Chapter
Vessel of Lies
It had been a few days since the pie incident and things had fallen back in to a routine of sorts, with Joe taking on the added responsibility of supper on top of those he had previously adopted. This kept his days pretty busy. He'd have an hour or more of free time after lunch. That is not counting two days ago when the boys had found themselves in the shed on their knees in this block of time.
Looking back, Joe was still not sure what he could have done to avoid that. Perhaps he invited trouble simply by expecting it now.
As it happened, on the morning of two day's prior Joe was just starting to come into himself.
I think it's important to note that at this point he has gone so far and had experienced so much, in such a short period of time; that just the simple act of waking had come to fill him with dread. Dread of what this new day would bring.
So, when the boys had made their way downstairs to the breakfast table, Joe wasn't really all that surprised when Tom started in on him. To say that he wasn't surprised is not to say that he didn't feel the weight of dread all the same. Perhaps more so on this day because of the way Tom started. What words he said that would totally undo Joe.
"You didn't think I'd notice, did you Joe?" Were the words he used and naturally the boy's mind jumped to what had I been caught for? and what punishment would come as a result? With those simple words it was enough to drown Joe but it was a crushing type of drowning.
(The way Joe would later describe this feeling, he would say that it was like being trapped in a grain mill as waves of pellets poured over him, encasing him in his tomb. He's never known anybody personally whom this had happened to but he's heard stories that stuck with him. This was the closest thing that he could relate to for how this man made him feel on a regular basis.)
Sitting across from Tom and being confronted with accusation, his mind flooded with the possibilities of what he might have been caught for. What did Tom find out about him?
With everything that washed in the boy's mind he was caught off guard when Tom enlightened.
"The trees are dying Joe." It took him a moment to register these words- He hadn't been caught?- And just like that he took a breath of relief as a weight was lifted. Tom knows nothing. "You don't even care do you Joe?" That's when he realized how his countenance may have come across and he had to make up for it.
"We do care?" he assured but Tom didn't hear him.
"Well, I care." He barked over Joe's words. "I did not travel half way across the country with them just to have you kill them the moment you get here. Now you get out there and do what's expected."
~.~
Tom was right. They were dying, which he was apt to discover as he was standing before them. He doesn't know how or why but the trees had a definite wilt to their leaves.
He doesn't know what he could have been doing wrong that would have resulted in this. He'd kept up on the watering as best he could.
Joe really didn't want Tom to suffer ruin because of him. He wouldn't wish that on anybody but this guy more than anyone he wouldn't want to do this too. Somehow Joe felt that this was the wrong guy to do that to. He figured his life had less value than them trees did. At least in Tom's eyes. If Joe couldn't keep them alive then that could spell real trouble for him.
After tending the trees Tom wanted both boys back in the shed to spend on their knees. He spent less time at work and more time sitting on the work bench in front of both boys staring at them at times giving in to lectures and scorn. Scorn for all that Joe had done wrong and that he expected better from him. He would even bring up his family again, enlightening Joe to their disappointment in him. He wasn't sure how true this was but Tom did have some points to make. Some memories they shared that Tom would have no reason to know unless they told him. This hurt Joe a bit. What he'd always considered good, happy, family memories Tom brought up as if they were the acts of pure evilness. It made him wonder. Why would his family share this with him? He knew they had gotten close in such a short period of time. He figured that they likely never knew what Tom would do with this information. Just how bad it would get for him. But what if they did? Was it like Tom said? Was that how his family saw him too?
Joe remained as still as he knew how to be. Not wanting to give Tom any reason to take anything out on him. He suffered through the heat and the pain and even the shortness of breath. He wasn't sure if he was out there as long this time. It was painful enough but realistically he thinks Tom did cut their stay short. He was ordered to go in and start supper.
~.~
That was two days ago and nothing significant had really happened since. Joe has tried really hard not to give Tom anything to complain about.
With Joe taking over the most of Tom's responsibilities outside of the work-shed the sole-slogger has had an easier go at focusing on his work inside. He's seemed to be in a lighter mood or at least a mood where he wasn't griping at the boys for every misdeed. And although the first few nights of him taking over the responsibility of making supper was met with nothing but insults and complaints that something was too raw or something else was overcooked, last night was actually pleasant with Tom paying minimal attention to them. He'd look out every once in a while, as if something was on his mind. If there was, he never said it. Whatever it was must not have been too great.
It was afternoon now. With all their chores done Tom had met Joe in the kitchen as he was preparing lunch for the three of them. He stood in the doorway watching Joe.
He was unnerved by the way the pater stared at him wondering what he'd found to gripe about this time. He wanted to ask but thought it best to just let it be. Let Tom stare. Although he couldn't still the tremor that rose within him as he worked. He didn't think it was noticeable though. He supposed he should be grateful for that. He just had to be extra cautious that his clumsiness didn't cause him to drop something.
It took several minutes of Tom staring on before he finally spoke.
"You've been doing such a good job around here lately Joe." That, he did not expect. "Let me take care of supper tonight."
When Tom walked away, he took some of that stress that had been accumulating within his shoulders with him. Joe actually felt uplifted.
The rest of the afternoon turned out great with Scotty and he placidly wandering the yard.
Sticking to his word, Tom came in early that evening and set a fine table. Asparagus and mashed potatoes aside a chunk of steak. His best glassware at the head of their plates which currently sat empty. Tom served up their portions first and then himself.
