The Journal

I finally convinced Walter to let Andrew and I in, as we were making our way to the living room, a tall black man walked around the corner. It was the same man that I saw sitting in the car the other day as I was leaving.

The man said, “Who was at the door Walt…er I mean Hank?”

Walter said, “It’s ok John, he knows who I am. Mike, this is John Chandler, John, this is Mike Jenkins and I’m sorry this is?” As he motioned to Andrew.

I jumped in, “Oh, I’m sorry Walter, John this is Andrew Watson my boyfriend.”

They looked at each other. I continued, I assume you guys have a similar relationship.”

Walter shook his head, “well Mike, so far I am 0 for 2 in trying to get anything past you, and yes you are right, John and I have been together since 1932.”

“Wow that is incredible maybe before we leave you guys can give Andrew and I some pointers.”

Walter sat down, “so you still haven’t told me where you found that journal.”

“Oh right, I found it in the shed behind your old house.”

Walter once again shook his head, “damn, the shed, I thought it was burned in the house, I forgot to check the shed. So, Mike, what do you want, my permission to add that journal to the article?”

“Walter, not at all, that was never my intention. I found this journal in 1972, when I was 14 years old. This journal was why I started to write, it led me to newspaper in Westburg, it led to start working at that paper. Your journal is why I chose to go to college for journalism, it’s why I have been looking for Walter and Ellis for the past 20 years.”

 “I’m sorry Mike, it’s just that after 60 years of hearing the worst of people, I always suspect everyone has an ulterior motive.”

“I understand, Walter, but you can trust me when I tell you that I will never write about anything in your journal without your approval. Here is the article I wrote about you from our interview, please read it and if you want me to change anything in there, you just tell me.”

“Ok, then what it is that you want to know?”

“I was hoping you would fill in the gaps, up until two days ago, that was everything after August of 1922. Now I feel I know what happened after 1932. Your last entry was so abrupt, I imagined every possible scenario, I didn’t know if you were even still alive. Today when I came in here and I saw John walk around the corner, I wanted to believe that he might be Ellis.”

“Sorry Mike, he is actually John.”

“I know Walter, but would you be willing to tell me what happened that day in 1922?”

“Just remember Mike, real life doesn’t aways have a fairy tale ending. I may have done some things that day that I am not proud of, I just hope that your image of me won’t be shattered if I tell you everything.”

“Walter, I understand, but I think that I have gotten to know a lot about you in the last few days, I know you are a good man. I don’t think anything you tell will change my opinion of you.”

Walter took a deep breath, “Ok you asked for it.”

“Ellis and I went for a swim after we had made love in the shed, it was just before dark, and we were getting out of the water and getting dressed. We were talking and laughing and didn’t hear the group of guys coming toward us. There were four of them, one grabbed Ellis while another start to hit him, I tried to run to stop them when the other two grabbed me. Ellis was already bloody as one held him and the other just kept hitting him, over and over. I yelled and tried to get away to help Ellis, I had my arms held behind my back by one of the guys and then the other started to hit me. Everything went black, when I woke up, I was laying about 20 feet from the pond, and it was dark. I felt around and couldn’t find Ellis, I called his name, but he didn’t answer, so I ran back to the shed and passed out again. I woke the next morning tasting blood and feeling sore from the beating, I ran down to the pond to see if Ellis was still there. I heard voices as I neared the pond, so I hid behind the trees to see who was there, it was the sheriff and a couple of his deputies. I moved in a little closer and saw them standing over Ellis, he was face down in the water, my heart sank. They turned him over and I saw his face, he was so badly beaten that I did not even recognize him. I heard the sheriff say, “Well looks like another accidental drowning to me boys, throw him in the back of my truck, I’ll drop him at his folk’s place on my way back to town.”

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard, “Damn Walter, I have always been afraid that is what happened.”

Walter continued, “Well that is exactly what the sheriff did, he pulled into Ellis’s yard as his parents came out the door. The sheriff opened the tailgate of his truck and said, “I think this is your boy, he had an accident and drowned at the pond.” He just pulled Ellis out of the truck and dropped him on the front yard and drove away.”

I looked to Andrew, “Jesus Christ, what an ass.”

Walter took another breath as he started to tear up, “I want back to the shed, I made that last entry in that journal, I went back to the house to get all the things that I could carry, I had decided to run away from that disgusting town. It was Sunday and I was hoping that my old man was still passed out drunk, sadly he wasn’t. The sheriff had stopped by earlier and told him about me and Ellis messing around in the pond, apparently someone had seen us and told the sheriff. The old man jumped out of his chair as I came in the door, he was already halfway through a new bottle, he started to cuss at as he came toward me. I had grabbed the two by four that I used to lock myself in the shed, as soon as he was close enough to me, I swung the board around and hit him square across his face.”

I saw John grab Walter’s hand as he put his other arm around his shoulder, Andrew took my hand as we just sat and stared at Walter. All four of us had tears running down our face.

