Goodnight, Brian

by Steven Manchester

  “Goodnight.”

  Chapter 18

  Early Fall 1988

  Mama saw children as a mound of beautiful clay to be shaped and molded. It was her job to form and design. She was the artist and, as such, she took full responsibility for the final result. She didn’t make excuses.

  Although Brian began attending school to learn sign language, she spent more time expanding his vocabulary than most people spent sleeping. “Brian’s curious about everything,” she confirmed with Joan. “He’s a real explorer and that’s how we’ll make progress.” She nodded. “And I’m confident he’ll live a good life because of it.”

  Night after night, weekend after weekend, Mama and her “butterfly” talked each other’s ears off.

  “Steph and Heidi are going to spend next weekend with us,” she told him.

  “Ot and Biddy.”

  “Steph and Heidi,” Mama repeated, tirelessly.

  “Yets. Ot and Biddy,” he countered. “Beat go?”

  “Sure, we can go to the beach, but we need to get you a haircut first.”

  “Arquette nah!”

  “You need a haircut,” she told him.

  There was a long pause. “Skee…”

  “Scared of getting your hair cut? Don’t be silly. You’ve gotten a hundred haircuts. I think you’re just trying to get out of it, so we can get down to the beach earlier, right?”

  He laughed. “Rin. A…E?”

  “I’ll ask your dad if Ross and Angie can join us this weekend. Maybe we’ll sneak away for a little adventure?”

  “Dodo?”

  “No soda. You need to drink more milk!”

  “No low me,” he said, and began giggling.

  “You little stinker. Of course I love you. That’s why I want you to drink more milk, so you can grow up big and strong.”

  “Dodo hemmy.”

  “Well, milk makes me happy.”

  He laughed again. “K, Mama. Low Mama.”

  “And I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Nigh nigh, Mama.”

  “Goodnight, Brian.”

  As Brian grew – just like any other kid – he developed his own likes and dislikes. He loved going out to eat; hot dogs and ice cream were his favorite. Every Tuesday, he ate out with his father and brother; they called it, “Boy’s night out.”

  He called one dollar bills, “George’s” – or something that sounded close to that – and liked them more than twenties. No matter what the gift was, if someone hid a few singles within the wrapping, Brian celebrated like he’d just discovered Captain Black Beard’s treasure.

  He loved watching baseball with Ross and always wore a Boston Red Sox baseball cap that he tossed onto his head like he was auditioning for the circus.

  Heidi dragged him clothes shopping, modeling one outfit after the next for him. He was brutally honest, without being hurtful.

  Steph loved art and taught Brian to share that love. If they were together, they were doodling, or painting – even creating giant murals on Mama’s driveway with stubs of sidewalk chalk.

  And Angie – Brian loved spending time with his little sister, regardless of what they did – and whether or not she felt the same.

  Brian arose at seven o’clock each day and turned into bed at 8:30 p.m. every night – after recapping his day with Mama. Although he loved his daily shower, for whatever reason, he hated brushing his teeth. Mama often interrogated him, “Did you brush yet, dragon breath?”

  Brian usually lied, nodding that he had. But he was unable to look his grandmother in the eye.

  She smelled his breath and cringed. “You fibber,” she gently scolded.

  He laughed. “Mama, kid you. No fib. Bush go now.”

  This very exchange went on for years.

  Brian loved school, which made Mama laugh – considering how it all began.

  He loved the older cartoons like the Flintstones and Jetsons. And he liked wearing cologne, while claiming to have many girlfriends.

  He hated costumes or any type of disguise. It scared him. Every Halloween, he’d hide out in the house and ask, “Done now?” again and again, hoping that the holiday had passed. “Tuckee tine?”

  And Santa Claus was everywhere for Brian – which never changed as he got older. His innocence wouldn’t allow him to question the existence of the jolly old elf. Each year, many photos were taken of Brian sleeping beside the aluminum foil manger beneath Mama’s Christmas tree. “That’s my angel,” she boasted.

