Post by jeannerené on Aug 22, 2009 11:27:53 GMT -8
Synopsis: ... a family story of tragic consequence continues
Part 1
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3076
Part 2
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3106
Part 3
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3208
Author's Note: This section has been the most difficult for me to write and rewrite and rewrite ..........
We are approximately halfway through the story ....... I know ... it's a long story ... can I still call it a short story .. 
Second Step Down from the Porch -- Part 4
Jamie MacFarlane jumped out of his truck, pushed down the lock and closed the cab door. As he walked away from the Ford he gave the hood a couple of gentle pats. Hunched down, bracing against a sudden gusty upsweep, he walked toward the house, jangling the keys inside the pocket of his denim jacket. His long wavy hair fell over his eyes, but he let the wind play with it, as grinning hugely he approached his daughter. Jamie had that odd colored dark-orange hair, unruly and thick, and a full wide mouth with a genuinely handsome smile. He was good looking in a rugged sort of way, and he knew he turned the ladies’ heads, and the men’s too. He’d often used his robust appeal to his advantage on both sexes, to talk a deal or win a favor, and as long as his attitude stayed in check, people legitimately liked him. But, get on his wrong side, do or say something he took offense to, and Jamie turned ugly more times than not. His temper was quick, his mouth obnoxious, and until he regained control of his emotions it was best to keep some distance and let him be.
However, it was Jamie’s eyes that made a stranger stop and stare, believing they were looking at something unnatural and someone undisciplined. They were prettier than any girl’s, and meeting Jamie for the first time, people were distracted, uncomfortable because they’d just seen eyes too beautiful for a man. Callie had her Mama’s shiny brown hair, but her eyes were like her dad’s, big and deep vibrant blue, though her lashes weren’t as generous or as long, still they were striking. She’d blush every time someone compared her eyes to her father‘s. Evelyn had once told her daughter that the first time she looked into Jamie’s eyes, she thought there was magic behind them and she knew instantly he was the man she wanted to marry. The girl often reminded her Mama of that story.
As her father drew near Callie kept waving and wiggling, and all the while, studying him too. The juggle of the keys, the hand wiped across the mouth . . . she knew these gestures were not good signs. She understood it meant something was bothering him and bothering him bad. She ran every reason she could through her head. Was her daddy angry about work again? Maybe it was just the bad weather building up that bugged him. The old house and never having enough money always upset him, and he was worried the roof was going to leak with the next rain. Or was he still mad at Mama about last Saturday? News on TV made him swear all the time, and maybe he’d just heard news he didn’t like on the radio coming home. There wasn’t much that didn’t trouble him, too much for a little girl to ever figure out.
Callie caught her daddy glance over at Babe. He was forever mad about the dog, because it had to be fed and that took money that couldn‘t be spared. The lab had been Grandpa Long’s and when Grandpa died three years ago, Mama had insisted on keeping Babe. Her daddy said that the dog was useless, but there was no changing Mama’s mind.
Callie stopping waving and took a deep breath. She hated it when her dad was mean to Babe.
“damn, stupid animal! Oughta put him out of his misery and save us some damn money,” Jamie grumbled loudly as he passed Babe on the steps.
Callie cringed and scratched Babe behind the ears to make up for her father’s outburst. Her father had just made her sad. He often made her cry too, but not that he knew. Feelings she couldn’t explain nor be expected to understand at her age, nonetheless kept her awake nights, tearful under the Tinkerbelle comforter she pulled up to her chin. Her father confused her, his sweetness and his meanness. Callie knew for certain that her father loved her … and Kenny. She understood that he came home for them. She could tell how much he liked to tug at her ponytail and call her silly nicknames. She could see how much he loved running down the stairs with Kenny in his arms, yelling “Kenny’s gonna get ya” and chase her around the living room. Her baby brother went crazy when Daddy played with him, he was so hungry for attention. Callie adored her brother’s laugh. She’d end up giggling hysterically when the boy’s laughter turned into hiccups. She loved that her father could make Kenny laugh.
And although Callie was just a little girl, she was aware of the way her father tried to apologize … wanted to apologize when he didn’t come home for a day . . . or days. He’d return with some M & M’s in his shirt pocket. They'd sit down together and separate the candy into colors, Kenny would get five M & M’s and she would get the rest.
