Most people had never seen either parental figure at the Klecko
household, though we all assumed that certainly one must have always been
inside. It never would have occurred to
us that the boys were actually fending for themselves in the small suburban
house. That would have been something
completely extraordinary, and nothing extraordinary had ever happened in our
general area for all of recorded history.
So when we heard other parents make comments like “it’s like those boys
have been raised by wolves”, we didn’t know how close to the truth that was,
assuming you agreed that the family german shepherd Simba carried any authority
in the home. I saw the Dad every now and then. He was a guy with a brush cut that always
wore short sleeve dress shirts. My image
of him is of fishing a cigarette out of the pocket while threatening the boys.
The eldest brother Tom was a shadowy figure. Tom had an acoustic guitar he continually
plucked at while lying on his bed in his room.
Despite hours and hours of him plinking, he never improved and I do not
believe he could play a song from beginning to end. He did know the beginning of “Ziggy Stardust”
though, and after a failed attempt at “Stairway To Heaven”, he would often
retreat back to the comfortable chord changes of Ziggy. Tom had long blonde hair and always wore a
fringed leather jacket. He liked to
smoke cigarettes while leaning against the basketball pole, secure in his role
as the elder statesman. Tom had a
beautiful girlfriend that broke up with him that May, and for most of the summer
he wore that heartache like a bruise. Whenever
I saw Peter Fonda in a movie, it always made me think of Tom.
Terry was a year younger than Tom. At the time, it was popular to say that Terry
“just wasn’t right”. I overheard my
elderly neighbors say once, “I think Terry is touched”. The bottom line was Terry was fucking
crazy. Everyone was nervous when Terry
was around, even Tom. Terry had a short
fuse, and the slightest thing would set him off. He was generally suspended from school for
fighting, so I didn’t see him there very often.
My policy with Terry was to avoid him at all costs so as to minimize the
chance of him going crazy on me. The
last time I physically saw Terry was when he made a crying teenage boy jump off
a train trestle 25 feet into a creek. Somehow
the boy’s parents got involved, which led to the police getting involved, which
led to Terry enlisting in the Navy as a way to “straighten him out and give him
some structure”. Two years later I heard
Terry punched his commanding officer in the face, jumped into the harbor in
Manila and was AWOL.
I was friends with Joey, the youngest. Joey was a tough kid, but he had some
substance to him. He was a 13 year old
boy that had this leathery exterior with sadness in his eyes. Joey was really bright, but would play down
his intelligence. I think Terry would
beat him if Joey made him feel stupid, so Joey just kept quiet even when he
knew the answers to things. Joey was
always very dodgy whenever I would ask about his parents. My understanding was his father traveled a
lot and his mother worked nights. I remember
seeing his father once in a while, but never his mother. I stopped asking about her when he blew up on
me one afternoon and punched me in the stomach.
As boys we were used to hitting each other, but this was far over the
line over our wordlessly agreed violence level.
That was the end of that.
By the time I got to high school I didn’t spend much time at
the Klecko house. I was on the college
prep plan, and Joey had fallen in with “the rats”, a.k.a. the kids that took
shop class and went to tech classes. We
had been pretty close, but after a year in a new clique, we hardly even acknowledged
each other any longer. High school has
strict rules after all. One day I saw a “For
Sale” sign in front of their house, and they moved out shortly afterwards. An Indian family moved in with a girl in my
class. She and I never interacted
once. Her father had that bushy mustache
Indian fathers always seemed to have, and would stare at us boys with crossed
arms and an all-knowing expression as if he had just saved his chunky silent
daughter from our ravenous sexual advances.
The only reason I mention the Indian family at all is
because during my second year of college they decided to put in a new patio. When the workers dug up the area for the ultra-deluxe
50,000 btu Weber Grill station area, they were shocked to discover human
remains. The authorities later matched
the dental records of the skull with that of Mrs. Klecko. I remember reading the small print typed item
from a USA Today clipping my father sent me to my dorm mailbox. They found Mr. Klecko living in Galveston
TX. They arrested him, but I think he
claimed Terry did it while he was away and he just couldn’t turn his son
in. He went to jail for a lot less time
than you’d think. They never found
Terry. When I heard about that whole
thing, it sure explained a lot about that summer and about Joey.
The Indian family sold the house at a loss about a year
later. Someone named Garrison lives
there now. They seem nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment