by Saints
“But Mama, it’s the Academy Awards. Gone with the Wind is nominated and so is The Wizard of Oz. Becky’s mama and daddy took her to see both them movies at the theater in Pikeville. She said they was good movies. And the Academy Award show is where all the movie stars git together. They git all dressed up and they drink bubbly champagne.”
“More reason not to go. Sounds like a gatherin’ of a bunch of demons and sinners. Preacher Thompson told us about them flyin’ monkeys in that wizard movie. Said they looked like devils.”
“And Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh are supposed to be there too.”
“Clark Gable?” Suddenly, Mama’s voice took a liking to the topic. “I will say, and forgive me, Daddy, but that Clark Gable sure is a handsome man.”
Daddy broke his silence. “You wanna be like Clark Gable when you grow up?”
“Heck no. I wanna be like Vivien Leigh.”
My daddy took a deep breath and turned his head to the side to exhale. It was never a good sign when Daddy turned his head to the side before he spoke. Then he leaned back and looked at me real serious. “Boy, quit with the nonsense. You’re fourteen years old. You oughta know by now you can’t be like her. She’s a woman. Don’t you know if you talk about this kind of thang, people are gonna call you a sissy?”
Mama placed her hand on my arm. “And you could even get beat up and hurt.”
“I ain’t sceered of anybody or any name callin’. And what if I am a sissy? Johnny Mac’s a sissy and he’s my friend. Anyway, Miss Allison says I can be anythin’ in the world I want to be. Says if we wanna escape the confines of Pike County, we have to think big.”
Daddy paused. “You think that school teacher has the answers to all your problems, don’tchee? Well, I hate to tell you this but you’re gonna do what every young man does around here, what we’ve done for generations. You’re gonna git a job in the mines or in timber, then you’re gonna find a girl and marry her, and then have a mess of kids.”
“I ain’t gittin’ a job where I have to git dirty.”
“There ain’t much choice,” Daddy said firmly.
“I’ll figure it out. Becky says that every girl that gits married in the mountains is knocked up before she gits married. She says they even have shotguns at the weddin’s. Mama, can I have some more taters?” Mama lifted the bowl and spooned out the remainder of the potatoes onto my plate. “Did you have shotguns at your weddin’?”
Daddy laughed out loud. Not sure why he thought my question was so humorous, but somehow he must have. “Boy, did we ever. I think we hold the record for the number of guns at our weddin’.”
Mama smiled as she recollected the event. “Yes, it was special. After we said our vows, all the men folk, includin’ your daddy, went off and went squirrel huntin’.”
“That’s an odd thing to do.”
“It’s what men do in the mountains,” my daddy said as he wiped his hands on his pant legs.
“So, you two were in love?”
“That’s right, son. And still are,” Mama added. “So, are you sweet on Becky?”
“Well, I guess I am. She’s got broad shoulders, which I find appealin’, and I really like her cropped-off hair. Yeah, she’s real cute. I could like her if I had to.”
Mama sat back and a dreaming kind of smile came across her face. “It would be nice to have grandchildren one day, wouldn’t it, Daddy?”
“I reckon. Yeah, it would be nice to have some extra help around here.”
I wasn’t sure where the conversation was heading, but I didn’t like having my life planned out in front of me, especially with me not having any input. “Oh, Becky said she never wants to have any young’ns, that’s what she called ’em, eatin’ off her titties all day long, and then changin’ diapers, then havin’ to wash ’em and hang ’em out. Miss Allison says people in big cities adopt children after they’re potty trained. That way they don’t have to deal with shitty diapers.”
Daddy took a deep breath. “Thank goodness for Miss Allison and her words of wisdom.”
We were just about finished with supper as my daddy held the leg bone of the unfortunate hare between his fingers and chewed it clean down past the gristle. When Mama turned her head to look out the window, I licked my fingers after running them over the plate, collecting the remaining layer of the white gravy as if it were the last meal I would ever have.
