A love story you have not heard before.
Chapter Four
"The Hanging Lincoln"
Harry reached up and carefully rotated each of the four wheels exactly one-half turn. He wanted to make sure that the tires would not get out-of-round from remaining in the same position too long. When he finished, he stepped backwards all the way outside of the open-ended barn and surveyed the whole scene. His pride in the building and the magnificent automobile which hung within, suspended from the roof-beams by chains, warmed his heart. His body shivered for a moment in the crisp, early-morning air.
Annie came sneaking up from behind and gave him a hug. "I love you, Harry."
"I love you, too, Annie." Harry wished he had said it first.
"I just.... Oh, never mind."
"What?"
"If you would just stay home. Find a job here."
"There aren't any jobs here and nobody pays anything here. Besides, I've only been gone a few days and I'm back for the weekend already! Huh?" Harry tried to sound sufficiently pissed so she would shut up about it.
"That was a nice surprise, Harry, but you'll be leaving Sunday morning. We have one day."
"Beats zero."
"Remember when we first moved here? You were so happy to get out of the city you stayed home and worked on the garden, and your truck, and the reefer. The kids were happy, too – now I can't handle them anymore. And I miss you. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I reach over for you and..."
"Yeah? And when I was staying home we ran out of money! Besides, getting this Lincoln out of the barn was the first thing you mentioned when I got back last night. That's all you cared about."
Annie backed away from him. Her eyes brightened. "Well? Look at it! Do you know how much stuff we could put in here if it weren't for this car hanging up in the air in the middle of everything? Is it supposed to be the 'Spirit of St. Louis' in the Smithsonian or something? It's not an airplane, Harry. It belongs on the ground. Outside!"
"I did it for the effect. It's art."
"I have furniture behind the trailer with plastic over it, furniture that belonged to my parents, getting wet and ruined, just so you can have this nigger-car hanging in the barn. This was supposed to be our storeroom, Harry! I paid for the roofing repairs on it with my own money!"
"Redundant."
"Harry!"
"Funny thing is, I was standing here just now, before you walked up, looking at it and trying to figure out how long it would take to winch it down to the ground, and how long it would take to get it gassed up and running – get it out of here, tow it back to Miami – I figured it's too much of a job to have it ready by tomorrow morning. You know, get it out of your sacred storeroom – this was supposed to be a garage at first, if you'll recall – and thinking about how lucky I am to have a wife who understands – and here you are bitching and squalling and..."
"Harry!"
Harry faced her. Every time he came home she looked more loveable. Older and more independent, though. He shook his head. "Annie. It's good for both of us for me to be away to work so often. You've become so independent, anyway. We'd be fighting like dogs all the time, like we were starting to do before we sold the house down there." A smile crossed Harry's face. "Besides, when I met you, you were country. If I stayed home, you'd have to go to work again, like at one of those gas stations off I-10. Only you'd need a gun under the counter instead of that mallet you kept behind the bar in Blackhawk."
Annie wiped away a tear. "Maybe we should've moved all the way back to Colorado.... I would've been there when Mom got sick. And Dad...."
"I belong down south, Annie."
"Oh, Harry...."
They hugged. "I love you so much, Annie. If I didn't have you to come home to...."
"As long as I'm in the background, huh, Harry? The background?"
"You're my home, Annie. I'd hardly call that background!"
"Harry, look. Let's just step back aways and look at a typical Harry Schaffner scene." She broke away and backed off from the building. Harry followed her. "Now," Annie said. "Turn around and look at this."
The barn was large, the floor was rotten, and the sides were long gone. But the frame and roof beams were solid and the tin roof was only two years old. Observing them with its chrome-plated grille and shiny headlights, a huge, midnight-blue (nearly purple-black – a special edition color), mint-condition, 1979 Lincoln Continental, hung silently from chains.
Harry's heart swelled with pride.
"Harry. Look, okay? Do you think there is another woman – anywhere in the world, Harry – who would put up with something like this?"
"Yeah. I figure, probably, millions of them. You're wrong."
There was a long silence. They watched a hen go by with her brood of biddies, the baby chicks chirping and pecking at the ground as they hopped along. Suddenly, the peace was broken by noises coming from the trailer.