  While the wall calendars were replaced – one after the next – he became a fixture at Mama’s kitchen table. And without ever being asked, he liked to rub her back while she slaved over her giant pots and pans.

  During many of the adventures Mama and Brian shared, she often brought back something to plant in her flower garden as a souvenir. Besides collecting photos, she also built flowerbeds of memories. While on Cape Cod, someone gave her Cosmos to plant. In the Berkshires, another new friend gave her Hydrangeas.

  When she described heaven to Brian, besides listing “music, angels and laughter,” she also told him it was filled with flowers – “meadows and meadows of beautiful, sweet smelling flowers.”

  “Daze?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Yes, sweetheart, there are daisies in heaven.”

  It was early fall when Mama and Brian rented the movie The Champ, starring Jon Voigt and Ricky Schroeder. He cried, but only because he was so in tune with his grandmother’s feelings – who wept like a baby.

  After the movie, Brian asked, “Bonden me?”

  Mama looked at him and shook her head. “Your birthday’s not for a few months,” she told him.

  “Keekeemist?”

  “Pretty soon, it’ll be Christmas.”

  “Ho Ho Ho,” he bellowed, smiling wide. “Taekrit god.”

  She smiled. “Santa Claus is good. But he’s always watching, so you’d better make sure you’re on your best behavior.”

  His face turned serious and he nodded. “Yets Mama. Much god.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “The Lord must think a lot of me to send me such an angel,” she said aloud.

  Wearing his finest smile, Brian stared out the cottage window for awhile and enjoyed the stillness. “Ate now Mama,” he finally announced.

  “You’re hungry?”

  “Yets.”

  “Do you want Mama to make you some ravioli?”

  “Ate god.”

  “You like Mama’s ravioli, huh?”

  “Yets.”

  “You’d better,” she joked and laughed loud enough to wake her deceased husband.

  Brian laughed, too – hysterically.

  They were quite the pair and anyone overhearing them would have thought that they were both insane.

  Chapter 19

  Spring 1989

  Mama threw down her final hand. “Gin rummy!” she announced, and stood to stretch out her crooked back. “I expect to see you at church tomorrow,” she told Steph, with a yawn. “No excuses.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Steph said.

  “Brian likes it when we’re all together. And it’s good for us to show him by example, so he can also grow in his faith.”

  Steph looked at the old woman like she had just arrived from Jupiter.

  “What?” she asked. “You don’t think Brian has faith in God?”

  “I know he enjoys going to church with you every week, but really – how much does he understand?” Steph asked, already wondering whether she had misspoken. She awaited a scolding from her tiny grandmother.

  Mama looked at her and laughed. “Believe me, Brian knows Jesus a lot better than any of us do. Think about it – he’s a true child of God, sent here to teach us.”

  “Teach us?”

  Mama nodded. “Unconditional love – just like the Lord has for each of us and what we should all aspire to.”

  Steph’s eyes went cold and she looked away.

  Mama caught it. “Stay the night,” she told her granddaugh
ter. “We can go to church together.” She looked out the window. “Besides, the weather’s getting worse.”

  “Okay,” Steph said, and stood to get ready for bed.

  Mama shook her head. “Why don’t you stay up with me for a while, so we can talk.” She shrugged. “Seeing as you’re already sitting in my confessional…”

  Steph reclaimed her seat.

  “What is it?” Mama asked, cutting to the chase. “Something’s eating you up inside. I can feel it.”

  The rain came down hard, lapping at Mama’s windows. Steph looked out to see that everything had lost its outline. The need to express her feelings clawed at the inside of her throat. She tried to shape the words, but they just wouldn’t come out. She then felt Mama’s hand in hers. In the next breath, she confessed, “I’m gay.”

  “I’m happy, too,” Mama replied with a grin.

  “No, Mama. I’m actually gay. I knew I was different from the time I was a little girl. I…”

  With her gnarled and leathery hands, she grabbed Steph’s other hand and halted the rant. “You’re not gay. You’re perfect – exactly the way God made you.”