“Leave a bit for Hickory,” Daddy said. Hickory was his tick-totin’ beagle dog, his hunting companion, his alarm clock, and probably his best buddy. They were inseparable when they were outside, but the old screen door kept the two apart when Daddy was in the house. Mama had a few strict rules, and keeping Hickory outside was one of them.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I pushed my bones to the side of the plate. Hickory would have a feast with my share of the rabbit bones as I could not get past eating the gristle like my daddy did. Never could. “Mama, I know what day this is.”
“And how do you know what day this is, other than a Saturday?”
“I seen the day on your calendar,” I bragged. “Daddy marked it.”
“Well, I reckon that calendar is about two years old. 1938, I guess. I only have it hangin’ ’cause I like the pictures, and well, we cain’t afford another’n.”
“Today’s the day before your birthday. Happy birthday, Mama!”
“Brody Josiah Whitaker, you know I don’t like celebratin’ my age,” Mama scolded as she began to blush. “And anyways, it ain’t until tomorrow.”
“I have somethin’ for ya, somethin’ special, and I cain’t wait,” I said as I jumped up and ran to my room. I could hear her and Daddy chattering back and forth, but I paid no mind to what they were saying. I returned with a present wrapped in an old shirt I’d outgrown and tied with hay-bale twine. Mama was playfully reluctant to accept my gift, but I could see the pleasure she was getting. “I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but I wanted to give this to you today. Come on, Mama. I made it special for you.”
Mama was slow to reach for my present, but she did. Getting presents was a rarity in our household, not because we didn’t like to exchange gifts, but we were poor. We were proud survivors of the Great Depression and didn’t know any other way. At least I didn’t.
“Oh, Brody, you shouldn’t have,” Mama said.
“I made it myself.”
“You made it?”
“Yes, ma’am, with my own two hands. I thought you might want to wear it to church in the morning. I would have gotten you a store-bought present, but you know, we don’t have…you know.”
“I don’t want no store-bought present,” Mama said proudly.
Daddy was getting as excited as my mama. “Woman, are you gonna open it, or are you savin’ it for next year’s birthday?”
Mama gently untied the twine and unfolded the shirt. As quick as Hickory could swallow a rabbit bone whole, Mama’s face went from sheer pleasure to horror. She let out a scream that was probably heard through all of Pike County.
“What the hell?” Daddy said.
“Don’t curse at the table!” Mama yelled.
“You don’t like it?” I asked, pointing to the furry object on the table.
“Brody, is that the cat?” Daddy asked.
“Fluffy?” Mama whimpered.
Everyone was doing a lot of asking and not even giving me a chance to explain. I sat down in my chair, my parents staring at me in disbelief. Fluffy lay motionless on the table.
“Yes, it’s Fluffy…the cat,” I confessed.
“But that cat got run over by the wagon out front,” my daddy interjected. “I threw it behind the woodpile last week.”
“Waste not, want not. Ain’t that what you always say?”
“Yeah, I say that all the time, but why would you give your mother a dead cat?”
“And I thought Fluffy just ran away,” Mama mumbled.
“Well, Mama, you know how every Sunday at church you always comment on that ratty old fox that the widow Balla
rd wears around her neck? You know, and how it has those itty bitty eyes and it bites its tail so that it don’t fall off. And you always give her a compliment on it. You say, ‘Why, Mrs. Ballard, that is the prettiest fur I have ever seen,’ and she gets embarrassed with pride and says, ‘Why, thank you so much.’”
“I know, I know. But Fluffy?”
“Well, you really liked Fluffy, and I thought what better way to keep him around and make you a present by fixin’ him up so you could wear him on Sunday or any other special day.”
“But how’d you do it?” Daddy asked.
“I just did what we do when we skin those squirrels before Mama fries a mess of them up. I took out Fluffy’s innards and dried the pelt, stretchin’ it as far as I could, and then I sewed him back up and let him dry. He still looks alive, don’t you think?”
“Almost like he’s breathin’,” Mama whispered. “And it’s like he’s starin’ right at me with those pearly buttons. Are those Meemaw Allen’s buttons?
“Yes ma’am.”
“I was savin’ those for a sweater I was gonna knit one day.”
“Mama, I only needed two. They’s plenty more in the box for your sweater.”
