by Tina Sears
“Hi, Uncle Butch,” I said.
“Well, hello,” he said. He came over and hugged me. I missed my father and it felt good to be hugged by him. “You’re all grown up. Pretty, too. You definitely get that from our side of the family, right, Jo?” He laughed.
“Yeah, right,” Mom said. “Like Mama always said, ‘We come from good stock.’”
“Girls, set the table for dinner please,” my aunt said and disappeared into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, my aunt came in from the kitchen and placed bowls of fried chicken and mashed potatoes in front of us. Mom brought in sliced tomatoes and corn on the cob. My stomach grumbled when I saw all that good food. After my dad left, Mom didn’t cook much. We usually just heated up frozen dinners and ate in front of the TV and watched The Brady Bunch. I always imagined my mom re-marrying and I would have a whole houseful of step sisters and we would all be happy, and I would never feel alone again because me and my new step sisters would all be best friends.
Uncle Butch sat down at the head of the table and ran his fingers through his dark hair, the same color as Mom’s.
It was hard to believe that he and my mom had ever been my age. One time my mom showed me an old black-and-white photo of them when she was thirteen and he was twelve. Looking at the dog-eared photograph, I couldn’t imagine my mother ever that pretty, with her long dark hair framing her face. She cut her hair short before I was born and always styled it up and away from her face. She seemed mysterious in the photo, like she was hiding something.
“Uncle Butch?” I asked.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“What about Grandpa?” I knew a little about my grandmother, and even remembered her before she died, but I had never met my grandfather. Mom never talked about him much so I thought this was the perfect time to find out more about my relatives.
“Well . . .” He put down his fork as if trying to find the memories.
“Mom said he smoked a pipe.” I was hoping this would jog a memory loose because Mom had hers all wrapped up tight in her memory cave.
“He did smoke a pipe. I still remember the sweet smell of cherry tobacco. I love that smell,” Uncle Butch said.
“I hate that smell. It makes me sick to my stomach,” Mom said.
“What? You used to love it,” Uncle Butch said.
“Well, that’s what got him in the end, isn’t it. Throat cancer. Now I can’t stand the smell. It reminds me of death. It destroyed his vocal cords and he couldn’t even speak in the end. But his mind was sharp. It was a shame that he was trapped inside his own head and he couldn’t tell us what he was thinking.” She stopped abruptly. I knew she had more to say. I saw it in the urgency in her eyes.
I shifted in my seat, sorry I brought it up.
“He also loved hot sauce on just about everything, including eggs.” Uncle Butch’s voice was low, easing into the heated air like a light breeze. “Remember, Jo? There was always a bottle on the table and he used it like salt. We always had plenty of Frank’s hot sauce because he worked at the factory.”
My mom’s face softened. “And he loved to listen to the Cincinnati Reds on his transistor radio. Everyone in the house had to be quiet when he was listening to his baseball game.” As quickly as her face softened, it suddenly squeezed up into a tight ball of wrinkles. “He had a mean streak, too. Let’s not forget that.”
“Yeah, he did. But that’s what made him unique.”
“Unique? Is that what you call it?” Mom’s voice pitched up as if her memory cave was shaking itself loose.
“He wasn’t always like that.”
“Really? Well, you remember him your way, and I’ll remember him my way.” Mom took a deep breath. “One time he got a parking ticket and do you know what he did?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He collected enough pennies to pay the fine and put them in a jar.”
“He paid in pennies?” I was amused, but Mom wasn’t. Her voice was strained.
“Not only that, he poured molasses in that jar and took it right to the police station. Told them it wasn’t fair, and he shouldn’t have gotten that ticket in the first place. He was parked in an emergency zone and he had an emergency when he got the ticket, so it shouldn’t count.”
“What was the emergency?” I asked.
“Well, as he explained to the police officer, he was parked in the emergency zone in front of the police station because he was inside paying for his first ticket and if that wasn’t an emergency he didn’t know what was.”
