It was around Christmas that Mrs. Barnes started coming out on her porch to yell at the
neighborhood. At first, Jeff’s mother had been understanding.
“It’s the stress of the holiday season.”
She baked a cake and took it next door. She told Jeff to stay home because there would be a lot of
adult talk and he would be bored. But she came back very quickly.
“I stood on their front porch,” she told Jeff’s father, “out in that cold wind, ringing their doorbell and
no one would answer! I could hear someone moving around inside so I know they were home. I just
can’t imagine why they wouldn’t come to the door.”
Jeff’s father inclined his head toward Jeff and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, all right. Jeff, scoot up to your room now and play. I have to clean up the kitchen and I don’t
want you under foot.”
Jeff moved to the door and climbed the stairs as slowly as he could. His mother’s voice followed him.
“I thought they were such a nice family. But to act like this! I never thought someone could change
so quickly.”
Mrs. Barnes continued to come out on her porch throughout the winter and spring. She stopped
wearing her neatly ironed dresses and started wearing her robe, even in the daytime. Jeff’s mother
stopped using her name and started calling her ‘that woman’. When school let out for summer,
Jeff’s family took out a membership at the town pool. Every afternoon, they left the house and
spent the day there. Jeff got a tan and learned to dog paddle. Jeff’s mother made new friends and
exchanged recipes. Jeff’s father built a patio on the far side of the house, away from the Barnes,
got a charcoal grill, and a big red apron that said ‘Chef’.
Jeff’s mother didn’t talk about Eddie or his parents unless it was an exceptionally loud night from
Mrs. Barnes. Then his mother would say, “I don’t like the thought of Jeff going over there once
Eddie comes home.”
“If.” his father said. “We’ll worry about that when and if the time comes.”
Eddie Barnes came home just before Halloween. He didn’t come in a box and he didn’t wear a
costume. He had a purple heart pinned to his shirt and a metal hook sticking out of one sleeve.
The other sleeve was empty, and hung loosely from his shoulder.
Jeff didn’t see him come home, but he heard the story from the boys at the bus stop.
“Both his hands were blown clean off.” Billy said.
“They couldn’t even find any pieces.” Joe added, twirling his book bag by the strap.
“There must have been blood everywhere.” Stephan dropped his bag on the ground and stood
straddling it, nudging it with his feet.
“I wonder what that must feel like.”
The sudden silence was awkward.
“He got a medal,” Billy rushed on. “Cause it happened while he was trying to save someone.”
“And the guy was booby-trapped; as soon as Eddie touched him, ka-boom!”
“Now he’s got a hook instead of a hand.” Joe stopped twirling his bag and started swinging it.
“What can you do with just a hook? He doesn’t have anything on the other side.”
“I bet he has to pee like a girl now.”
“And I bet he can’t even…” Stephan stopped suddenly as Billy nudged him. “What?”
Billy nodded toward Jeff. He’d moved closer when they started talking about Eddie.
“Don’t let the kid hear you. We might get in trouble.”
The three boys looked at Jeff, then moved away. Jeff didn’t care. Eddie was home.
Jeff waited for Eddie to call him over to his house, but the invitation didn’t come. Finally, he walked
next door and rang the bell.
“Who is it?”
Jeff hesitated. Eddie sounded angry. The curtain over the door was wrenched aside, and Eddie’s
face peered out. “Oh. It’s you. C’mon in.”
Jeff opened the door and followed Eddie’s back into the kitchen. The house smelled sour and
musty, and the kitchen was cluttered and grimy. Eddie, dressed in a rumpled T-shirt and boxers,
matched the kitchen. He sat down at the table and surveyed Jeff.
“You’ve grown. Now that you’re here, you can make yourself useful. See that pack of cigarettes?
Wedge one in here.” He held the hook up near Jeff’s face and turned to show a small opening. Jeff
fumbled for the cigarette and tried to get it into the space.
“Not that way. There has to be enough sticking out so I can get my lips on it. That’s better. Now,
grab that lighter and light me up.”
Jeff froze. His mother never let him near her lighter, and threatened dire punishments if she ever
saw him touch one.
