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Couch Sesh will be unveiling Johnny Guns' New Novel, The Birch Tar Boys, chapter by chapter here on the Couch Sesh Blog. If you enjoy the chapter please Donate to the Charities at the end of the chapter. If you miss a Chapter, there is a link on the right hand side that will contain every chapter posted so far. Also on that page will be the charities in need of help until their fundraising goals are met.
The Birch Tar Boys
Dedicated to Andrew Jewett and Mike Serba.
The Boys miss you.
"Dreams come true; without that possibility,
nature would not incite us to have them."-John Updike
Chapter One
I’m not a very good storyteller.
I like to tell stories, you know, but I don’t think I have a knack for it, like my buddy Jasper who tells the funniest stories. It’s mostly just how he tells them. He jumps up and down and yells and makes hand movements. He could tell you a story about making a piece of toast for breakfast and it would be the funniest story you ever heard. I went to high school with Jasper and he was probably one of my best friends and still is. We work on a farm in Vermont, in a little town, the same town we grew up in. I like Vermont, it’s simple, but I don’t mind it, probably because it’s familiar. I mean I have been to big cities and they are fun and the people are real nice, well some people. I just like the wilderness and I don’t like to be crowded.
Enough of that, though, I’d like to tell you a story about two brothers I know. Their father owned the farm Jasper and I worked on. I think it’s a good story. I hope I tell it right.
***
Hunter and Cameron Reece were identical twin brothers, but their personalities couldn’t have been more different. I guess God was having trouble picking which one he wanted to create, so he just made both. I do that with dessert when I have to choose between apple pie and rhubarb, I just have both.
Hunter’s quiet burning nature only sparked Cameron’s explosive centered heart. They loved each other more than any pair of brothers I knew and they fought worse than any pair too.
Their father, Daniel, was a burly bear of a man, strong in stature and intention. He had grown up in Western Massachusetts with his mother, played college ball out west before he had a back injury at the NFL combine and had to stop playing. Hunter has shown me pictures of his father playing football, in the attic because his dad doesn’t like to look at them. He was a linebacker, real mean looking player.
Their mother, Carol, could be called California dream, bleach blonde hair and tan. She was much smaller than her husband, but her presence just as great. Carol had the voice of angels and I’ve heard her sing before, to herself making dinner, and it is good, real good. Cameron told me she was on her way to what looked like a profitable singing career, but when Daniel wanted to move back east she decided to go with him. She was in love. And from my experience when you’re in love, the rest doesn’t seem to matter all that much.
They were married shortly after the move, and Daniel’s mother bought this farm for them here in Vermont, a sort of gentle push into reality. Carol didn’t have farming in mind, but she seemed happy when her husband was happy and Daniel was happy to get food on the table.
I’ll tell you, Vermont winters can be quite damaging for the unsuspecting and they took their toll on Daniel’s body and Carol’s mind, especially because of what could have been. At times, I think Carol felt trapped, like she had made the worst mistake; the kind of mistake you can’t take back. She gave up so many things she didn’t have in Vermont. Daniel kept his work on his mind, with us in the fields, not thinking about decisions he had made, but about the ones he would have to make that day. He wanted nothing more than to be a good dad, unlike his own dad.
Then Carol got pregnant and a euphoric state filled their home and when the good news doubled, well, the fairy tale began.
As Daniel tells it, once the boys were born he had to work harder on the farm and less on his mind. Their house was small and homemade. It had a cabin feel. Daniel had built most of it, hand wooden beds and countertops, half split three foot diameter stained staircases. Some artists work with paint or cameras or words, Daniel worked with wood.
Carol gave the home its soft safe glow. She did most of your traditional housewife work and cooked the meanest shepherd’s pie I’d ever eaten. In the morning, she was up before her husband feeding the chickens and the horses and the cows, she especially liked the cows.
Hunter and Cameron got older and they were required to help out with the cows and the corn fields, slowly more with age. For the most part, they were well behaved and spoiled broken; they understood the value of hard work, manual labor, and more importantly the respect and knowledge of the relationship between man and nature.
***
I met the boys when I was in grade six; we were in the same school class and got along right away. Everybody in class got their names mixed up and sometimes they called them Thing One and Thing Two, you know from the Dr. Seuss book. I could always tell them apart even back then. They were pretty much the same person. I guess they became really different after one day hunting in the woods with their father when they were young.
On their twelfth birthday, in late September, their grandmother gave them each one of their grandfather’s thirty/thirty rifles for hunting season. This of course was against Carol’s wishes, although I know she was secretly glad they were going to learn how to use a rifle. Their father gave them each a guitar; he thought music was necessary for a well-rounded education. Hunter and Cameron loved their guitars and played all day, even with the constant nagging from their mother to take it outside. I think it made her sad to hear the boys play music, it was a reminder of the past and it was a gift she wished she could have shared with them, but it was too painful.