"Kids are waking up," Annie said.
"Daddy's home, you better watch it!"
"Daddy doesn't care. I'm a girl!"
"Ohhhh, Janey. I'm going to tell!"
"Sheeeeit! You have to get out of bed for that!"
"Syph-mouth!"
Annie and Harry reluctantly started for the trailer. They heard what sounded like Perry and Janey slapping each other, and furniture clunking around.
"They need their father, Harry."
"They have their father." Harry spit. "I love them, Annie, but I have my own life, too. When I was their age I had to live the way my parents wanted. Now I live my own. The kids'll have their way after they're old enough and on their own."
"I understand, Harry."
"I wish you did."
"What about the Lincoln?"
"Annie! It's a '79! It's the last big Lincoln they ever made! The last of the big hogs!"
"Oh, Harry!"
Annie stomped off ahead of him toward the trailer – "the house" as they called it, a private joke about the compromise they had made when they moved into the woods. Harry turned back to get his fill of the Lincoln. It was still hanging there, so patient – so quiet – like it knew its day was coming. Its glory....
"You don't even have a title for it!" Annie turned and screamed. "It's hot!"
Harry sighed. He knew that in the long run he would be vindicated. He pictured Sunday riding in it. He pictured her driving it, cruising down Biscayne Boulevard. Cruising the MacArthur Causeway. He pictured Sunday pulling up at the boat-yard to pick him up after work.
Driving Sunday to Tallahassee had been fun for both of them. They had both decided to cut work (Harry stretching his relationship with Timmy right on) and they left early on Friday morning. She had irritated him several times on the trip, though, but only briefly. Once when, in the middle of the day, they pulled into a Hardee's and she insisted they cross the highway to the Kentucky Fried Chicken. Inside, Sunday had been bossy with the KFC girl (who looked Indian) and had demanded extra condiments and extra napkins (which she squirreled away into her purse), and ordered her to put exactly two lumps of ice into her hot coffee. Sunday's tone was so out-of-character that Harry wondered if she might be crazy. But a minute later, back in the pickup, she returned to her normal, exuberant self. Farther up the road, when they stopped at a favorite spot Harry knew on the Suwannee River where they could picnic the KFC, Sunday made him wonder again. It was when they were resting on the river bank. Harry had spread out a blanket on the soft, damp cliff under a willow tree so they could watch the sluggish, muddy water flow by – and she had snuggled up close. Harry began kissing the nape of her neck, and with his arm around her, his fingers found their way into her blouse and inside her bra. Fondling her heavy, warm breasts and feeling her nipples grow brought up the urge in Harry so intensely that when Sunday suddenly began to fight him off Harry was dangerously close to attempting rape. Later, a half-hour down the road, when both of them were settled enough to discuss it, Sunday broke the silence. She explained that the reason she had let him fondle her to start with was because she felt it was the only way she would be able to get close enough to him where he would allow her to witness for Christ. To save him.
At the end of the day, when he pulled up in front of her parent's house in the quarters in Tallahassee, they embraced on the sidewalk. It was a long, lingering embrace and both of them seemed to be weakened by the power of it. The house was a small but pretty frame building with a little fence and a well-kept lawn, and somebody inside was holding the front door open a crack. Sunday suddenly bolted and ran up the walk, and they never did get to discuss how or when Harry would pick her up for the trip back to Miami.
Harry moved closer to the Lincoln and looked up at it again. It was almost as if the machine were looking back at him.
Sunday's fucked up....
The Lincoln seemed to agree.
Harry pictured Ruby in it. Ruby – so quiet and slender and pretty.... Ruby in her pink dress....
God will never forgive me for not getting into Ruby when I had the chance....
Harry always pictured Ruby the way she was back then. Now he began to imagine a fantasy girl, just like Ruby and perfect in every detail. She would fall in love with him immediately, and be grateful to him for the rest of her life for rescuing her from the gray, hopeless depths of the ghetto. She would glow with happiness like a goddess in the sunshine, and everyone's head would turn at the sight of her.