“C’mon, c’mon, you just flick that wheel with your thumb. Even a baby could do it.”
Stung into action, Jeff managed to light Eddie’s cigarette. He sat down across from Eddie and
watched him inhale deeply. Eddie looked over at him. “You want one? Go ahead. I won’t tell.”
Jeff stared and then shook his head. He’d be grounded for life.
“Suit yourself.” Eddie shrugged, an oddly off-balance action with only one arm. “It’s one of the few
things I can still manage, so I do a lot of it.” He exhaled unhurriedly, letting the smoke trickle out
through his nose. Jeff sat, hands pressed between his knees, waiting for Eddie to finish. The
kitchen faucet was dripping slowly, and it made an odd counter rhythm to Eddie’s puffs on his
cigarette.
Finally, he finished, knocked the stub out of his hook into a bowl on the table, and squinted over at
Jeff. “So what’s your story these days, kid?”
Looking away, Jeff squirmed slightly in his chair. He didn’t like the way Eddie called him ‘kid’. He
wished he’d go back to ‘buddy’.
“No story, huh? Just like me. No story, no chance of a story any more, just a lot of nothing. At the
VA they gave me this,” he shook his hook toward Jeff, “and told me they could rig something up for
the other side.”
He banged the table in disgust. Jeff jumped, then perched back on the edge of his chair.
“I told them not to bother. What’s the point? What good are a pair of hooks gonna do me? You
can’t use tools with a pair of hooks, can you? CAN YOU?”
Eddie shouted the last two words at Jeff, leaning across the table toward him. Jeff shook his head,
hunching away from Eddie’s yellowed teeth and stale breath.
“What the hell do you know anyway, you’re just a little kid.”
Jeff blinked and hung his head. They were buddies. Why was Eddie talking like this? He stole a
quick look from under his eyelashes. Eddie was still looking at him.
“You don’t talk much, do you? Were you always this quiet? You’re like some kind of little spook, just
sitting there, staring at me. Well, this is it, kid. This is all you’re ever going to see. So why don’t you
just head back home to your mamma and leave me alone. I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!”
Jeff didn’t remember how he got to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked
back once more at Eddie. His expression hadn’t changed. He looked mad and scared and sad; just
like Jeff was feeling. Jeff opened the door and ran out, leaving it to swing closed behind him.
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Jeff was out in the yard. His mother had shooed him
outside, telling him to take advantage of the nice day before winter set in, and stay out from under
her feet while she started tomorrow’s pies. Jeff went over to the sandbox and lined up his trucks.
His father thought he was getting a little old for the sandbox, but his mother told him to let Jeff
alone. “He’s still a boy. Let him be one as long as he can.”
He cleared the leaves out of the corners of the sandbox and began to dig. Soon he had a road, a
deep pit, and a parking area. He was just clearing out the space to try a tunnel, when a screen
door slammed. He looked toward his house. His mother had promised him the leftover pie dough
when she was done, but their door remained tightly shut. He leaned to the left and looked at the
Barnes house. There was Eddie, out on the porch.
Jeff hadn’t seen Eddie since his visit to the house. No one talked about him much any more. When
his name came up Jeff’s mother pursed her lips and shook her head, and even Billy, Joe, and
Stephen no longer speculated about him. Jeff looked at Eddie through the trees. He seemed to
have trouble walking. He got up to the porch railing and leaned against it, looking up toward the
tree tops.
“You sons a bitches. You goddamn assholes. Who the hell do you think you are? Look what you’ve
done to me. You had no right to play with my life like that.”
Quietly, Jeff began to gather up his trucks.
“I hope the goddamn commie bastards who did this burn in hell with you right next to them, you sick
sadistic psychos. You think you know what’s best, but you don’t know a goddamn thing.”
With the trucks neatly gathered in the corner of the sandbox, Jeff got up, brushed off his pants,
and headed toward his house.
“You sent me to the other side of the world just to blow my fuc…”
Jeff closed the door firmly behind him.
“All done outside?” his mother said.
“I think Dad’s right. I’m too old to play in the sandbox.”
neighborhood. At first, Jeff’s mother had been understanding.