“Well, son,” my daddy said as he inspected Fluffy without touching him, “it looks like you did a mighty fine job.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Did you know Miss Allison says squirrels are a member of the rodent family?”
My daddy’s tone of voice always changed for the worst when I mentioned Miss Allison. “That school teacher of yours is always fillin’ your head with nonsense. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’s cousins to rats. How come we don’t eat rats? Heck, they’re all over the place. We’d never go hungry.”
“Watch your language at the table.”
“But Daddy, it’s true.”
Mama quit staring at Fluffy and broke her silence. “That’s disgustin’ to think about eating rats. Enough of that nonsense.”
“Rabbits is cousins with squirrels too, and we eat them,” I said. “And what about ’possem? They’s nasty and we eat them.”
Mama stood up and started clearing the table. “We ain’t eatin’ no rats cause I ain’t fixin’ ’em, and that’s that. It’s disgustin’.”
“I’ll tell you what’s disgustin’. Eatin’ hog nuts,” I said defiantly.
Daddy was quick to quiet me down. “Son, now that’s enough. They’s mountain oysters and they’s a delicacy around here.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Mama, you gonna wear Fluffy tomorrow to church?”
Mama turned to me and smiled. “Of course I will.”
“And why don’t you wear the gloves I made for you, you know, the white ones with the squirrel fur trim and the danglin’ squirrel tails that hang off the edges?”
“Maybe, yes, maybe,” she said while she wiped the plates with a soapy washrag. “Why, Lord Almighty, we got company,” Mama said as she peered out the kitchen window. “Looks like Mr. Harman ridin’ his mule.”
“Harman?” Daddy echoed. “Wonder what he wants?”
“I suspect you might want to go and find out,” Mama said as she dipped the dishes in fresh well water rinsing them clean to dry.
Daddy got up and went outside. I watched from inside through the screen door as Mr. Harman got off his mule and he and my daddy talked. It was an odd thing for Mr. Harman to visit, as I couldn’t recollect him ever coming by before. He didn’t stay long, and after the two shook hands, Mr. Harman got back on his mule and slowly rode down the old rutted lane. I could see my daddy wasn’t happy as he walked back to the house. I quickly sat back down in the chair, hoping he hadn’t noticed that I had been trying to listen. He came in and sat down at the table.
“What is it?” Mama asked.
“It’s time,” Daddy answered.
“It’s time? I expected it would be sometime soon. Yes, it’s time,” she repeated reluctantly and then she sat down. Mama was on the left and Daddy was on the right of me. From the looks on their faces, either somebody died or I was in deep trouble.
“Mr. Harman tells me you tried to hurt his son yesterday. Says you used some kind of magical power to knock him over. Is that true?”
“No, it ain’t true. That Jack Harman is a bully, mean as a hornet. He was pickin’ on Johnny Mac, callin’ him a pervert sissy. I told him to stop or else, and he asked me what I was gonna do, and I put my hands on my hips and I stared at him real long, and then I snapped my fingers in the air, and he tried to run but he tripped over his own two feet and fell and hit his head on the ground. Face first. He got a bloody nose.” I paused for a moment to think if I left anything out of the recollection of my encounter with Jack Harman. “Then he ran like the devil was chasin’ him. He just tore outta there and didn’t look back. I swear on Mama’s Bible, I didn’t touch him.”
Mama’s eyes began to tear up, and Daddy bit his bottom lip. I never saw him get emotional, but he was about to and then he cleared his throat. “Son,” he said, “there’s somethin’ you need to know about who you are. What you are.”
All kinds of thoughts and images were racing through my head. Who am I and what am I? I asked myself. Do they know something about me that I don’t, or do they know something about me that I know and I didn’t think they did? Could they see that I was attracted to boys? Did they know I had a crush on Johnny Mac? Could they hear me jacking in my room when I thought everyone was asleep? Surely, to God, they could see that I was kidding when I said I wanted to be Vivien Leigh. Well, I was partially kidding.
“What is it, Daddy? Have I done somethin’ wrong?”
“No, son, you haven’t. We’ve just been keepin’ somethin’ from you. It’s time you know.”
