A Fine Kettle of Fish

by Lou Bradshaw

  The very next Friday night, he showed up again, but this time in a new Chevy Impala. It seemed, so he said, that he worked for a big Memphis car dealer with connections in Kansas City, Tulsa, and Oklahoma City, and he moved cars from one city to another, wherever they had a buyer. I asked if they were hiring, because that would be a dream job, an expense paid vacation. He, Luther Bates, told me that he had worked for this guy since he was 15 years old; he had started out washing cars and had worked his way up. I didn’t know what the rules were when dealing with colored people, but I liked this Luther Bates.

  * * *

  It was early one morning that following week. Actually, it was about 2:30 a.m. when something woke me up. There was all kinds of commotion downstairs and red lights flashing through my window. My first thought was that the house was on fire, and then it hit me that the cops had found me out and were here to get me. I was thinking, “Oh God let me off the hook this time, and I’ll never steal anything as long as I live.”

  Chapter 5

  I slid out of bed, crawled to the window, and raised my head just enough to look over the sill. I was expecting to see the city police, the sheriff, some state cops, and a detachment of the Missouri National Guard. What I saw was the fire department rescue van, the funeral home ambulance, and Doc Millsap’s car. There were a half a dozen neighbors in various stages of dress and undress milling about.

  I threw on some jeans and a shirt and went downstairs. When I got there I found Mom, Nan, Mrs. McCord, and Liz at our kitchen table; all were looking pretty grim. I didn’t want to ask, and I sure didn’t want to know, all I could think of was something was wrong with Dad. It was strange that I thought of him as Dad then and not Brick. It’s funny how your mind works sometimes.

  No one spoke; they just looked at me. After what seemed like 15 years I mumbled, “What’s going on?”

  Liz spoke up and said, “It’s Miz Taylor, she’s awfully sick. She couldn’t find the doctor’s phone number, so she called your mom, and she called Doc Millsap.”

  “What was it…heart attack…stroke…what?”

  “We don’t know yet. Just settle down and wait and you’ll find out.” She scolded. There were only 2 women in the civilized world that could use that tone of voice on me and get away with it. They were both sitting at that table.

  I was thinking about Mack. It would be a real blow to him if anything happened to his mom after losing his dad in a car wreck just 3 years before. He sure didn’t need that kind of grief. I kept hoping that it was something simple, like a bad pizza or the flu, and that maybe she’d be all right. I just didn’t like all those flashing lights out there. That usually meant something serious.

  “Where’s Brick,” I asked, “outside?”

  “Yes.” It was my mom who answered. She was looking pretty stressed, kind of all pale and nervous. She and Mrs. Taylor have been neighbors for over 20 years and friends much longer, so I guess she had a right to be stressed.

  I started to get my jacket on and go out, when Brick came through the kitchen door. We all looked at him like he was carrying Typhoid or something. We were anxious to hear what was going on, but were afraid to hear it.

  “Doc is sending her to St. John’s. He thinks she’s got a annarism, but he won’t be sure without some tests.”

  “What’s that?” Nan asked. I was sure glad she did because that meant I didn’t have to. I don’t mind being ignorant so much; I just don’t especially want anyone else to know about it.

  “Well,” he said, “as I understand it it’s a blood vessel that’s formed a sort of blister, like on an inner tube, and it could bust…. well it could give way.”

  “Oh dear!” that was Mrs. McCord.

  “Doc thinks we should get in touch with the children. If they have to operate, he wants them to be there. You have Lucy’s number don’t you Del?”

  She was already in the junk drawer digging for her address book. “Yes,” she said, “and Betty’s, and the seminary number for Macklin. I’ll call Lucy, and then I think we should go in to the hospital and wait until one of the girls get there.”

  Liz went back home, but her mom was going into Springfield with the folks. Mom called Lucy in Tulsa and she said that she would call Betty, but asked if Mom would call the seminary because she wanted to get going. Mom tried the seminary number but got a busy signal. She gave me the number and told me to keep calling until someone answered, then she wrote down what I should tell Mack.

