Just Ed

                                    Just Ed by Kimberly A Fader

Ed Nelson’s given name was John, like his father, John Edward Nelson, but everyone had always just called him Ed. His brother, Jonathan Edward Nelson, was born two years after Ed but caught up quickly and, in no time, was taller and stronger. People called Jonathan “a born athlete,” bound to join their father on the Whalers football “Wall of Fame” outside the New London High School gym. Ed’s father christened Jonathan “Junior,”, although technically, rightfully, that honor had belonged to Ed. Ed figured his father took one look at his club foot and wanted a do-over.

He also figured that had his mother been more on top of things, rather than under the influence for the first year of his life, he might have received needed treatment sooner, and maybe his foot and his life would have turned out better. Ed guessed things also could have been worse. His mother sobered up, for the most part, before Junior came along, maybe seeing the damage alcohol could cause. She started taking Ed to his physical therapy appointments when she had time. The doc classified his deformity as mild, which to his father meant, “It’s no excuse, boy,” but to the kids at school, it was still fair game. By his teenage years, Ed learned to hide his foot under long pants and chunky boots. He could walk, but it bothered him if he had to stand too long, and he couldn’t run to save his life.

Ed’s parents didn’t push him to participate in sports after his embarrassing early fiascos on Pee Wee teams. But soon Junior came of age to represent the family in the New London sporting arena, and he kept the family hopping with his calendar of athletic expositions. Eventually, his parents allowed Ed to stay home alone, and he spent most of his time tinkering with the assortment of long-forgotten motorized vehicles in the yard. Even when his family returned, Ed usually kept to himself. He could only listen to his father heartily relive Junior’s latest conquests so many times before he wanted to smash something.

One hot August afternoon, a speckled dog with a crooked ear wandered into their yard, eagerly wagging his tail as if Ed was his long-lost friend. Ed gave him water and half of his peanut butter sandwich, and the dog he named Buddy stayed all day.

“Can I keep him?” Ed begged that night.

“Someone is probably looking for him,” His mom said.

“Not that ugly mutt,” His father scoffed.

Buddy followed Ed around and kept a low profile, which allowed him a stay of two weeks. Ed tried to housebreak him and clean up any accidents. But when school started, and Ed’s mom found the puddles, she said, “The dog has to go.” While Ed was at school, his father took Buddy to the pound. That afternoon, Ed walked home from the bus stop, lagging half a block behind his brother and his gang of admiring friends, as usual. Once they dispersed, Ed searched for Buddy’s wiggly greeting, but the yard was lifeless. He hung his head and slunk into the house. His family moved on without another word.

Ed’s only friend, Doug Decker, lived across town. Doug was scrawny, blond, and quiet like Ed. They suffered together through Reading Support.

“Speak up and stop mumbling!” Their coldhearted teacher admonished them, demanding they expose their ignorance. Ed appreciated how Doug never paid attention when he read, and Ed kept his eyes averted during Doug’s turn. When it was over, they scouted the hall looking both ways to make sure it was clear before slipping out of the remedial classroom, quickly closing the door behind them.

Ed visited Doug’s home and discovered two more reasons to like him. One was that Doug’s life did not trigger any envy. Doug was the only person he knew who had it worse than him. Mr. Decker not only detested his son, but it seemed that he hated their whole family and didn’t bother to hide it. You could hear him yelling from the sidewalk. Doug’s mother didn’t shout back but mumbled curses under her breath. Her delicate face would have been pretty if not for the constant cigarette pulling her lips into a lopsided frown.

Instead of pretending that his son didn’t exist, like Ed’s father, Mr. Decker worked Doug, barking orders like that drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket. Although Doug jumped upon command, Mr. Decker kept hollering, face reddened, nostrils flared, and eyes bulging. Even when Ed helped Doug with the list of chores, Mr. Decker griped that they were too soft and slow and their work was “half-ass.”

“What’s with your dad?” Ed asked.

“I don’t know,” Doug said, shrugging. “My mom said he’s a dry drunk.”

“What’s that?”

“He had to stop drinking, with the DUI charges and all, but he’s still a mean SOB.”

Ed dreaded school, but he realized that for Doug, it must have been a relief.

Another reason Ed liked Doug was that their friendship allowed him time with Doug’s younger sister, Tina. Doug’s slight build, narrow jaw, and straw-colored hair looked much better on her. Tina’s charming smile concealed her sneaky side. She walked right past her mother, smuggling wrapped butterscotch candies up her sleeve to take to the boys in the yard. By the time they were thirteen, she snuck cigarettes out in the same way.

“Your brother is in my class,” Tina told Ed.

“Oh,” Ed said, bracing for the comparison that usually followed. 

“He’s kind of a show-off.”

“Yeah,” Ed agreed with a half-smile, and from then on, she was the only one for him.

There were others for Tina, though. When she entered high school, she drew the attention of upperclassmen, including the alpha male of that animal kingdom, quarterback Matt Ferguson. He embodied testosterone with his shaven, square jaw and baritone voice, which Ed thought sounded too similar to Mr. Decker’s.

“Matt is cute and all, but he’s insanely possessive,” Tina confided to Ed, who was so far below Matt in the high school hierarchy he didn’t register as a threat. The more Ed heard, his concern grew. One day, Tina took off her jacket and showed Ed the fingerprint bruises on both arms. Ed tried to alert Tina’s brother, but by high school, Doug had gravitated to the druggy crowd, which included kids that used to taunt him in elementary, and they didn’t hang out much anymore. Even when Doug came around, he didn’t seem all there.

One Friday, around midnight, Tina called Ed from a house party.

She was crying and sounded drunk.

“You gotta come get me, Ed. Please. Matt is looking for me, and he’s real mad.”

Ed lifted the keys to his mother’s car off the hook and slipped out the back door. He had taught himself to drive, having taken the car out for joy rides while waiting for someone to find the time to take him to the DMV for his learner’s permit.

Ed drove to the agreed-upon corner. He heard Matt in the distance calling for Tina, and his heart raced. Where was she? Tina stood up from her hiding place in the bushes. Her eye makeup was streaking down her cheeks, and she smelled like a brewery. She jumped in the car and ducked down.

“Let’s go.”

Ed hit the gas, wanting to avoid any confrontation with Matt.

“Take you home?” He asked.

“I can’t go home like this. My dad would kill me. They think I’m at Mia’s tonight.”

Ed took Tina to his house, feeling both protective and excited. They tiptoed through the back door, where Ed replaced the keys, and then to his bedroom. He smoothed the covers of his unmade bed and offered it to her, unrolling a sleeping bag on the floor for himself.

Ed lay in the dark next to a passed-out Tina and thought this could be the start of something. Maybe after tonight, Tina would see him differently. He drifted off with a smile on his face.

Around 2:00 am, Ed awoke, blinking and remembering the night’s events. He sat up and peered over to his bed, which was now empty. Maybe Tina had needed to use the bathroom. When she didn’t return after ten minutes, he crept down the hall to look for her.

The only noises he heard in the dark house were the ticking from the clock in the hall, and a rustling sound and muffled giggling coming from the closed door of his brother’s bedroom.

Ed listened for a second, hoping that maybe, but no. It was Tina.