couldn’t really blame me for not worrying about where he was every minuteor when he was coming home. Only place he hadn’t been sent to was the war itself. Which was one of life’s eternal mysteries. All these big battles were happening over in Europe and the Pacific, and he hadn’t seen a single one of them as far as we could tell.
My aunt continued, “Well, I been doing a lot of thinking and praying about your daddy, and I decided the time’s come for you to see him again.”
What?
Flat-out shocked, I stared at Aunt Odella.
“With the war ending any day now, I think it’s time for you to go and stay with him for a while.” Her voice was stubborn. “I done way more than my share of raising you. It’s his turn to take over. That’s what I decided. There’s a train leaving for North Carolina today.”
Good grief almighty, was she out of her mind? Did she remember my daddy was still serving in the U.S. Army? And our country was still in a big war? And nobody had surrendered yet?
Everything was so quiet, you could hear the people in the next apartment listening to the radio and the sound of their teakettle wailing away. I think Aunt Odella was waiting for me to say something, to break the frozenness of the air around us, but there were no words. Just the sound of that fool teakettle. Leaving was one thing, but sending me to my father was something entirely different. I kept thinking to myself,
How in the world could she just up and decide to send me to North Carolina? Was she expecting me to stroll down
there and show up on my daddy’s doorstep at an army post with no warning?
My aunt’s determination melted a little around the edges the longer the silence went on. “I’m only looking out for what’s best for you and him,” she said in a softer voice. “Don’t you want to see your father too?”
I didn’t answer because I couldn’t even conjure up a picture of what seeing him would be like—to know how I’d feel. Heck, it’d been more than three years since he left. Always told my best friend Archie that missing people in the war was like picking a scab—once you started, you’d wish you had left it alone.
“Boys need their fathers and fathers need their sons in this world.” Aunt Odella stood up as if that was her final word on the subject. Tugging on the sides of her sturdy dress, she straightened out the wrinkles that had bunched around her middle and wiped her hand across the little beads of sweat that had gathered along the top of her upper lip. “Well, it’s getting late. We better get your things packed up.”
When I was little, I used to wonder if my life woulda been any different if I’d stuck with the plain old name of Chester instead. Maybe I woulda had an ordinary family like Archie’s, with a momma who cooked beef roast on Sundays and a daddy who cranked homemade ice cream when it was hot and told jokes. Instead, I had a family that had taken off more times than a B-17 bomber.
I think that’s what Aunt Odella was afraid of too.
Afraid of being stuck with me if my daddy didn’t come back after the war ended. Before I’d come to live with her, she’d taken care of Granny during her illness, and before that, Great-Granddaddy with the Paralysis. So maybe that’s why she wasn’t wasting any time getting rid of me, you know what I mean?
Not even two hours later, I was walking outta her apartment carrying one suitcase and a paper bag of fried chicken speckled with grease. The suitcase held just about everything I owned in the world—which wasn’t a whole lot by the looks of it. From what I could tell, my daddy had no idea I was coming.
3. Scorpion of Death
I t’s strange how many dumb things you notice about a place when you’re leaving it. For instance, as me and Aunt Odella headed out of her apartment building that morning, I noticed for the first time how much spit there was on the steps. There was years, maybe decades, of people’s spit on the worn gray stones.
My aunt continued, “Well, I been doing a lot of thinking and praying about your daddy, and I decided the time’s come for you to see him again.”
What?
Flat-out shocked, I stared at Aunt Odella.
“With the war ending any day now, I think it’s time for you to go and stay with him for a while.” Her voice was stubborn. “I done way more than my share of raising you. It’s his turn to take over. That’s what I decided. There’s a train leaving for North Carolina today.”
Good grief almighty, was she out of her mind? Did she remember my daddy was still serving in the U.S. Army? And our country was still in a big war? And nobody had surrendered yet?
Everything was so quiet, you could hear the people in the next apartment listening to the radio and the sound of their teakettle wailing away. I think Aunt Odella was waiting for me to say something, to break the frozenness of the air around us, but there were no words. Just the sound of that fool teakettle. Leaving was one thing, but sending me to my father was something entirely different. I kept thinking to myself,
How in the world could she just up and decide to send me to North Carolina? Was she expecting me to stroll down
there and show up on my daddy’s doorstep at an army post with no warning?
My aunt’s determination melted a little around the edges the longer the silence went on. “I’m only looking out for what’s best for you and him,” she said in a softer voice. “Don’t you want to see your father too?”
I didn’t answer because I couldn’t even conjure up a picture of what seeing him would be like—to know how I’d feel. Heck, it’d been more than three years since he left. Always told my best friend Archie that missing people in the war was like picking a scab—once you started, you’d wish you had left it alone.
“Boys need their fathers and fathers need their sons in this world.” Aunt Odella stood up as if that was her final word on the subject. Tugging on the sides of her sturdy dress, she straightened out the wrinkles that had bunched around her middle and wiped her hand across the little beads of sweat that had gathered along the top of her upper lip. “Well, it’s getting late. We better get your things packed up.”
When I was little, I used to wonder if my life woulda been any different if I’d stuck with the plain old name of Chester instead. Maybe I woulda had an ordinary family like Archie’s, with a momma who cooked beef roast on Sundays and a daddy who cranked homemade ice cream when it was hot and told jokes. Instead, I had a family that had taken off more times than a B-17 bomber.
I think that’s what Aunt Odella was afraid of too.
Afraid of being stuck with me if my daddy didn’t come back after the war ended. Before I’d come to live with her, she’d taken care of Granny during her illness, and before that, Great-Granddaddy with the Paralysis. So maybe that’s why she wasn’t wasting any time getting rid of me, you know what I mean?
Not even two hours later, I was walking outta her apartment carrying one suitcase and a paper bag of fried chicken speckled with grease. The suitcase held just about everything I owned in the world—which wasn’t a whole lot by the looks of it. From what I could tell, my daddy had no idea I was coming.
3. Scorpion of Death
I t’s strange how many dumb things you notice about a place when you’re leaving it. For instance, as me and Aunt Odella headed out of her apartment building that morning, I noticed for the first time how much spit there was on the steps. There was years, maybe decades, of people’s spit on the worn gray stones.
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