  Steph’s eyes filled with tears. “But the church doesn’t think…”

  “Not my God,” she insisted in an angry tone. “My God loves unconditionally. And because He loved me so much, He sent you to me. Don’t ever label yourself, Stephanie. You’re so much greater than a label. When you get right down to it, you are what’s in your heart. And even if you wanted to, you would never be able to hide from God.” She nodded. “Steph, there’s nobody else like you in this whole universe, so don’t you dare ever be anything but who you are!” She winked. “Besides, Brian wouldn’t allow it.”

  Weeping in relief, Steph hurried around the table and hugged her tiny grandmother. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “Some,” she teased and kissed her forehead.

  The following morning, they went to church as they did each week, with Steph and Brian sitting by her side in the pew. Mama was a devout Catholic who believed in the ceremonies and traditions of the Roman Catholic Church.

  Thirty minutes into the Mass, Father Benton called, “All the Lord’s children to receive the body of Christ.” While everyone else in the row stood, Steph remained seated. Mama noticed it, stopped and bent into her ear. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  Steph thought about the penance she’d recently received for her terrible sin of being gay. Though reluctant at first, she quietly recounted the bad memory to Mama…

  Steph sat in a confessional booth and came clean with the priest. “I’ve known it since I was a kid,” she admitted. “I’m gay.”

  Father Benton was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Child, I think you should spend some time searching your heart. And until you find your way back to the flock, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to receive the Holy Eucharist. It really wouldn’t be right.”

  Steph paid her penance that afternoon; ten Hail Mary’s and ten Our Father’s. Once she was done, she cried herself all the way to Aunt Joan’s house.

  Devastated over Father Benton’s sinful judgment, she wept in Ross’ bed. Hearing this, Brian climbed into bed with her and stroked her hair for hours while she cried. “K,” he repeated. “K,” he told her until exhaustion took over and she nodded off.

  Mama listened to the story and most of her blood went straight to her face. Her hands trembled from the rage that tore through her heart. She looked up at the altar and shook her head. While she reclaimed her seat, her eyes filled with tears. “Well, if you’re not welcome at the good Lord’s table, then neither am I!” she barked.

  Others looked over. Steph slid down the pew. “Please, Mama. Please receive the body of Christ. I know what it means to you.”

  Disgusted, the old woman shook her head and remained seated. “I don’t believe for a second that Jesus would ever deny you a place at His table. It’s the priest’s prejudice, and I can’t think of a greater sin.” The last few words were nearly delivered in a yell.

  Steph was horrified. It was important to Mama to receive the Holy Eucharist each week.

  Mama shook her head again. In a much lower tone, she said, “I love the message down to my bones, but many of the messengers have lost their way. They can’t clean up their own house, so they shouldn’t be worried about ours.” She turned to her bewildered granddaughter. “Stephanie, you listen to me right now! Be true to yourself – true to God. Unconditional love cannot allow room for prejudice, bigotry or hatred. All the love you feel for others; all that’s pure inside of you – that’s God. Believe in that to lead your way and light your path.” She turned and glared at the altar. “And leave Father Benton to me. I’ll take care of him!”

  Steph didn’t know whether to hug her grandmother or hide under the pew and conceal her burning cheeks. Instead, she looked at Brian.

  “Mad Mama,” he said with a grin and then went to his knees, continuing to mimic the old woman’s every move.

  At the end of the ceremony, Mama stood and straightened out her Sunday’s best. “Wait with Brian outside,” she told Steph. “I’m going to talk to Father Benton for a few minutes.”

  “No, Mama,” Steph pleaded. “Please don’t.”

  Mama shook her head. “This isn’t only about you, Stephanie. I need to see if he thinks that Brian’s unwelcome at the Lord’s table, too.”

  “Oh, God,” Steph muttered.

  Brian grinned. “Mad Mama,” he said again.

  On the ride home, Mama remained quiet. Steph finally broke the silence. “If I’d had a choice, Mama, I wouldn’t have chosen this life. No one in their right mind would choose this much adversity.”

  Mama looked in the rearview mirror at Brian and snickered.

