Chapter Text
The Whitaker farm was in the middle of nowhere, but it was only a short drive from town. The family, of course, made the drive for meetings. They had to, anyway. Luckily, the ten-minute drive from the farm to the Kingdom Hall wasn’t the worst thing in the world for Dennis. In fact, it was probably the best part about having to go to meetings. Dennis enjoyed sitting in the back seat and watching the luscious greenery fade into drab concrete through the window. His brothers would occasionally try to pull him from the window, saying things like, “You’re so boring,” and, “Wanna fight?!” He would ignore them. Nothing could pull him from soaking in the last of his beautiful grass before having to sit in the beige Hall for almost three hours.
Mother would kill him if she knew how much he hated those meetings. She sat pristinely in the passenger seat of their minivan, the farthest seat from Dennis. Her posture was immaculate: her back straight against the seat, her hands resting in her lap. Her eyes never strayed from the road ahead of them. Dennis wished he knew what went through her head during these short rides into town. She never said a word, never looked at anyone–not even Father. She was probably reciting prayers or going over Bible verses. It especially surprised Dennis when his brothers would fight each other in the back, bump into her seat, and she wouldn’t even flinch. It would be his father who would tell the boys to “knock it off!”
Of course, this never stopped them. They would shrug and continue shoving each other around. Every so often, they would shove each other into Dennis and press his face against the window. He wished one of the doors would fly open and suck them out. Dennis nearly started crying with joy when the car finally stopped and shut off. He could finally get out of the uncomfortable proximity to his brothers.
Mother and Father stepped out first, followed by his two brothers in the seats in front of him. They pushed the seats down to let him and his other brother out of the very back. Dennis climbed out of the car, shifting uncomfortably past the seats and out the sliding door that he had gotten his hand stuck in once as a kid. He landed on the gravel with a crunch. He brushed himself off as he rubbed his head, nursing it from the pain that emerged when his brothers were roughhousing. His parents began walking to the Hall, following the few others in their town who were Witnesses. His brothers finally straightened out and followed their parents. Dennis trailed behind the three of them, trying to avoid setting them off again. Thankfully, they usually avoided fighting each other during meetings. If they did, Mother would yell at them. She was the only person in the world they would actually listen to.
Dennis watched Mother as she walked. She had a beautiful, elegant sort of figure. She wore big dangly pearl earrings, and her hair was always pinned up. The way she dressed was rehearsed: shiny blouses and modest skirts. Always a pair of flats on her feet. Father, on the other hand, was unremarkable. He presented as any other man at the meetings. A beer belly that spilled over suit pants and a suit jacket that he couldn’t button. Mother always had to fix his tie. The fact that the two of them were together surprised Dennis. They were an unlikely pair.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Mother’s voice ahead of him.
“Dennis!” she called. “What are you doing? Service starts soon. Pick up your feet, Child.”
Dennis scrambled to catch up with his family. He nearly tripped over himself as he shuffled through the gravel.
“Uh… Sorry, Mother! I’m coming.”
When he caught up, they were at the door of the Kingdom Hall. It was a small building, but it didn’t need to be very big anyway. The population of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Broken Bow barely went over 150. It wasn’t extremely common in Nebraska as a whole.
Father placed a hand on Dennis’ shoulder and gently led him inside. As he did so, Dennis felt the boredom already begin to consume his body. He could’ve fallen asleep standing there. Reluctantly, he continued walking and followed Mother to their usual spot in the pews. As he sat, he prepared himself for the next three hours of his life.
He quickly stood again as he felt Mother yank his arm. He rested his hands in front of him and bowed his head. Dennis’ eyes closed as the room began reciting:
“Bless us as we meet together, Great Jehovah, we now pray…”
The ride home was Dennis’ favorite part. His brothers always fell asleep in the car after meetings, so he got to enjoy the scenery without interruption. The only thing he loved more than watching green turn to gray was watching gray turn to green. His mind relaxed as he saw small townhomes and shops dissolve into trees and flowers and grass. He quietly waved to the other livestock farms as they passed. He wondered about the names of the cows he could see grazing in their fields. He couldn’t wait to get home to his animals. All he could think about at the service was his farm. He could think clearly when he was tending to the animals, and his brothers usually didn’t bother him when he was working. Mother made sure of that. Not because she cared about his well-being, but because she didn’t want anything distracting him from his chores. He wasn’t complaining, of course.
Father coughed quietly as they arrived at the farm. He shut off the car and yelled for the boys to wake up. They immediately shot up and started fighting each other to get out of the car. Dennis waited for one of them to put the seat down and quickly climbed out, trying his best to avoid their wrath. Wishful thinking, right?
“Where d’ya think you’re going, Denny?” one of them yelled as he pulled Dennis by the shirt.
Dennis was yanked into a noogie, and he pushed and shoved to get out. He struggled, grabbing hard at his brother’s hands. He screamed and kicked, then finally bit down on the arm around his neck. His brother yelped and released him.
“You little shit!”
Dennis scrambled away and tripped onto the gravel, fighting his own noodly legs to get up. He watched as his three brothers started toward him, definitely ready to beat the crap out of him. He managed to get up on his hands and knees, then his feet, and he started running. He heard Father yell after them, and he glanced at Mother, who seemed disgusted. He kept running. He made it to the barn and ran inside, finding a hay bale to hide behind.