The following morning, Daniel took his sons hunting for the first time with their new rifles.
The snow dripped from the cold birch branches in the silence of the cold woods. The three trudged most of the day over brown fallen leaves and half dead bushes; Cameron was starting to get frustrated they hadn’t seen any deer yet, but Hunter didn’t mind walking with his father, although his hands were starting to get cold. They reached the edge of a long open meadow and knelt down.
Daniel looked at his boys, "Load your guns."
Cameron loaded his weapon while his brother struggled with his cold hands. Daniel noticed, "Cameron, help your brother."
Cameron sighed, but one look from his father was enough to straighten it out. Hunter didn’t understand why his brother always wanted to be so independent, especially since Hunter loved having his brother involved in the things he was interested in. They sat for half an hour and then the bear walked out of the fog.
This was Hunter and Cameron’s introduction.
The large animal trampled its way into the meadow searching for berries. His watermelon sized head ripped through the green. Reaching back, Hunter grabbed his father’s arm breathing heavy. He dropped his buck knife from inside his jacket.
Both boys had bought buck knifes at the local ammo store run by Rusty, an old-time backwoods hunter who thought every single man, woman and child should own their own knife. The boys didn’t tell their parents about the purchase because they knew their father would take them away when he wasn’t around to supervise and they didn’t want that kind of restriction put on their shiny new toys.
Daniel looked away from the massive black bear’s eyes, trying not to provoke it. He stood up slowly and grabbed Hunter by the back of the jacket, pulling him gently. Cameron didn’t follow though, like his father was expecting him to. He just stood there glaring into the four-hundred pounds of fur in amazement.
Daniel reached for the Cameron suddenly, startling him and triggering his rifle to bark loudly. The bear shot up and focused in on the three as the echo repeatedly gave reminder of the mistake. He stood up on two and let out a giant roar that made the boys shiver. Then he dropped to four, growled and attacked. Closer and closer the bear charged reacting out of fear closing the distance, yards at a time. Daniel stepped in front of his boys, took a slow breath and shot his rifle, but missed. He knew he didn’t have time to reload so he dropped the gun and pulled out his forty-four, waiting until the bear was close enough for a guaranteed kill shot.
The bear closed the gap stomping over the matted grass with furious speed. Daniel closed his eyes and fired. Click! Click! The forty-four misfired and his heart stopped. He turned and shouted at Hunter to shoot, but Hunter couldn’t move. Their lives were moments away from ending and all Daniel could think about was how he failed to protect his sons, how he was a bad father. He yelled for the boys to run, preparing himself to sacrifice for the little ones.
BANG! The bear dropped fifty feet from where the three of them stood. Daniel dropped to his knees in relief, feeling intense amounts of gratitude and insecurity. He turned around and saw Hunter frozen in fear, rifle still loaded and by his side. He shook uncontrollably as he had just experienced more fear in thirty seconds than in his entire life; just behind him was his brother Cameron wearing the look of a warrior pulling the smoking gun from his shoulder.
This was Cameron’s initiation.
Daniel stood up and grabbed Hunter holding him tightly telling him it was going to be alright. Then he looked at Cameron and slightly nodded his head. He didn’t know what to say to his son; he was so ashamed. Cameron didn’t know why his father wasn’t proud of him.
When they got home, Carol put Hunter to bed after forcing him to drink some warm milk. Cameron ate his dinner at the table with his grandmother. He could hear his parents screaming at each other in their bedroom.
"Tell me about the bear again," Cameron’s grandmother asked trying to pull his attention from the yelling.
"Well it was this big, and it had huge teeth."
Carol came out into the dining room with Daniel behind her, "Cameron it’s time for bed."
"I’m telling grandma the story of the bear."
"I said its time for bed. Let’s go. NOW!"
Cameron sulked away and under his breath he muttered, "You don’t have to be an asshole."
Daniel heard the remark and gripped his son’s arm, "What did you say?"
Cameron stuttered, "Nothing."
Daniel hit Cameron across the face, "Don’t you ever call your mother that again. Do you understand?"
Cameron didn’t answer; he was still in shock that his dad would hit him. He hated his father then.
Daniel gave him a jolt, "I said do you understand?"
Cameron’s face changed. He looked into his father’s soul like he did the animal, unafraid, strong and unwavering, "I killed the bear, not you."
Daniel pulled back, the child in front of him resembling nothing of his former son, and realized the transformation that had taken place. Cameron believed he was stronger than his father.
"That’s enough," said Cameron’s grandmother and she took Cameron’s hand and put him to bed.
Cameron and his father never quite got along as well. Both boys weren’t the same from then on. Every so often, they’d start to blend. But, something always separated them back out; it was almost as if the universe didn’t want them to rely on each other for anything. Well, not yet anyway.
***
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