Hangman's Hill

July 14, 1977 – 11:17am

Relentless humid air filled the empty field, and miraculously, not a single branch was melting off the only tree atop Hangman’s Hill. Wild Violets and Forget-Me-Nots carpeted the plain with pink and purples so violently that a stranger might believe the color green was satanic. The Tree of Dreams, dead since the founding of the town of Strawberry 200 years ago, casts shadows of bare branches over the weed flowers who only wish to dance with their neighbors. The closer a person stands before Dreams,

they notice that all light refuses to reflect off the arid bark. A black hole right in the world’s smallest midwestern town. “Clouds must’ve called in sick today,” Andy began to scream as he fell behind Walter, “not a chance-a-shade, Walt!”

The deceptively inviting sky commanded the sun’s rays to spread some rosiness across little Andy Robinson’s cheeks as he tried his best to keep up with not so little Walter Johnson. Andy, the smallest student in their grade, seemed to stop growing in the third year of elementary school. One boring day a while back, Walter and Andy strolled into Poppa Mack’s Convenience Store and measured Andy to be just a few hairs taller than four stacked 2 liters of diet soda-pop. However, Andy’s voice was not as small, and it tended to get him in quite some trouble. The last instance, when Fred Neal picked on Andy for having freckles and red hair, he called Fred a shit-eater so fast that not even our teacher, Miss Brandy, knew how to respond before Fred placed his knuckles across Andy’s chin. Walter on the other hand has been over six feet tall for the last few years, as he made his momma and daddy proud playing varsity football his freshman year and scoring a touchdown in his first State Championship game. With his size, Walter was Andy’s designated security, so once class was over, Fred and Walt had a long talk before they all went to Algebra.

Walter, with much excitement to get out of the sun, ran leagues ahead. But now and again made sure that Andy and his denim overalls were not too far behind. “Almost there, now,” Walter eventually shouted back, “and we can cool off in the shade!”

“What shade, you horse’s ass!” Walter looked over the naked branches of the Tree of Dreams and couldn’t help but laugh at his stupidity and his best friend’s impatience. Moments later, both kids arrived at the roots of all imaginary evil. Andy bent over and placed his hand against the large trunk as he managed to wheeze out, “Good to see ya again, Dreams.” He patted the wood and laid his face against the cool bark as Walter took his shirt off and warmly embraced the Tree. “I don’t think we’ll ever know why Dreams’ wood stays so cold all the time, but I’ll be damned if she’s not a better friend than you for it, Walt.” Walt almost reached for Andy to slap him, but Dream’s skin was so cold he was in a trance.

“Too bad Dream’s don’t have anything to drink,” Walter moaned as he took his seat against his newfound shield, “my mouths so dry I can taste the sands in Egypt.”

“Lucky for you, I brought us somethin’ special!” Reaching inside of his overalls, Andy removed a sealed mason jar of liquid.

“What the hell is that?”

“Sweet Tea, son! My Momma made it fresh this morning!”

“It ain’t fresh if it’s been hangin’ around your armpit all afternoon! I bet the rim of that glass’ll taste like a skunk’s cologne.”

“Suit yourself, cowboy,” and Andy quickly shot down his trouser tea. Burping in satisfaction, the boys sat still for a handful of minutes, begging for a sweep of wind to roll through, however the weed flowers were too shy to dance. Walter began sifting his hands around the large base of The Tree of Dreams for reasons unknown and was oddly disappointed when he found nothing in particular. “Is there a reason you wanted to come out here? Usually, you want to talk about somethin’ or someone that’s been rubbin’ you the wrong way.” Walter ran his fingers through his hair to pull back the blonde shagginess out of his eyes. Why did Walt want to come sit on Hangman’s Hill? Did he just genuinely miss Dreams? Did he just want to spend some time with his best buddy?

“Somethin’ told me that we needed to come out here.”

“How long is that going to be though? “My Pap’s coming over to fry up some Walleye he caught and-” Walter interrupted by pulling out some sandwiches from his back pocket, tossing one over to him. “So, we can keep bologna in our butt cheeks, but tea in the breast pocket is drawing the line?”

With a sternness in his voice Walter said, “Andy, I don’t know what’s what, but we’re supposed to sit here until we figure somethin’ out. I didn’t come out here with no plan or havin’ somethin’ on my thoughts, I just need this, okay?” Andy became worried since the last time he saw Walter this upset, his granddad went to heaven with his gramma. He studied Walt, trying to notice if anything was standing out more than usual. He has a little bit of stubble on his chin, but what boy-man like Walter doesn’t? He and Sadie-Rae hadn’t been dating for a while, so there was no broken heart. His square jaw lacked a tremble, his blue eyes weren’t darker than normal, and his tanned skin wasn’t battered or bruised. What could possibly be wrong with him? Andy began to tire trying to figure it out, so he laid back against Dream and shut his eyes. Before he knew it, the chirping of crickets jolted him awake and the moonlight faded the weed flowers. Walter just took the last bite of his sandwich and placed the empty zip lock bag in Andy’s empty tea jar when they both locked eyes. “How long was I out, Walt?”

