Jimmy

by Robert Whitlow

  “Is that close to the top?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s a forty-five-foot, class B pole, and I’m not going to stop until I go all the way up.”

  “That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

  “Oh yes, you could. I’m sure Grandpa would teach you if you asked him. You could borrow my climbing hooks. We’re about the same size, so they would fit you.”

  Aunt Jill shook her head. “I think I’ll stick to painting angels.”

  THAT NIGHT JIMMY CRAWLED IN TO BED MISSING HIS MAMA. He stared at the closed door with the narrow band of light beneath it and sighed. Rolling onto his left side, he faced the darkness and felt an aching loneliness. At home, Mama slept out of sight in the bedroom at the other end of the hall, but Jimmy knew she was there. If he didn’t quickly fall asleep, he would imagine her cleaning the kitchen counters, drinking a glass of water, reading a book in the living room, or turning off the downstairs lights.

  Jimmy was afraid he’d stay awake all night feeling sad, but the next thing he knew the morning sun was dancing around the sides of the curtains. He dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Jill, a cup of coffee in her hand, leaned over the counter reading the newspaper.

  “Would you like pecan pancakes for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your mother told me how much you like them. Bart has already left for the office, and I don’t expect to see Walt for another hour or so.”

  Jimmy sat at the kitchen table and watched Aunt Jill make the pancakes. When she put a steaming stack in front of him, he bowed his head and offered a brief, silent prayer before coating the hot disks with butter and syrup. He took a monstrous bite.

  “How are they?” Aunt Jill asked.

  Jimmy chewed and swallowed. “They’re good. Not as good as Mama’s, but I like them.”

  Aunt Jill smiled. “I’ll take that as a high compliment.”

  Jimmy finished breakfast, washed his plate off in the sink, and put it in the dishwasher. Aunt Jill stood back and watched.

  “Do you always do that?” she asked.

  “Unless the dishes in the washer are clean. Then I leave my plate in the sink.”

  “That’s good. Would you like to watch TV?”

  “No, ma’am. I’d like to help you.”

  Jimmy helped Aunt Jill perform her morning tasks. She watered her indoor plants on Saturday. Jimmy carried the watering can and filled it up with water from the sink when it ran dry.

  “Do you always stay this close to your mother?” she asked.

  Jimmy nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I love her a lot. When you love someone, you want to be with them all the time. I like seeing Grandpa too.”

  Walt made his first appearance of the morning as Jimmy, a load of dirty clothes in his arms, followed Aunt Jill to the laundry room.

  “When you finish the laundry, vacuum my room,” Walt said.

  “You should hang around and learn a few things,” Aunt Jill responded. “Jimmy knows more about taking care of a house than a lot of grown men.”

  “Do you want me to vacuum Walt’s room?” Jimmy asked.

  “No, there’s too much stuff on the floor. It wouldn’t do any good.”

  Walt went back to his room and closed the door. When he appeared a half hour later, he called out to his mother, “I’m going out for a ride to see some friends. I’ll be back by supper.”

  A few minutes later, Aunt Jill received a phone call.

  When she hung up, she said, “A woman in our church is in the hospital, and I’m going over to see her for a few minutes. Will you be okay by yourself ?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mama leaves me alone at the house, but I’m not supposed to leave the yard or answer the door.”

  “That’s a good rule for here too.”

  “I usually play with Buster.”

  “We’ll go over later today and make sure he has food and water.”

  After Aunt Jill left, Jimmy wandered around the house. He missed his bike and Buster. After looking at the pictures of a forest in a magazine, he went upstairs. He slowed when he came to Walt’s door. He tried the knob. It was unlocked. After looking both ways, he slowly pushed the door open and entered. A trash can was in front of the drawer where Walt put the pictures of Jimmy and Vera. Jimmy moved the trash can and opened the drawer. It was filled with broken pencils, rubber bands, CDs without the cases, and photographs. Jimmy grabbed a handful of pictures and flipped through them. Most were of Walt playing baseball and opening Christmas presents. Jimmy took out more pictures. In the second batch, he found the photo of Vera holding him in the hospital. He took it to a window and held it in the light. The scene was as he remembered. Both Vera and Daddy looked happy. Jimmy studied his own face more closely. He couldn’t tell much. He looked red and wrinkled. It was hard to believe that he had been so tiny. He put the picture on top of the desk and continued to look through the drawer. He found the picture of Vera and Daddy beside the Christmas tree but not any others. The drawer was a mess.

