Red Clover

by Florence Osmund

  “We’re quite fine here,” said Bennett.

  “You know, I said I would try to put you in touch with Senator Wheland, but I think I may just have to renege on that little promise.”

  Bennett appeared surprised but didn’t say anything. “I’ll do it only if you join me in a water-balloon toss.”

  Lee looked on with anticipation.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  Bennett, still stone-faced, said, “No, you don’t.”

  “What I’m thinking is that I could pair up with you, Bennett. Daphne could pair up with Bennett, Jr., and then the two girls.” She took Bennett by the arm. “C’mon, Mr. Pro Bono. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Bennett’s three giggling children ran ahead. Daphne trailed several steps behind her husband, looking more than just a little perturbed.

  The clown had a bullhorn in his hand. “Okay, one and all. Come gather here for the main event of the day!”

  CJ grabbed Lee’s arm and dragged him over to the balloon-toss area. The four couples lined up, three feet apart from each other, while everyone else gathered around to watch. Lee glanced toward the house and waved at the rest of his family. They didn’t wave back. Shaneta, who watched from the kitchen window, had a camera held up to her face.

  Francine, Bennett, Jr., Odessa, and Lee held the water-laden balloons.

  “Is everybody ready?” the clown shouted.

  “You bet,” said Bennett, Jr.

  “Bennett, if you throw that thing too hard, you’ll have severe consequences to pay,” Daphne said to her son.

  “It’s a game, Mother. Chill out.”

  Daphne pursed her lips. “Where did you learn such language?”

  “On the count of three, toss your balloons. One...two...three.”

  Bennett caught his with ease. Daphne somehow managed to catch hers despite her long, perfectly manicured nails. Anna fumbled with hers for several shaky seconds but then recovered.

  Lee threw his balloon to CJ with extreme care. She gave him a you-can-be-nice-if-you-want smirk.

  The onlookers cheered.

  “Okay, boys and girls, take one giant step back.” He waited for everyone to follow his instructions. “You in the yellow sweater so neatly placed around your shoulders, I said a giant step.”

  Daphne scowled and then stepped back in line with the others.

  “One...two...three...throw!”

  Bennett tossed his balloon two feet to the right of Francine, who made an impressive dive to the ground and managed to catch it.

  “Hey, Bennett, where did you learn how to throw—in an all-girls school?”

  Bennett, Jr., doubled over laughing at Francine’s remark at the exact moment Daphne threw her balloon to him, hitting him squarely on the top of his head.

  “Oh, no! Your sweater.” She approached her son, arms outstretched.

  Bennett, Jr., stood up. “Mother, it’s a sweater.” He pulled it off over his head and held it out in front of him. “It’ll dry. Don’t be such a—”

  “Bennett,” his father said. “Watch your words.”

  “You guys just don’t get it, do you?” Bennett Jr. said as he stomped off toward the house, but not before grabbing a piece of watermelon. Daphne cautiously backed away from the line of balloon-throwers and then followed her son toward the house.

  Anna squealed and threw her balloon to her sister, Odessa, who caught it with ease.

  Winding up like a baseball pitcher, CJ threw her balloon at Lee, overhand...hard.

  “What?” Lee shouted as he reached up for the balloon. His fingers pierced the balloon, causing the water to splash down on his head. “Where did you learn to throw? At spring training?”

  “Okay. One more step back, my friends,” the clown yelled.

  Francine had a devilish look on her face.

  “Get him, Francine!” Anna shouted.

  “Anna!” Bennett responded. “I’m your father. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  Anna giggled.

  Francine took precise aim and threw the balloon at Bennett’s face where, despite his dodging maneuver, it landed with a splat.

  “Yea!” Anna squealed, as Bennett wiped the water off his face.

  “It’s up to you, laughing girl,” the clown said. “You need to catch this one to win the game.”

  Odessa took her time before she gently tossed the balloon to her sister. Anna planted her feet wide apart and held out her hands. The balloon sailed through the air and into her arms. “I got it! I got it!” she screeched.

  While everyone applauded the girls’ victory, Anna snuck up behind her father and threw her balloon at the back of his head. Bennett stood still, stone-faced, until the laughter died down.

  “Very funny, Anna,” he said as he approached her, picking up a full balloon from the table on his way.

  “Don’t do it, Father.”

  “What did you say, darling?”

  Anna squealed and ran from Bennett who raced across the lawn after her.

  “You can’t get me, Father. You throw like a girl, remember?” she yelled through her giggles.

  “Come back here, you little imp,” Bennett shouted as he chased his daughter.

  “Hey, Bennett!” Francine shouted. “I would have put you in touch with the good Senator anyway...just so you know.”

  Bennett’s stride didn’t falter as he held up a fist and shook it in the air at Francine.

  Lee glanced up at the sunroom windows where the rest of his family stood watching.

  CJ put her arm around Lee. “This was one kick-ass barbecue, Soc. Nice goin’. But I bet you’re in deep shit with your parents. Am I right?”

  “Who cares. It was fun.”

