Harvey's Drive

by Stephen Hines

Back then I lived in a little town in West Virginia called Summersville. I never even knew there was anything else but that town till I was six. My family never went nowhere or did much of nothin. We lived in a beat up two-story white shack just down the street from the swimmin pool.

My momma and daddy never did get along too much. They loved each other and all, but it just seemed like they was always makin each other mad. Sometimes they’d be fightin and screamin and me and Rick, my brother, would just hide in our room. I was just a little kid then, so I’d get all upset and bawl like a baby, coverin my ears so I couldn’t hear. ‘Course I could still hear it all, pots and pans bangin around, Momma screamin for daddy to stop. Rick, he just stood there starin at me, his eyes bulging out like he’d seen a ghost, then he’d ask me if I was alright. He always acted like he wasn’t scared or nothin. Like it didn’t get to him. Sometimes he’d find me hidin under my bed, cryin like a sissy, and he’d tell me to quit it. He tried to make it sound like he was mad, but I could hear his voice shakin, just not as bad as mine was. Still, he meant okay, I guess. Just tryin to be tough. One of us had to be.

So one day I was comin home, walkin beside my beat-up yellow bike with my friend Carl, he always made fun of me for not ridin it, but I didn’t care, I just got nervous sometimes when the sidewalk got to movin too fast and I didn’t think I could slow down. Anyway, Momma and daddy was fightin that day and I started shootin off at the mouth like I always do when I’m upset. I could just feel it all boilin up inside me. I didn’t even care if Carl thought I was a crybaby. I couldn’t stop the tears from comin. I just kept babblin on and on, my face red with hot tears flowin down like lava out of a volcano. Carl, he just kinda looked at me like he wished he was somewhere else, like if his momma would’ve called him in for supper it would’ve been the happiest day of his life.

After I got it all out, I sucked up a deep breath and blew out a big shaky sigh. My hands was all sweaty and they kept squeezing those white plastic handle grips like they was tryin to choke em to death. When we got up over the hill, I saw our house and felt a quick stab of fear in my gut.

“I wish they’d just get a divorce.”

Sometimes even six year-olds know when something ain’t meant to be.

I stayed out that night till dark so I wouldn’t have to see daddy. Even though he was my daddy, I was still afraid of em. His face was always all red and puffy. And he’d scream at me, Rick, or Momma. Heck! Seemed like everythin we did was wrong. He’d go on and on, screamin like we shot his best friend or somethin. Then the next minute he’d be tryin to tickle us and wrestle on the floor. Maybe I was just a wuss or something, but I just couldn’t switch gears like that. Least not on the inside. On the outside, Rick and me’d play along. Anything to keep the fightin away for a while.

Daddy’d always tickle me till I bout peed myself. I’d be wrigglin around, gigglin and gaspin for air. Then he’d finally stop. I always hated bein tickled like that. My uncles did it to us too. I hated it so much I’d have nightmares about it.

One night I dreamed I was walkin past the bushes in front by our porch when this big black tar monster, he kinda looked like Jabba the Hut but I didn’t know who he was at the time so I don’t know where he come from, but this tar monster, he chased me round the house till he finally caught me. Then kept ticklin me awhile I gasped for air. I kept tryin to call for help but all that’d come out was a squeaky wheezing sound that just made me more and more scared till I finally woke up, me and my pillow soaked with sweat.

But anyway, after we got our breath, daddy’d sit there and laugh. Then he’d always ask us to tell him a story. I never could understand that. I was only six. What kinda story could I tell somebody? I never could think of nothin. Rick, he’d just make up somethin cause he knew Momma’d be callin us for supper soon. Plus daddy’d usually be hittin the hard stuff by then anyways. I guess I could’ve said just about anything.

Rick did.

That was before Rick died, though. He got hit by a car one day in June. Him and his buddies was walkin home from the pool, horsin round and he got hit chasin a baseball when it went out in the street.

After Rick’s funeral daddy never tickled me no more.

Momma must’ve thought I was too young to know about death cause I remember her tellin me that he was just sleepin. Then she got all mad at me when I walked through all those people that was cryin bout how horrible it all was--a little boy goin to meet Jesus already, to tell Rick to quit foolin around and wake up! When I got to the coffin, I knew somethin was wrong. I just remember standin there thinkin how he looked funny, like his skin was made outta wax. His hands were layin on top of each other, like grandpa always did when he kicked back after supper, but his fingers, they didn’t look right neither. I had this funny tickly feelin in my gut, like deep down I knew he was really dead, but I just kept standin there, waitin for Rick to smile and sneak a peek at everybody that thought he was really dead.

