|
|
 |
Contests : Tom Howard/John H. Reid Short Story Contest : Past Winners : 2009 : Fourth Prize
THE RIGHT EYE OF JUSTICE
Audra Stern shot Ollie Kovak in self-defense. At least that's what the court
decided, after a week's worth of deliberating. It had been building to that
point for some time. Some said as far back as VJ Day. The nation had barely
closed the door on WWII when we found ourselves bivouacked outside of China on
a tiny strip of dirt called Korea, and things just seemed to get worse after
that. Colton is like any other small American town, patriotic and peaceful—
to a point. I guess we passed that point the day Audra put a bullet through
Ollie Kovak's chest out there on Trenton Road.
The only reason I know so much about it is that I happened to be there
at the time. Not exactly right there—but there nonetheless. And I must say
I saw it coming. If it wasn't her, it'd be somebody else. You can't be
different in small towns like Colton. It doesn't pay to be different in any
way, especially political. I must have told Ollie a hundred times he ought to
keep his opinions to himself.
"Ollie", I said to him, "you're peculiar to people. They don't like
folks that disagree with the President. Same as sassing your daddy. They
won't stand for it." He'd just jerk his chin at me and go on with whatever he
was doing at the time. He's a good man, that one, but stubborn as a cowlick,
ever since we were kids. His family moved here when his daddy lost his job in
Chicago and thought he'd find better luck in Atlanta. But when their car took
out and fell apart on the road down, he had to find work quick to feed his
wife and five hungry kids. That's how they lighted here in Colton. Of
course, Mrs. Kovak never fully unpacked her bags here, hoping they would make
it back to Chicago when things got better. They never did.
The Kovaks were what you might call "tolerated" by the town. They
talked funny and acted different. Some called them Yankees when they first
came, and nobody really trusted them. When Ollie and me became friends at
school and I asked him to come home with me one day, my daddy said to let well
enough alone. I was eight years old, and the only other time I'd heard my
daddy say that was when he caught me playing with Emmett, a boy who used to
meet me half way from colored quarters to toss a ball. But I went back just
the same, right up to the day Emmett came to tell me his mama said he had to
play in colored quarters from now on. And that was just the year before. But
I did continue to play with Ollie at school, and he liked me a lot. I think
it's because I picked him first when our class was choosing up sides for
basketball his first day at Millsap Elementary.
Audra Stern was a grade behind us, but her friends were in our class. Every
boy in school except her brothers was in love with Audra. She always looked
like she stepped off the pages of a Hollywood magazine. Her mama kept her so
polished and primped the younger girls didn't want to play with her. It was
her beautiful hair mostly. Her mama kept changing it. One week she'd come to
school with it swept up in pretty barrettes, and the next it would be long and
bouncy with ribbons, and then the next it might be chopped off in a red page-
boy. She wasn't spoiled so much as she was just pampered. People were always
doing things for her, things she ought to do for herself. Not me, though. I
had three sisters, and I knew for a fact that girls could carry their own
books—large stacks of them. But Ollie took pity and lugged them home for
her sometimes. She was struck on Ollie all the way through school—on
account of the dimple in his chin. "Just like Errol Flynn in the movies" she
told everybody, though most of us never even heard of old Errol. She'd seen
him in one of her mama's movie magazines, I guess, like some of the other
girls.
In fact, the Rialto was the only picture show in town, and I don't remember
seeing anything but westerns and cartoons there the whole time I was growing
up. That's what the 1950's were all about in small town America, that and the
drop drills at school. They kept telling us nothing was really wrong and
nothing was going to happen, but we knew better. We knew the Russians were
gong to send a bomb to land slap on top of us while we slept. "They come by
night", the older boys told us. "It's in every big city newspaper you read,"
they said. We were all plenty scared, too—all except Ollie. He got beat up
one day for calling Johnny Welch a liar when he told us Kruschev was on his
way to Colton with his Red Army to blow us all up. Ollie asked him how a
whole army got into the country without being seen, and Johnny Boy shoved his
fist down Ollie's throat and asked him how come he didn't see it coming.