  “We’ve gotta jam. Francine has a nursing gig in an hour.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for inviting us.” She turned away from him and started to walk away but then swirled back around to add, “Hey, Socrates. Looks like the tables have finally turned!”

  Dr. Rad had had one too many beers. “Thank you, my son, for imbibing us. Let me know when I can see that fermile, that fervile, land of yours.”

  Adishree took him by the arm. “Do you mean fertile, my brother?”

  “Fertile. That’s what I said.”

  Lenny shook Lee’s hand. “We had a great time, Lee. Wish I could have promoted my store to your family, but I figured that would be about as senseless as nailin’ a screen door on a submarine. No disrespect intended.”

  Architect Dennis Freborg shook Lee’s hand. “Can’t remember when I’ve laughed so much. Makes me glad I’m just a simple man with simple needs. Thanks, Lee. It was a real eye-opener...and I mean that in a good way.”

  “See you ‘round, Lee. We’re gonna start with the flooring on Tuesday,” Lundberg said with a salute. “Nice party.”

  After the last guest had left, Lee surveyed the back yard—balloon remnants everywhere, skid marks on the once-pristine lawn, paper plates and napkins carelessly placed wherever the occasional breeze off the lake had taken them. In spite of what was likely waiting for him inside, he was pleased about the party, and for a blissful, fleeting moment, his mind went to a place where his family was proud of him, proud he had become his own person.

  The walk into the house was arduous, and Lee made it last as long as possible, taking one long stride after another through the grass. Glancing up at the empty sunroom windows, he wondered from which room his family was conspiring against him.

  When he entered the house, he found that all of the adult Winekoops had changed clothes and were seated in the living room, while the children were in the foyer, huddled together like a flock of sheep. All their suitcases had been moved from the second floor bedrooms and were lined up all the way from the living room to the front foyer.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked no one in particular.

  “Sit down, Lee,” his father said.

  Not about to give in to his old ways by re
sponding like a well-trained soldier, he sat on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs, dangling one leg over the side.

  “Sit in the chair properly, Lee.” His mother appeared disgusted. “Show some respect.”

  He slid into the seat of the chair, feeling like a scolded six-year-old.

  Henry continued. “I have to say we are all very disappointed in you, Lee. This charade was uncalled for and shows us you are no closer to maturity than you were a year ago. If I had my—”

  “Henry, stop!” his mother interjected.

  His father’s words came as no surprise to Lee, but they still stung. “I don’t know exactly what you’re referring to, Father, but if it has anything to do with my other guests, I suggest you put it—”

  “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? I have half a mind to—”

  “Henry!”

  “Who do I think I am? I am me, Father. Lee Oliver Winekoop. Someone you have never known...and obviously still don’t know. I’m not like you. I’m not like anyone in this room. I’m me. I’m an individual with my own needs, my own values, my own likes and dislikes that make me unique. I am my own person, not the embodiment of your expectations.”

  His words poured out of his mouth as if being manipulated by some outside source.

  “I’m not going to live your dream, and the sooner you understand that, the better. And you want to know something else? I’m proud of myself. In fact. I couldn’t be any more proud of myself for—”

  “Lee, what Henry was trying to—”

  “Stop, Mother. Stop trying to smooth things over by rewording what he said. You’ve done that my whole life, and I always saw through it. Let him say what he means. I may not like what he has to say, but I respect his right to say it.” He could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “Let him say what a loser he thinks I am. Let him say he thought all along I would never amount to anything. Let him say what he thinks.”

  The silence was daunting.

  Bennett walked over to Lee, put his hand on his shoulder, and whispered, “You best stop, Lee.” His wife followed him toward the children in the foyer.

  Nelson squirmed in his chair. His wife, Yvonne, stared at the wall.

  “I see your bags are packed too,” Lee said to Nelson. “Feel free to leave any time.” Lee watched Nelson and his wife leave the room to join Bennett and his family, who now had their suitcases in hand and were exiting through the front door.

  “I guess seeing my new house is out of the question now,” he said to his mother.

  “Some other time, dear.” She turned to her husband. “Henry? Are we ready to go?”

  She got up from her chair. “I’m sorry things didn’t go well, sweetheart,” she said to Lee.

  Lee watched his parents walk out the front door, all the tension in the room drifting out after them.

  It may not have gone well for you, Mother, but for me, things went splendidly!

  18 | “He’s Not Who You Think”

  The ice-cold “brewski” Lee pulled from the refrigerator consoled him. He draped his lanky body out on the sunroom sofa, shoes and all.

  Shaneta interrupted his thoughts about the day’s events. “So how are we feelin’, Mista...I mean Lee?”

  Lee sat up and patted the sofa seat next to him. “Sit down with me, Shaneta.”

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  “C’mon. I think you know by now I’m fairly harmless.”

  Shaneta eased onto the sofa. “Oh, I know that, but I’ve never...”

  “I know. But things are different with me.”

  “With all due respect, Lee, you’re not the one who signs mi paycheck.”