Harry had to force his eyes to refocus on the Lincoln. It was watching him. Waiting. It knew. Harry's fate was fused with it, and he spoke to it:
I'll leave you safe here until I find her. She'll be beautiful. A work of art, like you. One day, before the pretty little bitch even has a chance to ask for you, I'll say: "Honey, this here is your ride now. While I was away this morning, I had the title put in your name."
The title....
Harry followed Annie's trail – the bent grass, the suction-cup pattern of her jogging shoes in the sand – up to the trailer. Perry was still in bed, reading comics. "KORAK". "CONAN the Barbarian". He was in his tan, flannel pajamas, backed up against the pillows, and Harry went up and looked over the boy's shoulder. Conan was rescuing a long-haired, blond, jungle princess. The scene was so familiar that it gave Harry a little rush. It was the kind of stuff he loved when he was a boy – the exotic, wild white women who ruled savage tribes in remote, tropical places. The best was when they were captured and enslaved, and then rescued by – The Phantom?
Africa....
"Perry reads that shit and plays with himself under the covers, Dad," Janey said. She was standing in the doorway of Perry's little room in her panties.
"Oh, Janey, that's not true! You skinny bitch!"
"Get dressed, Janey!" Harry said.
"Then why don't you ever turn the page, little baby?"
Harry ruffled Perry's hair, pretending to be unfazed by Janey's brazen flashing. "He's just daydreaming. I used to do it, too."
"You mean, jerk off?"
"Janey!"
"Here's one we saved for you, Pop," Perry said. He was raising up, pulling a comic-book off the shelf over his bed.
"Open it to the story in the middle," Janey said. She was in the room now, and she reached past Harry and snatched the worn, limp book out of Perry's hands.
"The whole thing is just one story, Dummy!" Perry said.
"Her name is Nightshade, Dad. She fights the Avengers sometimes." Janey pushed the open comic under Harry's nose. "Here she is."
The children studied his face while he looked. The comic-book character was a long-legged, black girl wearing a skimpy, leather bikini. A thick, gold choker encircled her neck and a large pistol hung from her wide, leather belt – a gun like The Phantom used to carry. Harry's heart speeded up. He flipped the page. In every frame, Nightshade was dancing and prancing and stretching her devil body as she told Captain America off. In peril of his life, all the mighty hero could say was:
"WOW!"
Who drew this? Whoever it is – he knows....
I'm not the only one!
"It's a hit!" Janey yelled.
Harry jumped.
"Janey, your father said to get dressed!" It was Annie, standing in the doorway.
Janey did not move, and Harry refused to give his fifteen-year-old brat the satisfaction of looking at her bare breasts. Annie walked into the crowded room. Harry wanted to put the book aside but it was too late. There was a long silence while Annie looked.
"Harry?"
"Hmmmmmm."
The children were watching both of them now.
"Do you have a colored girl down there in Miami?
"Oh, Annie...." Harry turned and gave Annie a hug, which she did not return. "No."
"Well if you don't," Janey said, "you ought to. Soon! Before it becomes a disease!"
Harry lost it and grabbed Janey by the upper arms and began to shake the shit out of her. "Get dressed!"
Janey did not flinch and tried to keep looking him in the eye as her head flopped around. "I – thought – that – with you – I'd be – safe!"
"She means because she's white," Perry said.
Harry gave Janey a final shove which sent her sprawling backwards out the door and Annie managed to swat her a good one as she flew past.
"I smell breakfast," Perry said. "Burning!"
Annie narrowed her eyes at both of them and stomped back toward the kitchen. Harry closed the comic-book and laid it gently on Perry's bed. "I want to read this later. Okay?"
"Sure, Pop." Perry carefully placed it under some others on the shelf. "Pop? Look. This is the one I like." Perry turned to a page in a book he had been hiding under the covers. A tall, blond, Nordic warrior was leading a group of bare-breasted females through a valley infested with dinosaurs and crawling with snakes. All of the females were young, and beautiful, and white. All of them had long legs and tight little asses and perfectly formed breasts with swollen, up-turned nipples – even the ones carrying suckling children. High above, crouching on a rock-ledge, was a gleaming black man, rippling with muscle. No doubt by the look in his eye he was lusting after the women in the harem below.