"Go on. Eat." He encouraged with a mouth full. Each boy lifted their forks and stabbed into their food. Utensils clinking and scraping against porcelain plates. Everything was warm and well-seasoned. Even the asparagus, which he's typically not a big fan of, was delicious. It had just enough of a crunch to it and was drizzled in butter and white sauce.
"Oh, I forgot something didn't I?" He drew both of their attentions. He wiped his mouth and pushed back his chair, escaping off into the kitchen. Both boys watched him go, half expecting him to come out with cookies again or perhaps some of that pie that there was still plenty of. Joe would not make a big deal of it this time. He would eat it with an amiable disposition.
It wasn't the pie though, or cookies, nor anything of the sort that he came back with. A moment later he was back with a pitcher in hand.
"Can't have empty glasses at the table now, can we? How's a little water to wash down this kickshaw?" To Joe's horror, the decanter that Tom used was identical to the one he hid beneath the stairwell.
The boy's face paled and his stomach knotted. Tom caught onto the change in him right away.
"What's the matter Joe? You're looking a bit ill?" But what could he say? "Go on boy. Eat up. It'll do you some good."
Tom acted as if nothing at all was wrong. When he had filled every glass, he set the decanter in the center of the table for Joe's admiration before resuming his seat and lifting the paper to shield him. This is either an exact replica and Tom has no clue of the missing decanter (which was the impression he gave) or it is one in the same and this was a mind game he was playing.
He filled their glasses as if he hadn't just caught Joe in the biggest lie he had ever told. Whatever Tom thought behind that wall was maddening. How could Joe eat now this delicious meal that had been placed before him when every bite was torturous to his cartwheeling stomach?
Even Scotty picked up on Joe's sudden turn of fear. He tilted his head to ask what had caught him so bad in this state. Whatever it was could not be shared between them. This he knew and let it be.
The entire meal Joe had remained in this state of anguish but Tom added nothing more to aid in Joe's misery. He couldn't wait for supper to be ended. Slowly and silently the minutes dragged on. Tom was slow at finishing his meal by all appearances distracted by the paper in hand. All Joe could do was silently stare at that decanter, pray for release and buy out his time.
When he thought it was safe enough, he meekly stood and offered to take Tom's ware to which Tom passively agreed. He couldn't get out of that dining room quickly enough.
Setting the plates in the sink he darted his eyes about the kitchen. To his horror, a plain silver bowl, identical to the one he used for the berries, sat poised on top of the cabinetry by the dining room door. How long has that been there? Is that the same bowl or a replica? It never stuck out to him before but he never thought to look before. How long has that bowl been there? It sickened him to think not long. That, that bowl is one in the same.
He darted his eyes to the door that led to the grounds outside. If he could go out to the cellar to look, to know for sure. He heard the chair scraping from the dining room and went back to washing the dishes. He waited against the basin for Tom to enter but he never did. After several minutes he went out to see what Tom was up to.
Tom was gone.
He was either tucked up in his room or he went back out to the shed to continue to work.
Joe breeched back out to clear the table under Scotty's scrutiny. He stared out the front door this time wondering if Tom was out there. He wanted to go look. He needed to go look. He drooped his head and took the dishes to the kitchen. Scotty curious of Joe's behavior followed him in. The small boy caught him standing at the basin but staring out the dining room door that led to the world outside. Realizing what he was doing to the boy, he gave up this plight. Not now, he considered, not now.
He got Scotty upstairs. The boys went right to bed.
It didn't take long for Scotty to fall asleep. Joe however laid in the dark in a state of earnest, staring out at the stars wishing his pa would be back already to pick him up so that whatever punishment he was sure to be facing wouldn't come but he knew his pa and brothers were still so far away. It would be a while still before their return. God, he wished it weren't true. He wished that both dishes were just replicas. Did he have something to fear or not?
He couldn't quite shut off his mind and give in to sleep.
When he was sure the house was quiet, and long dark, he crawled over his sleeping companion as careful as he could so as to not disturb him. He crept out of the room and down the stairs. Outside into the night sky. He snuck around to the far end of the house. Reaching for the handle he startled at the voice.
"What're you doing out here Joe?" Tomlinson peaked his head from around the corner as cool as ever as if he'd been leant against the wall like this doing nothing more than stargazing. Like this was something he did often after the boy's went to bed. He wouldn't know that he doesn't. He doesn't really know what he does when they're asleep.
A shiver ran the course of his spine. It was more likely that he was out here waiting for him, as if he'd been expecting him.
"Looks like you're trying to find your way into my cellar." The boy gulped at the double meaning. "Don't you think it's a little late for games?" The very words he chose felt like a game in itself. But then he shut it down with his next words. "Shouldn't you be getting into bed?"
"Yes sir." He gulped.
He felt nothing but pins and prickles as he scurried back into the house and up to his room.
No more than a stir from Scotty as he crawled back over him and wrapped himself in the blankets for comfort. He found himself staring out of the window once again. He felt so scared of the punishments that were sure to come. A tear fell as he thought of his family so far from him wishing they could save him.
What game was Tom playing? Why hadn't he been punished yet? He even let him get back to bed without incident. Had he really found the decanter or was that still in there waiting for him?
Looking down at where the bed met the wall he felt around for the indentations. This represented the passage of time. It was meant to represent hope but there was no guarantee he'd ever make it back. It could someday represent the boy that was once here but was now lost to the world. His epitaph. With his thumb in the plaster, he scribed.
'Here Lies Joe.'
Only morose thoughts followed resulting in a single tear, so he left it at that.
It had taken a long time to fall asleep that night. This would have a direct effect on the events of the following day.
