The Last Exit to Normal by Michael Harmon Read Free Book Online Page A

around, he could come over and try. He wasn’t an old lady.
    He didn’t, though. He stared at me as he finished his sandwich, then took his belt off and went
inside. I heard him call Billy to the back-door entry. A minute later, I heard the belt cracking against Billy’s
skin, and I heard Billy take it without more than a grunt every time the leather made contact. Six hits.
    I quit loading the bricks and stood there for a couple of minutes, deciding what I should do. I’d
messed it up again, and I realized that even if I tried to do the right thing, it just got screwed in the end.
    By the time I’d hopped back over the downed fence, my hands had pretty much gone numb, but
they were shaking. I was shaking. I couldn’t believe he’d just done that. My brains were stewed, my legs
were jelly, my shoulders killed, and not two minutes after I collapsed in the porch chair, Miss Mae came outside,
carrying a plate with two huge meat loaf sandwiches and a big lump of homemade potato salad on it. She set it in front
of me, poured me another glass of lemonade, and patted my shoulder.
    I stared at the food. “Did you see what happened?”
    “Yes.”
    “I was just trying to help.”
    She cleared her throat, and her voice, amazingly, was soft. “Stay away from that boy for his own
good, Benjamin.”
    “Mr. Hinks is a scumbag.”
    She patted me again. “You come in when you’re done and we’ll fix your hands
up. I’ll tell you something then.” She went inside.

CHAPTER 6
    “T hanks for lunch. And the lemonade.”
    Miss Mae smiled, dunking my hands in some sort of country remedy that made them feel like the skin
was peeling from my bones. She nodded. “Man works hard, he needs to eat.”
    I clenched my teeth against the pain, for some odd reason trying to live up to her calling me a man.
“My dad was right.”
    “About what?”
    I shook my head. “About a lot of stuff, I guess. I’m sorry about last night. And about
everything since we got here.”
    She chuckled. “Don’t ever apologize.”
    I looked at her like she was crazy. “Why?”
    “Eddie’s father used to tell me that a man apologizing meant he’d done
something shameful. I suppose the secret’s not to shame yourself in the first place.”
    I didn’t have a reply for that. How she could make me feel so good about myself one minute,
then make me feel like the biggest loser in the next, was beyond me. I had to remind myself that she was a monster, but
it wasn’t working. I was too exhausted, and thinking about that kid getting strapped because of what I’d
done made me want to shrivel up and die. “What were you going to tell me?”
    She rubbed my hands gently. “It ain’t your fault Billy got in trouble. He’s old
enough to know his duty to his father.”
    “But . . .”
    She shook her head. “Sometimes two rights make a wrong.” She finished with my hands,
gave me a towel, then dug in a drawer. She turned around and held out a pair of worn gloves.
    I looked at them. “I’m not going to do the bricks. He’ll get in trouble
again.”
    She nodded. There was no twinkle in her eye, no evil sneer, no malice on her face. Just
matter-of-factness. “You’ve got chores. I’ll call you for supper.”
    I’d skated for hours at a time, crashed and burned a million times, and been dead-dog beat and in
pain from doing it, but right then my body was on the verge of melting into the kitchen floor. I’d never been so
exhausted and hot in my life. Then a weird thing happened. I
wanted
to please her, and it went against every cell
in my body.
    I took the gloves and walked outside. The first thing I did was dig up my lump of potato fertilizer from
the garden and put it in the garbage can. Then I got on my knees and started weeding, all the fight gone from me.
    Edward had taken over tending the garden, which covered what seemed half a football field. Squash,
potatoes, peas, corn, a small watermelon patch, cucumbers, strawberries,