The Roy Stories

by Barry Gifford

  “I wasn’t talking to them, Mom, I was listening.”

  “Don’t listen to them, either. I’ll talk to your dad about it. I don’t want Buzzy Shy bothering you.”

  “Dad and Buzzy are friends.”

  “Not really. Buzzy helps out sometimes, that’s all.”

  “How did his eye get like that?”

  “He was a prizefighter. Somebody shut it for him.”

  “Maybe his brain got hurt, too.”

  “I don’t know, baby. He was probably born with the problem in his head. Don’t go near him again.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “I like the sky like this, when it’s really red with only a tiny yellow line under it.”

  “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky at morning, sailor take warning.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Tomorrow will be a nice day on the ocean.”

  “Sailor’s Delight would be a good name for a red Popsicle, don’t you think, Mom?”

  “Yes, Roy, I do. Remember to tell your dad. I’m sure he knows someone in the Popsicle business.”

  Perfect Spanish

  “Before you were born, I got very sick and your dad made me go to Cuba to recover. I stayed in a lovely house on a beach next to a lavish estate. It was a perfect cure for me, lying in the sun, without responsibilities.”

  “Was Dad with you?”

  “No, I was alone. There was a Chinese couple who took care of the house and me. Chang and Li were their names.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Six weeks. I was so happy, just by myself, reading, resting, swimming in the Caribbean Sea. It really was the best time of my life. I never felt better, until, of course, I had to leave.”

  “Why did you have to leave?”

  “To make sure you were a healthy baby. I needed to be near my doctor, who was in Chicago.”

  “The ground is so beautiful here, Mom. It looks like snow, but the air is very hot.”

  “That’s cotton, baby. Cotton is the main crop in Alabama. The temperature doesn’t stay high long enough up north to grow it there. Also, the cost of labor is much cheaper in the South, and picking cotton is extremely labor-intensive.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It takes a lot of people to handpick the buds. That’s why slaves were brought here from Africa, to work in the fields.”

  “They didn’t want to come.”

  “No, baby, they didn’t.”

  “There aren’t slaves now, though, right?”

  “Not officially, no. But too many people still live almost the same way as they did a hundred or more years ago. There’s no work here, really, except in the cottonfields, and it doesn’t pay much. The difference between then and now is that people are free to come and go, they’re not owned by another person.”

  “I wouldn’t like to be owned by someone.”

  “Nobody does. Slavery is against the law in the United States, but it still exists in some parts of the world.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “We won’t, Roy, I promise.”

  “Were there slaves in Cuba?”

  “At one time, yes.”

  “Were there slaves when you were there before I was born?”

  “No, baby, that was only a few years ago.”

  “Chang and Li weren’t slaves, right?”

  “Certainly not. They were caretakers of the property. Chang and Li were very happy to be working there. They were wonderful people and very kind to me.”

  “How did they get from China to Cuba?”

  “I don’t know. By boat, probably. Or maybe their parents came from China and Chang and Li were born in Cuba. They spoke perfect Spanish.

  “Roy?”

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Something’s bothering you, I can tell. What is it?”

  “I think I’d like to learn to speak perfect Spanish.”

  “You can, baby. You can start taking Spanish lessons whenever you want.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “I bet the slaves didn’t think the cotton fields were so beautiful.”

  Seconds

  “Are we going to see Pops and Nanny soon?”

  “Yes, baby, we’ll be in New Orleans for three or four days, then we’ll go to Miami. I don’t know if Pops will be there, but Nanny will.”

  “Why isn’t Pops there so much?”

  “I never told you this before, but I think you’re old enough now to understand. Pops and Nanny haven’t always been together. There was a time when I was a girl—more than ten years, in fact—when they were each married to another person.”

  “Who were they married to?”

  “Nanny’s husband was a man named Tim O’Malley. His family was in the trucking business in Chicago. Pops married a woman named Sally Price, and they lived in Kansas City. I used to go down on the train and visit them there. This was from when I was the age you are now until I went away to college.”

  “Why did they marry other people?”

  “In those days Pops was a traveling salesman for a shoe company, and Kansas City was part of his territory. Sally was a girlfriend of his for a couple of years before Pops and Nanny got divorced. When he decided to spend more time with Sally than with Nanny, my mother divorced him and she married O’Malley, who’d always liked her.”

  “So O’Malley was like your other father.”

  “In a way, but we were never close. I lived most of the time at boarding school, Our Lady of Angelic Desire, so I didn’t really see him so much. He died suddenly of a heart attack ten years to the day after he and your grandmother were married.”

  “How did she and Pops get back together?”

  “Pops had divorced Sally two years before O’Malley’s death and moved back to Illinois. He always loved my mother and would stand across the street sometimes to watch her come out of our house and get in her car and drive away. Pops wanted Nanny back, and after O’Malley was gone, she agreed to remarry him.”