July 14, 1977 – 10:24 pm

“A couple days passed on, but you didn’t miss too much.” Andy laughed and sat up as his stomach began to whine. He reached around for his sandwich but had a hard time finding it.

“Where’s my bologna?”

“I got extra hungry,” Walter said casually. “Since you were sleepin’, I didn’t want the flies to get it.”

“I hadn’t a clue flies could open Zip-Lock baggies, Walter! Must be a new Kentucky horse fly I didn’t hear ’bout on the local news. You’re my savin’ grace,” Andy began to look around assuming Walter was joking, “but seriously, where is it?”

“I told you,” casual once more, “I ate it.”

Andy stood up quickly, red in the face, “You mean to tell me I missed out on Walleye AND your butt cheese sandwich just so I could sit out here and stare at you all night! What the hell’s the matter with you, Walt?” Walter immediately stood up with little amusement on his face.

“You better watch your mouth, Andy.”

“No! You know, I ain’t afraid of you like the other kids! I’ve been friends with you too long to know how soft you are! There ain’t a damn thing you can-” Walter interrupted by shoving Andy to the ground. Andy, slightly dazed, glanced up to see the moonlit outline of a figure that appeared to be a grown man. Walter was unrecognizable with rage. The two lifelong friends have had some serious battles before, but Andy was able to instantly recognize when the beginning of a war stood before him. Shocked, and slightly scared, “You…you actually pushed me. Been friends for thirteen years and you never even looked at me funny, but now you pushin’ me around like all the others? What did I do to you, Walter?” Walter was taken aback when the light of the moon glimmered in the single tear rolling down Andy’s cheek. What had Andy done? Nothing, that’s what. But what other choice did Walter have?

“You need to get out of here,” Walter mumbled, “and you gotta promise me you never come back here.”

“Walter, what-”

“There ain’t nothin’ left for us to do here anymore, got that? We’re done. We can’t be friends no more. I got too much growin’ up to do and hangin’ around like this ain’t gonna help none. Get on out here before I hurt you for real.” Andy slowly stood up and had the hardest time getting Walter to look him in the eyes.

“Look, Walt…I ain’t mad about the sandwich, I was just bein’ an ass, that’s all.”

“Get the hell outta here, Andy.” Walter began making a fist.

“Walter, I don’t wanna-” Walter’s fist connected with Andy’s sunburnt cheek harder than the wooden spoon his momma cracks him over the hand with when he tries to steal a biscuit before dinner. Andy fell to the ground once more and stared all around the Tree of Dreams waiting for the branches to reach down and help him. Did the frosted darkness resting in the trunk of the Tree somehow transfer to Walter and make his heart cold? Couldn’t be. Walter’s fist hitting his face was scorching. The moon, floating in two separate places, spun around and around Andy’s eyes as he lay on his back and collected himself. With a rattled brain, Andy rolled over on his stomach in time to watch Walter begin running back to town.

July 14, 1977 – 11:03 pm

The night sky blanketed the aroma of hope and wonder that normally rested atop Hangman’s Hill. The Tree of Dreams usually brought the best out of people. Andy’s Paw proposed to his Momma right where he currently lay. Sarah Longacre kissed Andy on the full moon of last June under these dead branches. The best jokes on this side of the Mississippi were spoke of and laughed about. The winds carried away the sobs and tears of the townsfolk who waddled here tired and sad. Folklore and fishing tales were thrown about. Whoever had dreams of leaving Strawberry behind and making it big out West or finally starting a family were prayed upon. Hundreds of love letters, poetry, songs of God’s grace, and diary entries have been written and read at the peak of this hill, but all it had to offer now was silence. The crickets refused to sing. The thumping of Walter’s boots in the weeds was gone. Andy’s breathing was nearly mute.

After dozens of minutes of laying still, Andy reached for his pocket-watch and the, now cracked, face revealed the time to be two hours past his curfew. Reluctantly picking himself up, he moved as fast as he could back to Strawberry to get home. He just finished taking a beating from what used to be his best friend and now he gets to take another from his Paw. Andy reached the outskirts of town and slowed to a walk down Main Street. He told himself he was already late; running isn’t going to make him any less of it. Chipped brick and peeling paint riddled most of the business-laden town square whose large bay windows made the streetlights fill the entirety in an orange haze. He caught his reflection in the window of Molly’s Antiques but moved along quickly once his eyes locked with an ancient Raggedy Anne doll. Tim Barton: Attorney at Law, Pinkerton Family Dentistry, Saul’s Soda Shop & Ice Cream. He counted the different storefronts like he was counting down the minutes until he had finally reached a shitty ending to an even shittier day. Raising a hand to his right cheek, he felt the swelling bubble and winced at the stinging. He took a punch from Walter Johnson. State champion, every girl’s dream, pretty farm boy: Walter Johnson. A feat for most, but a defeat he could hardly stand to bear.