Daddy took it even harder than the rest of us. He stopped comin home after work. When he did come home, he’d be drunker than a skunk and smellin like smoke. He never said nothin to us, cept to yell at Momma. One night he even raised his hand to her, but he didn’t hit Momma. He just stomped off to bed.

I kinda missed bein tickled, even though I never liked it much, but I just thought daddy didn’t like me no more. Like maybe he wished it was me that died stead of Rick. Rick was always daddy’s favorite. Daddy’d never fess up to it, but I knew.

Momma stayed up in her room, layin there with the lights off, cryin all by herself. Whenever I asked what was wrong she’d just look at me and say, “Momma doesn’t feel good right now, Harvey. Can’t you go play with Carl? Or watch the TV?” Then she’d put her head back down on the pillow. Sometimes I saw her shoulders shakin like she was cryin but didn’t want me to know. I’d just stand there for a minute feelin this ache in my chest. It was so quiet in there. So quiet all I could hear was my ears ringin.

She didn’t even come sing me to sleep at night no more. I always loved it when Momma’d tuck me in. She’d say my bedtime prayers with me, askin Jesus to watch over us all. Then I’d beg for a song. I never could fall asleep till she’d sing a song. I didn’t care what song. Any ole song’d do. Most the time Momma’d sing a song her momma sung to her at night. I don’t remember what it was called or nothin, but it sounded so sweet and sad. And she looked so pretty when she sang. Her big brown eyes’d just sparkle in the moonlight. I was supposed to be sleepin but I always snuck a peak. She just sat there, not even lookin at me, just singin and lookin out the window.

Once I dreamed Momma was singin and, next thing I knew, she was a pretty little bird with blue feathers, lookin at me, then takin off and flyin out the window. When I woke up my pillow was all wet. I was just glad Rick didn’t hear me. He’d make fun of me to no end for cryin in my sleep. That was before he died and all.

After a while I got used to Momma stayin in her room. I sure did miss her singin and all, but me and Carl got to stayin out late and raisin hell. And Momma never even gave me a switchin!

For a while I thought that’s the way it’d always be.

One night in August I came home from Carl’s and our house wall dark and the TV was on. The pictures on the screen made scary lookin shadows that jumped up and down on the walls. And Momma wasn’t actin right. Whenever she’d talk it sounded funny, almost like daddy when he got home from the bar. And she kept turnin the one side of her face away, jerkin her head around like she was tryin to keep somethin secret and almost forgot.

“Hey, Harvey,” she said. “You wanna go for a ride with Momma?”

“Are we goin to get ice cream? Can Carl come too?”

“No, honey. Just get in the car and be a good boy.”

“Why not? Can’t he come too?”

“Listen to me, Harvey! You just get in that car. And don’t you talk back at your Momma!”

I never heard Momma talk that way before. Her face looked kinda wild in the blue glow comin from the TV. It looked like her hands was shakin, and it sounded like she was cryin, too. Course I was stupid enough to ask one more question.

“But ain’t daddy comin?”

“HARVEY!” She started to yell but then she brought her voice back down like she was yellin at me in her church whisper voice. “Just get your ass in the car! Your daddy’s passed out in the bedroom. And you KNOW what he’s like when we wake him up!”

“But, Momma…”

“Come on, Harvey!” She was startin to get mad again. I could tell. Her voice kept goin up like she was gonna scream out loud again, so I knew I’d better just shut up “Momma’ll let you drive some, just like daddy does! Just get in the car, honey.”

When we got in the car I thought I saw a beer in Momma’s hand, just before she shut the door and the light went out. It seemed like it took forever for her to get the car started. She kept droppin the keys and cussin about it. Finally she got it started, so I scooted over close to sit on the hump. She promised I’d get to drive some and I wasn’t gonna let her forget. After we got down the road a ways, I knew we weren’t goin for ice cream.

“Momma! Ain’t we goin to Dean’s for ice cream?”

“Just hush, Harvey. Please? Just sit there like a good boy or Momma ain’t gonna let you drive! You don’t want that now, do you?”

So I just sat there. And Momma kept drivin and drivin, higher and higher up into the hills, singin along with some sad, old song on the radio. It sure felt good to hear her singin again. The windows were down and it was nice and warm. Every once in a while Momma’d pull over to the side of the road, like she was lost or somethin, and I’d hear crickets chirpin in the weeds beside the road. Pretty soon I just started starin at the glow from the dash. I knew Momma’d forgot about letting me drive.

Next thing I knew, Momma was pokin me and tellin me to wake up. Everythin was all fuzzy at first but I figured out we was sittin still in the road and the car was still runnin.

“Wake up, honey. You’re gonna have to drive now. Momma can’t do it.”

