked up and moved. How ’bout you and I can get a tiny house together, Out in the country somewhere. And we can sit on the porch all day and drink tea or beer and we can try to figure out what happened.
“You can try to tell me the story of how it all went so wrong. No kids, no relatives at all. No friends gumming up the works. Just us. You and me, godfather and godson. We can sit on that porch every day and figure it all out. I’ll tell you about Glass. You can tell me about Draconic, and after a while we will understand.”
I made that pact and now I’m fulfilling it. Kinda.
This is our porch, Uncle Ball. This is me sitting down to tell you how it all went wrong. This is me sitting down to show you the rot that ran through everything.
There is more to go. So much more to go. We haven’t said goodbye to Aunt Breezy yet. We haven’t touched Guardian’s War. And I haven’t talked about the message filled with hate and sadness that made me sit down and write all of this.
But we are on that porch now, Uncle Ball. We are on that porch, and I am telling you the story of how all of it got so fucked up.
Jesse Teller 
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