Texas

            They named him Texas, because that's where they first met. He wasn't a mistake, just a surprise. They had been living in San Francisco, but Dill was offered a job on the docks up in the North Bay, so they moved. Cara didn't mind, because as long as she was with Dill and her baby she was happy. They lived in a small house with a big backyard. The pastel paint on the splintering clapboard was peeling in places, but Dill just saw it as a challenge, not a fault. That first summer, Cara would sit under the big tree in the middle of their backyard, watching Texas attempt to crawl, while Dill methodically painted the windowsills. During the week, Dill spent hours loading and unloading various cargo ships, and he would come home smelling like salt and fish. Cara would wrinkle her nose, and give him a quick kiss, but Texas would stretch out his arms to his father, unconcerned with the smell.

            When Texas was old enough, Dill would bring him down to the water and show him the boats. It made Cara nervous, but she knew Dill would never let anything happen to the boy. Texas would watch the waves hitting the rotting wood of the docks, and count them until he couldn't think of any higher numbers. At night, before bed, Dill would tell him stories about pirates and lost treasure, and Texas would dream about parrots and stormy seas. Some nights, Dill's stories would scare Texas, and he would make Dill stay in the room with him until he was asleep. Dill always felt guilty for scaring his son, but another part of him felt like he was helping the boy be brave and face his fears.

* * *

            On the day that Dill died, the weather was mild and Texas was staring his first day of fourth grade. Cara was in the living room, watching a history channel program about the Kennedy’s, when Sam, Dill’s boss, knocked on the door.

            Sam twisted his oily fishing cap between his hands, and looked down at his shuffling feet. He glanced up.

            “Listen, there was an accident.”

            Cara looked at him warily.

            “It was really an accident, I wish I could have done something, but you know, things happen.”

            Cara didn't cry at all until she saw Texas walk into the kitchen, holding his lunch-box in one hand, and a leaf in the other. Texas put his stuff down, and walked over to his crying mother. He stood in front of her, his face blank, and said, "What's wrong?"

            That night, Texas couldn't sleep. Cara had explained to him how Dill had slipped, hit his head on a rock, and drowned. Texas understood the facts, but he couldn't accept the reality. When he finally slept, he dreamt that he was underwater, the sounds muted, the sun distant, and he was unable to reach the surface, as hard as he kicked.

            After that, Texas refused to take showers, and would only take a bath when his mother was in the room. Cara would sit on the toilet, and read a magazine, while Texas quickly scrubbed his feet and washed his hair, racing the draining tub.

             Texas still drank water, but sometimes he would find himself gasping mid sip, and would go to Cara, saying that the water had tried to kill him. He always tried his hardest never to cry, because he had heard that one could drown in their own tears, and he was afraid of that.  

            Texas took to wearing Dill's glasses, the ones that he had used for reading. They gave him a headache, but he didn't mind. He kept them in a case that he carried with him everywhere, in case he ever needed them. Kids at school would make fun of him, and call him four eyes, but he ignored them. When it was sunny, he used the glasses to magnify the light, burning holes in leaves.

            Three months after Dill's death, Cara met Roy. He was a real estate agent, whom Cara had worked with when she was thinking about moving. Roy was handsome, and always smelled mildly of mint. When Roy first asked Cara out to dinner, she blushed. He made her laugh, and she began to smile more and more. Texas noticed the change, but didn't ask what had inspired it.

            After they had been dating awhile, Cara invited Roy over for dinner. She made salmon and mashed potatoes, and brought out the good china. All through the meal, she giggled nervously at everything Roy said, attempting to mask her anxiety over whether he and Texas would get along. Roy called Texas, "ol' boy", whenever he addressed him, such as, "pass the fish would ya, ol' boy?" Texas didn't like it, because it made him feel like a pet dog, but he didn't say anything.

            Cara took Texas’ silence during the meal to be his seal of approval, and from then on Roy became a permanent fixture in their daily life. Texas didn’t dislike Roy; he just wasn’t looking for a new father, or a friend.

            Cara and Roy would go out many nights, leaving Texas with a teenage neighbor named Effie. Effie would chew gum and banter on the phone while Texas watched TV or played solitaire. She would make macaroni and cheese from a box for dinner and ask Texas how second grade was going, oblivious to the fact that he was now in the middle of fourth.  He never bothered correcting her.

            Texas wouldn’t take a bath when Effie was there, and instead would go to bed early, lying awake, listening to the murmur of her chatting, until he heard the front door open late at night. When Cara crept in to kiss him goodnight, he would pretend to be asleep, but even with his eyes closed he could feel her watching him, until Roy’s shadow would block the light from the hallway, and he would half-whisper, “Honey, the kid’s sleeping. Come to bed.”