It was her father who read to her and Kenny on a peaceful night. He was the one that always gave her a hug and promised everything would be all right . . . but he was also the one whose face got so ugly yelling at Mama and calling her stupid and worthless. Under her Tinkerbelle cover, Callie would wipe her tears, thinking that all the shouts and mean talk were like a game … a game between her mother and father. Daddy would be mad and Mama wouldn’t say anything at first. Daddy yell again and then Mama just couldn’t help it and she’s start with all kinds of nasty things to say to him. Maybe, Callie thought, her mother should just be quiet, but she knew that wasn’t fair. But that‘s the way it would go … Daddy got mad and Mama would try to stay calm but it never worked. Laying in her bed at night the bewildered girl wondered why her parents just couldn’t talk. Why couldn’t they talk about money or what the house needed? Why was it so troublesome to talk about Kenny?
“Callie girl, come on, inside now. It’s too windy to be out, Pumpkin. Tell me what you did in school,” Jamie grabbed his daughter’s hand as he took the steps. With his other hand he continued juggling his keys. Going up to the house, he looked irritated again. “damn screen door could drive a person crazy in this wind.”
Callie took her dad’s hand, tucking her doll securely under her arm. Babe was left outside struggling to get up. Once her husband and daughter were in the living room Evelyn went back to the screen door and held it open for Babe. Babe was grateful for her kindness. "Nasty weather is coming," whispered Evelyn and closed the front door behind her. Babe made his way into the kitchen to keep her company.
From inside the kitchen, Evelyn observed father and daughter in the living room and their ritual of quality time. She knew she should be thankful. Jamie loved his kids. In fact, Evelyn realized that being a father was the one thing with certainty that made him happy. Listening to the back and forth chatter between the two almost made everything seem normal. But her mind drifted, wondering if Callie had stolen Jamie’s heart. She felt her jaw tighten. “The girl makes him happy,” slipped out from under her breath. Continuing to intrude upon their intimacy, she stood, and scrutinized her husband and daughter until Babe yelped for attention.
The bark made Evelyn startle and she snipped at the dog, “Hush boy!“ But now drawn back to reality she returned to fixing dinner, slowly slicing the over-ripe tomato for the salad.
“You have a good day in school, Callie girl?”
“Yeah, daddy. I got a B+ on my math test,” Callie answered. She loved telling him about her grades.
“Hey, Pumpkin, you are one smart kid,” Jamie praised, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m very proud of you, baby girl.”
“Thank you, daddy.”
“Ah . . . you make any new friends today? Who did you eat lunch with?”
Callie squirmed in place at his question, “Maybe. I don’t know. I ate lunch with Sarah Miller, but it’s not the same. Nobody’s the same as Manda. She was my best friend ever and nobody is the same as her, daddy.”
Amanda Johnson had died of leukemia eighteen months earlier. Callie and Manda had been fast friends since kindergarten . Manda had been sick for a long time, and at the start of second grade the leukemia worsened despite all advanced treatments. No one in Manda’s family was a match for the needed bone marrow transplant and an unrelated donor was never found. Manda, unable to attend school, continued to weaken, but Callie remained a true and constant friend. Eventually, the sick girl could barely get out of bed. Never complaining Callie was content simply to sit at her side. Callie’s parents really hadn’t known Manda’s folks. Their house was about two miles up the road where a few other Black families lived. Both sets parents neither spoke much beyond a hello or a wave when the girls visited. Whatever uneasiness they felt about each other, they put aside because of the friendship. When Callie realized that there was no hope for her friend, she cried every morning and didn‘t want to be in school. Evelyn managed to get her on the bus each day, but not without guilt, knowing that Callie wanted to be with Manda “until the angels came” for her best friend.
“Mama, I don’t want to go. I want to sit with Manda.”
“Not your place Callie.”
“Why not?”
“Just not your place. It’s Manda’s mama’s and daddy’s place. Your place is at school.”
Manda had passed away after Thanksgiving. When Manda’s parents asked if Callie could join the family at the funeral Jamie thought it was too much for an eight year old, but Evelyn finally talked him into it. She respected and admired her daughter’s devotion. Evelyn also sensed that Callie's recovery would be a long time coming. Nearly a year and a half had gone by and she knew her daughter still talked to Manda. She had heard Callie carry on whole conversations with her friend while sitting the steps waiting for her father or while up in her room doing homework.
Jamie gave his daughter’s hair a tussle and pulled an M & M packet out of the flannel pocket, placing it on the coffee table. “After dinner, OK?” He kissed her cheek, and pulled on her pony tail … and leaving walked across the foyer into the kitchen.
“Is Kenny asleep?” Jamie asked his wife. He walked to the refrigerator and got a beer.
“I don’t know. Maybe. He was difficult again today,” she answered without looking up from the kitchen counter. “Dinner won’t take long.”
“What do you mean difficult, Evie?”
“You know what I mean…difficult.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Did he come downstairs to play today?”