“It’s the stress of the holiday season.”
She baked a cake and took it next door. She told Jeff to stay home because there would be a lot of
adult talk and he would be bored. But she came back very quickly.
“I stood on their front porch,” she told Jeff’s father, “out in that cold wind, ringing their doorbell and
no one would answer! I could hear someone moving around inside so I know they were home. I just
can’t imagine why they wouldn’t come to the door.”
Jeff’s father inclined his head toward Jeff and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, all right. Jeff, scoot up to your room now and play. I have to clean up the kitchen and I don’t
want you under foot.”
Jeff moved to the door and climbed the stairs as slowly as he could. His mother’s voice followed him.
“I thought they were such a nice family. But to act like this! I never thought someone could change
so quickly.”
Mrs. Barnes continued to come out on her porch throughout the winter and spring. She stopped
wearing her neatly ironed dresses and started wearing her robe, even in the daytime. Jeff’s mother
stopped using her name and started calling her ‘that woman’. When school let out for summer,
Jeff’s family took out a membership at the town pool. Every afternoon, they left the house and
spent the day there. Jeff got a tan and learned to dog paddle. Jeff’s mother made new friends and
exchanged recipes. Jeff’s father built a patio on the far side of the house, away from the Barnes,
got a charcoal grill, and a big red apron that said ‘Chef’.
Jeff’s mother didn’t talk about Eddie or his parents unless it was an exceptionally loud night from
Mrs. Barnes. Then his mother would say, “I don’t like the thought of Jeff going over there once
Eddie comes home.”
“If.” his father said. “We’ll worry about that when and if the time comes.”
Eddie Barnes came home just before Halloween. He didn’t come in a box and he didn’t wear a
costume. He had a purple heart pinned to his shirt and a metal hook sticking out of one sleeve.
The other sleeve was empty, and hung loosely from his shoulder.
Jeff didn’t see him come home, but he heard the story from the boys at the bus stop.
“Both his hands were blown clean off.” Billy said.
“They couldn’t even find any pieces.” Joe added, twirling his book bag by the strap.
“There must have been blood everywhere.” Stephan dropped his bag on the ground and stood
straddling it, nudging it with his feet.
“I wonder what that must feel like.”
The sudden silence was awkward.
“He got a medal,” Billy rushed on. “Cause it happened while he was trying to save someone.”
“And the guy was booby-trapped; as soon as Eddie touched him, ka-boom!”
“Now he’s got a hook instead of a hand.” Joe stopped twirling his bag and started swinging it.
“What can you do with just a hook? He doesn’t have anything on the other side.”
“I bet he has to pee like a girl now.”
“And I bet he can’t even…” Stephan stopped suddenly as Billy nudged him. “What?”
Billy nodded toward Jeff. He’d moved closer when they started talking about Eddie.
“Don’t let the kid hear you. We might get in trouble.”
The three boys looked at Jeff, then moved away. Jeff didn’t care. Eddie was home.
Jeff waited for Eddie to call him over to his house, but the invitation didn’t come. Finally, he walked
next door and rang the bell.
“Who is it?”
Jeff hesitated. Eddie sounded angry. The curtain over the door was wrenched aside, and Eddie’s
face peered out. “Oh. It’s you. C’mon in.”
Jeff opened the door and followed Eddie’s back into the kitchen. The house smelled sour and
musty, and the kitchen was cluttered and grimy. Eddie, dressed in a rumpled T-shirt and boxers,
matched the kitchen. He sat down at the table and surveyed Jeff.
“You’ve grown. Now that you’re here, you can make yourself useful. See that pack of cigarettes?
Wedge one in here.” He held the hook up near Jeff’s face and turned to show a small opening. Jeff
fumbled for the cigarette and tried to get it into the space.
“Not that way. There has to be enough sticking out so I can get my lips on it. That’s better. Now,
grab that lighter and light me up.”
Jeff froze. His mother never let him near her lighter, and threatened dire punishments if she ever
saw him touch one.
“C’mon, c’mon, you just flick that wheel with your thumb. Even a baby could do it.”