            The more time that Roy spent at the house, the more wary Texas became of him. He began to notice how Roy would constantly be tapping his foot, or moving his fingers, as though he were waiting impatiently for something. He began to notice how Roy would clench his jaw, as though suppressing a shout that was tickling at his throat. He began to notice how Roy would only wear his charming smile when Cara was in the room. Perhaps most importantly, Texas began to notice the hard glares that Roy directed his way when he thought he wasn’t looking.

            Texas finally told Cara that there was something he didn’t like about Roy. Cara said, “You just don’t know him that well, you two should spend more time together.” To which Texas replied, “I don’t want to know him better.”

            One night, Texas overheard Cara and Roy fighting in the next room.

            “Of course I’m going to be with him a lot of the time - he needs me,” Cara said.

            “I need you too," Roy said.

            “Not in the same way.”

            “Don’t you love me?”

            “Yes, but I have other things going on, you know that.”

            “What about the kid? You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”

            “That’s different, he’s my son.”

            Roy’s voice was louder now.

            “And what about me, Cara?”

            Texas could hear the jealously in Roy’s voice.

            He shivered, and covered his ears.

            The next morning, Cara turned to Texas in the car, before beginning the drive to school.

            “I need you to do something for me.”

            “What?”

            “Be nicer to Roy, talk to him more.”

            “Why?”

            “I just think if you two knew each other better, we’d all be happier.”

            Texas imagined that Cara had said the same thing to Roy, because that night, during dinner, Roy kept smiling at Texas, and asking him boring questions.

Texas answered in as polite a voice he could muster, picking at his food as he did so.

            After they were done eating, Texas asked Cara to come sit with him while he took a bath. Before she could say anything, Roy said, “Why don’t I sit with ya, ol’ boy? It’ll be a good chance for us to talk more.”

            Cara smiled encouragingly at Texas, and remembering his promise to at least try and like Roy, he agreed.

            Texas made Roy stand outside the door until he was in the tub, with the curtains closed. Texas watched the steam rising gently off the surface of the water, as he listened to Roy walk in and sit down on the toilet seat.

            “So, where’d you get a cute name like Texas?” Roy said, failing to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

            “It’s where my mom and dad met, where they fell in love.”

            Roy didn’t say anything.

            “Where’d you get a cute name like Roy?” Texas said.

            “Trying to be smart with me, ol’ boy?”

            “No.”

            “Good. Cause I don’t like to be made fun of.”

            “Me neither.”

            They were quiet for a while. Texas scrubbed his feet, and shampooed his hair.

            He could hear Roy’s breathing, and the tapping of his fingers on his knee.

            The man seemed impatient.

            Texas hurried to rinse out his hair.

            The front door slammed, and Texas knew Cara was going outside for the after dinner cigarette she thought he didn’t know about.

            Texas’ eyes were closed as he lay on his back, scrubbing the soap off his scalp.

            He could feel someone watching him.

            He opened his eyes, and was met by Roy’s cruel stare.

            Texas noticed how ridiculous Roy looked from this angle, his face taut and angry.

            What seemed like minutes went by.

            He could feel the weight of Roy’s hands on his chest before he had even placed them there.

            He gasped for air before Roy pressed him underwater, digging his nails into the side of his head, having moved his hands off his chest.

            Texas’ eyes were open, and he saw Roy’s distorted face above the surface. It seemed to stand alone, without a body, teeth bared, and eyes gleaming.

            He gasped - water filled his mouth, his throat, his lungs.

            He struggled, kicking his legs, gripping onto Roy’s arms with his hands.

            Roy bit his lip, and his face brightened.

            The water was everywhere. Texas couldn’t escape it.

            He thought about Dill, and realized how his father must have felt when the waves hit him, pulling him down.

            Texas fought back harder, biting Roy’s hands, scratching at his face.

            Finally, he felt air hit his lungs.

            He pushed, and lifted himself into a seated position.

            Roy fell back, his hair disheveled, his hands splayed behind him on the tiles of the bathroom floor.

            He stood up, checked his appearance in the mirror, and without looking back, left the room.

            Texas sat in the soapy water, half of which had splashed onto the floor during the struggle. Small bubbles clung harmlessly to the edge of the sink.

            From then on, Texas was fine bathing alone.

            He never told Cara what happened, which led her to believe that Roy had somehow helped him get over his fear of water, and this pleased her.

            Texas, however, never forgot.