Leaving downtown, he reached his street and saw the porch lights of his house showboating the freshly painted blue shutters his Paw spent the day touching up. Andy’s head hung low as he glanced from house to house along the way and noticed that most everyone was awake. Miss Brandy was on the phone and pacing throughout her living room. Four doors down, he noticed Sarah Longacre sitting by her bedroom window that overlooked Maple Street. Andy paused for a glance over as he watched Sarah tying her chestnut hair in a ponytail. Once she looked up to see him standing there, she blew him a kiss and slowly closed her blinds. Kissing it to make it better, unfortunately didn’t work. More and more families were awake, some not as frantic as the others. Some windows did not show a single soul, only the television flashing images of late-night news. As the first step of his porch squeaked, he was surprised to find out that his Paw hadn’t met him outside to grab him by the collar yet. Slowly opening the door, he found his parents inside sitting next to one another on the couch who shared the same back-and-forthness that the rest of the neighborhood seemed to have.

His Momma and Paw stood up quickly, his Paw placing his Marlboro out before standing, and all Andy had in him to do was stand there and wait to get whipped. “Son,” his Paw began after noticing his battle scar, “what happened?”

“Walt and I were playing at the top of Hangman, sir. I wanted to try and climb to the top of Dream,” Andy mumbled, “I didn’t make it, but my face made it to the ground pretty quick like.”

“Oh, dear,” Momma said, “let me go get you something to bring the swellin’ down.” She rushed to the kitchen and Paw motioned for Andy to take a seat, not just on the couch, but in his favorite recliner. Slowly falling into the warped leather, Andy could feel the phantom welts on his butt cheeks from the last time Paw caught him sitting in his chair, but he felt it was only right to do what his parents told him to do, so he rested. Andy was able to get a good look at his father. He was a man with unkept five o’clock shadow. Eyes carrying far too many bags, far too many places. Silver streaks throughout the side of his head giving him that salt and pepper shade, but his momma claimed it made his Paw look more gentlemanlike. He wasn’t in his usual garb. He took the day off from building houses for others to work on their house for momma, but his leathered skin from the hottest summer in decades showed a history of a hardworking lineage. A tad on the shorter side, he carried himself as if he was ten feet tall. His Paw’s natural looks reminded him of Marlon Brando. That is, if Marlon Brando had a habit of chain smoking and spoke with a thick Kentucky accent.

Momma came back with a bag of frozen peas, “There you go, baby,” and she sat across from him next to Paw on the couch. Her red hair resting neatly upon her shoulders contrasted with her green eyes so well. Soft and delicate, like the flowers he walked through on the way home, he always loved being near her.

“So, you were hangin’ out with Walter tonight, son?” The word son was muffled as Paw had a cigarette dangling in the corner of his mouth as he reached for his Zippo.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he mention anythin’ to ya? Seem funny at all?”

Fuck yeah, he seemed funny.

“No, sir, I don’t reckon so.” Both of his parents stared at one another, almost hoping the other would continue. “Is everything okay? Is Walter in trouble? I can call Miss Johnson right now; I don’t want him gettin’ in trouble ’cause of me.”

“No, son, nothin’ like that at all,” Paw exhaled, “but there is somethin’ about Walter that we wanted to talk to ya ’bout. Son,” it was hard for his father to talk. Strange considering this man was in charge of thirty grown men on a construction site every day. Both his parents almost seemed, shockingly enough, horrified. He took a deep drag from his Marlboro and pressed on, “Son, do you know a girl, Sadie-Rae, that you and Walter go to school with?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you seen her in school as of late?”

Now that he had come to think of it, “No, sir. I haven’t.”

His momma began to silently cry once she saw the nervousness on Andy’s face. Paw rested his hand on Momma’s knee and whispered in her ear to let her know she could step out if she needed to. Momma reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and retreated to the kitchen. “Son, I don’t really know how to tell ya this because I ain’t ever been in this kinda predicament before, so I’m just gonna come out and say it.” He shoved his cigarette butt into the ashtray and swiftly pulled another one out of his pack with his teeth and lit the end. “Walter and Sadie-Rae are gonna have a baby, son.”

“What do you mean, ‘Gonna have a baby?’ Walt’s only fourteen, Paw,” Andy began to say angrily, “he can’t pass math class and he’s supposed to help Sadie-Rae have a baby?” Paw, for the first time that Andy could remember, had nothing to say. “So, what’s this mean for Walter?”