After that, he told everybody that Ollie was one of them—a Red spy. "They
ain't from Chicago at all," he'd say. "They're from Moscow, Russia. And Ollie
is one of Khrushchev's Commie kids."
Normally, folks would just turn a deaf ear to such childishness, but
for some it had the ring of truth. Vern Hack, the town butcher, for one. He
ran the closest thing to a deli the town ever had seen, over next to the
Piggly Wiggly market. Karl Kovak and his wife bought nothing but Polish
sausage from him, sausage he had shipped in from St. Louis. And Mrs. Kovak
raised her kids on sauerkraut and latkes and other foreign foods. And they
never went to church in town. Once a month, they'd drive all the way to
Memphis to some mysterious church where they spoke a different language.
Ollie finally told us one day that it was Catholic, but we didn't believe him
because there was a Catholic church twenty miles from Colton—a lot closer
than Memphis. I regretted that, too, because I wanted to believe. We never
talked about it again after that day.
In high school, Ollie made the football team his freshman year. He
was only average size, but he was fast and had a powerful throwing arm. His
daddy and mama did not support it like most parents would. He was wanted at
home, where he could help look after the younger ones and study his books.
Mr. Kovak said it was the job of every member to give their all to the family.
Everything must be for the good of the many, not for oneself, he'd say. Ollie
never tried out again for any sport after that, and I was secretly glad. Some
of the boys' parents wouldn't have accepted a foreigner playing quarterback or
being captain of the home team. Besides, Ollie had other talents. He was
clever and real smart in school. He hardly ever missed a day, and he kept his
grades up better than any of us. That is, till the day he caught the Audra
Stern bug. Heaven knows she'd been shaking the bait long enough. I guess it
was only logical—the best-looking girl in school expects to be with the
best-looking boy. To be honest, though, Audra fanned her flame under so many
other boys it was also logical that Ollie would be envied and hated.
"You ain't going out with that Kovak boy," her daddy would tell her.
"He ain't even American. Them Kovaks are fine right where they are—in their
own place!" This I heard straight from Audra's brother, Todd. He didn't feel
the same way his daddy did. He didn't see any difference between himself and
Ollie except what they ate at home. He also knew Audra would cause Ollie
trouble someday. Todd was a peacemaker, and I guess he got plenty of practice
at home because he always ended up settling fights on our block. Every time
one kid threatened to murder another kid, he'd be right there to talk them
down. He single-handedly relieved Buddy Rogers of his pellet gun one day when
he had Ollie in his crosshairs. You just can't beat Buddy Rogers at marbles
five times in a row without paying for it somehow. But Ollie never flinched,
not even when Buddy swore he would put his eye out. He would not be bullied.
I think Todd was struck on Ollie, too, for his courage and sense of justice.
After high school, when boyhood friends joined the army or took over
their fathers' businesses, lives just seemed to drift apart somehow. Even in
the same town, we lived in different little worlds, all new and full of
questions and fears that come with adulthood. Audra eventually eliminated
reasons and barriers that separated her and Ollie, and there was nothing left
but that they should elope. Mr. Stern was less happy about the matter and got
a lawyer to fight it afterward. He didn't consider it a marriage at all—Christian or legal—and turned his back on her when he was told to butt out.
By this time, Ollie's daddy had grown ill and unable to carry on.
Ollie took his place at the mill, inheriting the same prejudice he had faced
growing up. Olin Mills was the town's bread and butter, and it was run with
an iron hand by offices in St. Louis. Otherwise, Karl Kovak would never have
been given a job in Colton. But just because he was rescued and put to work
at the mill didn't mean the others had to welcome the man, just tolerate him—him and his sausage and kraut and brown mustard and foreign accent. The man
never cursed and he had no use for football or television or unions. He
stayed in his place, like they expected him to do, a place in life they
despised, though never having been there themselves. Foreigners could never
quite be trusted.
The hunting season may have ended in marriage, but Audra was soon
longing for more. It would never again be enough to simply carry her books or
the wash basket or the grocery bags. The TV now told her she would not live
to be thirty. Ike would soon be turning over the country to a Commie
Catholic, and the end was near—according to reliable sources somewhere.