"Heavy stuff," Harry said. "Where do you get these?"
"A kid in school is a collector. He only sells books he has duplicates of. His father takes him to flea markets and comic-book conventions and places like that. He says that at night sometimes his father smokes pot and then he reads comics and nobody is allowed to talk once he starts."
"Oh, yeah? Ha ha! Do they live near us? What's their name?"
"I just told you stuff I promised not to tell, so I can't tell you their name."
"It's okay. Your parents smoke pot."
"Yeah, but I don't tell on you, either. Dad. Look at this page."
Harry sat down on the side of the bed and put an arm around his boy. He tried to remember exactly what his own fantasies were at age twelve, and it didn't seem like he'd progressed very far. Perry had turned the page and was tapping his finger against the right-hand side. A new female was on the scene: taller, tougher, but just as wonderfully formed – standing, legs spread, behind the black warrior on the rock-ledge. She was an Asian amazon, no less. (There was no doubt that the artists were an improvement over the hacks Harry had found so inspiring in his youth – well, no, there was R. Crumb and Wallace Wood. And Vaughn Bodê. Harry would never forget that tiny Deadbone dude rapelling down from this big earth-mother girl's nipple to her belly-button in "Climbing Abroad".
The lewd, Laotian huntress' fingers and wrists and ankles glittered with circlets of jewels, and she wore a G-string made of... (Harry squinted his eyes).
"Shark teeth, I think," Perry said. Dad? I know that there aren't any girls in the whole world really like this, but, well...."
"Oh, I don't know." Himself, he had always maintained the hope. But then, it was best to keep in mind that Perry was fifty percent Annie. "Perry, even if you could find a whole litter of females like this in some faraway land, or maybe in, like, New Orleans, the god squads would lock you up if you took home more than one."
"Yeah.... Dad? Did cave-men really go out and when they saw a girl they liked they just knocked her in the head and dragged her home by the hair?"
"Ha! Naw. I think they probably carried them back. Seriously, Son, the fact is, for most of our history, the foxiest ladies were bought and sold."
"Well, then somebody had to own her first. See what I mean?"
Harry had the feeling Perry was leading him into some kind of trap. "You've been thinking this all out, haven't you. Ha!"
"So how did the original owner get her?"
Harry sighed. "Fathers. Fathers sold their daughters, or traded them for stuff."
"Bullshit, Harry!" Annie was standing in the doorway again. Arms across her chest. "In the old days women had to have a dowry and she used that to pay for a man!"
"That came later, Annie. I was talking about ancient history. You shouldn't have smoked so much rope when you were in school."
"Breakfast's ready, Master!" Annie stomped off.
"Can we sell Janey?"
"Perry!"
"She's not old enough?"
"Too old. I think in Bible lands they sell them at about age twelve. Thirteen max. Yeah."
"You mean, like nowadays?"
"Yeah! The rich guys have harems, like the Saudis, and the poor men fuck what's left. That's been going on since Adam and Eve."
"We have Bible class every day in school here. Yeeeech! It's supposed to be against the law, so they give us this other book about the religions of the world, but everybody knows that if you want a good grade, you better know the questions on the Bible."
"Oh, yeah? Well, all this stuff is right there, in the Bible. The right to own slave-girls, I mean."
"Where?"
"They tell you what chapters to read, huh? You want to have some fun in religion class? I did when I was your age!" Harry became quite animated, and he had to stand up. He went to Perry's window and looked out, not really seeing anything. "You got a Bible here?"
Perry clambered out of bed and dug a Bible out of his school books. Harry grabbed at it and began to riffle through the pages, the tip of his tongue licking from side-to-side between pressed lips. "You'll love this, Son. This is what I used to do before religion class. Your grandfather made me go to this parochial school and we had an hour of this shit every day!" Harry reached for a ballpoint pen on Perry's desk and began to underline passages in Genesis. "Now remember, this King James version here substitutes the word servant for the word slave. In the Hebrew and Greek it says slave – don't let them bullshit you. If you don't believe me, check it out. Look it up! Okay.... For starters, Chapter Six! This is where the angels and God's buddies or whatever come to Earth and fuck all the Earth women they want. Perry, you need a New Revised Standard version – it's called the NRS – I'll get you one. Okay! Leviticus, Leviticus... Here it is! Chapter 25! Verses 44 to 46! I'm marking it for you. This says you can get slaves from foreign countries!"
