Chapter Sixty-Nine
The Muppets offered Craig just about every bed in the house, but he ultimately insisted on sleeping on the couch. He thought it would be better that way; no one would have to see him fall asleep.
When everything was quiet and he closed his eyes, he flinched to see his own finger pointing straight at the chest of a five-year-old boy with big brown eyes and a gun as tall as he was. From exactly where Craig was pointing, blood slowly began to seep across the boy’s chest until he fell back and—
Craig snapped upright, gasping for breath as he stared through the darkness and forced himself to remember that he wasn’t there, he wasn’t on the floor of some God-forsaken building in Damascus, he was on the other side of the world on a couch in the Muppet Boarding House, and… and it was over now. It was over.
He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling until his eyelids were so heavy he had no choice but to close them, praying the vision wouldn’t repeat itself until morning.
But before sleep could come, his cell phone rang, and he bolted upright to grab it, squinting and frowning at the screen before he answered. “Hullo?”
“Craig?”
The lateness of the call should have alerted him, but it wasn’t until he heard the tension in his sister’s voice that he realized something had happened. “What’s wrong, Betty Sue?”
“Pa’s drunk,” she whispered.
He swung his feet off the couch and clenched his fist. “
Tell me you’re not home,” he whispered urgently.
“No, I… I went to Sally’s, like y’said to do.”
He heaved a deep, relieved sigh. “Good. She’ll—she’ll take care of ya. Y’alright, Betty Sue?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and he clenched his fist even tighter, completely oblivious to how fiercely he was gripping the phone.
“I… I ain’t never seen ‘im like this before, Craig. I had to climb out the window to get away from him. I… I think he woulda… I mean, I think he mighta…”
He swallowed hard. He’d done his best to protect his sister from the worst of his father’s drunkenness, and now…
“I—I think… he kinda—tried to hit me.”
He swore. “I’m sorry, Betty Sue. I
never shoulda left you alone. I’m so sorry. I—do y’want me to call you in for school tomorrow? So y’don’t have to go? I could say you’re sick, and—”
“No… If I don’t go to school, Stacey will wanna know why, an’ you know I can’t lie t’her ‘bout anything. I’d… have to tell her.”
Craig rubbed his forehead. “Won’t Stacey be able to tell somethin’s wrong if ya
do go to school tomorrow?” he asked softly.
“…Probably.” She let out a deep sigh.
“I’ll have to tell her either way, won’t I?”
“Guess so,” Craig said. “It’s alright though, Betty Sue. I mean… Frog and Geraldson both know about Pa, an’ Sally’s known a long time. Friends are there fer that sorta thing. Good friends, anyway. An’ Stacey’s been a good friend of yours fer years now. It’s alright if she knows.”
“But then she’ll tell her ma, an’ she’ll never be allowed to sleep over ever again.”
Craig winced. “…That… may be for the best now, Betty Sue,” he said reluctantly. “He’s been gettin' worse an’ worse ever since I got home.”
She sighed.
“I think it’s the war, Craig. He didn’t really start gettin' bad until you shipped out.”
He slowly shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “No, Betty Sue,” he whispered. “It started as soon as Ma died.”
That settled for a moment, and he wished he’d never spent a single night away from that house. Of course, now she had to be realizing just how long he’d been protecting her, and that wasn’t any good, either.
“What time y’coming home tomorrow?” she asked.
“Well, the plane leaves at nine… that’s about eleven back home, an’ I think it’s a two hour flight… I’ll have to check, but I think I land around one.”
“Alright,” she said quietly.
“…You mean it, about not goin’ to school? I mean—Sally said she could call me in, too, an’ I could go to work with her, but…”
“I mean it,” he said firmly. “If you don’t wanna go, I ain’t gonna make ya, Betty Sue. You’re gonna be plum exhausted, anyway.”
“…I guess so,” Betty Sue whispered.
“An’ I… I sorta WOULD like to… not go to school, tomorrow.”
Craig nodded. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “I’ll call ya in first thing t’morrow, alright?”
“Alright. Thanks, Craig.”
“Now you alright, Betty Sue? ‘Cause if y’wanna talk or anythin’, I… I’m here.”
