Torn Read online

Andi, the other daughter, spoke up. “I had a weird thing happen. Can I tell?”

  Everyone looked at her.

  So sweet, so fragile, she consumed her food as she spoke nonchalantly. “Mrs. Rogers was showing me Buster’s poop diaper and it had a roach in it.”

  Everybody grunted with disgust.

  Casper dropped her fork. “Thank you for that.”

  Andi shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Luke was bursting and couldn’t wait. “Ok, here is mine. Check this out. We see flies, right. Tons and tons of them, me and Ray. So, being the inquiring boys that we are, we went to this garbage can. Thinking, okay, maggots.”

  Casper groaned.

  Luke continued, “So we look inside, and there’s this giant rat. It’s like eating this bird that’s still alive.”

  “What did you do?” Bret asked.

  “Well, Ray went and got his BB gun. He said to me, dude, you’re the better shot, you do it. So I aim, right. Pow. I shoot. I miss.”

  “Then what?” Bret inquired.

  Luke shrugged. “The BB ricocheted, flew up and nailed Ray in the head. We had to take him home. When we went back the rat was gone. Bird was there. Dead though. It was the coolest thing. It was my first real rat outside a pet store.”

  Bret paused, smiled politely, and then gained enthusiasm to tell her story. She told of how she and Casper, within the course of two hours, fought three times against a phenomenal number of ants.

  “It’s true,” Casper said. “You should have seen how many.”

  “I called the police.” Bret said.

  Jesse laughed. “You what? You called the police.”

  “Oh, yeah. It was freaky. It was scary, Jesse. We have like, this infestation of gigantic proportions right outside our house.”

  “And what did the police say?” he asked.

  “They told me to call an exterminator. I did. Exterminator said it was borough property so it’s the borough’s responsibility. I called the borough but they blew me off.”

  “So would I.” Jesse shook his head “You called because of ants.”

  “Jesse, I’m serious. You should have seen how many there were. I swear to God there has to be the world’s biggest colony living under our sidewalk.”

  “Bret, you know how ridiculous that sounds. It’s May. And you tend to exaggerate.…”

  Casper gasped. “My mother is not lying. I saw it. We took pictures. Quit being rude to her.”

  “Oh!” Bret snapped my finger. “We did. We took pictures.” She nodded in a ‘so there’ manner. “Jesse, we have to do something. We have to. There’s a gazillion ants.…”

  “A gazillion?” Jesse snickered.

  For sarcastic clarification, Casper said, “Yes, that’s a big word, I know. But it means more than a million.”

  Jesse looked at her. “Where is that attitude coming from? God. I know what it means. But I think that’s a bit much. Bret, there weren’t that many.”

  “Bet me.” Bret was adamant. “I bet they are breeding under the sidewalk. Borough or not, I’m calling an exterminator first thing.…”

  “No. Bret. You will not. For ants?” Jesse shook his head. “Let me eat. I’ll handle it.”

  “Jesse, there’s a ton.”

  “They’re ants, Bret.” Jesse continued eating. “How many can there be? We deal with this a lot at work. I’ll show you there’s not a gazillion. We don’t need an exterminator.”

  “We need something.”

  Jesse smiled. “You have me.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bret didn’t receive a verbal response; she only received a glance that told her more than she probably wanted to know.

  ***

  The country music played at an almost inaudible level in Darius Cobb’s large classroom. Stacks of papers were in front of him; he tapped the pencil to the beat of the music as he read through them. His head bobbed slightly, shaking, all while he smiled.

  “You’re kidding me. No.” He snickered and lifted the paper. “Scott, where were you when I talked about this?” He grunted, shrugged, then wrote down, “Man, I must be boring.”

  “And a bit insane. However.…” The male voice entered the room. “Your sensuality, boyish figure, and boy toy appeal make up for that.” A briefcase was set on Darius’ desk. The fiftyish bald man with a healthy build smiled at Darius. “I’m happy to see that no exchange of sexual favors for grades was occurring. How are you, Dare-Dare?”

