I’m like one of those video games where your gun never runs out of ammo. It’s 5:45 a.m. but I’ve only been writing for seven hours. I will finish this story today. I do not yet see the end, but I can’t really do much more of this. This much ugly and this much evil is just too hard for me to keep in my life any longer. I have to have it done. Need to say my peace and find some.
But you know the drill in this chapter. We aren’t playing a fucking video game. This is poker. I’m the dealer and I am calling Five Card Stud. Try to read me. Try to see when I look at my cards if I’m going to hold or fold. Get your chips. Get a drink. I don’t care if it is water, beer, vodka or whiskey but it’s time to play a few hands.
I got tea but I am drinking it like bourbon.
Grandma went pure Southern Baptist on Stone. Baptist is pretty easy but it takes a leap to get there. You gotta admit you’re a sinner. Admit you’re fucked and headed to brimstone. You gotta understand that Jesus is your only way out, and pledge yourself to Him. Then keep yourself headed in that direction. Repent when you sin and keep truckin’. You’re haulin’ a tractor full of Bibles. Pull your horn often. I’m picturing Every Which Way But Loose. I’m not as cool as Clint Eastwood, never have been, never will be. But I have Clyde in the cab. He might be the Devil whispering and oo-oo aah-ahh-ing sins to me. He might be fantasy, telling me what to write and laughing when I disobey. Or he might be Bekah, waving at traffic driving by us in our Southern Baptist semi-truck. I’m sure it’s not Bekah, though. She has a better ass.
Anyway, the Southern Baptist Jesus doesn’t ask much of you. Get baptized if you can and you’re in. It doesn’t matter how many times you sin, or how far you get from God. If you take these steps you’re in.
Or so the Southern Baptist say.
Well the Sons of the Devil were not Christian. They had been warned by their father never to pray, never to read the Bible, never to talk to God. And when you are the Son of The Devil, there is no hell to fear more than the one your dad can bring down upon you.
With things how they are, I can kinda understand that. Stone watched that clock fly off that wall and hit his wife in the back of the head. He saw how many things like that happen since his father’s death? Jesus might save you, but The Devil will kill you.
Fear of our fathers is real. Some fear his fists, his belt, his words. Some fear his disapproval, his indifference, but every one of us fear the man we came from in some way. It takes extreme measures to find it in your gut to stand up to your father, and when you do, life becomes surreal. I guess you read about mine in Teardrop Road. It’s no kind of confrontation that most can even be ready for. You’re on the other side. Tommy Lee is upside down playing the drums. You’re doing time on the wild side. It’s a place that few have really been. From this land over here on the other side of fear there is nothing before you and you can go anywhere and do anything.
But that was not Stone’s reality. What were his dreams like? He slept a lot. What was his greatest fear? It wasn’t death. He faced that every day. The act of getting out of his chair, out of his bed, might strain his heart enough to end his life. So what did scare Stone?
I believe it was his father’s face. How often did he see the man that cursed all of us? With death following him around the house, I would say it would be often.
Grandma wanted to save his soul for sure but nowhere near as much as Rose. Think about it. He stopped telling her he loved her the day she took a ride with a boy to go listen to records when she was a teenager. At her first marriage, he asked her before she walked down the aisle if she should be wearing white. His approval was her entire world. He was going to die soon. She had limited time to win back his affection. So her and Grandma decided that Brother Haste was the answer.
Brother Haste if you remember was the pastor of Harmony Baptist until he ran off with the secretary he had been fucking. He was the man of God that we all depended on. So when a man’s soul hung in the balance, it was him that Grandma and Rose went to.
I do not know what those conversations were like. Stone was a wall when he wanted to be, but he knew it was important to the women of his life that he talk to Brother Haste. So he sat on that sun porch in his throne and he talked.
The Baptists call it the Roman Road. It is a series of verses in the book of Romans that dictates the things a person has to do to take Jesus in their heart for the big game. And I am not sure how many times Grandpa Mocking heard it. Brother Haste had a job to do and so he did it.
Grandma would tell him she had told Brother Haste to come over and Stone would cuss. But he knew he had to be there or he would upset Rose, so he would agree. He would be up and ready when Haste pulled up to the door.
Grandma was always gone. She would leave before Haste got there and the talks were private. But after a few, he got tired of hearing her weep, or lecture, or whatever happened after Haste left, so they struck a bargain.
He would always talk to Haste. She could send him over every now and then but if he did accept Jesus, he would keep it to himself. He made her promise that he would never have to tell her. That she could not ask. And so, the visits continued.
Only Brother Haste and the Son of the Devil know what those conversations were like. Only they knew what was the final agreement. Brother Haste would not answer the question after Stone died. It was their secret. But Stone chose his casket and on the inside top was the embroidery of an ocean with seagulls flying to the horizon and the words “Going Home” written under them.
