5868 words (23 minute read)

Building A Fortress

Building a Fortress

*

Summer’s rays beamed down through a sea blue sky disturbed only by black spots of wayward birds. Jacob loved the summer and he stood on the back lawn admiring the greenness of the land, loving the feel of the beating sunshine on his easily tanned skin. He looked at his castle, the one place where he felt truly at ease with life. A small smile lit up his face, but just a bit, he couldn’t arise too much suspicion in the Dragon; couldn’t let him know that even in this bog of despair there was a stronghold that protected the young squire.

Jacob walked over to the tree house, the newly green lawn full of sharp but soft blades of grass that made the crunch noise when Jacob took his steps to the ladder. Jacob had a small backpack slung over his shoulder and he hitched it up a little tighter as he scaled the wooden ladder up to the top.

There was no door in the house, it was just covered with a nondescript brown blanket, stapled to the top of the door frame, frayed a bit on the sides and beaten up, but serving its purpose. It kept it warm enough during evening’s chill while also letting in the occasional breeze to cool summer’s heat.

Jacob pushed the blanket aside and entered into his favorite place in his complicated little boy world. When he first entered the house a year ago, there was nothing in it, but a blank floor; he would have to make it his own obviously and he set out to do that immediately. Jacob sat down on a small wooden chair that was on one side of the house, put down his back pack and thought back to the fateful day when the construction had begun.

The house unbelievably had been built by the Dragon; the ultimate irony in the boy’s twisted world. Jacob had always wanted one and in passing had said so to his mother. Nothing pressing or anything, just tidbits like, “Mom, it would be cool to have a tree house. Just a place to put my stuff, get away, you know?” He of course said this when dad wasn’t around, he could only imagine the abusive taunts he would have received than.

Mom had replied with, “I will think about it son, I’m not sure how to even go about building it. You know…… your dad would probably have to do it.” Once that was said, Jacob figured it was over before it started. There was no way the Dragon would do something like that for me, he thought. It was hard enough just getting him to give money to mom so that they could see a movie or buy new shoes; why in the hell would he build his only son a tree house?

Jacob never said another word. A few weeks after that, Beth had been rummaging through his room and found a scrap book full of drawings Jacob had done. In it was a rough sketch of the tree house atop the massive oak that stood watch on their back lawn. The detail was amazing, she had no idea Jacob could draw like this. Standing in the doorway was a little boy, sword in hand, a serpent below him on the lawn, grasping for the boy, flames thundering from the mouth. She paged through the book and found more drawings; one just the boy in the tree house, sitting and reading a book; another taking a nap on a small couch. The final one, the young boy looking out a window of the tree house, a man with a bottle in hand, pointing and yelling at the old oak and its new resident; she closed the book and cried that day; and vowed to do this for her son.

*

The twisted game would take trickery and deceit; qualities foreign to the honorable mother, but this was her mission and concessions would be made. Theirs was a volatile household and this roll of the dice would have to be handled delicately.

The bastard that he was, his one gift was his hands; carpenter by trade who also dabbled in other jobs including auto mechanic and plumber, if something was broken, he could fix it. He could build anything out of wood, brick, metal, you name it. Too often he drank the money away he earned from under the table projects and there were numerous instances of bill collectors calling their home looking for the cash for the light bill or car payment. But he always was able to scrounge enough cash to pay their mortgage, and with her part time work at the library bringing in cash here and there, as well as free books for her son, maybe they could afford to buy wood to make the house.

. The day she took the plunge she took a strong drink of vodka, something she never did to, to steady the nerves and boost the confidence. Another foreign action from a woman of integrity: but needed, anything for her son; the question was, would it work?

*

Jacob sat on the small kitchen chair that had been given to him; battered and bruised, kind of like him and his mom. One of those not funny/funny things that always made Jacob laughed to himself. Warped but true, that was his life.

He looked up at the ceiling, his mother had made this happen for him; he still couldn’t believe it. The day that she actually talked about it with dad, Jacob was staying late at school to work on a project. He had shown some promise in writing and a local community college professor, Mr. King, was offering some extra project time with Jacob to go over his writing; what he liked about writing; what it meant to him; and if he wanted to pursue it down the road. For such a young student to be given this special attention was wonderful news on the home front. Mom was ecstatic and couldn’t contain her joy for her little boy.

Of course this wouldn’t matter much to the Dragon, who could give a shit if his son was a writer, a teacher, or a bump on the road. Mom knew this, but figured if she was to get this house built for her boy this could be the ticket to his hopes to a sanctuary from their home; it could make her boy’s life a virtual paradise compared to what they had to undergo day after day.

