On Wings Of The Morning Read Free Page A

were a lot of men who would have said the same thing. They could have formed a club and held meetings.
    I don’t remember Earl’s last name, though I know it wasn’t Boudreaux. I do remember that one dry, hot summer day—not a Sunday—he showed up at our house, a little shotgun cottage on the edge of town that was in no better or worse repair than the others on our street, and he was mad as hell. I was sitting cross-legged on chipped-paint floorboards of the front porch, cutting Dolly Dingle paper dolls out of an old copy of the Pictorial Review , so intent on my work that I didn’t hear him drive up. Earl stomped hard climbing the porch steps, making my scissors wobble so that poor Dolly lost three fingers on her right hand. I looked up and saw a man’s trouser legs and a pair of brogans covered with Florida dust. They looked like someone had sprinkled them with Hershey’s cocoa powder.
    â€œHey, Uncle Earl!” I greeted my father by the only title I knew and waited for him to respond with his usual “Hey, yourself, June Bug!” but he didn’t see me. He wrenched open the screen door with such power that I thought he’d pull it off the hinges. He started hollering for my mother even before he got in the house and let the screen door slam closed behind him.
    â€œJean! Jean! Where the hell are you?”
    Her heels made a hurried tap-tapping sound across the wooden floor. She had tiny feet, size fours, which she was very proud of. Even before we moved to the city, my mother wore high heels every day of the week.
    â€œWhy, hello, Earl. What a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to see you until Sunday. I just made some iced tea. Do you have time for a glass?”
    â€œNo! I did not come over here for tea. It’s a workday, Jean. I should be at the store looking after my business, but instead I had to drive over here to ask you a question—have you lost your mind?”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about... . ”
    â€œDon’t give me that. You were over at Annabelle’s dress shop today, and you were tracking Marlene from one end of the store to the other, whispering little comments, holding dresses up to yourself, and wondering out loud, ‘Would Earl like this red better, or the blue?’”
    â€œWell, I was at Annabelle’s this morning, but I had no idea your wife was there. I was so busy deciding what dress to buy that I must not have noticed her. She’s not that hard to miss, is she? I did finally settle on the blue one. Shall I try it on and show you? It’s a little low-cut in front, but I didn’t think you mind that too much.” Eavesdropping on the front porch, I couldn’t see Mother’s face, but I didn’t have to. Her voice was breathy, and I knew she’d be looking at Earl with her eyes wide open and her chin tucked down, that she’d reach up to stroke his shoulder and bite her lower lip slowly, in that way that always made him swallow hard so you could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. It was a move that never failed—until today.
    â€œKnock it off, Jean!” I heard the scuffle of feet and wondered if he’d shaken off her caressing hand or pushed her away. “You humiliated Marlene today, and now everybody in town is talking about it! She came to the store in tears. I feel bad enough about things without you going and making her a laughingstock. She may not be as pretty as you, but that’s not her fault. I never wanted to hurt her. Tried to spare her feelings,” he mumbled in a voice husky with guilt.
    â€œI told her I’d quit seeing you two years ago and that I’d joined an Elk’s Lodge all the way over in Bleak Springs and had to drive over for a meeting every Sunday. She believed me, or at least she wanted to believe me, if only to preserve her dignity. Now you’ve gone and made that impossible!”
    â€œWell, I am