Jamie waited for a response but got none. Grabbing his keys out of his pocket he threw them at the counter into the salad his wife was preparing. He turned around and headed up stairs.
“Kenny? Big boy, daddy’s here!”
*****end of part 4 ... to be continued
Part 1
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3076
Part 2
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3106
Part 3
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3208
Author's Note: This section has been the most difficult for me to write and rewrite and rewrite ..........
We are approximately halfway through the story ....... I know ... it's a long story ... can I still call it a short story .. 
Second Step Down from the Porch -- Part 4
Jamie MacFarlane jumped out of his truck, pushed down the lock and closed the cab door. As he walked away from the Ford he gave the hood a couple of gentle pats. Hunched down, bracing against a sudden gusty upsweep, he walked toward the house, jangling the keys inside the pocket of his denim jacket. His long wavy hair fell over his eyes, but he let the wind play with it, as grinning hugely he approached his daughter. Jamie had that odd colored dark-orange hair, unruly and thick, and a full wide mouth with a genuinely handsome smile. He was good looking in a rugged sort of way, and he knew he turned the ladies’ heads, and the men’s too. He’d often used his robust appeal to his advantage on both sexes, to talk a deal or win a favor, and as long as his attitude stayed in check, people legitimately liked him. But, get on his wrong side, do or say something he took offense to, and Jamie turned ugly more times than not. His temper was quick, his mouth obnoxious, and until he regained control of his emotions it was best to keep some distance and let him be.
However, it was Jamie’s eyes that made a stranger stop and stare, believing they were looking at something unnatural and someone undisciplined. They were prettier than any girl’s, and meeting Jamie for the first time, people were distracted, uncomfortable because they’d just seen eyes too beautiful for a man. Callie had her Mama’s shiny brown hair, but her eyes were like her dad’s, big and deep vibrant blue, though her lashes weren’t as generous or as long, still they were striking. She’d blush every time someone compared her eyes to her father‘s. Evelyn had once told her daughter that the first time she looked into Jamie’s eyes, she thought there was magic behind them and she knew instantly he was the man she wanted to marry. The girl often reminded her Mama of that story.
As her father drew near Callie kept waving and wiggling, and all the while, studying him too. The juggle of the keys, the hand wiped across the mouth . . . she knew these gestures were not good signs. She understood it meant something was bothering him and bothering him bad. She ran every reason she could through her head. Was her daddy angry about work again? Maybe it was just the bad weather building up that bugged him. The old house and never having enough money always upset him, and he was worried the roof was going to leak with the next rain. Or was he still mad at Mama about last Saturday? News on TV made him swear all the time, and maybe he’d just heard news he didn’t like on the radio coming home. There wasn’t much that didn’t trouble him, too much for a little girl to ever figure out.
Callie caught her daddy glance over at Babe. He was forever mad about the dog, because it had to be fed and that took money that couldn‘t be spared. The lab had been Grandpa Long’s and when Grandpa died three years ago, Mama had insisted on keeping Babe. Her daddy said that the dog was useless, but there was no changing Mama’s mind.
Callie stopping waving and took a deep breath. She hated it when her dad was mean to Babe.
“damn, stupid animal! Oughta put him out of his misery and save us some damn money,” Jamie grumbled loudly as he passed Babe on the steps.
Callie cringed and scratched Babe behind the ears to make up for her father’s outburst. Her father had just made her sad. He often made her cry too, but not that he knew. Feelings she couldn’t explain nor be expected to understand at her age, nonetheless kept her awake nights, tearful under the Tinkerbelle comforter she pulled up to her chin. Her father confused her, his sweetness and his meanness. Callie knew for certain that her father loved her … and Kenny. She understood that he came home for them. She could tell how much he liked to tug at her ponytail and call her silly nicknames. She could see how much he loved running down the stairs with Kenny in his arms, yelling “Kenny’s gonna get ya” and chase her around the living room. Her baby brother went crazy when Daddy played with him, he was so hungry for attention. Callie adored her brother’s laugh. She’d end up giggling hysterically when the boy’s laughter turned into hiccups. She loved that her father could make Kenny laugh.
And although Callie was just a little girl, she was aware of the way her father tried to apologize … wanted to apologize when he didn’t come home for a day . . . or days. He’d return with some M & M’s in his shirt pocket. They'd sit down together and separate the candy into colors, Kenny would get five M & M’s and she would get the rest.