“…Maybe tomorrow, but… I think I’m gonna go to bed now. I’m all wore out.”
“Alright. You gimme a call if you change your mind, dolly. And don’t you worry ‘bout wakin’ me up or anythin’, y’hear? You jest call.”
“I will, Craig. I… I promise.”
“Good.” Craig closed his eyes. “Is Sally still up?”
“Yeah, she’s here. Y’wanna talk to her?”
“Yes please, for a minute.”
“Alright. I’ll give her the phone.”
“Thanks. You sleep good now, Betty Sue.”
“You too. G’night, Craig.”
“Night,” he whispered. He rubbed his forehead as he waited to hear Sally’s voice.
“Craig?” Sally said.
“Hey doll. You alright?” he asked.
She gave a very faint scoff—almost a giggle, really.
“I was about to ask you th’same thing,” she said.
“But I’m okay. An’ don’t you worry ‘bout Betty Sue, darlin’. She’s a li’l shook up, but she’ll be fine.”
He sighed. “I never shoulda left her alone with Pa,” he whispered. “Not with the way he’s been anymore.”
“Y’had to go. An’ she knew how t’get away jest fine. You ain’t done a thing wrong, Craig.”
He ran his fingers against his scalp. “Thanks for takin’ care of her, Sally.”
“Don’t you mention it. She’s practically my sister too, darlin’. You know that.”
“I know, but… thank ye just the same,” he whispered. “…I love you, Sally.”
“I love you too, Craig.”
When they hung up, he shoved his feet back onto the couch and pulled the blanket up to his chest. As he lay back down, he stared up at the ceiling with his wrist lying on his forehead. For quite some time now, Frog and Geraldson had been telling him that his job in this war was to take care of his sister.
Now, for the first time, he believed them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rowlf crept down the stairs early the next to morning to play piano as he always did. He glanced at the couch, where Craig was sleeping peacefully.
…Well, maybe not
peacefully. At second glance, Rowlf realized that Craig’s every muscle was tense, his eyes squeezed shut, his fists and jaw clenched. And he was starting to shake.
Rowlf frowned and edged closer to the couch. Craig suddenly snapped his head up and shoved himself up on his elbows, gasping for air. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath and slowly letting it out three times before he allowed them to open.
“Easy there,” Rowlf said softly, gently. “Easy. It’s alright.”
“It
ain’t,” Craig said, rubbing his eyes, and he mournfully looked at the dog. “Ain’t nothin’ right, sir.”
The pain, guilt, and sorrow in his eyes blended into something almost crazed, and even after everything Rowlf had seen with the Muppets over the years, it took him quite a bit of courage to steel himself enough to step forward and put a hand on Craig’s arm. “
Some things are right,” he said. “And I know you call Kermit ‘sir,’ but I’m just a lowly dog. I only answer to ‘Rowlf’ and ‘Dog’.”
Craig looked away. “I’m sorry y’had to see me wake up, Rowlf,” he said quietly.
“That’s every morning?” Rowlf asked, his voice as gentle as ever.
Craig didn’t answer.
“I know Kermit has something similar,” the dog gently added. But Craig didn’t say anything or even look at him. Rowlf sighed and gave Craig a pat on the arm. “C’mon. Even in these times, music still calms the savage beast.” He led their guest to the chair next to the piano and immediately sat down to play, soft and soothing.
“Will that wake anyone?” Craig asked.
“No one who doesn’t want it to,” Rowlf said. “No one will come downstairs for probably at least another hour. They’re more likely to come down if I don’t play than if I do.” He shrugged. “Just used to it.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. Craig sat in silence, only vaguely aware of the piano he was sitting beside. But as he was about to learn, and as all of the Muppets already knew, Rowlf could always see when emotions were churning inside.
“Won’t do to keep it all bottled,” the dog said.
Craig snapped his head up. “Pardon?”
“What you’re thinking about,” Rowlf said, carefully keeping his eyes on the piano keys, because being looked at was sometimes the worst part about being seen. “Whatever it is. Don’t let it destroy you, Craig. You’ve gotta let it out sometime, and the sooner the better.”
