Jimmy

by Robert Whitlow

  The final step involved coordinating all the tasks into a race against the clock. The boys didn’t have a stopwatch, so they found an old windup alarm clock with a large second hand. When the second hand reached twelve, they started the competition. The first time, Buster became so worked up by their cries of encouragement that he left the course to run around the yard barking at the squirrels in the tree.

  “On the TV shows, the owners of the dogs are very calm,” Max said. “They walk alongside the dogs acting as if they don’t care what’s happening.”

  Max then directed Jimmy, who communicated with Buster, who eventually overcame all obstacles. The last station was a broomstick that the dog had to jump over. When he landed on the other side, Max called out the time.

  “Twenty-one minutes, fourteen seconds.”

  “Is that good?” Jimmy asked as he knelt down to rub Buster’s head.

  “I think on TV they do it in about two minutes.”

  Jimmy gave Buster one more big scratch. “Did you hear that, Buster? You did great.”

  “Do you want to let him do it again?” Max asked.

  “Sure,” Jimmy said.

  They did several more rounds on the circuit. Mama watched the last one when she came outside to start the fire for the hamburgers.

  “Ten minutes, thirty-one seconds,” Max announced.

  “Very good,” Mama said. “Buster is a smart dog, but he couldn’t perform without the help of good trainers.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Mitchell,” Max replied. “Do you want us to put everything away?”

  Mama surveyed the yard.

  “Jimmy, do you know where you got everything?”

  Jimmy shrugged. He’d spent most of the construction time tagging along behind Max as his friend rummaged through the yard and the crawl space underneath the house.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you like to keep it up?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, ma’am! Buster and I could do it some more tomorrow.”

  “If it’s okay with your daddy, it’s fine with me. You’re going to be spending more time at home, and it will give you something else to do.”

  — Ten —

  Hamburgers cooked on the grill were one of Jimmy’s favorite foods. He liked the smoky flavor the charcoal gave the meat. On Saturday evenings the smell produced by charcoal grills was a common aroma in the neighborhoods of Piney Grove. Daddy was a staunch believer in the superior cooking qualities of charcoal. He vowed that the day he switched to a gas grill would be the day he joined the Methodist church. Jimmy assumed all Methodists cooked on gas grills.

  To eat his hamburger, Jimmy first cut the meat and bun in half. He left one half bare—meat and bun only so he could enjoy the meat without other flavors. He loaded the other half with ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, cheese, pickles, lettuce, onions, and tomato until it was a challenge to open his mouth wide enough to take a bite.

  Mama could cook hamburgers just as good as Daddy. Jimmy and Max each ate two, followed by a piece of apple pie. Jimmy pushed away his empty plate like Daddy did when he finished a big serving of fried catfish.

  “That was good,” he said.

  “Yes, Mrs. Mitchell,” Max added. “Delicious.”

  “Thank you, boys,” Mama replied with a smile. “Take your plates to the sink and rinse them off.”

  Jimmy stood beside Max while he ran water over his plate. He looked over his shoulder at Mama, who was still eating a piece of pie.

  “Can Max spend the night? He could wear a pair of Daddy’s old pajamas.”

  “No,” Mama answered. “He needs to sleep in his own bed. In a few minutes, I’ll call his mother to come pick him up.”

  Max nudged him on the elbow and whispered in a low voice. “Save it for next weekend.”

  Mama left the kitchen.

  “What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.

  “I’ll invite you to come to my house Friday night. My uncle Mike is going to be visiting from South Carolina, and he’s going to take my dad and me skeet shooting on Saturday. Maybe you can go with us.”

  “What’s a skeet?”

  “It’s a piece of round pottery about the size of this dessert plate,” Max said. “A machine throws it into the air, and you try to shoot it with a shotgun. It’s a lot of fun.”

  Grandpa had a shotgun in the closet in his bedroom. Jimmy had peeked at the shiny wooden stock and dark black barrel. He could stick two fingers in the end of the barrel. The thought of holding a gun in his hands and pulling the trigger was a heady yet fearful thought.