When Rose saw that, she was sure that her father was in heaven. That lasted years until it was broken. But that is for another hand.
I’ll fold on that one. You guys can read my face. On that particular hand you saw my tell.
You all need to know where I was at with all of this. You need to know how my Number was going. So I’m going to deal this one out with my face set perfectly and try to let you know what I was doing with my lessons.
I try to remember about how many times I had a night like this. They were my favorite thing about high school. Every now and then, D would pick up Vonny. It would be a weekend night and I had all my chores done by five. D and Vonny would show up at about seven. That gave me time to shower, pick out my best outfit. Put it on and tie around my waist my most flattering Flannel Skirt. Listen to a little bit of music, giggle and freak out a little before he showed up. We would go pick up Draconic and go to his house.
Always his parents were gone. Always Precious was sleeping at a friend’s. Always no one would bother us.
The first couple of times, D and Vonny took the basement living room and Draconic and I were in his basement bedroom. This night, we were upstairs and Vonny and D were in his bedroom.
We sat together. Which means we were tangled up in each other the way that we did back then. Every limb needed to be touching every limb. I talked and Artist told her beautiful things. We kissed a lot and I told her how much I loved her. Her eyes said the same to me. When I had said the right thing the right way, she leapt from my arms and legs and turned.
She had a complicated look on her face—but when didn’t she—and she told me not to move. To stay right there. Then she disappeared into the house.
I sat in that living room jittery and waiting. I was sure I had said the wrong thing and she had allowed herself to be pissed. I didn’t know how long to wait until she wanted me to follow her. I didn’t know how long I had to wait until I should start the game of finding her, apologizing, and begging her forgiveness. It was not a game we hadn’t played before and it gave me the ache that I always felt when she was around. It was a legitimate part of our relationship, but she was back in moments. She walked in the room and stared at me for a long time.
In that stare she took off every piece of clothing I was wearing and I suddenly knew that tonight we were going to be playing a game I didn’t know.
She stood me up and she kissed me. I had just been kissing her moments before. I knew what to expect her mouth to taste like, but this was very wrong. She tasted horrible. I pulled back and she grabbed me by the shirt to pull me forward. I pulled back again.
“What was that?” Guardian asked.
“You need to make love to me right now,” she said. Her voice was husky and wrong, but so desperate that it was intoxicating.
Intoxicated.
“Why does your mouth taste like that?”
“Just please take me. It has to be now.”
“Why does your mouth taste like that?” I was whining now.
“I needed a little courage. I took two shots of tequila.”
“No! Please tell me you didn’t!”
“I did. I want this really bad.”
“I can’t,” I said. I was in tears now. “I can’t. You have to be sober.”
“I want this. I planned this for tonight.”
I grabbed her as she started to waver a little. “I can’t do it like this.”
“I want it to be you. It has to be you. I want to give you my virginity.”
“I have dreamt of giving you mine. This is the only thing I want, but I can’t do this while you are drunk.”
“Please,” she said. She was nearly crying too. “I can only breathe when I am with you. I only want you.”
I grabbed her and held her to my body crying. “I can’t. Not like this. Let’s plan another night. I can make it better.”
She pushed me away. “Don’t reject me. Don’t reject me now, not now. You finally broke up with Mary. You are right here with me. Please, don’t reject me.” She was begging. Her eyes were begging, her lips, her entire body was trembling. She turned and walked to the other side of the living room. She looked at me and she rushed me. She grabbed me and kissed me, but her mouth tasted like tequila and as she kissed me, parts of me started breaking off.
“I know what I am doing. I have been waiting for so long. I told my sister. I have everything we need.” She stared at me. “I need it to be you.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“I’m not drunk,” she said as she pounded my back in our embrace. “I’m not drunk. I know what I am doing. I do.”
“Even if I could know that for sure, you wouldn’t be wholly with me. Part of you would be away. I need to be able to feel your soul,” I said.
She pulled off her shirt to show perfect breasts and beautiful lingerie. “Do you think I wear this every day? This is for you. I bought this for you.”
I sat on the couch and held my head. I felt as if the world were breaking apart. “No, no, no, why did you do this?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. But the tequila was taking hold. Two shots is nothing to an experienced drinker, but to a high schooler that has never drank before, it is immense. She started to pull off her pants. “Please, I’m sorry. I was just scared.”
“That’s worse,” I whined. “You have to be comfortable and ready. No doubts, no fears.”
“Oh my God, this is really happening,” she said.
The world wasn’t working anymore. The sun wasn’t going to rise in the morning. The moon was gonna crumble like blue cheese. Soil would be water. Rivers would be mud.
In the play MacBeth by Shakespeare, the world starts to go wrong because a noble has killed a king. Animals are attacking each other. All other sorts of impossible things are happening. The world has stopped making sense in MacBeth.