That day dad came home from a job working on a deck for a rich family in the “better” part of town. On days like this it always put him in a dour mood. Working the wood for a family that had everything that his family didn’t have was a recipe for disaster when he came home from the job. They needed a back porch added to their home, an addition that would be pretty pricey if they went through a local construction outfit but because dad was an “independent”, he could charge a smaller price and pocket plenty under the table profit. It was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise dismal existence with him.

He finished the job in four days and it was a big day for the Dragon’s peasants. He came home with cash in his pocket and an unusual state of playfulness in his eyes. This rarely happened in the 10 years mom and dad had been together and when he stepped through the door with that devilish charm mom knew she had a chance.

He brought in with him a bag of groceries and a smaller paper bag containing alcohol, he so often brought that jug of happiness home, especially on special occasions when he had a bit of the green stuff lining pockets. He dropped both sacks on the kitchen table and plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs that surrounded their modest household furnishings. “I made a killing today,” he was more than happy, he was ecstatic like she had never seen him before and she knew she had to pounce quickly.

“Would you like me to pour you a drink sweetie,” she said to him, peppering her speech with teenage girl charm; she knew he had been already drinking today, probably stopped at the one of the bars on the way back from his conquest, and putting a bit more happy juice inside the serpent might make this go even smoother than she anticipated. “Sure babe, get me a cup of orange juice if you got it and don’t be chintzy on the vodka.”

She took the bottle of vodka from the paper sack and a tall glass from the cupboard. She put four ice cubes in the glass, just like he liked it, a bit of orange juice, then three shots of vodka. Multiple shots in one drink, a previous hour of four or five beers, a sense of sticking it to those assholes who live in the “better” part of town, she knew the math and this equation was a recipe for success, or at least her best shot.

“Here you go honey, drink up, I’m so proud of you,” she said in an artificial tone that he would take as congratulation, but actually was meant for more underhanded reasons. He took a huge gulp of the drink, nearly half and slapped the glass down the table. “You should be a bartender baby; you mix better than those assholes at the bar.” “Thanks baby, I do my best for you,” she replied and in her head she was working up the nerve to ask for the tree house. How would she do it, this is one time in her life when she just could not fail.

Than it just hit her, the rich families in town, the job he just did, the bitterness of a class warrior; it would be perfect. It seemed almost too simple. She got herself a glass of orange juice, put a couple shots of her own into the glass and took a sip. Dragon looked at her with a bit of surprise, she rarely drank, he’d always had thought she was uppity that way which really pissed him off. But there she was drinking away at the table with him, sharing in his accomplishment and basking in his glory. “Maybe the old girl isn’t a bitch after all,” his alcoholic mess of a brain thought.

She ran over what to say in her mind quickly, not wanting to miss out on this too fleeting opportunity. “It’s kind of funny that you were working on a house on the rich side of town, Jacob and I had been talking and some of the kids at school had said how their folks had built them tree houses. They bragged about how big, how great they were; really kind of irked both of us, like they were better than us; the nerve right?”

Of course she didn’t think this way, she wasn’t bitter or spiteful, she did the best with what she had and never complained. But this was all a game to get her boy what he wanted and she was willing to use every trick up her sleeve to get the job done. If it meant being spiteful and bitter like HIM, so be it. All is fair in love and war, which was never truer than right now.

The Dragon took another swig from his drink, set it down and looked at his wife; the witch’s brew was starting to work its magic and he was feeling the effects. “The nerve, them people thinking they are better than us working folks; fuck them, they are no better than us.”

Mom knew she hit the jackpot when those words were spoken from his lips. Now it was time to zero in for the kill. “Jacob said they make fun of him a lot at school, of his clothes, of where he lives, and than the tree house that was the kicker; just pissed me off the people in this town thinking that about us.”

Another trick, one step closer to the Dragon’s jewels; Jacob was a loner who had few friends, he never said too much about school or what people said to him, so Mom was making this up as she went along. Jacob’s mama was a clever one and when she saw fresh meat and a victory she would aim directly for the jugular. In her estimation her husband’s was ripe for a clean swipe of the blade and she pulled back her arm with the steel.

“Assholes, the nerve, my boy is just as good as any of ‘em. We can have what they have,” the simmering anger in his voice apparent, and he accented this with a hard thump of his palm on the table.