  I said, “Okay.” and they left. As soon as they were out of the garage and down the alley I threw away the script that I was supposed to follow. Mack would have panicked if I had even sounded like I was reading something. I called the number without any luck; all I got was a busy signal. I kept trying every 15 minutes and got the same results. I had the operator check the line to see if some one was talking, and maybe she could break in on them. She said that the receiver was apparently off the hook

  It seemed that the brothers, or monks, or whatever they were only had one line going into the school, and they didn’t want any calls either coming or going unless they were emergencies. Now how in the hell are they going to deal with an emergency with the phone off the hook? Sometimes smart people do dumb things for ridiculous. reasons.

  At 6:15 that morning, I finally got a hold of Brother something or other, and asked to speak to Macklin Taylor. He whispered that all the students were preparing to go to prayers, and then to breakfast, and then to class. Next, he told me that students weren’t allowed any phone calls unless it was an emergency, and then only from family members.

  I told him, none too politely, that it was an emergency, and that I was his cousin Dave Taylor (which was the only cousin I could think of), and would he please get Macklin.

  He whispered, “Very well, please wait.” As he walked away, I heard him say apparently to nobody, something about not being able to choose ones relatives

  It seemed forever before Mack came on the line. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, and then tentatively asked, “Dave? What’s going on, is everything all right, where are you?”

  My guess was that he thought Dave might be in some trouble, which was at least a possibility with Dave. I cut him off. “Mack,” I said, “It’ Lee. I had to tell them I was a relative or they wouldn’t get you.” Silence filled the line, I guessed he figured I was in trouble for sure. I broke the silence and very diplomatically said, “Mack it’s your mom!”

  “Mom! What’s wrong, is she sick, is she hurt, what’s wrong, is she…”

  “She’s pretty bad sick; they’ve taken her to the hospital in Springfield. Doc thinks she has an aneurysm in her brain, and that can be serious. Your sisters are on their way in. Will they let you come home? Should I come and get you?” I asked this last question with absolutely no idea where Cape Girardeau was except that it was on the other side of the state and was on the Mississippi. I was talking fast and running everything together because I was just that nervous. Again, there was silence on the other end.

  “Mack?” Silence. “Mack?” More silence. “Mack, are you still there?”

  “Yeah…yeah, sorry Brickey, I’m just stunned.”

  “Do you have a way to get home? Should I come and get you/” I still didn’t know where it was.

  “I dunno,” he mumbled, “let me talk to Father Greiner, the head master. He’ll know what to do. Stay by the phone, you’re at home, right? I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Within 30 minutes, he was back on the line to tell me that they were putting him on a Trailways Bus and asked if I could pick him up at the Trailways Station in Springfield at about 3:30 this afternoon.

  I told him that I’d be there, and then I said, “Mack…God knows I hated to have to be the one to call, but…”

  “Actually Lee, I’m glad it was you who called. Oh, tell my mother that I love her, and I’m on my way, and thanks again.”

  “Bye.” I said as I hung up.

  * * *

  I was at the bus
station on St. Louis Street by 3:00, so I just killed some time watching people coming and going. I’ve found that I can have a lot of fun people watching and trying to put together a story for each one, but today it didn’t seem to be much fun. Fortunately, the bus was only a few minutes late.

  Mack got off the bus looking like a ghost. Naturally, the first thing he did was ask about his mother. I told him all that I knew which was that she was in serious but stable condition. She was conscious some of the time, but was out of her head, probably due to drugs. I told him that the Aneurysm (I’d looked it up so that I could sort of say it right) was on the left side of her head, and they planned to operate in the morning.

  “Operate!” he shouted, “Can’t they just give her some medicine?”

  “I don’t think so. I think they have to go in there and patch it.” I was still thinking of it like an inner tube.

  “Lee?” he asked, with a sort of hesitation. “What’s an aneurysm?”

  I could answer that, so I told what Brick had said about the blister on the inner tube, and it made some sense to him. I didn’t even try to explain the definition I had gotten from the dictionary. There was no way in the world that I could repeat it, let alone make anybody understand it. He was quiet the rest of the way to the hospital. I wished that I knew what to say, but I didn’t. By the time I was parking the car, he started to come around and asked, “Are my sisters here?”