  Darius set down his pencil with a laugh, “Only you and my mother call me that.”

  “Well of course, that was a wonderful time in my life. Really, she should have married me instead of that rodeo star.”

  Darius only glanced up.

  “Who was it next, the.…”

  “Colin,” Darius silenced him with a smile.

  Dr. Colin Reye sat down on the edge of the desk. He did indeed date Darius’ mother at one time, for five years. In addition, she referred to him as the youngster. Only eight years her junior, Colin genuinely was crazy about her, even if the package included a rambunctious, too intelligent for his own good teenager named Darius. But even the eccentric and wild Colin couldn’t tame Darius’ mother. Despite the break up, Colin remained close to him vowing to be the father figure he never had, and their friendship spanned over twenty years.

  “I thought we were having lunch,” Colin said.

  Darius looked at his watch. “We can.”

  “It’s six o’clock.”

  “Dinner?” Darius suggested.

  “Can’t. Have to try to make it up to Pittsburgh by eight.”

  “You should. We’re only in Morgantown. I thought you were here all week as a guest lecturer.”

  “I am,” Colin said. “But tonight, I want to try to catch the Matthews lecture at Carnegie Mellon on biological warfare. Wanna join me; we’ll get a late dinner at the ‘O’. Maybe.…” he winked. “Hit Crickets and watch some aging strippers.”

  Darius laughed. “Can’t. I want to finish grading these, and there’s an open mike night at the café. I have a couple new songs I wrote. It uh…it starts at ten….” Darius raised an eyebrow.

  “Lecture is two hours.” Colin looked at his watch. “Sign up late, I can make it.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Can I do harmonies?” Colin asked.

  Darius laughed.

  “Helps in picking up the girls.” Colin lifted his briefcase. “OK, I’m out of here. If I don’t make it tonight to hear you.…” He turned. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And so does a meal in the middle of the day.”

  “Lunch tomorrow.” Darius held up a hand. “I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You, too.” Colin began to ascend the stairs.

  Darius, with a look of enjoyment over his visit with Colin, lowered his head to his papers. It immediately lifted when he heard the slam of Colin’s foot.

  “Roach.” Colin scraped off his shoe. “Better call maintenance.” He continued on up the stairs.

  Shaking his head, Darius looked thoughtful and put down his pencil. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a guitar pick then extended a long arm to his guitar that perched on a stand. He lifted it to his lap, hummed a few bars, and then began to strum. Mid-song, he pulled back his hand and shook it. “Fuck.” He looked at the back of his hand. Directly behind his thumb was a spot of blood. “What the.…” He sprang up and dusted five roaches from his lap. “Holy shit.” Quickly, his head jerked to the hand that held the guitar neck. Three roaches raced up his hand. Hurriedly setting down the guitar, Darius flung the insects from him and stomped at the same time. “What the hell is going on?” He turned to where his guitar had been perched all day. As he neared the stand, he could see more cockroaches scurrying around. Like an investigator, he crept over. The stand was next to a bookcase and as Darius arrived, the roaches flew behind the case. “So this is where you’re comin
g from.”

  Grabbing on to the shelf, Darius slid it from the wall. When he did, his face went pale.

  ***

  Jesse definitely could have been titled the ‘Demolition Man’. He carried a large pick in one hand while toting a can of gasoline in the other.

  “Jesse.” Bret followed him. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of the…ants.”

  “By what? Burning down the house?”

  “Bret, the house is fifty feet away.”

  “Yeah, but those cars parked on the street aren’t. We are so getting fined.” She stopped on the top step, refusing to go further down.

  Jesse stood on the sidewalk. “Where?”

  “There.” Bret pointed.

  “Bret, I can’t see. Tell me where.”

  As if courting danger, Casper raced down the step, pointed, and then raced back up.

  “Thanks.” Jesse grumbled then shook his head. “I see about ten ants.”

  “There’s more,” Bret said. “Underneath the sidewalk.”