“That wasn’t mean, that was just funny,” Uncle Butch said.
My mom cut him a look. “Yeah, that was hilarious. I laughed so hard I cried.” She cocked her head, like she was remembering something. “Why did we always have so many pennies in the house? I never understood that.”
“They grew up in the Great Depression. Every penny counted back then,” Uncle Butch said.
“You’re right, I guess.”
“Do you remember taking pennies to the railroad track so we could flatten them?” Uncle Butch asked.
“That brings back memories. Do you still have them?”
“I do.” Uncle Butch got up from the table and disappeared into the master bedroom. He came back and handed something to Mom.
“I can’t believe it.” She turned it over in her hand and examined it like it was a diamond. “Those were good times, huh Butch? We always had each other’s back.” She looked at the penny, and then she handed it to me. “Here. Penny for your thoughts.”
I looked at the penny but it no longer resembled a coin. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was smooth and flat. And it wasn’t a circle anymore, it was oval.
“Is it worth anything?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t think you can buy penny candy with it,” Mom said.
I rubbed my fingers over its smooth surface, and then tucked it into my pocket for safe keeping.
After dinner, I sat at the table with my cousins and played cards, but I couldn’t concentrate. Mom was on the couch next to Aunt Lori and Uncle Butch sat in his chair that seemed to have taken on his shape. They talked quietly in that low voice they used when they didn’t want “the youngsters” to hear, so I put away my Mickey Mouse ears and gave up trying to figure it out.
I thought about how I ended up here. About how my dad abandoned us and set off a whole chain of events that landed me so far from home. Mom drove all day and I co-piloted. During the drive, we sang, laughed, told stories. I never felt closer to her. But, now that I thought about her leaving tomorrow, there was no more laughter in my heart, and the summer was only beginning.
Chapter Two
Goodbye
THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast, it was time to say goodbye to Mom. My bruises reared up and punched harder against my stomach. I had a hard time keeping breakfast down.
We gathered by the car. Mom hugged Uncle Butch first. “Take care of her. She’s the only thing I have left.”
That was the first time I ever heard her say anything that might even remotely suggest that maybe Dad was never coming back to us. It scared me because her hope that he was coming back was the only thing keeping her going.
After she hugged everyone else she walked over to me.
“Bye, honey, have a good time.” She kissed the top of my head. “And promise to call me every Saturday, okay?”
“I promise.”
As she wrapped her arms around me, I couldn’t help thinking about my dad, and how I never got to say goodbye to him. I couldn’t hold back the huge wave of emotion that was storming inside of me. The pain squeezed up through my chest and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed from my eyes. I wondered if she was ever going to come back for me or if this was our last goodbye, too.
I hugged her and whispered, “Please don’t leave.”
Her eyes filled with sadness, and, in that moment, she was someone other than my mother. “I have to, baby girl. I have to take care of some business back home.”
“Then take me back with you. I can help.”
“If there was any other way, I’d take it. Besides, I’m just a phone call away.”
That was true, but not true at the same time. She was one phone call, two states, and eight hours away.
“Be brave.”
I would do anything for my mom, so when she said that, I wiped away my tears and looked her right in the eye so she would understand. I would be brave for her. It was an unspoken promise. I smiled my sad smile at her and she smiled her sad smile back at me.
As she drove away, I watched until she blurred at the edges as if she was disappearing into another dimension. I sat quietly on the couch for a long time, trying not to throw up. Uncle Butch went to work as soon as my mom left and my aunt and cousins busied themselves, leaving me alone to sulk by myself. I rubbed the smooth surface of the penny Mom gave me, trying to hold on to the only thing I had left of her.
After a few hours, my aunt made lunch and insisted I eat something. I sat down next to Wendy at the kitchen table and poured a glass of milk. Then I forced a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down my throat, which was hard because it still felt like it was squeezed shut.
I sulked on the couch and when my aunt noticed she came over and sat down next to me. She put her arm on my shoulder. “It will all work out. Promise.”