Craig looked at his hands in his lap. “I wouldn’t wanna bother you with it…”
“You came
running to help us,” Rowlf said with a startling fierceness, staring straight at Craig now. “You think we wouldn’t do the same? Think we’d ever call it a
bother to be there for you?” Then his voice softened and his eyes turned gentle again. “You’re part of this family now, Craig Rivers. Kermit wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would any of us.”
It wasn’t easy to look away from the dog, but Craig forced himself to in hopes of finding his voice. He let those words sink in and remembered his own words to his sister the night before. A good friend… And there was something incredibly trustworthy about this dog. He didn’t seem the type to spread secrets around. “It ain’t just the war,” he quietly confessed. “My pa’s a drunk. I left my baby sister alone with him last night, an’ I never shoulda done that.” He was surprised at how quickly and easily the words came out of him.
Rowlf quietly kept his fingers moving over the keys. “Was she alone with him when you were overseas?” he asked.
“Sure, but he’s gotten worse since then,” Craig said bitterly. “I knowed he’d gotten worse. I shoulda brung Betty Sue with me. That’s what I shoulda done.”
“Is she okay?” Rowlf asked.
Craig was quiet for a long moment. “She went to Sally’s—to my girlfriend’s,” he said. “Had to get out through a window.” He rubbed his arm. “Frog says my job in this war is to take care of my sister. Truth is… I dunno how no more. I dunno how to stop Pa.” He swallowed hard.
“Do the best you can,” Rowlf said softly. “It’s all you can do, and it’s more than you realize. It always is.”
Craig sighed heavily. “I guess,” he said, and then he stood up. “I gotta call her in for school. Told her she didn’t have to go today,” he said, and he picked up his cell phone and left the room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit had a rare moment to himself—no camera, no other Marines—to check his e-mail. He read as quickly as he could, wishing he had more time to reply to everyone, but just reading these e-mails was enough of a reprieve to help pull him through another day. They were escorting the POWs from the refinery to the Navy so they could be brought to a camp on U.S. soil. Larsen was still trying to get through to their youngest prisoner. He hadn’t actually said so, but Kermit knew. A long scratch had appeared across Larsen’s face that morning, which—combined with the clouded look in his eyes—could only mean one thing.
So reading a few e-mails from home was exactly what the doctor ordered.
And then he stumbled upon one that absolutely demanded a reply:
Dear Kermie,
Moi had a little heart-to-heart with Robin the other day, and he mentioned how moi will be his aunt when vous come home. He has since taken to calling me “Aunt Piggy” all the time. I wouldn’t tell this to anyone else, Kermie, but it’s a little intimidating. I’m glad he trusts me that much, of course, and that he’s comfortable coming to me when he’s upset now, because we all need each other and he’s such a ray of sunshine to all of us. But “Aunt Piggy,” especially coming from him, is just so much more than I was expecting to have to be so soon. Moi couldn’t bear to let him down, and I’m doing my best, but it’s the one sort of role that I have never thought I could master by determination alone (which, as you know, is how moi does most everything else).
There was more to the e-mail, but it was mostly superficial to recover from making such an honest, intimate confession. There was no mention of what had prompted the heart-to-heart. He immediately started on a reply, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to read any other e-mails because of it.
My Dear Piggy,
If I had the slightest doubt in your ability to be Robin’s Aunt Piggy, I don’t think I could have fallen in love with you, much less asked you to marry me.
He paused there and thought hard. His relationship with Robin was a unique one—much closer to father/son than uncle/nephew. Therefore being
Robin’s Aunt Piggy, as opposed to being an aunt to any of his other nieces or nephews, was much more than just being an aunt. This exchange was about much more than what they were typing about.
I’m sure that your best is exactly what Robin needs—nothing more. It’s not about your determination here, Piggy. It’s about your heart. That’s what matters. You love him, and he knows it, or he wouldn’t be calling you Aunt Piggy until he absolutely had to.
“Wrap it up, Frog!” he heard Major D. call. He winced and typed as quickly as he could—which, unfortunately, was not very quick.
Have to go. Please give my love to Robin. You may be the best suited to do so, Piggy, because you’re the one who has my heart.
Yours,
KTF
With that, he shut down the computer and started packing up. It was time to keep moving across the seemingly endless desert.
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