Mom knew she had won the game. She couldn’t believe it, her plan had worked; a drunken man with a bit of the green stuff in his pocket was going to build their boy a tree house. And not because he loved their son that was obvious; she would have liked to think that was the reason, but she knew better. This pub going, bullshit spewing, hateful man was doing it because of old fashioned pride. Pride, the word meant so much to the male of the species. She thought about the vision of the prideful king of the jungle, the lion, lying around on the hot desert sand, while the women of the jungle did the real work, hunting for the other lions, taking care of the young. But that King Lion, he thought he was better than everyone and he would show it. He would roar the loudest and show who wore the loudest mane in the jungle.

Her bit of sorcery had worked and the king of this dysfunctional jungle was going to build the one thing that would make her son feel better than any other present she could buy him. Now that the drunk was ready and willing to take the plunge, she decided to get this project going as soon as possible.

“How should we go about this, who should we call for the wood?” she asked, at the same time pouring him another drink to fuel the anger that would build the fortress.

She placed the glass in front of her husband and he greedily took it in his hands, like Gollum gazing at the Ring. He put his worn, skillful, painful, hand on the glass and drank the contents in one large swig. The warm poison went down his gullet with a burn that most people would have not been able to handle, but of course this wasn’t a man, this was a Dragon, who valued his liquid treasure more than anything. It was the elixir that kept his juices flowing and powered his exploits of greatness; at least that is what the jagged signals were saying in his head.

After that swig his power was in full force. “Honey, I will call Bob Richards right now and get the wood we need. He owes me a few favors and should give me a good deal on the wood.”

He dialed his cell phone, waited a few seconds and Bob answered.

“Bob, this is Jake Christianson. Yep…yep…family is doing fine, say, I’m looking to build a tree house for my boy and was in need of some wood. You think you could throw some of yours my way?”

Bob was a local good supplier in town and Jake had known him for years, knew he had a soft spot for kids. Him and his wife couldn’t have kids, so on the few occasions that Jake had felt like being a “family”, they had ventured over to Bob and his wife’s house for dinner. They treated Jacob like he was their own, asking him about school, feeding him fresh apple pie, they even bought him an action figure for his collection. Jacob loved the few times he had spent over there and the Dragon knew this. He didn’t necessarily like Bob, and even though Bob frequently hooked up Jake with the best deals in town, it was many a night when a drunken man came home bitching about that “cheap bastard” Bob Richards. Mom would just listen in silence, knowing this wasn’t an uncommon theme for her husband, he called no one friend. Oh, he had a buddy here and there from the bar, but that was the extent of his relationship tree.

The anticipated response was given. “Of course Jake, I’m actually still open for another half hour so if you come over now, I can get you everything you will need.”

As Mom listened to her husband working is magic on the phone, she felt bad for her role in this game. Yes, she had heard him before talk this way to Bob, just to secure a good deal on wood for a project and the couple time they had been over to their house, it was purely to keep the relationship kosher. But she liked Bob and his wife and her husband was so blatant in his lying (the lying she only knew about) that her stomach turned over while the conversation flew.

When finished, Jake asked for another shot, and mom happily complied. He drank it down heartily then said in his most drunken glory, “I’m going to Bob’s honey, I’m starting tonight; see you in an hour.”

And that was it, he got in his pickup, and roared out of the driveway on a mission of wood, creation, and hopefulness. Of course this is what mom thought of this mission. To Dragon it was just another treasure of spite to hoard over. Mom turned to the bottle of vodka and had one more drink.

*

When he came back that evening, the truck was loaded with wood, solid oak, the seeds needed for the fortress to come to fruition. He had of course stopped at the bar before he came home, and mom could smell it on his breath, and the smoke on his clothes. It was a common scent for him, his cologne of choice, as the only thing he wore that had any semblance of fresh scent was a cheap aftershave.

She didn’t bother asking where he was or why he took so long. He was a bit drunker than before, but still in that energetic mode fueled by spite. He came inside and got his tool belt out of the closet. He strapped it around his waist, took one more swig of the beer that he had brought with him, and then went back outside. It was a beautiful, slightly cool summer evening and the sun was still shining its rays down through the few clouds floating in the sky. Jake quickly made several trips taking the wood from the back of the truck to the back yard. Mom watched him through the back window, amazed that her plan actually worked. The wood pile next to the giant oak grew quickly and Jake made frequent trips back I the kitchen for Dragon fuel and water.

The perspiration coated his forehead, back of his shirt, and under his arms and she knew not to say much to him when he was in this mode of work and sweat. One thing that she could say about him is that when it came to hard work, her husband could put the pedal to the metal with the best of ‘em. She could feel the heat emitting from his pores and after he finished his cool drinks, she swore she could feel the temperature of the kitchen drop a bit. The energy from him was unmistakable and she knew this was it. Building a tree house she assumed was a huge endeavor, but the way he was working she was sure her boy would have a tree house within a week at the most.