  “Does anybody ever get killed?” Jimmy asked in a hushed voice.

  “No,” Max scoffed. “It’s safe. You never point a gun at another person.”

  Jimmy put his plate in the dishwasher.

  “I’m not sure Mama would let me go. She doesn’t like guns.”

  Mama returned to the kitchen.

  “Ask her,” Jimmy said.

  “What?” Mama said.

  “I’d like to invite Jimmy over to my house next weekend,” Max responded casually. “But I need to check with my mom first.”

  Mama picked up the phone receiver. “Okay. We can discuss it later in the week.”

  While Mama called Max’s mother, the boys went upstairs to Jimmy’s room.

  “Don’t say anything about the skeet,” Max said.

  “I know,” Jimmy replied with a sigh. “It’s the same as climbing the pole.”

  “Climbing the pole?”

  Jimmy described his pole-climbing lessons with Grandpa. Max’s eyes grew wide. “That is awesome. Could I come over and watch sometime?”

  “I’ll ask Grandpa.”

  “Maybe he could let me try.”

  “Max!” Mama called out. “Your mother is here.”

  Jimmy pointed to the rows of caps. “Do you want to take a cap?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, you’re my best friend.”

  Max smiled. “Okay, but not one you care about. I might lose it or get it dirty.”

  Jimmy thoughtfully surveyed his collection. He selected a white cap with gold trim and handed it to his friend. Max inspected it. The letters GT were embroidered on the front. A tiny yellow jacket sat on the end of the T.

  “That’s a nice Georgia Tech hat,” Max said. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

  “No, my uncle Bart gave it to me. He went to school at Georgia Tech. On the way home from their house, Daddy told me Georgia Bulldogs don’t like Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets and that I shouldn’t wear it outside the house. He said Uncle Bart gave it to me to make Daddy mad. It’s not doing any good staying in my room.”

  Max slipped on the cap, and the boys ran downstairs. After Max left, Jimmy gave Mama a hug.

  “Thanks for letting him come over. We had fun.”

  JIMMY WAS UPSTAIRS IN HIS ROOM LOOKING AT THE PICTURES in a magazine about bass fishing when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairway. Daddy was home. When the steps reached his bedroom door and stopped, Jimmy looked up. To his surprise, Grandpa stood in the doorway.

  “Hey, Grandpa!”

  “Hi, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy ran over to Grandpa, gave him a hug, and put his head against his Grandpa’s chest. When he started to pull away, Grandpa held him close for a few more seconds before releasing him.

  “Your heart is fine,” Jimmy said.

  “It feels a little heavy to me.”

  “We have apple pie,” Jimmy replied. “That will make you feel better. And there is ice—”

  “I’m not hungry,” Grandpa interrupted.

  They went downstairs. Grandma and Mama were already in the kitchen. Jimmy could hear them talking, but they stopped when he and Grandpa entered the room. Grandpa sat down at the kitchen table. Mama was making a pot of coffee. None of the adults were talking. Puzzled, Jimmy glanced around. Nobody was smiling. Daddy entered. He was wearing a white shirt with his tie loosened around the neck. He, too, looked serious.

  “Go to your
room,” he said to Jimmy without another greeting. “We have something to discuss.”

  “No,” Mama interjected. “There’s part of this I want to get straight with Jimmy too.”

  Jimmy saw Daddy’s cheek muscles tighten.

  “All right,” he said after a moment’s pause. “You called this meeting.”

  “Would anyone like coffee?” Mama began in a more cheerful voice.

  Jimmy raised his hand. “I would.”

  “You’re too young to drink coffee,” Mama answered.

  Jimmy laughed. “It was a joke. Everyone seems sad.”

  The adults looked at one another. Grandpa spoke.

  “I’ll have a cup,” he said.

  Jimmy sat in his chair, swinging his legs underneath the seat. His feet struck the floor with each pass. Grandpa sipped his coffee. Everyone except Mama was sitting at the kitchen table. She leaned against the counter with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Jimmy,” she said. “Look at me.”