  Jimmy held a picture in each hand. He wanted to put them in his suitcase and take them home. He hesitated. He remembered the commandment against stealing. But then, Walt wasn’t in the pictures. Photos should belong to the people who were in them. And Walt wasn’t taking good care of them. One had suffered a tear in the corner since the first time Jimmy saw it.

  Suddenly, he knew what he would do.

  He would borrow the photos. Borrowing wasn’t stealing, because the pictures would be returned. Jimmy could look at them for a few weeks then give them back to Walt so he could look at them. Sharing was a good thing. Mama encouraged him to share.

  Jimmy left the room, took the pictures to the guest bedroom, and put them in his suitcase. If he put tape on the back of the torn photo, he could keep it from ripping more.

  Going downstairs, he wandered around until he reached the craft room. Under the counter was a small bag filled with the white balls Aunt Jill had showed him how to paint. Beside it were cans of red, green, and gold paint. He shook the green paint, listened to the little ball rattle inside, and slowly counted to sixty. Grandpa said that the little ball stirred the paint from the inside. Jimmy wasn’t sure what needed to be stirred since only one color could fit in a can, but he’d shaken his can many times before spraying a white spot on the pole.

  He placed a white ball on the end of a long needle that held it up in the air. He held the can the right distance and pressed the button. He carefully moved the spray back and forth. In less than a minute, he finished a perfect green ball. No runs; no drips. He blew on it and waited for it to dry. Setting it aside, he pulled out another one.

  He was on his seventh ball, a red one, when the phone rang. Startled, he turned toward the kitchen, and his hand followed his eyes. He didn’t release the spray button on the paint, and the result was broad racing stripe across a wreath Aunt Jill had almost finished. Jimmy lifted his finger from the button and stared. He looked again at the balls he’d painted. Seven perfect balls, even without drips or runs, wouldn’t equal the damage to the beautiful wreath. He touched the red paint on the wreath with his finger. It was already dry. He heard the front door open. He quickly put another wreath on top of the ruined one.

  Walt came into the kitchen and saw him in the craft room.

  “What are you doing?” Walt asked. “You’ll mess up her stuff.”

  Jimmy sat still. Walt came over to him.

  “Did you paint these balls?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You might have a future as one of Santa’s elves.”

  Jimmy adjusted the wreath to hide his mistake. Walt reached across him and picked it up.

  “What’s this? Got a little carried away with the red paint?”

  “The phone rang, and I forgot to let go of the button.”

  “At least you didn’t paint a line all the way across the kitchen.” Walt held up the wreath. “This was her favorite one. She’s going to be very upset.”

 
; Jimmy felt a hot tear in the corner of his left eye. He rubbed it away with the back of his hand. Walt patted him on the back.

  “Don’t cry. I have an idea.”

  “What?” Jimmy asked, his voice shaking a little.

  “My mom uses a lot of artificial stuff, but she also likes to make wreaths with live plants. The only problem with collecting plants is she hates going into the woods, because she has a terrible reaction to chigger bites. If you could find some good plants and give them to her, she wouldn’t get too mad at you for messing up her best wreath.”

  Jimmy still felt sad. “But I don’t know what kind of plants to get, and I don’t have a way to get to the woods. Mama and Daddy aren’t coming back until tomorrow morning, and then we have to go to church.”

  Walt reached in his pocket and pulled out his car keys.

  “That’s where I come in. We can go in my car and be back before supper. I’ll leave her a note on the refrigerator.”

  Jimmy hesitated.

  “Do you have a better plan?” Walt asked. “I don’t really care. I just stopped by to get something to drink before going over to a friend’s house.”

  Jimmy couldn’t let his chance go. “No, let’s go. I need to put on some blue jeans if we’re going to be in the woods.”

