Infinity Wheel Chapter Two

“Chew slow” thought Weety as he clutched the turkey sandwich from Miss Miriam. It was good medicine. “You have to take good medicine slow”. That’s what the doctors told him a long time ago. Bad medicine was different. It hit fast and hard and there was no choice.

Miss Miriam put tomatoes on it, folded the turkey all nice. She made it fancy for him on thick, soft bread. He tasted the air between thin, salty turkey slices, the perfect, juicy circles of tomato. Weety’s mouth danced and his little body woke up. It was a hug. Miss Miriam’s sandwich was love.

Weety crept around the back porch stairs and tried to squeeze past the screen door without making it creak. As little as he was, he still couldn’t do it.

Jasper rounded the corner and lunged at him. One hundred twenty pounds of Rottweiler bulk crashed him into the wall, then licked his face and hands and stomach. Weety laughed quietly, cupping his hand over Jasper’s eyebrows and petting him. He lay against the dingy wallpaper, Jasper on his lap. He fed his big friend the last morsel of love sandwich.

“Jasper, git! ”Aunt Sherry stormed into the kitchen, wet washcloth in hands. “I told you not to get dirty!”

Jasper jolted toward the kitchen. Weety sank back into the corner, bracing himself for Aunt Sherry’s attack of cleanliness. He closed his eyes and felt the scratchy terry cloth prickle across his skin. Aunt Sherry scrubbed his hands, face, feet, ears, back of his neck with precision and pressure. It wore poor Weety out.

“Check for ticks!” she yelled. She stood Weety on the kitchen table and stripped his shirt off. More scrubbing and yelling as Weety kept his eyes shut tight. “I’ll drive you to that woman’s house next time! God knows what you’ll pick up there. Your mama’d claw my eyes out if you get sick again!”

Aunt Sherry stopped. She looked at his fragile ribs, pale skin almost shiny stretched over his bones. The movement of his lungs, tenuous heartbeat. How could he live? How could he walk around? He never got bigger, never got fat, never got strong. The flame that always burned behind her eyes grew and her head hurt. Tears launched running her mascara.

“You need to get better, god dammit!” She slapped Weety on the back with the wet rag. He didn’t flinch. “Don’t I feed you special food? Give you the expensive vitamins? Dammit, Weety!”

She walked away leaving him standing on the kitchen table, eyes still closed. He would stand here until she plopped down in the tv room and put her stories on.

A few days a month, she did make him special food. It tasted like dirt in a good way. Like Weety was sitting in a garden patch with rabbits munching along. She would make a big pot of minute rice with tomato juice and beef. But most days. He sneaked bites off the liverwurst or baloney in the fridge. On Fridays, Mr. Hall down at Lawson’s would give him a snowball and a can of Spaghettio’s with franks. They didn’t sell too good. He used to take the big white vitamins from the doctor, but now he took purple and pink ones shaped like fruit. They tasted like spoiled candy, lots of sugar but not enough to cover the backwards belch baby aspirin flavor that followed.

When he first came to live here, Aunt Sherry was good to him. Jasper loved him right away. Sherry’s boyfriend Lonnie did not. Weety wasn’t their kid. He wasn’t even her kid. Why did Tanya dump him here and expect them to do all the work? And was he even good for anything? It’s not like he could help out. “Too sick to live, too dumb to die.” Lonnie would say, standing in the bathroom doorway while Weety took his bath.

Lonnie left a month after Weety’s mama dropped him off. Jasper, who was originally Lonnie’s dog, wouldn’t leave Weety’s side. One night, Lonnie had his drink on and lurched over Weety’s little pallet, “Give it up, ya little turd…I got a pillow with yer name on it…” Indeed, Lonnie had an Old Milwaukee in one hand and a throw pillow in the other.

Jasper came at Lonnie like a tornado, knocked his feet out from under him. Jasper sat on Lonnie’s chest and snarled. Lonnie was angry, ashamed, and scared. He flailed trying to reach anything to hit the dog.

“You traitor! Lousy rat dog!” Jasper did not move. He brought his teeth close to Lonnie’s face.

Lonnie grabbed a little foam bat that Weety had gotten as a present and laid a smack upside Jasper’s head.

And seeing the tiny, soft bat bounce off Jasper’s massive head, Weety giggled.

Lonnie turned and went after Weety, bat raised.

Jasper sunk his teeth into Lonnie’s calf and ripped muscle. Lonnie screamed and dropped on the floor, kicking and thrashing in spilt, bitter beer.

Jasper edged his body between Lonnie and Weety.

“Hell with this! Hell with you!”

“Lonnie, what’s wrong?” Aunt Sherry moaned sleepily as she shuffled around the corner. “Lonnie?”

“Hell with you too, Sherry! It’s your problem now! All yours!” Lonnie gimped out of the house in his torn sweatpants and drove off in Sherry’s truck.

Weety put out his arms. Sherry moved in to pick him up, but Jasper nudged in first and little Weety wrapped his tiny arms around Jasper’s neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in, smelling the wild fields Jasper had run through that morning. The dog slowed his panting and leaned his head against Weety’s chest. Jasper was good medicine.

“Look like somebody loves you, Weety.” Sherry shrugged. She knelt and began to wipe up the beer and blood with an old towel. “Somebody’s got to.”

No one ever heard from Lonnie again. Sherry reported the truck stolen. They found the truck abandoned two counties away, blood from Lonnie’s leg smearing the seat. And blood from Lonnie’s other body parts in the trunk.