She glanced upward at the clock in the kitchen, a round, non-descript piece of silver metal that read 8:00 o’clock. The slow tick tock of its second hand seemed to be moving faster today. Time had flown by since her husband had started on Jacob’s house. He had been working on it for three hours, and what he had accomplished in that short amount of time was truly fantastical. Jacob would be home soon, his writing teacher, Mr. King, had said he would give her son a ride home after the writing project, and he should be walking through the door around 8:30.

She thought about what her boy would think when he saw her husband building what he wanted more than anything. To say his dad never did anything for him was an understatement. She wouldn’t be surprised if her son asked him to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She chuckled at this as she watched the Dragon pound and build, pound and build. The sounds seemed to ricochet off the side of the house and boomerang with more force with every new blow of the hammer.

Around 8:25 she heard a car pulling into the driveway. She turned away from the window and walked to the back door to thank Mr. King for driving her son home. Her husband didn’t turn his head to see who was in the driveway; he was focused on the task at hand, building and pounding.

Mr. King, Jacob’s writing teacher slowly pulled up the driveway, turned off the ignition, and stepped out of the car to talk with Beth.

“Hello Beth, nice night don’t you think?” Mr. King said as she walked to the driver’s side of the car to shake his hand. “Don’t you just love these cool summer nights?”

“I do Mr. King, and thanks for driving my son home tonight. I really appreciate it. How did it go tonight?” Jacob stepped out of the car as mom and Mr. King did their adult small talk thing.

Mr. King was a tall, lean man of 45. He was an avid runner and biker and he looked it. His shortly cropped salt and pepper hair mixed with his black turtle shell glasses to give him the distinguished look of a scholar, which he was in every sense of the word. He was a professor at the local community college who could have easily taught anywhere in the country with his credentials and intellect. He aced his college entrance exams and attended Princeton, graduating with honors in English. Soon after that came his Master’s Degree and next on his personal hit list was a doctoral thesis.

But despite all his talent and accomplishments, he was a man who loved where he came from and wanted to give something back. He was a small town boy at heart and he enjoyed the charm and unassuming nature of Silver Hawk. Soon after attaining his Masters, Mr. King offered his services as a teacher at Silver Hawk Community College. Considering its size and location, this small Midwestern school provided a valuable resource to the local community. Many kids who could not otherwise afford the more expensive four year schools surrounding Silver Hawk, would go here for two years, get some credits behind them, then move on to bigger and better schools and careers.

When the local school board saw his application, they immediately hired him. A local boy done good who was willing to give back was a big deal in little Silver Hawk and the past 15 years for Mr. King had been truly fulfilling and rewarding for him. His donation of his time to the local high school writing program was his pride and joy and the kids who worked with him loved what they learned and appreciated him as their mentor.

Beth knew his story and always had admired him as a man with integrity and a sense of responsibility. “Jacob did excellent tonight; he shows great promise and energy and I will enjoy working with him this year.” Mr. King emitted nothing but good energy and Beth enjoyed any time she had with him, however brief it may be. “Looks like the husband is building a tree house I see; I had one when I was young, one of the best things I ever had growing up.” Mr. King raised his voice slightly and said to Jacob, “Pretty nice Jacob, don’t you think?”

Jacob was standing in the back yard, not moving a muscle, just staring at his dad and the steady construction. He couldn’t believe it. He barely even heard what Mr. King had said. All his focus was on the Dragon, the force of evil, the one who terrorized the peasants of their village, building a fortress for him, the one who so casually called him “pussy” or “faggot” every morning. He stood with his hands clinched at his side, barely breathing.

“Must have not heard me…well, I will be on my way Beth, see you same time next week.” Mr. King got back in his car and drove away, Beth waving briefly to him as he backed out. She turned and walked up next to Jacob. She whispered in his ear, “What do you think of your surprise?”

*

Jacob just stood there, eyes huge, with a look of shock in his face that after a few seconds transformed into a sly grin. He whispered back to his mother, “How did this happen?”

“Come inside, I will fix dinner and we can talk.”

Mom put her arm around Jacob and took him inside the house. The smell of a sausage pizza was heavy in the kitchen air. An open box lay on the kitchen table, a few pieces already eaten by mom and dad earlier. Mom hadn’t wanted to cook tonight. She had been transfixed by her husband’s flurry of wood and nail, so she had ordered for delivery from a local pizza joint, Space Cadet Pizza. It was Jacob’s favorite spot and she had taken him a couple times on his birthday. Games and pizza were one of his favorites and she felt this day was a cause for celebration.