Stung into action, Jeff managed to light Eddie’s cigarette. He sat down across from Eddie and
watched him inhale deeply. Eddie looked over at him. “You want one? Go ahead. I won’t tell.”
Jeff stared and then shook his head. He’d be grounded for life.
“Suit yourself.” Eddie shrugged, an oddly off-balance action with only one arm. “It’s one of the few
things I can still manage, so I do a lot of it.” He exhaled unhurriedly, letting the smoke trickle out
through his nose. Jeff sat, hands pressed between his knees, waiting for Eddie to finish. The
kitchen faucet was dripping slowly, and it made an odd counter rhythm to Eddie’s puffs on his
cigarette.
Finally, he finished, knocked the stub out of his hook into a bowl on the table, and squinted over at
Jeff. “So what’s your story these days, kid?”
Looking away, Jeff squirmed slightly in his chair. He didn’t like the way Eddie called him ‘kid’. He
wished he’d go back to ‘buddy’.
“No story, huh? Just like me. No story, no chance of a story any more, just a lot of nothing. At the
VA they gave me this,” he shook his hook toward Jeff, “and told me they could rig something up for
the other side.”
He banged the table in disgust. Jeff jumped, then perched back on the edge of his chair.
“I told them not to bother. What’s the point? What good are a pair of hooks gonna do me? You
can’t use tools with a pair of hooks, can you? CAN YOU?”
Eddie shouted the last two words at Jeff, leaning across the table toward him. Jeff shook his head,
hunching away from Eddie’s yellowed teeth and stale breath.
“What the hell do you know anyway, you’re just a little kid.”
Jeff blinked and hung his head. They were buddies. Why was Eddie talking like this? He stole a
quick look from under his eyelashes. Eddie was still looking at him.
“You don’t talk much, do you? Were you always this quiet? You’re like some kind of little spook, just
sitting there, staring at me. Well, this is it, kid. This is all you’re ever going to see. So why don’t you
just head back home to your mamma and leave me alone. I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!”
Jeff didn’t remember how he got to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked
back once more at Eddie. His expression hadn’t changed. He looked mad and scared and sad; just
like Jeff was feeling. Jeff opened the door and ran out, leaving it to swing closed behind him.
It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Jeff was out in the yard. His mother had shooed him
outside, telling him to take advantage of the nice day before winter set in, and stay out from under
her feet while she started tomorrow’s pies. Jeff went over to the sandbox and lined up his trucks.
His father thought he was getting a little old for the sandbox, but his mother told him to let Jeff
alone. “He’s still a boy. Let him be one as long as he can.”
He cleared the leaves out of the corners of the sandbox and began to dig. Soon he had a road, a
deep pit, and a parking area. He was just clearing out the space to try a tunnel, when a screen
door slammed. He looked toward his house. His mother had promised him the leftover pie dough
when she was done, but their door remained tightly shut. He leaned to the left and looked at the
Barnes house. There was Eddie, out on the porch.
Jeff hadn’t seen Eddie since his visit to the house. No one talked about him much any more. When
his name came up Jeff’s mother pursed her lips and shook her head, and even Billy, Joe, and
Stephen no longer speculated about him. Jeff looked at Eddie through the trees. He seemed to
have trouble walking. He got up to the porch railing and leaned against it, looking up toward the
tree tops.
“You sons a bitches. You goddamn assholes. Who the hell do you think you are? Look what you’ve
done to me. You had no right to play with my life like that.”
Quietly, Jeff began to gather up his trucks.
“I hope the goddamn commie bastards who did this burn in hell with you right next to them, you sick
sadistic psychos. You think you know what’s best, but you don’t know a goddamn thing.”
With the trucks neatly gathered in the corner of the sandbox, Jeff got up, brushed off his pants,
and headed toward his house.
“You sent me to the other side of the world just to blow my fuc…”
Jeff closed the door firmly behind him.
“All done outside?” his mother said.
“I think Dad’s right. I’m too old to play in the sandbox.”
r.kv.r.y. quarterly winter 2008 fiction
circle the wagons by cathy strasser
page two
circle the wagons by cathy strasser
page two