  “I bet you were happy.”

  “No, I wasn’t particularly happy, because I didn’t completely understand why Pops had left in the first place. O’Malley was nothing special to me, and he wasn’t as smart or funny or handsome as my father, but my mother blamed Pops for their separation and I guess I took her side, right or wrong. I don’t feel the same way now. It’s difficult to know what really goes on between people in a marriage, and I don’t think anyone other than those two people can understand, including their children.”

  “What about you and Dad?”

  “What about us, Roy?”

  “You’re divorced but you’re still friends, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, baby, your dad and I are very good friends. We’re better friends now than when we were married.”

  “And you both love me.”

  “Of course, baby. Both your dad and I would do anything for you.”

  “It’s okay with me that you and Dad don’t live together, but sometimes I get afraid that I won’t see him anymore.”

  “You can see your dad whenever you like. When we get to the hotel in New Orleans, we’ll call him, okay? I think he’s in Las Vegas now. Maybe he can come to see us before he goes back to Chicago.”

  “Yeah, Mom, let’s call him. Remember the last time we were with him in New Orleans and he ate too many oysters and got so sick?”

  “We’ll make sure he doesn’t eat oysters this time, don’t worry. Try to sleep a little now, baby. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

  Roy’s World

  “Remember the time you caught a barracuda and brought it back to the hotel an
d asked Pete the chef to cook it for you?”

  “It was the first fish I ever caught. I was out with Uncle Jack on Captain Jimmy’s boat, fishing for grouper, but a ’cuda took my mullet.”

  “Pete thought you were so cute, bringing the barracuda wrapped in newspaper into the kitchen. You were only five then.”

  “He told me that barracudas aren’t good eating, so he made me a kingfish instead.”

  “Grilled in butter and garlic.”

  “And he said he wouldn’t charge us for it since I’d brought him a fish to trade.”

  “You really love your Uncle Jack, don’t you, baby?”

  “He’s a great fisherman, and he knows everything about boats.”

  “You know he was a commander in the navy?”

  “Sure, he told me about how he built bridges and navy bases in the Pacific during the war.”

  “Uncle Jack is a civil and mechanical engineer, Roy. He can draw plans, too, like an architect. He was a Seabee, and the navy offered to make him an admiral if he stayed in.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  “He said to make money it was better to be in private industry. That’s why he moved to Florida, to build houses. My brother can do anything, though.”

  “He can’t fly.”

  “What do you mean, baby? You mean like Superman?”

  “No, Uncle Jack told me he tried to become a pilot in the navy. They sent him to Texas to learn how to fly, but he washed out. He said there was something wrong with his ears that made him lose his balance.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I remember when he came home from Texas. He was so disappointed. But Jack can do so many things. You know, baby, if you get really interested in something, you should follow it through all the way. I mean, find out everything you can, learn all there is to learn about it, try to do it or figure it out. That’s what your Uncle Jack does, that’s how come he knows so much about different things. He can’t do everything so well, like flying a plane, but he tries. And you know he’s been practically all over the world. Jack’s a great traveler.”

  “I’m going to be a great traveler, too. We travel a lot, don’t we, Mom?”

  “Yes, we do, but except for Cuba and Mexico, only in the United States.”

  “I like to draw maps.”

  “You mean to copy them from the atlas?”

  “Sometimes, just to learn where places are. But also I like to make countries up. Oceans and seas, too. It’s fun to invent a world nobody else knows.”

  “What’s your favorite country that you made up?”

  “Turbania. It’s full of tribes of warriors who’re always fighting to take over all of Turbania. The largest tribe is the Forestani. They live in the mountains and come down to attack the Vashtis and Saladites, who are desert people.”

  “Where exactly is Turbania?”

  “Between Nafili and Durocq, on the Sea of Kazmir. A really fierce small tribe, the Bazini, live in the port city of Purset. They’re very rich because they own the port and have a big wall all around with fortifications not even the Forestanis can penetrate. The Bazinis also have rifles, which the other tribes don’t. The Vashtis and Saladites ride horses, black and white Arabians. The Forestanis travel on foot because the woods in the hills are so thick that horses can’t get through. And each tribe has its own language, though the Bazinis speak Spanish and maybe English, too, because of the shipping trade. The Forestanis can also speak like birds, which is the way they communicate when they don’t want anyone outside the tribe to know what they’re saying. It’s a secret language that they’re forbidden by tribal law to teach outsiders. If a Forestani is caught telling the secret bird language to a person from another tribe, his tongue is cut out and his eardrums are punctured.”

  “Well, Roy, we’ll be in Chattanooga soon. Let’s have a snack and you can tell me about some of your other countries. I hope they’re not all as terrible as Turbania.”

  “Turbania’s not so terrible, Mom. Wait until you hear about Cortesia, where all the people are blind and they have to walk around with long sticks to protect themselves from bumping into things and each other, so everyone pokes everyone else with their sticks all the time.”