  “Yeah, both of them.” I told him.

  “Lucy’s in charge?” He chuckled.

  “And how!” I said, “That is one IN CHARGE WOMAN! No offense, Mack, but her husband must be totally p-whipped.”

  “Poor Marvin.” was all he said and shook his head.

  He left me in the lobby and went up to where the family was. I told him that I’d wait and he could ride out with me if he wanted to. He came back in about 15 minutes to tell me that he was going to stay for a while and ride out later with Betty.

  “What about Lucy?” I asked, not really caring about Lucy and wondering why I had even asked.

  “Oh,” he said, “she’s going to spend the night. Somebody has to run the hospital since the Administrator leaves at 5:30.”

  Betty called mom at about 10:00 the next morning to tell us that it went well, and that she would have to stay in the hospital for about 2 weeks. She also said that there would be quite a bit of pain, and that it could have ruptured at any time, but the surgeon was pretty optimistic. Mom called the station and gave Brick the news.

  At noon, I went by the station to see if there had been any word. I felt much better after he told me. Better for Mrs. Taylor, of course, but much better for Mack. He wasn’t ready for a loss of another parent – not so soon. But, I don’t guess anybody’s ever ready for the loss of a parent.

  Had Mack lost his mother at that time, I’m afraid we would have lost him to the priesthood for sure. I never believed that he really wanted to wear the collar. He was a victim of family pressure and sense of obligation. Well, duty to family is one thing but that was carrying it way too far. Either he’d have to stand up to Lucy and that old maid aunt or he’d be miserable for the rest of his life. At least now, he’d have a fighting chance to make up his own mind – in my opinion anyway.

  * * *

  Mrs. Taylor’s aneurysm had a serious effect on me; it was the first time that I had really given any thought to my own mortality. Oh sure, I had known people who died and not just old people. Sometimes, I was really saddened by their deaths, like when Mr. Taylor died. It was partly because I’d always liked him, but mostly it was because Mack was so depressed and upset. But, Mrs. Taylor’s close call was different; maybe it was because I was older. I kept thinking that if a good person like Mrs. Taylor were to die, she would surely go to Heaven, but what about the low down worthless types like myself – you know being a crook and all.

  That’s when I REALLY decided to go straight and give up my life of crime. And this wasn’t like that little deal that I was trying to make when I saw those flashing lights outside my bedroom window, but I meant to really, really reform. I meant no more gas stealing, or taking things out of wrecks, and clean up my life. God knows I’ve had some close calls lately, and I didn’t fancy meeting God at a place like the Red Top In.

  I even thought about going to church on a regular basis, but we belonged to the Assembly of God Church, and I had a little respect problem with the preacher there. So, I gave up on that idea. I suppose that I could have started going to another church, but that would have meant a lot of questions, and I didn’t want to cover any new ground right now. I figured that it was pretty much an even trade off on sin; a skipping church sin or making up some lie to cover the preacher’s butt sin. I chose the former.

  A few days before Mack was scheduled to go back to school and after Mrs. Taylor was well on the road to recovery, Mack and I had a chance to slip away for a beer or two…no charge. We were sitting in my car out at the Overpass Park with 2 six-packs on the seat between us, a pack of Lucky Strikes on the dashboard, and listening to WLS from Chicago when Mack finally broke down and let it out.

  He hadn’t shown much emotion ever since he got off the bus, but he was making up for it now. He started out with not being able to understand God, and why was there so much suffering, and was there really a Heaven, and was life all a sham, and, and, and…? I sure didn’t have any answers for him, but I think he felt better just asking the questions.

  He told me that he didn’t want to go back to school, and his mother didn’t reaally want him to leave either, but those two older sisters were dead set on him finishing the term, and then they would decide what the future held.