“Well, nothin’ much really. Walter is gonna continue goin’ to school and playin’ football. Sadie is bein’ taken to an all-girls school out of state up north. Her parents called us right before you got home. I’m not too sure if Walter knows about the plan yet, but unfortunately for him he doesn’t have any say. We tried to call Mr. and Mrs. Johnson after we got off the phone with Sadie’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, I mean, but we couldn’t get a hold of ’em.” Andy’s father watched the desolate look basking across his son's face and he couldn’t help but to think Andy was making him miss out on something. The boy didn’t show up two hours late because he fell out of some old tree, and he certainly wasn’t having another afternoon filled with bad teenage choices like he normally did. No. Andy was drained. His stomach growled, his face was growing a second skull with a massive lump someone gave him, and there’s been a dozen times he almost cried once he walked through the door and he’s only been home for not even ten minutes. Mr. Robinson knew his son all too well. “Son, I know this news is pretty big, but I can’t help but to feel like there’s somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me.” Andy had a hard time swallowing his tears this time as one slipped away from him, running down his cheek and resting on his chin. “Look, son; I know I’m hard on ya, but this ain’t one of them times, okay? I need you to tell me everythin’ you got bottled up so we can figur’ some things out, is all.”

Andy let him have it all. From the moment Andy and Walter had gotten together this morning, up until he made it inside of the front door. His Paw knows about the fight, knows about him sleeping off most of the afternoon, knows about the coldness lurking within the skin of the Tree of Dreams. Every second that Andy had access to today, his father now held in his own hands. Plenty of tears were let loose by Andy and his Paw reached across the coffee table to scoop him up and hug him. For the first time today, for the first time in a while, there was no mask of bravery Andy needed to wear; he could just be little Andy Robinson. Paw figured there was enough excitement for one evening, so he made sure to personally tuck Andy into bed. Paw left his door open with the living room lamp dimly lit. Random shadows of shapes decorated his bedroom walls. He hated the dark, but not as much as he hated how his best friend couldn’t have just been honest with him. “Damn it, Walt,” Andy whispered to himself. “Why? Why did it have to end like that?” Thankfully, he fell asleep before he spent the entire evening trying to search for the answer.

August 8, 1979

Two years have passed. Nobody has heard a single thing from Walter. He was gone by the next morning after the night Andy received the news of Walter’s baby and everyone in town assumed he was headed for Chicago to get a head start on finding the school Sadie-Rae’s parents dropped her off at. Walter left the town of Strawberry behind to place his family before himself, and for that, Andy couldn’t be mad at him. Any father would have done the same thing. The only difference between Walter and the other dads is that Walter is no longer a father. Sadie’s parents made the difficult decision for her to have the baby taken away and not by means of dropping it at an orphanage. They also decided it would be in Sadie’s best interest to stay at the private school in Chicago since a town like Strawberry was too rural for a family deeply pocketed in the coal industry. Andy guesses that Walter found all of this out. He has his ways of getting ears to listen on his behalf. Walt was too ashamed to return to Strawberry to face the town that only worried about his well-being.

For Andy, life remained the same. Secretly kissing Sarah Longacre at the base of the Tree of Dreams and pissing Fred and the other kids off at school. Andy had taken the last two years deciphering why Walt had to leave the way he did. If Andy had known what was happening, they could have spent that entire night coming up with a game plan trying to figure out how he could be a dad and still be a kid. Andy knows now that then, Walter already known his life would never remain the same. There were days when Andy let anger consume him with moments of lapsed judgement as he sprinted to the top of Hangman’s Hill and kicked the roots of the dead tree that seemed responsible for ending a friendship. There were months where he blamed himself for not being a best of friend enough that Walter could have trusted with news as large as that. As his momma said, guilt is one of the worst accessories to wear. Most importantly, Andy missed his friend. When Sarah was not around, Andy had to sit at Dreams alone. He tried catching frogs the last couple of seasons since Walt left, but that lost its magic too. Damn, he just wanted his best friend back.

Much like underpants, friendships are constantly changing. At least that’s what he told himself on the days he missed Walt the most. With Walter gone, however, Andy became a lot closer with his Paw, which was something to be thankful for. With his rotten luck though, Paw received a promotion that required out of state travel quite a bit. He always hated it when his father was about to leave because that’s when his mother would pick the most fights between the two of them. Momma would jump his bones about not mowing the lawn between a certain time or not using a particular barbecue sauce for the ribs he spent all day smoking. The two of them would fight up until the moment he left for a new construction site, but after a couple of days without the chain-smoking hillbilly (as she so much enjoyed calling him) around the house, her tears could’ve flooded the hardwood floors. Within these moments of confusion, sadness, and heartache, Andy noticed a pattern that seemed all too familiar.

For some people, it’s a whole lot easier to get angry at someone you love than to tell them goodbye.