  He laughed. “Good point. But I assure you whatever we talk about stays between you and me.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  Shaneta hesitated, but finally shook on it. “Deal,” she agreed. “So let me ask you, how do you think your party went?”

  “For me, it couldn’t have been any better. Thank you for all your help.” He gazed out the window where the clean-up crew was bringing the backyard back to its normal state. “And as for my guests, well, I think they had a good time, too.”

  “And your family?”

  “Not so good. What do you think?”

  Shaneta’s smile said it all. “Oh, mi God. When Mrs. Winekoop had no choice but to sit between CJ and...what is Dr. Rad’s sister’s name again?”

  “Adishree.”

  “And Adishree...well, I guess she couldn’t have gotten any paler.”

  “Did you get some good pictures?”

  “Some real good ones.”

  “You must show them to me when they’re developed. Maybe we’ll make an album. CJ was taking pictures too. We’ll call it Lee’s 1987 Memorial Day Emancipation album.”

  “You know, Lee, I feel a little emancipated too.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You know, always havin’ to act like...well, their servant, like I’m not a human bein’ first. Always havin’ to mind mi p’s and q’s, worried if I open mi mouth I might say the wrong thing.” She reached out and touched Lee’s hand. “You’re not like that, and I do appreciate that, but then again...”

  “Then again, what?” He waited for a response but got none. “Well, I’m glad you realize I’m not like them. But did you see Bennett and his kids doing the water-balloon toss?”

  “I sure did, and I got pictures to prove it!” The smile left her face. “How do you think they got that way, Lee?”

  “Out of touch with reality you mean?”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  “Well, Shaneta, that is their reality. My mother, she grew up in that same kind of family—wealthy, everything done for her, not much exposure to how regular people live—so that explains it for her. But my father, well, I don’t quite get that myself. His father was a Chicago policeman who had to moonlight just to keep his family fed and clothed. I don’t know. I was never very close to him.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Shaneta, this conversation we’re having right now, you and me—you could combine all the conversations I’ve had with my parents over the years and they wouldn’t amount to this one in terms of honesty.”

  Shaneta’s expression turned serious. Lee got the feeling she was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.” She got up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got work to do, Mista Lee.

  “Shaneta, something’s wrong. Is it something I said?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Please sit back down. Please?”

  Shaneta sat.

  “Something is bothering you. I can tell. Do you want talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “You might feel better.”

  She shook her head. “No, I won’t.” She got up again to leave, and this time Lee let her go. Ten minutes later, she returned.

  “I have no business tellin’ you this.”

  “Telling me what?”

  “I know better than to butt into someone else’s business.”

  “Shaneta, you can tell me anything.”

  “I could get fired over tellin’ you this.”

  “Shaneta, what is it?”

  “I’m only tellin’ you this because...well, I’m thinkin’ if I were in your boots, I would want to know. But I need this job, and...”

  “I will not repeat what you’re about to tell me. I promise.”

  “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. It’s just an expression.” She sat down and smoothed out the crisp white apron she always wore. “After Mista and Mrs. Winekoop came in the house, right before the water balloons...well, I overheard them talkin’. I wasn’t eavesdroppin’ or anything. I never do that. But, you know, when you've got things to do...well... I shouldn’t be tellin’ you this.”

  “Look, if it’s going to make you uncomfortab
le, you shouldn’t tell me.”

  Shaneta stared at him for several seconds. “No, I would want to know. Lee, your father threatened to have you disowned.”

  “Disowned?”

  “There’s more. Oh, my. This should be comin’ from your parents, Mista Lee.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “May the lawd take mi life if I’m doin’ the wrong thing.”

  The bile rose up into Lee’s throat.

  “Lee, your father...he’s not who you think he is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s not your real father.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. “Now I’ve said it.”

  “Not my real father?”

  “No.”

  “So who is he?”

  “I shouldn’t be the one tellin’ you this.”

  “Shaneta, if you say that one more time...”

  “I know, but it’s so true.”

  “Are you going to continue?”

  “Lee, your real father...your real father was your Uncle Nelson.”

  19 | Disowned

  Had he understood her correctly? Even if he had been able to speak after hearing Shaneta utter those few earthshaking words, he wouldn’t have known what to say.

  He tried to form a mental image of his uncle, but all he could remember was that he had been tall, not fat or thin, and maybe had a receding hairline.

  “I’m sorry, Lee, to be the one to tell you this. It’s just that—”

  “And my mother?”

  Shaneta shook her head. “From what I heard, she was someone who he had...well, relations with, someone who left you on your father’s doorstep, so to speak.”

  “What? Who would do that?”

  “I shouldn’t say.”

  “Shaneta, you’ve told me this much. What could be any worse?”

  “Mista Winekoop refers to her as ‘his whore.’”

  “Who’s whore?”

  “Uncle Nelson’s.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about? This is preposterous.”

  “You can’t be a devoted servant to people and not know their business. Believe me, I know everything. Every thing.”

  This must be a dream. I want to wake up. Now.

  “Okay, so how did I end up with…” All of a sudden, he didn’t know what to call his parents. “Them.”