Rant: The Oral History of Buster Casey

You didn't have to ask how Rant knowed the shape of Miss Harvey's parts. Same as animal tracks in the snow or sand, he could hand-draw you the kiss of a wide-ranging variety of local pussy. Native-born or just passing through. Just seeing how far a rubber was rolled down, Rant could reckon what dick it come off.

A ways off, in the kitchen window of my house, you could see my mom's outline standing at the sink, one elbow raised up and poked out sideways, her hand holding the outline of the telephone pressed to the side of her hair. Maybe watching us. Probably watching us.

Rant plucked another wad of white, splashed with a dark stain. He sniffed it and looked back toward my house.

I asked him, "Who is that?" and nodded at the old blood.

This new pussy print, a flower bigger than Miss Harvey's, a sunflower compared to her little violet.

And Rant opened his bag, saying, "Forget it."

No, really, I said, and reached for it. "Let me smell."

Rant dropped the sunflower-big stain into his burlap bag. He walked a step away from me, walking down the fence line, saying, "I'm pretty sure it's your mom's."

My mom, watching. Her ear still looking for blame over the phone.

Walking out with Rant Casey, time had a habit of getting stopped. That moment, another when time got stuck. That moment forever and always doomed to keep happening in my head. Those stars, the same old hand-me-down stars as folks still wish on now. Tonight's moon, the same exact moon as back then.

Sheriff Bacon Carlyle: Between the time it took Rant Casey running to church, and the time we took getting back to old Esther, the dog packs had already found her. Irene's mama. They left her something awful to come pick up.

Bodie Carlyle: If Rant Casey ever fucked my mom, I didn't never have the balls to ask.

4–Fake Stars

Echo Lawrence (Party Crasher): Before Rant had started kindergarten, but after he'd started sleeping in a regular bed, every day his mother put him down when the little hand of the kitchen clock was on the two, until the little hand was on the three. Yawning or not, Rant had to stay on that bed, up in his attic room, with his pillow propped against the wall. In bed, he hugged a stuffed rabbit he called "Bear."

Picture the moment when your mom or dad first saw you as something other than a pretty, tiny version of them. You as them, but improved. Better educated. Innocent. Then picture when you stopped being their dream.

If the sun was bright, and Rant could hear dogs barking outside, he'd say, "Bear wants to go play…"

When he wasn't tired, Rant would say, "But Bear isn't sleepy…"

Ruby Elliot (Childhood Neighbor): Girls who gone to school with Irene Shelby, we know how close Buster Casey come to not getting born. Irene being no older than thirteen when Chester took up with her, fourteen when the baby come due. To be honest, Irene was none too happy, her being the only gal stretch-marked and breast-feeding in ninth grade.

Edna Perry (Childhood Neighbor): You best swear I didn't tell you this, but before Buster come, Irene used go on how she wanted to paint pictures and carve statues. She didn't never figure what kind. Went as far as Dr. Schmidt, trying to not have that baby. Went to Reverend Fields at Middleton Christian, asking permission to give it up. It didn't help none: Her own ma, Esther Shelby, told her that baby would be born a flesh-and-blood curse of the Devil.

Echo Lawrence: Irene, she'd press her lips on Rant's little forehead. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she'd shake her finger at the stuffed rabbit and say, "We still need a nap." She'd say, "Let's count our stars until we're sleepy." Rant's mother would make him count one…two…all the stickers pasted to the ceiling paint. Four, five, six, and she'd walk out of the room, backward, and close the door.

Ruby Elliot: No lie, but Esther had her own child, Irene, about that same age. Chet Casey was the only voice that helped little Rant come into the world. Chet and Irene got hitched, but she had to quit school. Nowadays, folks see the path Buster Casey took, the plague he started, and it's hard to not figure Irene made the wrong choice.