"Dad. Dad!" Perry grabbed his father's hand. "We're not supposed to write in the Bible. It's against the law!"
"What? Bullshit! This is America! And your parents paid for this book. I didn't risk my ass overseas for freedom so that..."
"Dad! I heard your freedom speech!"
Harry's nose was still in the Good Book. "Genesis, Chapter 9! Slavery a common practice and condoned by God. See? Here are the rules on how you're to treat them. Wait, wait..."
"You don't care if I get an F in religion?"
"No. But you have to pass all the other stuff. Wait, here it is! Wait..."
"Dad...."
"And tell them that if you get an F in religion, the whole school board's going to jail!"
"This is interesting." Janey had returned, dressed, her wild hair pinned back.
"Chapter Sixteen! Genesis!" Harry quickly moved down Perry's bed to make room for Janey. "This is where Abraham's wife Sarah gives him one of her Egyptian slaves to fuck, so he can have a kid by her. Which he did but then he threw them both out in the desert to die and that started the Israeli-Arab war, and they've been killing each other ever since, oh, for about three-thousand, four-thousand years, but that's another story. Anyway, the Egyptian slave girl probably was younger and better looking than Sarah, anyway."
"An Egyptian slave-girl?" Perry said. "Wow!"
"Oh, Perry," Janey said. "Big deal. Probably didn't even shave her pits."
"His wife probably wasn't shaving her pits!" Perry said.
"Right on, Perry!" Harry and Perry slapped fives. "The slave-girl's name was Hagar. When I was your age I used to dream about what she must've looked like." He turned to Janey, who had plunked down beside him and was squinting into the open Bible on his lap. "And your age! I used to ask your grandpa about her figuring he'd know more but he would always change the subject. Hagar.... I used to write her name in all my school books, in secret places. I wrote Hagar on my arm once, too, in ink, and it wouldn't wash off for a long time. I was afraid my parents would see it but it finally wore off."
Harry showed them the spot on his left bicep.
"Sick, Dad," Janey said.
"God outlawed slavery when Jesus came, Dad."
"Wrong, Perry! It's A-OK with The Man – Genesis to Revelation. Even with Saint Paul, who had a problem with sex. Check it out! Besides, Jesus is the same God and God is unchanging. Gotchya! He didn't suddenly get religion from one dip into Mary."
"Boy!" Perry said. "Am I going to have fun Monday! Mister Preston – we have him for religion – he's going to shit! He has this huge Bible on a stand and in the middle it has this dictionary. It's called a concordance. I'm going to look up in there every place in the Bible that tells about slaves!"
"It's not in there," Harry said.
"Dad," Janey said. "If it's in the Bible, it's in there. Every word. By subject. Every passage that has to do with that subject."
"Except slavery. They took that out. At least in every concordance I've ever seen. You have to get an NRS translation and look up the word in a computer that can search for single words."
"I'll find it by hand," Perry said. "Fun, fun, fun! I can't stand Mister Preston. He has yellow teeth and he wears these baggy, plaid pants and he wears white socks and big, black shoes. He's always telling us you should take us to church."
"Us? You mean, he tells you and Janey that?"
"Yes, Dad. He says he's coming out to see you one of these days."
"Good! Tell him to bring his fucking Bible! Tell him to bring God's address, too. Or at least a 1-800 number!"
"Funny, Dad," Janey said. "You better be careful – Jesus is supposed to be coming back soon."
"Yeah? He can't. If He did there'd be so many negligence suits slapped on His ass He'd have to hire every lawyer on Earth!"
"Negligence?"
"If we're all God's children, then He's the Original Deadbeat Dad. Not enough food in the world, won't pay our medical insurance, won't divulge medical secrets, leaves lead out in the open to poison us. Ever see a baby born with an Unleaded Only decal on its ass? Forget it! Not a word. No cures in this book. Nothing! I can show you pages and pages on how the draperies should look in the temple, though!"