“Well, I still don’t know what came over me, I just kept swinging that board until I noticed that my dad wasn’t moving. My adrenaline was still flowing and without thinking I threw all my clothes in a bag, I saw the cash from dad’s paycheck on the counter, I stuffed it in my pocket. I looked around the house and decided that no one should ever live here again, I broke all the kerosene lamps we had and threw a match as I walked out the door. I started to walk into the trees when I saw a truck headed toward the pond, I made my way to the pond and saw the two guys from the truck jump into the pond. As they came out of the water to use the rope swing, I saw who they were, one was the sheriff’s son the other was his tag along best friend, they were the two that beat Ellis the night before. My blood started to boil again, I picked up a solid tree branch and walked toward the pond. The friend came out of the water just as I walked from behind a tree, one smack and he was out cold, When the sheriff’s kid saw what happened he swam to the shore. Before he could get out of the water, I swung the branch three or four times, connecting each time, I kept swinging until he was face down in the water. I left him there just as he had done to Ellis the night before. I walked into trees and threw up until my throat was sore from dry heaving. I ran back to the house, it was fully engulfed, I hopped in my old man’s Model T and drove toward Jackson, about halfway I stopped at a diner to get something to eat. After I finished, I heard a couple guys talking about trying the find someone to work as a farmhand. For the next six years I worked odd jobs until I made it to Jackson, there I ended up at the printshop. I got to know the guy from the paper when he picked the printing we did for them, he told me there was an opening at the paper. I worked my way up until they made me a reporter, I met John on the first story that I covered.”

We all sat in silence for a few minutes.

I finally broke the silence, “my God Walter.”

He turned to me as he wiped the tears away, “still think I am a good guy?”

I said, “of course I do, I think I am even more impressed now. Did the sheriff ever suspect you of setting the fire or killing his son?”

“I think he did, but he never really did a proper investigation. I kept checking the papers, all the articles just said the fire was caused by my old man being drunk and knocking over a lamp, everyone knew he was an alcoholic, so it was believable. He passed his son’s death off as an accidental drowning, just as he had done with all the other kids that died at the pond. Most people in town knew that his son and his buddies were beating up the black kids and drowning them, most figured the sheriff was putting them up to it. He had to keep the story the same with his own kid. Old man Thornhill finally had enough of the sheriff killing all of his worker’s kids and got the state to investigate and made him leave town. The last I heard he got a job in a prison and was killed by a couple of the prisoners.”

Andrew finally spoke, “bastard deserved it” We were all thinking the same thing.

I asked, “so were you worried about the law coming after you? Is that why you went by the name of Hank Walters?”

“When I started writing articles, I knew my name would appear, and if there was anyone looking into the case, I would be easy to find.”

“I don’t know what to say Walter.”

John stood up. “I know I could use a cup of coffee, would anyone else like some?”

Walter said, “no I think I need a shot of whisky, bring that and four glasses please.”

John looked to Andrew and me, “yes I think I could use a shot of whiskey too.”

We each drank a couple shots as we asked Walter a few more questions. We were all feeling emotionally drained from hearing Walter’s tale.

I finally said, “Walter, I want to thank you for telling us about all this, I know it wasn’t easy.”

He said, “You’re welcome, to tell you the truth, I actually feel relieved, I told you things today that I have never told anyone else.”

John said, “that is true, he had told me about Ellis and that he had been killed but he never went into that much detail.”

“Sorry John, I think I was trying to forget all that, but when I saw that journal, it just all came back stronger than ever.”

I picked up the journal, “here Walter, I want you to have this back.” I handed him the journal.

“Thank you, Mike.”

I said, “Andrew, I think we have taken enough of these kind gentlemen’s time, mom is expecting us for supper.”

Andrew agreed, “Walter it was very nice meeting you, you too John.”

We started stopping in to see Walter and John every month when we were visiting mom. We enjoyed the stories they told and how they teased each other, and how much they still cared for each other.

“This is what I hope we are like in 45 years Andrew.”

“I don’t know Mike, that’s a long to put up someone like you.” Andrew gave me wink.

“Oh, I see, you want to start it now, huh?”

 About a year after I first met Walter, John called me at work.

“Mike, Walter has developed pneumonia and wants to see you. The doctor says it doesn’t look too good, he may have only a couple days left.”

“We will be there the first thing in the morning John, thanks for calling.”

Andrew and I paid one last visit to Walter, a week later we were back in Jackson for his funeral. After the funeral John had a few of their friends over to the house for drinks.

He pulled me aside, “Mike can I see you for a minute?”

“Sure John, what can I do for you?”

We went into Walter’s den, John handed me an envelope.

“Walter wanted me to give you this after his funeral.”

I opened it up, the envelope contained the journal and Walter had written on all the blank pages. There was a note inside the cover.

Mike,

I decided there were too many empty pages, so I finished the story for you. Sorry that the last part of the story is not near as exciting as the first. It is mostly just about a boring reporter and his boring boyfriend just living a boring life.

Now that I am gone, I just wanted to give you permission to tell that story if you would like. If there was anyone in this world that I want to write about me, it would be the first man that read the first story that I ever wrote.

Here is hoping that you have the same long and boring life that I had.

Your Friend,

Walter

****