  Jimmy stopped swinging his legs, his feet flat on the floor.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about climbing the pole?”

  Jimmy looked at Grandpa, who spoke.

  “Ellen, I told him to keep quiet about it.”

  “I want to hear from my son.”

  “It was going to be a Christmas surprise,” Jimmy said hopefully. “Grandpa and I talked about it. Everyone was going to come watch me climb the pole. I’m not sure how high I could go, but I would do my best. After I climbed the pole, we would eat hamburgers and hot dogs.” He stopped and looked at Grandpa. “How long is it until Christmas?”

  “About four months.”

  “And everyone would be proud of me,” Jimmy concluded.

  For Jimmy it was a long speech, albeit in front of close family. Daddy rubbed his chin.

  “We’ve talked about Jimmy’s need to use self-restraint in what he says,” Daddy said. “I’m not sure we should fault him. He had a plan—”

  “To deceive,” Mama cut him off. Raising her voice, she gestured toward Grandpa. “Involving an activity that could have gotten him killed! Talk about setting a bad precedent! I’ve worked hard for eight years to gain Jimmy’s trust. For you to tell him to keep a secret from me is inexcusable. His body may be getting bigger, but he’s not mature enough to exercise proper judgment about information to keep to himself.”

  Mama paused. Jimmy rarely saw Mama get upset, and when it happened, it shook his world to the core.

  Grandpa looked down at the floor. “I was wrong,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have told him to keep quiet. I knew you would be worried.”

  “And for good reason!” Mama replied, her eyes still flashing.

  Grandpa raised his head, and his voice became more intense. “Ellen, I’m trying to apologize. I may not be a churchgoer, but I know what it means to admit a mistake. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Daddy looked at Grandpa in surprise. Mama unfolded her arms.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked in a softer tone.

  “So you wouldn’t worry,” Grandpa replied.

  “No, I mean risk Jimmy’s life by putting him on that pole.”

  Grandpa rubbed his thick hands together. “I thought it would increase Jimmy’s self-confidence. I doubt any other boys his age have ever climbed a power pole, and I saw it as a chance for him to do something that could set him apart from the crowd in a good way.”

  “Did you consider the fact that other thirteen-year-old boys don’t climb poles because their parents realize it’s not a safe thing to do?” Mama asked.

  “Max thought it sounded like fun,” Jimmy interjected. “He wants to learn.”

  “That’s what I mean.” Mama looked toward Daddy. “We’ve got to stop this now. What if Max Cochran fell from the pole and broke his leg? We could all get sued for encouraging a boy to do something like this.”

  “If a child was hurt due to negligence of a third party, the parents could file suit.” Daddy paused. “Unless they signed a waiver of liability.”

  “Lee, this is serious!” Mama shot back.

  “I don’t intend to open a pole-climbing school and don’t need a legal paper.” Grandpa spoke softly. “This was between me and Jimmy. He wasn’t in any danger. In fact, yesterday was the first time he climbed beyond the reach of my arms.”

  “Which means we put a stop to this foolishness just in time,” Mama answered.

  The meaning of Mama’s words suddenly hit Jimmy. He raised his hand.

  “What is it?” Daddy asked.

  Jimmy’s voice trembled slightly. “Do I have to stop climbing the pole?”

  “Yes,” Mama answered emphatically. “If you won’t take swimming lessons in a pool with a certified lifeguard, you’re not going to climb a pole.”

  “But Grandpa is with me,” Jimmy protested.

  Mama looked at Grandpa. “I never liked you giving him rides in that crazy rig you fixed up, but I was new to the family and kept quiet. This is entirely different. There’s no safety net. You’re not going to hurt Jimmy.”

  Jimmy wanted to speak, but Mama’s reference to swimming lessons scared him into silence. He’d made several trips to the large swimming pool maintained by the Cattaloochie County Recreation Department but never got in the water. Nothing could convince him to get in the water. Mama had tried groups of children happily splashing in the shallow end, private lessons with a smiling teacher who held out a kickboard, even taking Max, who promised there were no sharks in the water. Nothing worked. When Jimmy stepped onto the pool deck, the flood of tears and involuntary shaking that racked his body convinced everyone present that Jimmy’s time to enter the water had not arrived.