I must’ve been still half asleep cause I said, “Can’t do what?” I forgot she was gonna let me drive. At the time I thought she just meant she couldn’t drive no more. I was too young to know that didn’t make no sense.

Of course she wasn’t goin to let me drive all by myself. I couldn’t even reach the pedals. Still, I got all excited and woke up real fast! When I climbed over and sat on Momma’s lap she yelled, “Careful now, Harvey! You’ll spill Momma’s beer!”

“Sorry, Momma!” But I wasn’t really sorry. I just didn’t want her to go back on lettin me drive like she said I could. “Where we goin?”

“Just steer straight ahead, honey. Momma’ll work the pedals and tell you when to turn, okay?” Her voice sounded even funnier than it did before. Now she really sounded like daddy! But I didn’t care. Heck, if she was drunk I could drive like those racecar drivers on TV and she’d just let me do it. I wasn’t too good at turnin yet, but I figured Momma’d help me steer like daddy always did.

Momma hit the gas the car jumped. Gravel flew all over the place. “Shit!” She slammed on the brakes.

“Alright, Momma! We peeled out! Can we do it again?”

“Aww dammit! Spilled my beer. Oh well, honey. Let’s keep on goin. He’s waitin for us.”

“Who’s waitin for us?”

“Shhh, honey! Just keep on drivin. Momma’ll steer, okay?”

“But who’s waitin for us, Momma?”

“Just drive, honey. You’ll see.”

So we stated drivin along real nice and slow. We was goin so slow I could hear the tires makin a low, soft rubber kinda hum. Momma must’ve finished her beer cause I heard it rollin and rattlin down the road.

Then, outta nowhere, the car started goin faster. My heart pounded right along with it. All I could think was how I was gonna rub Carl’s face in this! Momma let me drive last night! And we was goin a hundred miles an hour. Bet your stinky ole momma never lets you drive!

We weren’t really goin that fast but it sure felt like it. Momma’d tell me when to turn the wheel and say, “Not so sharp, honey!” and, “Dammit! Get over to the right, Harvey. You’re in the middle of the road.” Course she’d help me some, but she was holdin onto a beer, too.

Then the car stated goin even faster. It wasn’t like the other times Momma speeded it up. Before it was just a little at a time. My heart was still poundin, but now it was goin even faster cause I was startin to get scared. My hands was getting all slippery on the steerin wheel.

“Momma! Not so fast!”

She didn’t answer.

“Momma! I’m getting scared!”

Still nothin.

“Momma! Tell me when to turn! Should I turn yet?”

Instead of answerin she pushed the pedal down farther. Everythin was whizzin by and the road was startin to curve round a hill. I could see the lights from the highway down below.

“Momma! Should I turn yet?”

Now I could feel her heart poundin against my back.

Even though she didn’t tell me to, I turned the wheel.

Momma grabbed my hands and held em tight. “Dammit, Harvey! What’re you DOIN?”

I was so scared I couldn’t say nothin. When I looked up, her eyes was closed and she was cryin. The curve was still comin and I was gettin worried.

“Momma! Open your eyes! PLEASE tell me when to turn! PLEASE!”

“Just close your eyes, Harvey! Don’t you want to see your bubby?”

“But Bubby’s in heaven, Momma! Only dead people go to heaven!”

Then Mommma grabbed the wheel tighter and wouldn’t let me steer no more. Her leg jammed the gas down as far as it would go.

My eyes was closed after that, so I’m not sure what happened, but there was a bangin noise and the car heaved like it was goin to throw up. Momma slammed on the brakes. We skidded and the tires screeched like a banshee. And then, we stopped.

The car still kept on jerkin and heavin. When I opened my eyes I saw how close we came to that guardrail and there was a nasty burnin smell.

For a while neither of us said nothin. I just sat there, my heart poundin so hard I thought it’d beat right outta my chest. Momma was cryin. She just kept shakin like crazy, rockin back and forth, huggin me so tight I thought I’d break. Then she started moanin. I could’t quite hear what she said, but it was somethin like, “Ohhhhh, sweet Jesus! What was I doin? What was I doin?”

I just let her cry.

When we pulled into the truck stop, people started starin, but they looked away when Momma got out to ask for help. Black smoke was pourin out from under the hood and the car was hissin like a snake.

A beat-up lookin camper pulled up next to us and a bunch of longhairs got out. One of em started talking to Momma, then went inside for some water. When he came back out he said he knew what cart troubles was like. He had em all the time drivin back and forth to band practice. Then the other five longhairs started talking to Momma then, too. They said they was a Christian rock n’ roll band called Deceived by Eve or somethin like that. Momma said she used to go to church a lot, but we weren’t goin these days.

I was just standin there listenin when Momma said “Harvey, don’t you want to meet these boys? Don’t be scared. They’re good Christian boys like you.”