  While he changed clothes, Jimmy had an idea. He rejoined Walt in the foyer.

  “Could we go by my house? I need to give Buster his food and water.”

  “Sure. That’s on the way.”

  JIMMY DIDN’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT CARS, BUT HE COULD TELL Walt was excited about his new transportation. To Jimmy, it was simply a small black car.

  “It’s four years old and only has thirty thousand miles on it,” Walt said as they got in. “I’ve already had it up to a hundred.”

  Jimmy had to move two bags of fast-food leftovers in order to sit. Walt reached into one of the bags and took out a french fry. It was so hard that it snapped when he broke it off in his mouth. Jimmy buckled his seat belt.

  “You don’t have to buckle up. I’m a good driver.”

  Jimmy left the seat belt in place.

  “I guess you always buckle up, don’t you?” Walt asked.

  “Mama won’t start the car if I’m not buckled.”

  “Suit yourself, but I’m not your mama.”

  Walt backed out of the driveway. When he did, the car swerved slightly to the left, and he barely missed the mailbox. After that, he settled down, and they arrived without problems at the Mitchell home. The sight of the house made Jimmy miss Mama again. He wished he could have stayed at home by himself. He and Buster would have managed just fine. When he opened the door of the car, Jimmy could hear Buster was barking furiously.

  “Do your dog thing,” Walt said. “I’m going to wait here.”

  Jimmy called out, “It’s me, Buster!”

  The dog stopped barking. When Jimmy opened the gate, Buster jumped up and put his paws on Jimmy’s leg to receive a welcoming pat on the head. The dog’s water bowl was almost empty.

  “What happened to your water?”

  Jimmy looked down at his jeans and saw wet paw prints.

  “It’s to drink, not for swimming,” he scolded.

  Buster did not seem at all sorry. Jimmy turned on the water hose and filled the bowl. Buster lapped up the cool water. There wasn’t much dry food in his bowl, either.

  “Did the squirrels steal your food?” he asked.

  Jimmy refilled the dog’s bowl. Walt honked the horn. Jimmy patted Buster on the head. He hated leaving the dog so quickly. He picked up Buster and carried him to the car. Walt rolled down the window and yelled at him.

  “What are you doing with that dog?”

  Jimmy came closer before answering.

  “Could Buster go with us?”

  “No, I don’t want a dog making a mess in my car.”

  “He rides with Mama and me and stays on the floor. He won’t jump on the seat if I tell him not to. I promise that he’ll be good.”

  Buster lifted his head and licked Jimmy’s chin.

  “How cute,” Walt said. “Get in. I’ll give him a chance, but if he causes any trouble, you’ll have to do a lot more than vacuum my room to make up for it.”

  Jimmy opened the car door and carefully placed Buster on the floorboard.

  “Stay!” he commanded in his strongest voice as he fastened his seat belt.

  Buster curled up in a ball at Jimmy’s feet. Walt left town heading west and turned on the radio so loud that Jimmy put his fingers in his ears and looked out the window. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned toward his cousin.

  “Do you want me to turn down the music?” he asked.

  Jimmy nodded. “It hurts my ears. And dogs can hear better than we do, so it’s probably bothering Buster too.”

  ON THE WEST SIDE OF TOWN, THE RESIDENTIAL NEIGHBORHOODS of Piney Grove ended not far from the city limits. Rows of nicer homes were replaced by scrubby wooded areas with small dwellings spaced farther apart. They passed several dirt roads that disappeared into the woods. Walt turned down a paved side road and sped up.

  “Why are you going so fast?” Jimmy asked as the trees began to flash by.

  “There is a straight stretch of road ahead. Let’s have some fun.”

  — Eighteen —

  Jimmy leaned over and patted Buster on the head. The small, lightweight car began rocking back and forth as the speed increased. They went around a sweeping curve, and Jimmy felt his body strain against the seat belt. Walt let out a yell.

  “Here it comes!”

  A long, straight section of road lay before them; however, the road wasn’t flat. It went up and down. Jimmy could see a farmhouse far ahead. A barbed-wire fence ran along both sides of the road. They topped the first little hill, and Jimmy felt his stomach jump inside his body.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed.