Folks in Colton would shake their heads when it was mentioned in the streets,
and some had even dug crude underground shelters from the bomb. And if it was
to be her last days, Audra wanted to grab up as much life as she could while
it lasted. She wanted dining and dancing and fine, expensive things before
the party ended.
There were arguments and fights and settlements and flare-ups at home. Ollie
urged her to avoid the TV news for a while, long enough to regain her
stability and reason, a plea she blatantly ignored. There was news daily of
new fighting in Asia and Africa, right on the heels of Castro's takeover in
Cuba and his new partnership with the Russians—and just off the coast of
Florida.
Not to worry, Ollie tells her. He explains the situation from
Russia's perspective, too. They would annihilate themselves if they bombed
the U.S., he tells her. The radioactive fallout would contaminate their food
and kill all their plants and animals. They could not survive any better than
we could if we dropped a bomb there. They know that, he says, and so do we.
Still, Audra longs for the security of her father's arms, her mother's love.
They feel as she does. They believe in fallout shelters and life afterward.
They believe in striking first.
The days tick by and Audra's fears are only heightened by daily TV and
newspaper reports. The baton had finally passed to the idol worshiper who
would bring down the nation and every living soul in it. "It's in the Bible,"
Burt Stern tells her. "Wars and rumors of wars and all the rest of it."
Khrushchev, according to many, was sitting over there with his finger on the hot
button, laughing and pointing at us. And all the Commies Joe McCarthy exposed
were out there spinning webs and helping him along. Colton was an
insignificant little smudge on a map of nowhere.
Things could not be contained with love and reassurance, and Audra is
not alone in her fears and desperation. Town meetings are called to discuss
matters. Tempers flare and nothing good is accomplished. There is talk of
sealing off the town, a measure even the mayor calls silly and insane.
"Colton sits right smack dab in the Bible Belt," he says, "and just who do we
have to fear among good Christian people?"
Burt Stern speaks up and says they ought to be looking for anybody who
is suspicious, people who are not Christians because everybody knows
Communists don't believe in Jesus Christ. "It's time to flush out the enemies
once and for all!"
The Kovaks was one of the few families that did not attend these
meetings, not that it would have helped things. They kept quietly to
themselves, as always, going about their daily routines. None of the children—
all nearly grown now—mentioned the matter in their parents' presence.
They knew the golden rule: Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, and it
is not my right to change it. According to Mr. Kovak, this is the only way to
preserve dignity and human rights. He did not fear the townspeople, but he
did find offense in their words. They had never been forced to live under
tyranny, but he could see fear in their eyes and in their hearts. He
understood it as his children never could. It was a haunting and destructive
force they feared, a way of life they could not abide. These things he knew
without benefit of TV or radio reports. He could read the signs, a language
he acquired while still at his mother's side in the old country. They were
everywhere and speaking loudly to a mind that listened. This he tried to
convey to his own children by action and deed.
The town folks saw it differently—at least many of them did. It was
the Kovak silence that had stirred them up. They could not accept it as
privacy. It was secrecy, and that had to mean something sinister. The whole
family was reserved and guarded, ever since the first day they hobbled into
town, never really discussing things about themselves or their home life,
leaving people to guess or make up meanings.
Ollie and Audra took it to bed with them now, dividing themselves
along family lines. With Ollie's every reassurance that Communism was not
pounding at the town gates, Audra became more uncertain. He showed her no
fear or contempt for Castro or Khrushchev or communism, the way she had been
raised to think and feel. What about all those drop drills and emergency
evacuations at school? Was he not afraid even then? And if not, why? It
had become too much to ponder. She felt as if she were seeing him for the
first time, as if he'd been wearing a mask all these years. Her father was
right, she decides: The Kovaks are not like us.