“But, Momma! Them’s longhairs!” I said.

“Harvey!” I could tell Momma was embarrassed so I didn’t say any more. Them longhairs all laughed like it was a funny or somethin. Momma laughed, too. It was good to see her laughin instead of cryin. She started tellin em about how we used to go to church every Sunday, and how her and daddy got in a fight and about Rick dyin. She even told em about how she was drunk and drivin around tryin to find a cliff to drive off of.

One of them boys, the one that was fixin our car, he stopped what he was doin, moved closer, and put his face up close to Momma’s. “Ma’am,” he said. “You need to get right with Jesus. You don’t want to go to hell, do you?”

“No! Course I don’t,” Momma said.

“Then you need to repent and accept Christ as your personal savior!”

He moved even closer.

“I done did that a long time ago! Probably before you was even born!”

Momma was upset. I could tell she wanted to back away, but she didn’t want to be rude. Her hands was shakin again and I could tell she was bout to cry. I didn’t know much about these longhairs, but I knew I didn’t like this one.

“Ma’am, think of your son. Do you want him to go to hell?”

“He’s just a boy!”

“I know he’s just a boy, but if he’s old enough to know right from wrong he has to make a choice, too.

That longhair just kept on, not even payin attention that Momma was cryin. I kept getting madder and madder the more he talked.

“Both of you need make a choice. Death’s just a heartbeat away. Do you want to spend eternity in heaven, or in hell? You said your other son died, right?”

I was listenin before, but now my ears really perked up. He could say anything he wanted bout me, but he’d better keep his mouth shut about Rick!

“Y-yes,” Momma sobbed. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

One of the other longhairs spoke up. “What Matt’s trying to say is that we can’t know for sure where your boy is right now. We’re not God. But if you and Harvey will accept Jesus right here, right now, you can have peace and know you’ll both be in heaven with Jesus forever.”

“And you left your husband!” that Matt guy yelled. “The Bible says you’re to submit to him. You’re living in sin right now as we speak, lady! You’d better get right!”

That was all I could take! I tore loose from Momma’s hand and lit into that creep. I started swingin like I was nuts. That longhair didn’t know what to do. His eyes was buggin out of his head.

Momma kept tryin to pull me off, but I kept swingin like I was a windmill or somethin. There were tears burnin down my face and I screamed like a wild Comanche. All I knew was I hated him. I wanted to kill him. Who’d he think he was talking to my Momma like that? Especially sayin stuff bout Rick!

“YOU GO TO HELL! STUPID YANK! STUPID LONGHAIR! YOU SISSY!”

Momma finally pulled me off him. I still kept tryin to swing so she held me close, all the while apologizin. Like that stupid Yank deserved to be apologized to! What he needed was a good whoopin!

By that time people was starin, even the guy in the gas station window. He was startin to reach for the phone when that longhair saw him and started backin away from us. The rest of his band piled into that camper of theirs and yelled for him to come too.

“You just remember what I said, lady!” he said, shakin his finger at us and walkin backwards toward the camper. “You’ve got problems, you and your kid both, and you’d better deal with them!”

Momma grabbed me, picked me up like a little kid, and ran for the car. “Come on, Harvey! We’re gettin out of here. We gotta get home to daddy!”

I knew she wasn’t in no hurry to get home. Once daddy was passed out he never woke up till mornin. I was just glad we was leavin and gettin away from them longhairs. I didn’t like anybody makin momma look like a whipped dog like that. She deserved better.

She deserved better than to go back home to daddy too, but I couldn’t stop her.

After that, Momma started goin to church again. When daddy heard what happened, he eased off the booze a bit, felt guilty bout not doin his Christian duty or somethin. But he never would go to church with Momma and me. He didn’t feel guilty too long, though. Two days later he was at it again.

I didn’t like goin to church but I went along, just to protect Momma. I didn’t want nobody else usin Jesus and Rick and daddy to make her cry. Nothin bad ever happened, though. It got awful loud and scary in that church house, but Momma said that’s just the way people get when they love the Lord.

Now and then Momma would get up and sing a special song. It felt so good sittin back in my pew, half fallin asleep, listenin to Momma sing. Sometimes I could almost see that little blue bird from my dream flyin away again.

The preacher always liked that. He wanted her to join the choir, but she knew daddy’d never let her. He never did like her doin anything cept cleanin, and cookin for him. Maybe that’s why he did it.

I’m not sure, but I think I saw that bird at Momma’s funeral the other day, just flyin and flyin. I kept waitin for it to look back, so I could say goodbye and all, but it never did. I guess when you been caged up that long there ain’t nothin worth look back for.

She sure did look pretty though.