  As they reached her driveway, Mama parked the car, shut off the ignition and turned to her granddaughter. “You are who God made you to be, so have the courage to be that person. The church doesn’t believe in unconditional love, but God does – or at least my God does.” She shook her disgusted head. “People who preach fear or hatred do not speak for God. There’s no greater conflict of interest. ‘God detests this and God abhors that’ – and then they’ll say, ‘He’s a just and merciful God who loves unconditionally.’ You can’t have both, though, can you?” She looked toward the backseat again and winked at Brian. “And being different doesn’t mean you’re wrong, or bad.” She looked back into Steph’s eyes. “Don’t you ever be anyone other than yourself, okay?”

  “Okay,” Steph replied and hugged her grandmother. “I won’t.” As they climbed out of the car, Steph asked, “So what did Father Benton say?”

  “About what?” Mama asked, fighting back her smirk.

  “About Brian being welcome at the Lord’s table?”

  “Father Benton – in all his ignorance – was unsure whether Brian would be able to truly comprehend the church’s seven sacraments.” The smirk won out and overtook her face. “So I convinced him to shepherd the boy…personally.” She chuckled. “Brian starts one-on-one catechism with Father Benson next week.”

  “That’s great,” Steph said.

  “Sure is. And he’ll be receiving the Holy Eucharist with you before he knows it.”

  “With me?”

  “Of course! It’s the Lord’s table, Stephanie – not Father Benton’s.”

  Chapter 20

  Early Winter 1989

  Without complaint, Heidi tagged along with Mama to Brian’s weekly Special Olympics basketball practice. On the ride, Mama spoke in hushed tones so that Brian wouldn’t hear her from the back seat. “I’m worried about him,” the old lady whispered, taking a peek into the rearview mirror.

  Heidi looked over her shoulder. Brian was staring out the side window, wearing his usual carefree smile. “Why?” Heidi asked, louder than Mama liked.

  “Because your cousin’s a smart boy in his own right, and I recently noticed that for the first time in his life, he’s starting to realize he’s
different from other people.” She shook her head, and lowered her tone even more. Heidi leaned in closer to hear. “We just need to watch him and make sure he doesn’t feel bad about being different, that’s all.”

  Heidi nodded and then looked over her shoulder once more. Brian appeared no less than overjoyed to be who he was.

  On the basketball court, while Brian and his friends ran around in circles trying to learn the game, Mama and Heidi sat in the bleachers cheering him on. At one point, he actually scored a basket. Mama screamed out, “Great job, Brian!” Heidi continued to stare off into space, completely lost in her thoughts.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Mama told her.

  Heidi shook her head. “It’ll take more than that, I think.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Mama teased. “Let’s hear it.”

  Heidi turned, so that she was completely facing her grandmother. “I met this boy, Peter Larkin. He’s the football quarterback at my school and he asked me to the dance last week.”

  “I don’t see a problem so far,” Mama said.

  “Well, he has dark brown eyes that are two shades lighter than his skin.” She paused, waiting for Mama’s reaction.

  The old woman never flinched. “So he’s different from you. So what? White, black, green – what difference should it make?” she asked. “Is he good to you? Would Brian like him?”

  Heidi nodded, her smile taking up most of her pretty face.

  Mama shared her smile. “Then I like him, too. Did you go?” she asked.

  “I did…and had the time of my life, Mama.”

  “So what could be wrong?”

  “Dad wasn’t as understanding – to say the least.”

  “What happened?”

  “I finally found the courage to tell him and he shot out of his recliner like an angry wild man. ‘Oh, I don’t think so!’ he kept screaming. ‘You’d better find one of your own kind.’”

  Mama put her arm around Heidi and pointed toward Brian. He was playing with his tall, black friend – Jerome. “We’re not born knowing bigotry or racism. It’s something we learn along the way…well, some of us anyway.” She shook her head. “I’ll make you a deal. You leave your father to me. Your grandfather helped break him, so I’ll help fix him. For your part, just keep a close eye on your cousin for me. Feeling different can sometimes make you feel bad. When you see it in him, make sure you correct him. He needs to understand that we’re all different.”