  “Well, we’ll find out. But first.…” Jesse began dousing the section of sidewalk with gasoline, then ran a small trail away from it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Bret, if there are gazillions of ants, I want to be ready when I lift this.”

  Bret didn’t believe he was ready.

  Curiosity brought her close enough to see him and prove him wrong. Jesse placed one end of the pick into the crack in the sidewalk, and his huge frame heaved up the section. The concrete slammed backwards onto the ground.

  “Holy fuck,” he exclaimed. “Bret, look at this. Casper, take that picture.”

  Bret inched closer; so did Casper. Remaining calm momentarily, Casper took the picture.

  He repeated his earlier sentiments. “Holy fuck.”

  The small two-foot section exposed more than dirt. It looked like black moving quicksand underneath where the concrete once lay.

  “Just tell me they are mixed with the dirt. Right?” Bret inquired.

  “They have to be. Let’s see.” Holding the pick, he placed it downward. He didn’t hit soil, it sunk. “Oh, my God,” Jesse exclaimed. “They have to be at least two feet deep. At least.”

  Bret screamed when, thick and fast, the ants blanketed their way up the pick.

  Jesse dropped it into the masses of ants, then jumped back and grabbed the gas can. He dumped gasoline as he diligently flung ants from his body. Faster than the ants, he cried out for the hose, lit a match and tossed it in the ant pit. He secured himself away from the flames, but not without his legs being covered by ants.

  He remained unnervingly rational. Bret on the other hand couldn’t even squeeze the nozzle on the hose. Luke took over in hosing down Jesse.

  The street got quite the show. Bret, Casper, and Andi were screaming. A small roaring fire was ablaze on the sidewalk, all while Luke hosed down Jesse. Someone probably thought Jesse was burned, because the paramedics were there within two minutes.

  The fire department showed up directly after and put out the little inferno. Just when they were about to chastise Jesse, they saw how many ants were on the sidewalk and floating about and changed their minds.

  They looked into it further. They put out the fire Jesse started, but then after labeling it contained, they ignited more flames. Because the ant farm didn’t descend two feet like Jesse claimed; it measured a depth of five feet.

  ***

  Some would argue her case, but Bret stood firm that she was a hypocrite in the truest form. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Primarily, her grossly exaggerated self-description was based on her career. Three nights a week, midnight to five, Bret worked as radio talk show host on a huge Christian broadcasting station, delivering biblical advice and quotes to live by in regards to viewer problems and daily events. Did she know The Bible that well? No. She hada kick butt producer who was fast on the keyboard with an awesome Biblical program.

  She wasn’t the religious woman she portrayed; she had a strong belief and faith in God, but just not staunch.

  A mother young in life, she considered herself blessed. If asked, motherhood was the one thing she did correctly.

  Her personal life…another story.

  She divorced the father of her children when the twins were born but didn’t meet Jesse until years after.

  Jesse Long was, without a doubt, an oxymoron—in Bret’s eyes. Long for a last name…short on thinking. He was big, strong, and at times almost handsome. His physical attributes were what attracted her to him right away, that and his weird sense of humor. It wasn’t his level of intelligence. Jesse operated on a different level than most when it came to brainpower application. Reading wasn’t something that he did. He never claimed to be an Einstein, which was an endearing quality. If a task was at hand, he thought obscurely and slowly before he did something. He listed things in his mind. Plotted them out. He tried to eliminate mistakes before they happened. Jesse’s biggest problem in life was his tendency to speak before thinking. Bret claimed he never put that thinking cap on straight, because he’d spout forth or act on his emotions first.

  Were they happy in their marriage? In a sense. They lived their lives as they should. Aside from her sons, the only other male that played a predominant role in Bret’s life was Chuck. In fact, Jesse introduced them. Chuck worked as a newspaper reporter for the Johnstown, Pennsylvania paper, but he was originally a disc jockey there. Chuck’s career record wasn’t the reason Jesse introduced him to Bret. Chuck was the brother of someone Jesse worked with. Since Bret was ‘Divine’, the top advice woman at a Christian station, this coworker asked Jesse if Bret could help Chuck. Chuck had recently lost his wife and two daughters in a car accident.