  Grandpa stood and left the room. The adults looked at one another in silence. Finally, Grandma spoke.

  “Ellen, you know I was in the dark about this, but after I cooled down, I realized Jim didn’t mean any harm. Ever since he retired, I’ve felt like I’ve got a child all over again. He does his chores around the house, but he’s always off fishing or trying to get one of his buddies to go walking in the woods in search of a new place for a deer stand.”

  “You don’t expect him to take up knitting, do you?” Daddy asked.

  “No, but Jimmy isn’t an ordinary playmate,” Grandma answered. “He’s a delight to have around the house, and at times he does so well that it lulls you into thinking he’s more independent than he really is. However, none of us can ever forget the seriousness of our responsibility to look out for him.”

  “Amen,” Mama said soberly.

  Grandpa returned with a cardboard box. He put it on the floor and lifted the top. Jimmy leaned over to peer into the box. Inside was a jumble of ropes and pulleys. Grandpa spoke in a level voice.

  “Ellen, I never intended to put Jimmy at risk of injury. When I realized that he was going to start climbing beyond my reach, I called the district office and asked if they had a training harness I could borrow. The line foreman is an old friend whom I taught to climb about twenty-five years ago. He located an extra unit they were going to throw away and offered it to me. It had a broken rope that I replaced, and now it’s as good as new.”

  “How does it work?” Daddy asked, picking up one of the ropes.

  Grandpa held up a thick metal bolt with an eye hook on one end. “This piece attaches to the top of the pole. A rope is secured to the eye bolt and then connected to a safety belt around the climber. A man on the ground holds the other end of the rope, which runs through a simple pulley system. As the climber ascends the pole, the man on the ground keeps proper tension on the line. If the climber slips, the rope stops him from falling. Because of the pulleys, the helper can handle a heavy climber without straining. Jimmy is so light that it will be easy to keep him from falling.”

  “Until the rope breaks again or you’re not able to hold on to your end or Jimmy unhooks the rope or any of a hundred other things happen.” Mama looked at Daddy. “Lee, bac
k me up on this.”

  Grandpa spoke again. “Every time Jimmy goes higher, he marks the spot with white paint. If you could see how proud he is of the marks on that pole, I think you would reconsider. The rope is new, and the latch on the belt can’t be accidentally opened. I agree that we need increased safety measures as he goes higher, and I’ve taken care of it. Because the equipment is industrial grade, it’s safer than a climbing wall at a summer camp.”

  “But your heart,” Daddy said. “If you had another attack, it could be dangerous for both of you. You could drop the rope, and Jimmy might panic.”

  Grandma nodded. “He’s right, Jim. You didn’t look so well when you had to hurry across the yard to get the ladder this morning.”

  Jimmy got up and ran over to Grandpa.

  “Let me check Grandpa’s heart,” he said.

  While everyone watched, Jimmy put his head against the old man’s chest. After listening for a moment, Jimmy glanced up and smiled.

  “Thump, thump, thump.”

  Grandpa hugged Jimmy, who reciprocated. No one spoke for a few seconds.

  “I know he loves you,” Mama said to Grandpa. “And I don’t want to hurt your relationship, but pole climbing isn’t a good idea. There are other ways you can spend time together. Just the two of you at the pole is too great a risk.”

  Grandpa stared at the rope in his hand.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted.

  He returned the safety device to the box. As he shut the top, Jimmy looked at Daddy.

  “You could help,” he said.

  “What?” Daddy asked.

  “You could help me learn to climb the pole.” Jimmy turned toward Mama and held up three fingers. “If Daddy comes, there would be three people in the backyard.”

  Daddy gave a short laugh. “You heard your mama. There are other reasons why this isn’t a good idea. Besides, Saturday is my golf day.”