Mama stared down at the table at Fluffy, avoiding eye contact with me. I was starting to tremble with the anticipation of what my daddy was going to say to me. “Just tell me,” I demanded.
Mama reached over and took my hand. She looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Brody, you might be an alien.”
Well, that just beat all. Mr. Harman comes to visit riding up on his old back-sagging mule to tell my daddy that I beat up his bully son, Jack, with some magical power that I didn’t even know I had, and then my parents sit me down to tell me I’m an alien. Keep in mind my mama and daddy never before lied to me. And I didn’t think they were now.
“An alien?” I asked.
“Yep, an alien,” my daddy answered.
“From outer space?”
“Yep, like from outer space.”
My mama went on to tell me that she and my daddy had gone on a picnic at the top of the mountain ridge that overlooks Raccoon. They stayed late to watch the stars and suddenly a light beamed on them, a blinding light from above. They were brought aboard a spaceship but they had no memory of what happened. Two months later, Mama found out she was pregnant, but she and my daddy hadn’t had relations, at least that’s what she recollected. She said, “It was our secret, ’cept later old George Adams, the town drunk, told us he saw us git pulled into the spaceship. And then he blurted the story out to ever’one around here. We denied it and got married, and then you was born.”
“That’s all crazy,” I said. “I ain’t no alien.”
Daddy leaned back in his chair. “We ain’t sayin’ you is or you ain’t. But everbody hereabouts think you might be. They’s been looking for signs.”
“Signs?”
“Yep, signs. Signs like you ain’t one of us, signs like magical powers that humans don’t have.”
“I ain’t got no powers!”
“Mr. Harman and his son think you do, and that’s all the proof they need to go to the authorities.”
“Brody,” Mama said, “we’ve been worried all along that if there’s any inklin’ that you’re an alien, the gov’ment will take you away. We’d never see you again.”
“But, Mama, I’m your flesh and blood. You birthed me. Do you think I am an alien?”
“No, no I don’t, bu
t I’ve had my doubts from time to time. You have red hair and there ain’t a redhead in the family, for either one of us. And your eyes are as black as coal, and we’re from a long line of blue eyes. And you have to admit, you are a bit different from the other boys here in the mountains,” she added as she finally touched Fluffy with her fingers.
“When was the last time you was in a fight?” Daddy asked me.
“I ain’t never been in one.”
“That’s cause ever’one is sceered of you, fraid you’ll zap ’em, or eat ’em, or somethin’ even worst. They’ve just been waitin’ for a sign, and I guess Mr. Harman’s boy took it that way.”
It isn’t every day that your parents confess that you might be from another world. Hell, I did feel different from the other boys my age, but not this kind of strangeness. I never sensed that people might be afraid of me. I always thought they respected me. Looking back, I was intrigued by the fact that no one had called me a fairy when I was even more effeminate than Johnny Mac, the school sissy. But I was suddenly more concerned about my mama and my daddy. They had been carrying around this burden of a secret from me for fourteen years now, trying to protect me from cruel condemnation and even worse, the government.
* * *
Before heading to Becky’s house, I promised my parents I would never use my powers, the ones I didn’t have. Daddy said when he and Mr. Harman shook hands, it was an agreement that Mr. Harman would give me another chance before getting in touch with the authorities. I reassured my parents I would not give into a challenge and I’d lay low. It was the least I could do, and anyway, I didn’t want to be told to go to my room and think about it while the Academy Awards show was gonna be on the radio. And even more importantly, Johnny Mac was invited too.
An early chill came over the hills, and I was glad Mama insisted I bundled up. I walked down the lane and took the gravel road into town. I spotted Johnny Mac’s massive mop of blond hair as he approached the end of his lane. He waited for me, and the two of us walked to Becky’s house together. Suddenly, the thought of being an alien seemed far behind me.
Mrs. Johnson met us at the screened-in porch, one of the few houses in Raccoon that had one. She was pleased to see us, even calling us “polite young men.” Becky’s daddy worked at the coal company mercantile store and made good money, which explained why Mrs. Johnson was the best-dressed woman this side of Pikeville. She was pretty too.