I disagreed. It didn’t seem like anything was going to work out. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
“Honey, I know you’re sad, but you can’t mope around all summer.”
BUT I DID mope around. I moped around All Day, even though my cousins tried repeatedly to get me off of the couch and in a better mood. I started to understand the sadness that my mother just couldn’t shake. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to end up just like her, and I was scared.
Uncle Butch came home, and I was forced to eat dinner and pretend to feel alive, but I just went through the motions to appear normal.
After dinner, I asked if I could take a shower.
“Sure, go ahead, but you better get used to quick showers. The water only stays warm for a couple of minutes,” Aunt Lori said.
I went through the kitchen, which lead to a hallway where the shower and bathroom were. I walked into the shower stall and undressed. I reached my hand out to hang my clothes on the hook. The shower stall was so small that I could touch the sides with my hands outstretched and still have a bend in my elbows. I was thankful for the running water, although the stream was just a sputter. Raising my face to the showerhead, I let the water wash away the day’s grime. The tepid water quickly gave way to cold, matching my mood.
I rubbed my eyes and reached for the towel. My fingers felt the bar where the towel should have been, but it was empty.
I stood dripping and cold, so I yelled out, “Um . . . can I get a towel please?”
“Here you go.” Uncle Butch pushed a towel toward me. His silhouette behind the frosted white shower curtain looked like a bear lumbering before me.
“Your Aunt Lori wanted to make sure you had a clean, dry towel.”
Blinking away soap, I reached out and grabbed it. “Thanks.”
The rest of the night was quiet, and I couldn’t see a thing when I went to the bathroom. When I got back into bed, I pulled the covers over my head to feel safe, just like when I was little. My heart ached for my mother and I cried softly into my pillow until I fell asleep.
Chapter Three
Crazy Mary
THE NEXT MORNING I lay in bed waiting for my cousins to wake up. They slept in the bunk beds across from me. The sun ripped through the curtains, creating broken shadows in the room.
It reminded me of the dream I had last night. I dreamt of running with the wind at my back. I swayed with the wind, dancing with the invisible breeze. Then it turned dark and the grass was no longer green but brown and dying. I felt its invisible strength as huge rushing shadows appeared across the field and began chasing me. I was running and running but I was staying in one place. I couldn’t get away from the unseen thing chasing me.
I shuddered. Even though it was summer, I was cold. I wasn’t usually cold. But it wasn’t just the weather; it was the weather on top of everything else. On top of me being here.
I listened as my aunt drifted out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, where she started breakfast. A pan scraped against the burner and then I heard the clicking of the gas stove lighting. A few minutes later, the smell of bacon filled the cottage.
Aunt Lori served me breakfast while Uncle Butch was just finishing up. He was eating with his fingers, picking up his bacon and dipping it into the yolk of his egg with one hand while holding the newspaper with the other. He picked up his “World’s Best Dad” mug and slurped his coffee, making the liquid gurgle between his lips.
“Are you going to work today, Daddy?” Paige asked. She was still small enough to climb into his lap and get a hug.
“It’s not summer vacation for me, sweetie.” He lowered the newspaper from his face and unfolded Paige from his lap. He rose from the table and kissed her on the top of her head.
After he left, Wendy flopped on the couch next to me. “What do you want to do now?”
“Let’s watch TV.”
Wendy laughed. “We don’t have a TV here because we can’t get any reception. We don’t have any phone lines either.”
My aunt came into the room with folded laundry in her hands.
“How am I supposed to call my mom every Saturday?” I asked, panicking.
“We have a phone at the house in Mount Adams, sweetie. I’ll make sure you can call your mom on Saturdays,” Aunt Lori said.
I felt a little better but there was still nothing to do. Wendy sensed my boredom.
“Let’s go to the playground,” Wendy said.
“Wendy, take your sister with you.”
“Oh, Mom.”
“You hardly have to watch her. Just let her tag along.”