  Jesse obliged in the introduction and the rest was history. The friendship was in its third year. Bret and Chuck didn’t see each other nearly as often as they communicated through email and the phone. They had a strong friendship.

  The ant incident left her itchy and unable to nap before work, and Bret was anxious to get to the station early to access the resources the radio station had. However, she got caught up in an online chat with Chuck.

  “Shit,” she typed. “I gotta go. Show starts in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be listening.” He typed back. “I have to drive to Erie.”

  “Careful,” she jotted, then quickly signed off as her producer entered the room. “Hey, David,” she said.

  David gave her a sideways glance and odd look. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Bret waved her hand. “Just had a really strange thing happen today. That’s all. I wanted to look up some stuff on our resource center, but I got caught up with email.”

  “If you need me to help, let me know.”

  “I will. I’m probably going to mention it on the air. Maybe one of the listeners knows something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ants.”

  David snorted a chuckle. “Ants. Okay.” He whistled. “I’m going in the booth.” He pointed backwards then walked out.

  Bret shrugged off his ‘I could care less’ attitude and planned what she was going to say.

  The show started as usual: Music to news, then finally the actual ‘talking’ portion began somewhere around one AM. About that time of night, listener calls were minimal, and Bret was able to give attention to anyone who happened to be awake. Never did the lines illuminate with passion.

  It was Monday, the slowest night of the week, and there hadn’t been a single call. Bret glanced at the board, and all twelve lines were blank. Coffee in tow, she began.

  “All right, and we’re back. Before I started taking calls tonight, I want to share something with my listeners, in hopes that maybe some of you may have had similar experiences, or can explain this. Today…today was weird for me. I won’t mention what led up to the incident, but wait until you hear.”

  Then Bret shared the horrific tale of her ant trauma and the outcome.

  ***

&n
bsp; As promised, Chuck Wright had his radio tuned into Bret’s broadcast. If asked, Chuck would always say that Bret brought a smile back to his life after his tragedy. She made him laugh the way she gave her Godly advice. Chuck knew Bret well which made the show that much more enjoyable. He found humor instead of finding God the way that his family had hoped. It helped him and his attitude was better than the ‘God who?’ outlook the forty-two year old man had when his world came tumbling down.

  Chuck was multi tasking—as he called it—speakerphone on, driving, half listening to Bret, taking notes.

  Chuck snickered.

  “Who is that talking in the car?” George, on the phone, asked Chuck.

  “That’s the radio. My friend Bret. She’s talking bugs or something.” Chuck said. “God, I hope she doesn’t dedicate another hour segment to lice again.”

  “Why? Make you itchy?” George asked.

  “Me? No. I’m black. Black people don’t get lice.”

  “That’s right,” George said. “Hey, don’t you think it’s ironic? She’s talking about bugs, you’re going to Erie for that story.”

  Chuck blinked and stuttered as he responded, “Um, yeah. Yeah it is.”

  “What is she saying about bugs?” George questioned.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been talking to you.”

  “Maybe it’s related.”

  “Doubtful,” Chuck said. “I mean we were just online fifteen minutes ago. She would have said something if it was that big.”

  “Why don’t you listen? You never know.”

  “I can do that. I’ll call you when I get to Erie.” Chuck disconnected the call and reached for the radio. As soon as he did, he heard it.

  “The colony goes down at least five or six feet deep.” Bret said. “They haven’t a clue how far width-wise. Can you believe that many ants?”

  Chuck had to stop himself from slamming on the brakes as he drove down the highway. “Shit.” He hurriedly hit the turn signal, while speaking out loud in the car. “Yeah, Bret. Uh, I would think that was something you would tell me.” Shaking his head, he pulled over. Lifting the phone, Chuck dialed the direct number to Bret at the station.