Perry was hunched over a little notebook, scribbling as fast as he could. When Harry realized what he was doing he felt a rush of pride.
"What else?" Perry said.
Harry sighed. "I could go on for hours."
"He could," Annie said. "Breakfast's cold."
"Just one more item for now," Perry pleaded.
"Leprosy. Know what that is?"
"It's catchy, and your nose and your ears and your fingers rot off – stuff like that."
"Okay. If Detroit makes cars where parts are falling off, the government makes the company recall all the defective units so that they aren't dangerous to life and limb. Okay? In the Bible, when Moses asks The Creator what to do about all the people with leprosy, instead of telling him the cure He tells Moses and Aaron to kick all the lepers out of the camp so nobody else can catch it."
"That's a good one!" Perry, bent over, scribbling.
"Breakfast!" Annie said. "Unleaded!" She disappeared down the hall.
Janey got up and followed her. Perry stopped writing and was staring at the ceiling, pen poised over the notebook.
"I love you, Son."
"I love you, too, Pop!"
"So!" Harry made a move to get up.
"Dad? Do you think slavery will ever come back?"
"I hope not."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's not right. But, well...."
"I know what you mean.... Anyway, I know I wouldn't want to be one."
"Right. In a way it never really died out, though. People with more money can buy you to do things...."
Janey stomped back in. "Annie says to tell the males that breakfast gets fed to Pounder in one minute!"
"Janey – please call Annie, Mommy – okay?"
"Okay, Harry." Janey stomped back out. "Mommy? I told them!"
"She's a bitch, Dad."
They made it to the kitchen table, Perry still in his pajamas. Annie and Janey were sitting there, waiting. Harry sat down.
"You drink coffee now, Janey?"
"Hot and black."
"'Cause you're so sweet." Harry tore into his bacon and eggs. "I haven't had a breakfast like this since I left."
"That's what you said last week," Annie said. "Think about it."
"We were talking about white slavery, Mom," Perry said. "It used to be okay. Thanks for not putting grits on my plate!"
Annie looked at Harry and shook her head. Perry gulped down a mouthful of eggs and shoved a corner of grape-jelly toast into his mouth. "Hey, Pop, we have a black kid in school now. The first one for our school ever. The principal said that our school was the last one in the entire south to integrate and we might as well get used to it. I said I was already used to it and he said it's because we're from Miami and don't know any better, and all the other kids laughed."
"Yeah?"
"She's in Janey's class – Janey, stop staring at me like that! Anyway, Janey's the only one who talks to her. Everybody else hates her."
"Well, that's nice, Janey," Harry said. "Good for you!"
"Janey just doesn't know any better, Dad. Anyway, her name's Constance or something like that."
"Connie."
"Constipated Constance. On warm days she comes to school wearing this dumb, wool hat, and on cold days she wears these awful jogging shorts. Yuk! Her legs look like liver!"
"Should I make liver for dinner tonight, Dad?" Janey said. She took a long slurp of coffee while staring at her father over the cup.
"Janey's nice to her because they both smoke reefer during recess and lunch," Perry explained. "Waiting for the next time they bring the dope-dog over, I guess. And the nigger's nice to Janey 'cause Janey gives her the reefer. Free!"
"Not during recess, dummy! Just at lunch time! And she gives me some, too. Only she says ours is better – you can be proud, Dad. Her father grows it, too."
"He does?" Harry looked at Annie and raised his eyebrows. Annie shrugged.
"Seems like everybody here in the sticks is into weed, Annie. Surprise, surprise. Janey. You didn't tell her we grow it, did you?"
"I lied. I told her we grow ours down in Dade county – not here. Her father wants to trade some seeds."
"That's out, Harry!" Annie said.
"Dad's much too old for her, don't worry about it, Annie," Janey said.
"Damn! I wasn't even thinking about that! Should I be? I was thinking that we all agreed we weren't going to tell anybody. We should've started a whiskey still as soon as we moved here. Nobody would bother us for that. Harry, listen. In last week's paper they listed a bust for felony possession of paraphernalia over in Washington County. It was a roach clip, Harry! A crummy roach clip!"
"It won't stick," Janey said.
