This One is Deadly (3 page)

We arrived at the river with our mouths unlatched, a truly miraculous occasion. We begrudgingly unpacked the station wagon. My mother’s eyes told us not to argue that chore. The way she held herself next to my father clued me into the idea that he might snap at any moment—and then we really would have some life-long memories. He had a beer as soon as he parked the car. He downed it like it was the only thing he’d drank in a week. He crunched the can to announce his success and then went about fiddling with the tent.

My mother sent Devin to assist him. Which meant standing at attention and holding whatever object my father needed next, while never holding it the way he wished you would.  My father’s displeasure was marked by soft grunts, loud sighs, and the way his head shook.

“Mind your own business and get back to helping, Kristen!” Jenny yelled at me for watching my father and Devin. “You have to help too. Mom said so.”

I looked at her like I would kill her. At least that’s what I wanted her to think. She flashed her patented ugly smile and raised her chin, begging for my best right hook. I often thought of grabbing her bottom jaw and ripping it right off. If I had super strength that’s the first thing I’d do. I’d put the whole thing under my pillow and wait for the tooth fairy to bring me some money.

“You’re lucky Mom and Dad are here,” I said.

“So are you. You have to unload the car. You have to do everything I say, not just because I’m the oldest, but also because one day I’m going to be the boss of you and everybody. And you’re all going to have to do exactly what I say. If I tell you to jump off a bridge, you’re going to jump off a bridge. So you better start being nice to me.”

I laughed at her and that made her angrier.  I took my time unloading the car too. So she went to mother, who told her to mind her own. It was a moment of justice that caused me great delight.

Then the tent collapsed.

“Jesus, Devin,” said my father. “What are you doing? Just go help your sisters.”

Devin ran off elsewhere.

I thought I could hear him crying, but it could’ve just been the river.

My mother didn’t chase after her son. She walked to her husband.

“Can I help?” she asked.

My father nodded. “It’s just that boy. I swear you cursed him when you named him Devin.”

Once the tents were erected, things calmed down. We were given snacks and explored the river’s edge. Devin acted as if nothing had happened, but he didn’t seem keen to return to our campsite, especially when my father came and got him.

I was told to keep playing, but with Jenny and Rebecca I didn’t feel like there was much I could do that wouldn’t lead to a punishment.

Instead, I watched my father teach Devin how to make a campfire until my mother spotted me.

“Isn’t it just serene here, Kristen?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Why does dad hate Devin?”

“Kristen, why would you think that? Of course your father doesn’t hate Devin,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Boys need to be raised differently than girls. I suppose you all are a bad influence on him.”

“All the boys at school that I know are trouble,” I said.

“All boys are always trouble, that’s for sure. Never forget that.”

“But not Devin. He’s nice and Jenny and Rebecca pick on him all the time. You and dad don’t do anything. That’s wrong.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “Your sisters get the punishments that they deserve quite frequently. You can’t keep thinking your life is unfair. We love you all the same.”

I shook my head.

My mother groaned or sighed; whichever was more unpleasant.

“Dad said you cursed Devin when you named him that,” I said.

“Oh,” my mother said. “Is that what this is about? Look, your father wanted to name Devin: Benjamin.”

“Why?”

“Well, it was his family name. Your father is named Benjamin, and so was his father and his father and so on. Your father was the sixth. There was no way I wanted to name our son Benjamin the Seventh!” My mother laughed.  “I almost didn’t marry your father when I found out he was Benjamin the Sixth. Your father insisted, and we were going to, but at the last moment I just knew I couldn’t do that to my son. When he was born I switched it up. I held him up and knew he was not going to be Benjamin the Seventh. So I named him Devin. He’ll thank me one day.”

Our evening was almost picture perfect.

Bickering was kept to a minimum as we roasted hot dogs on the fire that Devin helped make and maintain. Every now and then, my father would impart some secret knowledge to Devin about fire. The attention was what Devin needed.

Just before we were ushered to bed, Devin began talking like I had never seen him talk to my father before. There was enthusiasm in his voice. Not just a ‘yes, sir’, but a real conversation, like he would only ever have with me.

In return, my father smiled and laughed and whispered.

Across the fire, Jenny grew resentful. She was cooking up some evil plan to ruin it all. I just knew it. Rebecca on the other hand looked too stupid to plot anything, but it would only be a matter of time when Jenny brought her into the fold.

I had to stop them.

We didn’t go right to bed. As soon as we got into our sleeping bags, Jenny said something awful like she’d kill us in our sleep.

Devin growled at her, and I told her I’d kill her first.

Then she said, “You all owe your lives to me. If I hadn’t been such a good child your parents never would’ve had you. They would’ve got neutered like the MacGregor’s cats. But I told them they could have you. I probably shouldn’t have. But I was such a young child then. Children make mistakes, that’s why you all are such screw ups.  I should probably make them kill you now.”

“Yeah right,” I said. “Mom and Dad had us because they figured they couldn’t screw up a second time.”

“But they did. And worse. So they had another and another.”

“I’d have stopped after Rebecca too,” I said.

“No, Rebecca is perfect like me,” Jenny said.

“Yeah right.”

“Go to bed!” mother said.

Jenny dropped down to a whisper. “We’ll play a game tomorrow. See who mom and dad love the most.”

“And then we’ll put you up for adoption.”

“Girls! Do not make me get out of this tent. It is bedtime!”