  “Wait until you feel the next one!” Walt responded.

  Buster was trying to stand up on the floorboard. They went over the next hill with such speed that they almost became airborne. Buster skidded around on the floor, losing his balance. Jimmy’s stomach jumped to his throat.

  “Stop!” Jimmy called out.

  “Yahoo!” Walt exclaimed.

  Jimmy looked out the window and saw a man standing on the front porch of the farmhouse. There was a frown on his face, and Jimmy saw his mouth move in anger as he raised his fist. Walt barreled past the house and over a final small hill that again caused Jimmy’s stomach to lurch. Walt took his foot off the gas. The car began to slow, and he braked as they entered another curve. By they time they came out of the curve, he’d returned to a more normal speed.

  “I bet you’ve never done that before,” Walt said.

  Jimmy didn’t answer.

  “Do you want to do it again?” Walt asked.

  “No. I want to get the plants and go back to your house.”

  “Don’t be such a baby.”

  “I’m not a baby. I’m almost fourteen years old.”

  They drove a few more minutes. The paved road ended and became gravel. It hadn’t rained in the area for several weeks, and a cloud of reddish-gray dust floated behind the car.

  “You’ll have to help me wash the car when we go home,” Walt said.

  “I’m good at washing cars.”

  They crossed a one-lane bridge over a narrow stream and drove a couple of miles. Walt pulled off the road and parked behind a massive oak tree.

  “This is a good spot. No one coming from town can see the car.”

  Jimmy opened the door and let Buster jump out.

  “Will he run off ?” Walt asked. “I’m not going to chase a stupid dog through the woods.”

  “He’ll come when I call.”

  Walt reached under the front seat of the car and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He knocked the pack against the palm of his hand, then took one out and lifted it to his nose.

  “Ah, smell this,” he said, handing the cigarette to Jimmy. “There is no
thing like the smell of fine tobacco.”

  Jimmy sniffed the cigarette. No one in his family smoked, and he’d never held a cigarette. Walt was right. The tobacco had a rich, sweet smell. His cousin took out another cigarette and pushed in the car’s lighter. When it popped out, he showed Jimmy the glowing coils.

  “Quick! Hold the cigarette up to the coils and breathe in.”

  Jimmy didn’t move. Walt touched the lighter to the end of his cigarette and took a deep drag. Wide-eyed, Jimmy watched the smoke roll from his cousin’s mouth. Walt pushed the lighter in and when it popped out, held it out to Jimmy.

  “Go ahead. You’re almost fourteen.”

  “I’d have to ask Mama. She doesn’t like cigarettes.”

  Walt took another puff. “Your grandpa used to smoke like a chimney. That’s why he had a heart attack.”

  Jimmy didn’t know that Grandpa had smoked.

  “Are you going to have a heart attack?” he asked.

  Walt laughed. “No. This is just for fun.”

  Buster barked, and Jimmy looked out the window as the dog approached a hole in the ground and sniffed around the edges.

  “Do you know why I brought you here?” Walt asked.

  Jimmy turned away from Buster. “Yes, so we can find some plants for Aunt Jill.”

  Walt laughed. “What kind of plants? Marijuana?”

  “What’s that?”

  “They use it to make another kind of cigarette that really makes you feel good.”

  “But what about the plants she likes to use in the wreaths? You said you would show me.”

  “Get out of the car.”

  Leaving the unlit cigarette on the seat, Jimmy did as he was told. Walt took a final puff from his cigarette and dropped it to the ground. Jimmy shut the car door. No other cars had passed by since they stopped, and the air was still. Jimmy could hear Buster rustling through the underbrush that grew beyond the shade of the tree.

  “Before we go looking for plants, I’d like to play a game,” Walt said. “Is that okay with you?”

  “What kind of game?” Jimmy asked suspiciously.

  “It’s an escape game.”

  Jimmy stood still. Walt took off his belt and held it up.

  “There was a famous guy named Houdini who could get out of anything. People would tie him up with ropes, put handcuffs on his wrists, and even put chains around his legs, but he could always get free.”