"Not the point! Jail, lawyers, bond, all that time and money!"
"Connie's father has a still, too," Janey said.
"Now this is getting interesting!"
"Yeah, but he only sells to other niggers, I think."
"I didn't mean that – I already have the shine lined up for taking back tomorrow. I'd just like to meet this guy."
"Oh, Harry," Annie sighed.
"Nothing wrong with that, Annie. I need a male friend here."
"They live way off the main road, just like us," Janey said. "It's a neat place. And Connie has this weird sister, too. She's real tall and thin, like a model, only she won't talk to anybody. She just hangs out at home. She always carries this big purse, even being at home and all, and she has a gun in there. She's older than Connie."
"Oh, yeah?" Harry bit his lip. Doesn't she go to school?"
"Maybe she's too old for school. She quit high-school, anyway. No! wait! She graduated!"
"Jeez, Janey," Perry said. "Duhhhh...."
"You've seen her?"
"Jeez, Dad...."
"Well, yeah! I go over there sometimes. After school mostly. The sister always looks real neat and sort of dressed up to go somewhere but she never leaves."
"I told her not to go there, Harry, but Janey ignores me when you're not at home."
"Sometimes I just stay on the bus and get off with her, and her father drives me back here in his truck. He drops me off at the bottom of the hill, though, because he's afraid of Annie."
"Annie, you're a bad one." Harry attempted a smile.
"They have pigs and stuff – the little piglets are so cute. When you pick them up they feel so solid! And Connie's house, well, I guess you'd call it a cabin – it's so neat inside. Inside it looks like – I don't know – but they have neat draperies and like Indian blankets and stuff on the beds – like hippies live there, only everything is so neat and clean and cheerful looking."
"What's the sister's name?"
"The sister? One time it started to rain and we all had to go inside, and the sister fixed me a place on her bed to sit – it's all one big room – so I thought she was being friendly, and I said: 'What's your name?' But she just looked at me."
"That's not what you told me, cum-wad."
"Shut up, cum-for-brains! Anyway, the next time I was over we were sitting around in the back – they have fruit trees there – and I was helping them snap beans, and she sat next to me on the bench, and all of a sudden she reached over and pulled on my hair – no, she was just sort of feeling of it with her fingers, you know. Her fingers are real long. And she was smiling, and she said: 'My name is Ivory.' Just like that!"
A chill shot through Harry. Ivory....
"Well, what do the rest of them call her?" Annie said.
"Nothing! And she doesn't have to help with anything if she doesn't want to! Connie has chores all the time and her father always has all this stuff to do."
"Probably too dumb to help," Perry said.
"How would you know! Anyway, ever since then she still won't talk. Sometimes she'll just sort of look at me and smile, you know, but I never see her smile for anybody else. And last Friday I was helping Connie shuck corn – late-corn, they called it, whatever that is – and I saw Ivory in the doorway and I called her name and asked her if she wanted to sit with us and she smiled and came right over to me and sat down with me the whole time. With her purse in her lap."
"Pounder knows his name, too," Perry said.
"That's beautiful, Janey," Harry said.
"Sheeeit, Dad! Janey has you snowed, just like she does everybody else! Except me."
"Harry," Annie said, "would you believe that when our vegetables came in Janey was too busy to help?"
Harry nodded.
"Do you think it's okay for her to go over there? Especially when I specifically told her not to?"
"Well.... It's too late now, Annie. If there were any harm in it, it would've come up by now. Let her go."
"Thanks for the back-up! What about that woman with the gun? What if she goes off the deep end when Janey's there?"
Perry snorted. "Sounds like she's already over her head."
"Well, Annie.... Maybe we should.... Maybe we should let Janey make some decisions of her own now that she's older."
"Me, too!" Perry said.
Annie got up from the table and began to shout. "You always take their side! That's why they think I'm such an idiot!"
"That's not the reason," Perry said.
Ivory.... Harry closed his eyes and started his deep breathing exercise.
Ivory....
<end chapter-4>
Copyright 1979, 2005 John Aalborg
All rights reserved.
Email: aalborg@jbaal.com
Chapter Five
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Humanism
with
attitude!
Rev: 20 March 2005