Allegiance

July 16, 2018 - 3:30AM

You can’t call yourself a man if you haven’t slept with Mother Earth. That’s what Dad says, anyway. Ask me, he’s just trying to get me out of the house while he fools around with Nancy, my babysitter-slash-friend. I’m ten now and we both agree that’s too old for a babysitter, but Dad insists.

“The pay’s better than Wendy’s,” she says before positioning herself in front of the TV for the next nine hours. “Pretend I’m not even here.” She wags her fingers and makes an “O” with her mouth, acting like a ghost.

I said, “That’s easy,” and switched the TV off to make her whine. I gripped the remote control: “Who said that?” Without getting off the couch she outstretched her leg to kick me, playfully but it kind of hurt, to make me turn the TV back on. I bruised near my shoulder, actually, but I didn’t tell Dad because Nancy’s a girl.

I click on my flashlight and lean up in my sleeping bag. The beam strikes the tent’s open seal and makes the forest look a little bit more like daytime, then my heart beats a bit slower. I don’t like to talk about my fear of the dark because I’m ten now. Double digits means double duty, Dad says. At first I thought he meant being ten meant bigger poops and I couldn’t stop laughing. He shoved me a bit because he didn’t know what he just said. By the time I could speak again I’d practically forgotten the joke already.

I place the flashlight on the dirt aiming outward to keep the forest looking bright. If there’s something out there in the dark able to see me, at least I’ll be able to see it, too. With that scary thought in mind, I can’t help but glance up every few seconds to keep me at an advantage. Dad didn’t help me set up the tent because he said it defeats the purpose. I did it by myself okay enough, but I’m pretty deep in the woods and I forgot which direction the house is. I figured the deeper I went in the woods, the prouder Dad would be. I know he can’t see me, so he won’t really know how far away I am, but it always kind of feels like he’s watching, like I could disappoint him at any moment. Even through little gestures�'the way my feet move when I walk, or the way my arms swing�'how I carry myself.

An owl practically on top of the tent gives out a hoo and my leg twitches, kicking the side of the tent and making it collapse on top of me. My heart starts to gallop and my cheeks fire up in embarrassment, which turns to rage. Why can’t I relax by myself? Why am I embarrassed when no one is around? Unless there is someone around. Another scary thought�'thanks, Brain. The tent hangs on my head and for a minute I consider staying like this, just until the sun comes up. I must look like a ghost trick-or-treating on Halloween night. Realizing that makes my heart beat slower. I smile at the push-and-pull of my heart strings, how my own thoughts can affect how I feel. Embarrassment in an empty room, and fear in an empty forest.

Just then a shriek comes from far away within the trees and I’ve practically forgotten my little pep talk, back to square one. Leaves and branches crackle under someone’s running feet.

“Help me!” says a voice that sounds like Nancy.