Jacob took a slice from the box and greedily put his canines to work. Pizza was truly a treat around here, and he was going to eat until every slice was gone. Mom went to the fridge and brought him a can of coke, the slight burn of the caramel colored carbonation helping get piece after piece of sweet dough down his stomach.

His mom watched with a slight smile on her face, wondering what her little boy was thinking right now. Dad building a tree house, pizza in his belly, a cold coke for drinking, a true peasant lottery. She planned on sitting him down after the first slice to explain how she did it, but she didn’t have the heart to tear him away from the feast at hand. He ate another piece, took a long drink and then burped; a funny sound of happiness from her son.

Jacob then sat down at the table, a full belly full of soda and pizza, a boy at peace with the world. He was quiet for a few minutes then looked up at his mom and smiled. She smiled back and said playfully, “So I take it you like the pizza?”

He replied with a grin, “Best yet, just what a growing boy needs,” then he patted his belly with his right hand, rubbing it around and around like he was pregnant. At first there was nothing but silence, then a barrel full of giggles that erupted like a dormant volcano finally ready to burst. Mother and son laughed liked that for a good two minutes, then gradually the laughter turned to muffled sounds of someone trying not to laugh, their hands covering their mouths as they stifled their enjoyment. And of course that lasted for only around 30 seconds and the laughter erupted again, this time in full force, hearty and forceful, the good energy at odds with the usual dark cloud of despair.

Outside, day turned to night and a light wind rustled through the leaves of the old oak. It stood strong in the backyard as it always did, a silent giant looking down at the people of its shire. Next to it the Dragon continued the tap, tap, of his hammer, one piece of wood connecting to another with nail combining its forces. He put up a light, the long extension cord plugged in from an outlet on the outside of the house. He hung it on one of the few branches that were low enough to reach with only a few steps up the ladder. As the peasants of the village laughed away around their bit of good fortune, the Dragon continued into the night, building a fortress, for all the wrong reasons.

*

“How did you get him to do this mom, what did you say?” Jacob had finished his feast and was sitting on a chair at the end of the table, his eyes totally focused on his mom, a wizard that pulled off the ultimate bit of trickery.

She put down her cup of ice water and clasped her hands on top of each other on the table. She looked at her son, so happy for once, but obviously confused about what was taking place in the backyard. “Son, it was actually pretty simple. I knew what you wanted more than anything, and I made it happen. I asked your dad today, he said yes and Poof!!!...Magic!!!”

Jacob knew how his mom could be and he frowned at her continued attempts at avoiding the subject. He put his arms across his chest and just stared at his mom, barely blinking, with his foot tapping impatiently on the floor. She knew this wasn’t going to work this time.

“This is what happened,” she said after letting out a tired sigh and she began to tell her boy how it came about. She didn’t leave out anything and spoke very quickly. The honesty between her and her son was never a question and she left out no detail, not even the vodka’s role in her plan. Her son never took his eye of his mom, mesmerized by her words, amazed that his mom would to this for him, would play this dangerous game and not only come out unscathed, but exit the cave with the jewels. The beat of the hammer pounded away in the background as she spoke and the wind picked up just a tad, rustling the leaves just enough to let them know that the other protector of the house, the one full of old bark and tough branches, was watching and listening.

When she finished, she got up from her chair and started putting the dishes into the dishwater. As she got up Jacob quickly offered, “You need help ma,” as he always did when chores needed to be done.

“No son, that’s okay, why don’t you go up to your room and do your homework if you have some and if not, go ahead and shower up. Maybe you can stay up awhile and read some stories, I brought home a new book for you from the library.”

Jacob let out a smile and quickly bounded up the stairs to his room. He had no homework tonight, only some writing to do for Mr. King and he had until next Thursday to do that. He opened up his bedroom door, not turning on the light, but just clicking on the small lamp near his bed. As it shown its light over his lightly blue painted room, the moon cast ivory rays through the window overlooking the backyard. They happened to come upon the spot where Jacob kept all his best action figures. A small castle had been built out of numerous cardboard boxes. Jacob had worked tirelessly on this and when finished he had numerous battles in his beloved cardboard arena, too many to count.

The knights and dragons and horses were all standing in front of the cardboard box. The rays from the moon cast them in a solemn glow. Every detail in each face was enlightened to a realistic wrinkle or scar. They all were looking at Jacob, staring at their king, awaiting their journey to the soon to be completed stronghold. In the background, well into the night, the Dragon continued his tapping of the hammer, and Jacob didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Next Chapter: The Twins