I didn’t mind her hanging around, but it sure did bother Wendy.
We walked to the playground with Paige straggling behind us.
“Wait up, guys, wait for me,” Paige said, trying to catch up.
Wendy snickered and started walking faster.
“No fair! I can’t walk that fast,” Paige said.
Wendy giggled, continuing her sprint to the playground.
When we got there, Paige went to the sand box while we took charge of the swings.
Next to the swings was a large pool surrounded by a chain link fence and next to that were two tennis courts, also fenced in. A large grassy field separated the two. We could see the pavilion on the other side of the field. A lawnmower roared in the distance and I smelled fresh cut grass. I loved that smell. It reminded me of home, of my dad cutting our own grass. After he was done, I would help him rake up the clippings and put them into bags. The smell made me realize how much I missed him. How much I missed my mom, too.
“Hey, look, it’s New Girl and Wendy.” Julie walked to the side of the swings and stopped just short of me hitting her upside her face with my feet, startling me.
“Hey, Julie. What’s up?” I said.
“Going to the river. Want to come?”
“No, can’t. Got to watch my sister,” Wendy said.
“Where’s your entourage?” I asked with more sarcasm than I intended.
“New Girl, you’re trying to be cool, but it’s not working. My entourage is already at the river, waiting for me. So, do you want to come or not?”
“We have to watch Paige.”
“No, she has to watch Paige. You could come to the river with me if you wanted.” Julie crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me.
I thought about it. About when Julie looked at me after my swim, it made me feel excited and scared at the same time. But I couldn’t leave Wendy and Paige behind. I’m sure she put me in this tight spot on purpose. “Well, if Wendy has to watch Paige, then I have to watch Paige too. I’m her company.”
�
��No you don’t, New Girl. Wendy has it covered, don’t you Wendy?”
“Well, yeah,” Wendy said.
Julie moved closer to me. I could smell her citrus shampoo as her hair fell forward around her face. “See, Wendy has it covered, so get off the swing and follow me to the river.”
“No,” I said louder than I intended.
Julie looked at me wide-eyed. I could tell this was not a word she heard often. “What?”
When she looked at me she made me want to sing and yell at the same time. I was conflicted. Wendy looked at me with the biggest smile so I knew what I had to do. I had to stick up for Wendy, so I corralled all my courage. “Well, it’s like this. Blood is thicker than water and I want to stay here with my cousins.”
“Okay, suit yourself. But you don’t know what you’re missing.” She turned on her heels and was off toward the river, her long hair glowing in the sun.
“What was that about?” Wendy asked.
“That was another challenge I think.”
“Did you pass?” Wendy asked.
“I don’t think so. I think I just made her mad.”
“Well, thanks for staying with us,” Wendy said, swaying on the swing with her feet on the ground.
“No problem. Like I said, blood is thicker than water.”
“Come on, I’ll show you a haunted house,” Wendy said.
Paige jumped out of the sandbox and ran up to us. “Wait up, guys, wait for me. I want to come.”
We followed the road to the entrance of the camp, passing through tall pine trees. Paige tried to keep up but mostly fumbled behind.
On the edge of the neighborhood, an old house stood tall on a hill, an aging queen overlooking her domain.
As we reached the house, Wendy pointed and whispered, “That’s Crazy Mary’s place.”
We were standing on the dirt road in front the house just yards away, scared to go near it.
I was sure the house had a view of the river and the entire camp from the third story window. It reminded me of a haunted house in a horror movie. All that was missing was the spooky music. The white paint was peeling and the steps led to a decaying wrap-around porch. In front of the porch were wild bushes laced with spider webs. In the front yard was a huge weeping willow with its branches touching the ground. Cement containers made for flowers were overflowing with weeds. The screen door was cracked open, squeaking when the wind blew it back and forth. Black shutters were on either side of the windows, some a little off kilter. Cats sunned themselves around the house and bowls of cat food and water littered the porch.