He held his hand over his mouth as he watched his brothers enter the barn, trying to keep quiet.
“Dennis! Where you at, kid?!” His oldest brother. “You know we ain’t tryna hurt ya. We just wanna say hi!”
Dennis looked down at his arm and realized he was bleeding. Damnit. He must’ve scratched it when he fell. He wiped it on his pants and watched as the wound filled with blood again. How bad was it? He listened as his brothers passed him. They were whistling and hooting. He heard a cow moo in response. Then he heard another pair of footsteps. Oh, shit.
“Boys!” Mother’s voice boomed through the barn. Dennis immediately stood up from behind the hay bale. He watched as his brothers turned around. “Get inside the house. Now. Leave your little brother alone.”
Dennis’ eyes followed the three of them as they dipped their heads and filed out of the barn. Mother turned to him.
“You have chores to do, Dennis. Get to work.”
She turned to walk out, but Dennis called to stop her. He shrank again as her glare burned through him.
“Uh… Um…” He scrambled to find words as she glared harder. “I, uh… scraped my arm.”
He held up his arm to show her, and her glare softened. She gestured for him to come to her. He climbed around the bale and stopped a foot or two short. She took a step and placed a hand on the base of his neck. He tensed slightly but allowed her to lead him to the house.
As Dennis stepped into the house, he willed himself not to start crying. He was twelve. He was a boy. Of course, he’d gotten plenty of scrapes on the farm before–most of them from his brothers–but he always felt the urge to cry when Mother had to take care of him. He knew she hated doing it. She led him to the kitchen and let go of his neck to reach under the sink. She pulled out a first aid kit that definitely needed to be replaced soon. Dennis moved to the kitchen table and sat down, placing his arm on the table and doing his best to avoid spilling blood. Mother walked up to him, rubbing alcohol and a bandage in hand. She sat next to him and grabbed his arm.
“This will sting.” She barely waited a second before pouring the alcohol onto his arm. Dennis winced, pinching his eyes shut and biting down on the knuckle of his forefinger. He watched as the skin around the wound bubbled into a thin white layer. He was sure that wasn’t what you were supposed to do to treat wounds, but it’s what Mother had always done, so he never said anything. Mother wiped away the extra alcohol before gently placing the bandage on his arm. She tapped it lightly, signaling that she was finished. Without a word, she rose, then she nodded in the direction of the barn outside and walked away. Right. Chores.
Before he did that, though, he had to change out of his service clothes. He was wearing a stuffy suit that was a little bit too big on him. It was scratchy, too. Not to mention, Mother would kill him if he got it covered in dirt and hay. He made sure his bandage was on securely, then stood from the table. He rushed up to his room, which he shared with one of his brothers, and changed into a t-shirt and overalls. He looked like the perfect farm boy. He ran back downstairs and mentally prepared himself for chores.
Dennis was glad to have something to do. He exited the house through the back door in the kitchen, then headed toward the barn and looked around cautiously for any sign of his brothers. When he didn’t see them, he figured they were inside getting scolded by Mother. That was good for him, at least. When he entered the barn, he immediately went to the cows. They were his favorite. Mother let him name each of them.
“Hi, Bessie. Hi, Charlie. Hi, Mona…” He would sit there and greet each one individually every time he went to the barn. He would even greet the ones grazing outside from the window. He then went to the goats and the sheep. He did the same with them. Then the pigs. Then finally, outside to the coop and the chickens. Then he would start his chores.
Usually, Dennis would only have to clean up and collect eggs, but since it was a service day, he also had to feed them and collect milk. He liked feeding all the animals. The cows would get some hay in their pen, but they would usually just graze outside. The goats would get hay, too. The pigs would get a bucket of scraps from the kitchen, and the chickens would get corn and seeds. Dennis’ least favorite part was milking the cows. At his age, he was really only able to do one or two in a day. He could never get the cows to cooperate with him because they had at least ten. He usually had to get his brothers or Father to help him. They were, of course, never pleased about this. Today was no different. Luckily, he never had to milk the goats. That was for Father and the boys. He would get more chores like them when he was older.
It only took Dennis a couple of hours to get his chores done. He finally went inside, sweaty and covered in dirt. It was dusk, so he went up to his room and changed into his night clothes. He headed back downstairs and sat at the table with his family, ready for dinner. He knew Mother hated it when he wore his night clothes to the table, but he knew she hated it more when his clothes were dirty at the table, so really, what was he meant to do? He watched as Mother placed the food at the center of the table, then waited for her to sit down. When she did, they all joined hands and bowed their heads in prayer. Mother led, as usual.
Dinner was had in silence, save for the occasional small talk between Mother and Father or Dennis’ brothers. Dennis never spoke at dinner unless asked. When he finished, he quietly asked to be excused, and Mother nodded. He rose from his seat and took his plate to the sink to wash it. He waved goodnight to his family as he crossed the kitchen to the stairs. He went up to get ready for bed, then went to his room. He lay down as he wrote in his journal for the day, then set it aside as he closed his eyes. It was only a few minutes before he was breathing softly and evenly in a deep sleep.