  “I’ll tell you one thing for sure”, he said, “I ain’t no priest, and that’s all there is to it! I’ll be 18 next month and those two hens will just have to get it into their heads that I’ll make my own decisions about my future. And, if Aunt Nell doesn’t like it, well that’s just too damned bad. What’s the worst thing she can do to me, cut me out of her will? If I were a priest, I wouldn’t be able to keep the money anyway. And that’s just bullshit.”

  After a while of sitting in silence during which time we both opened another beer, he finally said to no one except the windshield, “It gets so mixed up sometimes. One side of me feels this obligation to the family to become a priest. Oh, I know that’s the worst possible reason, but that’s all I’ve ever heard since I was a little kid. It was taken for granite that that’s the way it would be.”

  I noted that he had said, “granite” instead of granted, so I said, “drink up, you’re fallin’ way behind.” Which he did.

  “The old lady’s money isn’t the issue”, he went on, “but it’s what my dad wanted and what my mom wants. Dad’s gone and I almost lost Mom. I feel like I owe them something for what they’ve done for me. But I can’t live my life for them, can I?”

  “Nope.” I said, even though he hadn’t expected an answer from me, I felt obligated to respond.

  “And as far as those two sisters are concerned, I don’t give a fat fart what they want.” He punctuated this last statement with a fat fart, which caused the windows to be lowered.

  “Drink up,” I said again, “you’re fallin’ farther behind.” Which he did.

  “The other side of me wants a normal life, you know, a home and family of my own. I want a mortgage and car payments. I want to make my mark, maybe not a big mark, but a mark. I want to build something, not herd a flock of sinners. Hell man, I want to be a sinner. I want to defile women, I want to cheat on my taxes – Brickey, I want to be like you.”

  That sent a spray of beer foam through my nose and all over the steering wheel. My defiling successes were not exactly legendary, and I barely made enough money to pay taxes.

  “But then another side of me feels completely different.” I wondered just how many sides he had. “Sometimes when I’m alone in the chapel”, he continued, “I feel a real closeness to God. It’s as if He’s right there listening to my thoughts, and noddi
ng His head like He understands, but He doesn’t answer – just listens. Sometimes I think He’s got plans for me and is waiting to deliver them when I’m in the right state of mind. Maybe He’s already given them to me, but I didn’t hear them or mistook the process somehow. What if that’s what…Hey, Brickey, you hoggin’ the beer, open me another will ya?” – which I did.

  So, it went until the moon was gone, the radio turned to static, and we were out of beer. But, Mack still hadn’t come to any conclusions. Everytime he sounded definite, he would have another side pop up. With all those sides, he must be like a stop sign. I didn’t know a person could have that many sides, but that just shows that I don’t know a lot about much.

  I started the car and headed back to town, but before I got 100 yards Mack had to throw up. It was no wonder that he was sick, he drank 8 cans of warm Carlings Black Label. He threw up twice more before we got back to town. I thought that I should warn him about the diarrhea that he’d be facing in the morning, but then why spoil the surprise. I knew it was wrong to take him out and get him ripped, but he needed a rip, so my conscience was relatively clear – on that account.

  What Mack would do in the end was anybody’s guess, but at this point, I would say he had a 70% chance of being a sinner. And, I would do my part to help him make the right choice.

  By the time we got home, Mack wasn’t sick anymore, but he was pretty giddy. What we found waiting for us were 3 pretty pissed off sisters, 2 of his and 1 of mine. It seemed that I was the target of their anger because I was leading the precious St. Macklin down the path of corruption and destruction. I accepted my blame and mouthed, “You bastard,” to him as he giggled and stumbled up their front stairs. Then I took a quiet, though forceful scolding from Nan. She didn’t want me to get into trouble, but she wanted to make sure that I had trouble.

  When she was running out of steam, I gave her my most solemn look and said, “I’m sorry to be such a worry to you, little Pisster.” Then I bent down and kissed her on the forehead and in my best Big Bopper style said, “Good night you sweet thaaang – you!” I started up the stairs, and about half way up, I looked back to see her standing there with a tiny little smile on her cute little face. When she saw me looking at her, a house slipper came flying my way. She loved me!