MacBeth.
MacBeth.
MacBeth.
Ty said never to say MacBeth on a stage. Said the name of the play would curse the stage itself. But me and Draconic’s stage was already cursed. It had been cursed with each of the shots of tequila she had taken. And my world was not making sense anymore. My virginity was supposed to belong to her. That’s all I knew.
MacBeth.
It was all tilting and my vision was trembling. She pulled at her pants and I could see a perfect lacy thong. “See,” she said as she turned around, unable to take her pants all the way off as she stumbled and spun. “See, this belongs to you. Tonight this belongs to you. Then we can be together forever. I will be yours and you will be mine.”
I dropped on my knees. “Please, let’s do this another time. I will find a place. I will have food and candles and music, and—”
She dropped to her knees before me and hugged me. She whispered in my ear. “Am I beautiful? Do you think I am beautiful?”
I pulled back and looked her in the eye. “There is no beauty like you. There is no star like yours.” Guardian held her. Shadow held her. I kept shifting as I held her as she wept and I shifted over and over again, looking for anyone that would let me have her.
“I love you.” I sobbed.
“I love you, too. Please take me. Please. I have to have you in me.”
I picked her up and took her to the couch. A couch I had been sitting on for years. A couch where me and D had watched countless movies and shows. A couch that always meant amazing things were happening.
“I’m sorry.”
She sobbed. She beat my chest and I moved behind her. I pulled a blanket over us. Her in her beautiful bra, her pants to her knees. I held her and I looked at her and tried to smiled.
“I’m sorry.” It was the moment I never could have hoped for that was slipping away as the liquor grabbed ahold of her stronger and stronger. “I will hold you all night.”
“I have to be home by midnight.”
“We have four hours. You can sober up and I can make love to you.” We both cried.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too. You and only you.” She grabbed ahold of me, and I held her. We both cried.
She didn’t sober up until about 11:45 and Vonny yelled up from the stairs. She had known what tonight was and she was holding D downstairs until we were done.
She murmured. “I can never forgive you.”
I kissed her beautiful hair. “I can never forgive either of us.”
That was my last night with Draconic while I was in high school. No matter how many times Mary and I broke up, we would look at each other from across the room, from across the floor. From a breath away from each other, and this night was always an ocean between us. It always will be.
When I lost my virginity, it was on accident. It was to a girl I didn’t love and a girl I was not even dating. Mary hated that it happened and we tried extra hard to make our relationship work.
But to that point, I had never loved anyone or anything as much as I did Draconic.
For years I would call her house just to hear her breathe. She hung up immediately. We never talked about it.
I told D that night. We laid in his bedroom in the dark, listening to music as he waited for me to tell him how it went making love to her. He knew it was the most important event in my life so far. And when he heard me crying he assumed it was passion. When I told him what I had done, he wrapped his arms around me and held me.
He whispered, “You are the most honorable man I will ever know. I’m sorry this happened to you. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. And I have never seen you happy without her.” I wept and he held me.
Was that a winning hand or a losing? I feel as though it was both. But that does not make sense. None of that makes sense. That hand was dealt in the world of MacBeth. Ask Ty. He’ll tell you. But I knew in that moment I was of Mocking blood but I was not a Mocking Man.
Now watch close but you’re gonna miss it. My hands are too fast and I’ve been doing this for too long. I’m dealing from the bottom of the deck and I know what my hand is before I pick it up. I’m holding the Dead Man’s Hand. Four aces and a King. This hand I will win.
He realized at a certain point that he was not going to be able to kill a man without putting his shoulder in it. The military was out of the question at Uncle Ball’s age. Though wars ravaged Afghanistan and Iraq, he did not want to be over there. He was out of the age of being a cop. So how was he going to achieve his second highest dream?
He decided the only way he would have a chance at killing a man was if he was a prison guard.
He is charming and his work history looks good on paper, so he got the call. Mocking Men know how to talk. He aced the interview and he had a clean record. So the second interview comes, and he is being given a tour.
It’s a female prison guard that is walking him around, showing him everything he wants to see. Men in cages that think they are tough. Men in cages that mean nothing to society. Men in cages that he can bully and maybe help kill each other. His tour guide walks him around a corner and he hears a great splat. He looks over and sees her face is covered in shit. The man behind the bars has feces all over his hand and he is laughing.
Orangutan.
The whole block is laughing. And the sound terrifies Ball. She runs off and he decides he does not want to be a prison guard.
See she had pissed that prisoner off the day before. He had no recourse but this.
That shit-tossing animal was placed in a hole for his crime against that guard, and she cleaned up. Ball went through the rest of the tour but he was not taking this job.
No way. The reality of it was too much. These guys had nothing to lose.
He wanted no part of that.
Told ya. Hand over your money. I went all in.
Jesse Teller 
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