The Bay of Pigs skirmish has resulted in the deaths of many American
soldiers...the television blares. Carl Beecher, a boy from home, was among the
casualties. War had come to Colton in the form of mangled remains. A sign of
worse things to come, people said. It wasn't long before Russia parked
nuclear bombs in Cuba, and President Kennedy was wringing his hands—the way
the TV told it. Most folks in Colton didn't believe that. He nearly got the
country in a war over the Bay of Pigs mess, and now this. Poor Carl Beecher
was laid to rest out at the Colton cemetery without knowing that the Commie
Catholic President was at war with America, too, people said.
Tensions were running higher than ever at home, and Ollie knew it
would only get worse with a world teetering on the brink. It is a situation
he pondered deep and hard and for days on end. The afternoon sun was red
against the autumn clouds and thinning treetops the last day he came strolling
home from the mill. Audra was sitting there on the front porch with a shawl
draped around her shoulders. He waved from a distance, but she gave no
response. It had been so long since they had communicated. Her daddy kept
her stirred up and worried all the time, warning her to leave Ollie before
it's too late. He even bought her a pistol, for her own peace of mind, but
Ollie wouldn't allow it in the house, which only added to their suspicion.
But Audra did not give it back. Today she waited for Ollie to reach the porch
steps then pulled it from her lap and fired a single shot into his chest.
It was a neighbor that called for an ambulance. Audra passed out
cold, and they had to haul her in for observation. Clearly, she meant for it
all to end there, but the shot ricocheted off a chest bone and missed Ollie's
heart. There were no witnesses, except Mrs. Carrier, who called for help.
She saw Audra fire the shot, but she could not judge whether it was provoked.
Ollie had no weapon, but the court saw things differently.
The Kovaks—for the very first time since they moved to Colton—appeared at the town courthouse. The whole family. Ollie stood tall and proud when the judge waved him up to the stand. Lawyers volleyed back and forth for three days trying to prove and disprove that "words and fear are weapons". Audra's lawyer claimed that she had been "mentally and emotionally
manipulated by a Communist sympathizer". She had been denied the basic
security of a handgun given to her by her father, and was "forced to accept
the ways of foreigners." Ollie did little to defend himself. He had no need,
he felt, to respond to false charges and hearsay testimony. His lawyer
thought differently and said so, but later agreed that it would have made no
difference in the long run. The Kovaks sat quietly the whole time, watching
the wheels of American justice at work. They were never called to the witness
stand. They never expected to be. The judge ultimately accepted the jurists'
decision that she had acted in self-defense, motivated by fear.
Naturally, there would be an appeal of the court's decision, but not
by Ollie Kovak or his lawyer. The Sterns were an old, established family in
Colton, and Todd Stern was the smartest of the bunch. He had gone on to
become a lawyer, and, by the time the ink had dried on the final court
documents, the appeal had been filed. Believing that justice must be
absolutely blind, Todd Stern would have a hand in seeing to that on behalf of
his friend and boyhood idol, Ollie Kovak.
Audra filed for divorce the day after the court decision and returned
to a world safe from outside opinions and un-American views. Ollie was left to
pick up the fractured remains of his life and carry on. In the meantime,
President Kennedy had made Khrushchev blink first in a test of wills, and the
nuclear weapons he had parked and aimed at us from Cuba were all carted off
back to Russia. But Cuba remained under Communist rule, and some would later
say that Castro had Kennedy assassinated just to get even. In the end, the
trial in Colton was not so much about the attempted murder of Ollie Kovak as
it was an attempt to slay the menacing shadow of fear, something Karl Kovak
knew well.
About Dixon Hearne
Dixon Hearne is the author of a new book, Plantatia: High-toned and Low-down Stories of the South (Southeast Missouri State University Press, 2009), and co-editor of two recent anthologies of Southern fiction. He is one of fifty authors
selected to appear in Woodstock Revisited: 50 Far Out, Groovy, Peace-Loving,
Flashback-Inducing Stories From Those Who Were There (Adams Media, 2009). At
present, he is editing a collection of short fiction and memoirs, Thanksgiving
to Christmas: A Patchwork of Stories, to be released in late summer 2009. His
stories, essays and poems appear widely in magazines and journals. The author
can be reached at: www.dixonhearne.com
|
 |
|
|