  Nomads

  “Where are we now, Mom?”

  “Just outside Centralia, Illinois.”

  “This is sure a long train.”

  “I’ll turn off the motor. Tell me if you get too cold, Roy, and I’ll turn the heater back on.”

  “It’s cold out, but not real cold yet, even though it’s almost December. Why is that?”

  “Weather is pretty unpredictable sometimes, baby, especially in the spring or fall. But you can bet before too long this part of the country’ll be blanketed white.”

  “How come we never take a train?”

  “You took a train a couple of times, don’t you remember? When you went up and back to Eagle River, Wisconsin.”

  “It was fun sleeping overnight on the train, though I didn’t really sleep very much. I stayed up looking out the window into the shadows, imagining what might be out there. I like the dark, Mom, especially if I’m protected from it, like through a train window.”

  “What did you think you could see, Roy?”

  “Monsters, of course. Lots of large creatures crunching through the forest. Then I could see campfires, real quick little flashes of smoky light burning up through the trees. I thought maybe it was Indians, the last ones left living in the woods, moving every day and setting up a new camp at night.”

  “Nomads.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Nomads are people who travel all the time—they don’t live in one place.”

  “Is Nomads the name of a tribe?”

  “It used to be. They’re in the Bible, I think. Now it’s just a word used to describe anyone who’s constantly changing their place of residence.”

  “We move around a lot.”

  “Yes, we do, but we mostly stay in the same places.”

  “That’s what the Plains Indians did. I read that they would come back to the same campgrounds depending on the seasons.”

  “I think the Indians understood the weather better than most people do now.”

  “What do you mean, Mom?”

  “People live mostly in cities, so they defy the weather. They stay in their buildings and complain when it rains or snows, or that it’s too hot or cold. The Indians adjusted better to changes of climate. When it was too warm on the plains, they moved to the mountains, where it was cooler. When it snowed in the mountains, they moved down.”

  “This train is about the longest I’ve ever seen.”

  “Cotton Belt Route. Southern Serves the South. Don’t you love to read what’s written on the boxcars?”

  “Yeah, but what do the letters mean? Like B&O?”

  “Baltimore and Ohio. L&N is Louisville and Norfolk, I think. Or maybe it’s Louisiana and Norfolk.”

  “It’s almost ending, Mom. I can see the caboose. Start the car.”

  “It’s nice to have heat, huh, Roy? If we were Indians in the old days we would’ve had to wait on our horses until the train passed.”

  “We’d be wrapped in blankets, so we wouldn’t be too cold.”

  “I once saw a painting of an Indian riding in a blizzard, his long-braided black hair and blanket covered with ice. Even the pony’s mane was frozen.”

  “I like cars, Mom, but horses are more beautiful. I’d feel more like a real Nomad if I were on a horse instead of in a car. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess so, baby. But it would take us a lot longer to get anywhere.”

  “Sometimes I don’t care how long it takes. And when we get there I’m always a little disappointed.”

  “Why disappointed?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because sometimes it’s better to imagine
how something or someplace is rather than to have it or be there. That way you won’t ever be disappointed when you find out it’s not so great as you hoped.”

  “You’re growing up, Roy, you really are. Some people never figure that out.”

  “Probably the real Nomads knew, and that’s why they were always moving.”

  “It’s impossible to avoid being disappointed sometimes, baby, unless you learn to not expect too much.”

  “I like traveling, Mom. I like it more than being in one place, so maybe I’m learning.”

  Ducks on the Pond

  “Roy! Roll up your window. It’s freezing outside.”

  “I want to leave it open just a little, okay, Mom? I like the feeling when the heater’s on high and we can still feel the cold air.”

  “Amazing how cold it can get in Mississippi, huh, Roy? And it’s not even Christmas yet.”

  “Where are we now?”

  “We just passed the Batesville turnoff. We’ll stay tonight in Memphis, maybe at the Peabody if we can get a room. Remember that hotel, baby? The one with the ducks on the pond in the lobby.”

  “There was a kid there the last time who told me he drowned a duck once. Not one of the Peabody ducks.”

  “Drowned a duck? I didn’t know ducks could drown.”

  “I guess they can. They have to come up for air, like people, only probably not as often.”

  “I wish I could pass this darn truck. Sorry, Roy, I don’t mean to swear, but the driver won’t let me get around him. Tell me more about the ducks. Who was it who drowned one?”

  “A boy I met at the Peabody Hotel the last time we stayed there. He was older than me, twelve or thirteen, I think.”

  “It was in March. Bert came up.”

  “Is Bert still alive?”

  “Of course, baby. Why would you ask that?”

  “Just wondering. You said he was having trouble with his brain, so I thought maybe it exploded or something.”

  “He had something growing in his head, that’s right. You remembered. I think the doctors took it out.”

  “Before his brain could explode.”