We agreed it would be best to stop talking in the tent. But Jenny kept taunting us. She moved her lips, mouthing, “I’ll kill you.”

“Try,” I mouthed back.

In the morning, my father took us all fishing. It took forever and we weren’t catching anything, so boredom showed up pretty vigilantly. Rebecca and Jenny gave up and walked upstream.  They laughed and threw rocks at the river, probably intentionally scaring away any fish Devin and I might’ve caught.

Devin struggled with his fishing rod. My father tried to show him how to use it, but the motion of casting wasn’t easily learned.  My father settled on letting Devin dangle his bait over the water.

He certainly wouldn’t have had better luck doing what I was doing.

“Does it normally take this long,” I asked my father.

“It’s... Well, it’s not about how long it takes. It’s about being out in nature and enjoying it,” he said. “It’s relaxing.”

“Killing fish?”

“I don’t want to eat them,” Devin said.

“Don’t they have scales all over them? The ones at the store don’t and they come in little sticks. How do we make them into the little sticks?” I asked.

“That isn’t real fish. Trust me, what we cook up will be delicious. We’ll peal the scales off before we cook them,” my father said.

“It’ll be tomorrow,” I said. “Anything will be delicious then.”

My father cleared his throat. “Devin, why don’t you try down that ways a little? I think I saw something over there.”

“A fish?”

“Yes.”

Devin scampered away. He almost made it to where my father had pointed, but his line got caught in a branch. My father shook his head as Devin fought to untangle himself.

I checked upstream, and thankfully, Jenny and Rebecca had not noticed Devin’s folly.

Once free he reached the spot and asked, “Here?”

“Right there,” my father said. Then he muttered something under his breath.

“Why are all the boys in your family named Benjamin?” I asked.

I caught my father off guard. I could tell he was preparing to have a different conversation with me. He stretched his eyebrows. “It’s a family name. I am the sixth Benjamin.”

“So grandfather’s name was Benjamin and his grandfather, and your name is Benjamin. How come Devin isn’t Benjamin?”

My father shrugged.  “That’s the name your mother said it had to be.  And I won’t pretend to know much about women, but I do know about your mother, and when she says something is, it is. She named all of you actually.”

“Do you wish he was named Benjamin?’

My father looked shocked that I would ask such a question.

I knew that he did wish Devin were not Devin. It was so silly. It was just a stupid name. I’d name my son Devin in a heartbeat and it wouldn’t change the way I felt about him at all. Because a rose by any other name is still a rose. Just like a—

Devin screamed.

My father turned to see that Devin had gotten his line caught on driftwood. He tried to chase his rod as it floated downriver, but it was too late.

“Damn it, Devin!”

All the good will the two had developed starting a campfire went out the window—or literally, down the river. My father didn’t run to Devin’s side to console him, he got there as fast as he could just to scold him.

This delighted Jenny, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear she got his line stuck somehow. She sure wore a smile like she wanted to take credit for it.

She jogged over to the scene and said, “You like that?”

“Piss off,” I said.

“Fishing is a stupid waste of time anyway. But now Dad hates poor little Devin even more. What an idiot.”

“He hates you, too.”

“Brilliant comeback, Kristen, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you’re better than us.”

“No. But I am. I can’t change that,” she said. “Facts are facts and crap is crap.”

Rebecca added with her arms on her hips like she was the deciding voice. “And you and Devin are crap.”

“Piss off, pipsqueak.”

“Don’t call me a pipsqueak,” Rebecca said.

“Then don’t be one.”

My father dragged Devin by his forearm. “Come on. Looks like we won’t be having fish for breakfast after all.” My father let go of Devin. “Clean up the tackle box and bring all the rods back up to the camp.”

Devin did as he instructed.

Jenny waited until my father had gotten far enough away. Then she said, “He hates you now. You should probably save us all the trouble and kill yourself. You’re supposed to be a boy, but you’re just a big wuss. I’m more of a man than you.”

We didn’t end up having breakfast.

There was too much screaming involved.  Every person made threats, but my parents held the keys to the station wagon and that’s how our trip ended.

Devin’s nose bled. My mother rammed a tampon up it, which only made him look more pained. Jenny didn’t look much better, and complained about how he hurt her knees. Devin was scolded the most of course. Then me. Somehow Rebecca had managed to get out of it unscathed, though I’m pretty sure she threw the log at the back of my head. But I blacked out before I could finger the culprit.

When I came to, my parents were already yanking us in every direction, trying to separate us. But I kept a clump of Jenny’s curly hair. It was a start. I promised to take her a part, piece by piece.

“Jesus! Your father works so hard. We can’t afford to take a vacation every day. This is the one vacation we can afford and you four can’t get along for twenty-four hours? This is ridiculous,” my mother said. “We’re going home. Each of you is going to have a list of chores and you’re not to talk to the others. I mean it. If there’s one peep in that car, I will leave you on the side of the road!”

“Pack it up,” my father said. We started to obey, before he added, “No. Devin. You pack it all up.”

“But he didn’t…” I tried to say.

My father’s look shot me down. He did help Devin clean up our camp, but it didn’t seem right that Devin had to do everything when Jenny had started it.

I should’ve helped, but I didn’t. I was scared of getting in any more trouble.

I sat in the car in silence, like my mother ordered.

Things felt calmer once the car was loaded.

Devin asked my father, “Are we really going home?”

“You betcha.”

“We’re not going to catch a fish?” Devin asked.