It was her father who read to her and Kenny on a peaceful night. He was the one that always gave her a hug and promised everything would be all right . . . but he was also the one whose face got so ugly yelling at Mama and calling her stupid and worthless. Under her Tinkerbelle cover, Callie would wipe her tears, thinking that all the shouts and mean talk were like a game … a game between her mother and father. Daddy would be mad and Mama wouldn’t say anything at first. Daddy yell again and then Mama just couldn’t help it and she’s start with all kinds of nasty things to say to him. Maybe, Callie thought, her mother should just be quiet, but she knew that wasn’t fair. But that‘s the way it would go … Daddy got mad and Mama would try to stay calm but it never worked. Laying in her bed at night the bewildered girl wondered why her parents just couldn’t talk. Why couldn’t they talk about money or what the house needed? Why was it so troublesome to talk about Kenny?
~~~~~
“Callie girl, come on, inside now. It’s too windy to be out, Pumpkin. Tell me what you did in school,” Jamie grabbed his daughter’s hand as he took the steps. With his other hand he continued juggling his keys. Going up to the house, he looked irritated again. “damn screen door could drive a person crazy in this wind.”
Callie took her dad’s hand, tucking her doll securely under her arm. Babe was left outside struggling to get up. Once her husband and daughter were in the living room Evelyn went back to the screen door and held it open for Babe. Babe was grateful for her kindness. "Nasty weather is coming," whispered Evelyn and closed the front door behind her. Babe made his way into the kitchen to keep her company.
From inside the kitchen, Evelyn observed father and daughter in the living room and their ritual of quality time. She knew she should be thankful. Jamie loved his kids. In fact, Evelyn realized that being a father was the one thing with certainty that made him happy. Listening to the back and forth chatter between the two almost made everything seem normal. But her mind drifted, wondering if Callie had stolen Jamie’s heart. She felt her jaw tighten. “The girl makes him happy,” slipped out from under her breath. Continuing to intrude upon their intimacy, she stood, and scrutinized her husband and daughter until Babe yelped for attention.
The bark made Evelyn startle and she snipped at the dog, “Hush boy!“ But now drawn back to reality she returned to fixing dinner, slowly slicing the over-ripe tomato for the salad.
~~~~~
“You have a good day in school, Callie girl?”
“Yeah, daddy. I got a B+ on my math test,” Callie answered. She loved telling him about her grades.
“Hey, Pumpkin, you are one smart kid,” Jamie praised, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m very proud of you, baby girl.”
“Thank you, daddy.”
“Ah . . . you make any new friends today? Who did you eat lunch with?”
Callie squirmed in place at his question, “Maybe. I don’t know. I ate lunch with Sarah Miller, but it’s not the same. Nobody’s the same as Manda. She was my best friend ever and nobody is the same as her, daddy.”
Amanda Johnson had died of leukemia eighteen months earlier. Callie and Manda had been fast friends since kindergarten . Manda had been sick for a long time, and at the start of second grade the leukemia worsened despite all advanced treatments. No one in Manda’s family was a match for the needed bone marrow transplant and an unrelated donor was never found. Manda, unable to attend school, continued to weaken, but Callie remained a true and constant friend. Eventually, the sick girl could barely get out of bed. Never complaining Callie was content simply to sit at her side. Callie’s parents really hadn’t known Manda’s folks. Their house was about two miles up the road where a few other Black families lived. Both sets parents neither spoke much beyond a hello or a wave when the girls visited. Whatever uneasiness they felt about each other, they put aside because of the friendship. When Callie realized that there was no hope for her friend, she cried every morning and didn‘t want to be in school. Evelyn managed to get her on the bus each day, but not without guilt, knowing that Callie wanted to be with Manda “until the angels came” for her best friend.
“Mama, I don’t want to go. I want to sit with Manda.”
“Not your place Callie.”
“Why not?”
“Just not your place. It’s Manda’s mama’s and daddy’s place. Your place is at school.”
Manda had passed away after Thanksgiving. When Manda’s parents asked if Callie could join the family at the funeral Jamie thought it was too much for an eight year old, but Evelyn finally talked him into it. She respected and admired her daughter’s devotion. Evelyn also sensed that Callie's recovery would be a long time coming. Nearly a year and a half had gone by and she knew her daughter still talked to Manda. She had heard Callie carry on whole conversations with her friend while sitting the steps waiting for her father or while up in her room doing homework.
~~~~~
Jamie gave his daughter’s hair a tussle and pulled an M & M packet out of the flannel pocket, placing it on the coffee table. “After dinner, OK?” He kissed her cheek, and pulled on her pony tail … and leaving walked across the foyer into the kitchen.
“Is Kenny asleep?” Jamie asked his wife. He walked to the refrigerator and got a beer.
“I don’t know. Maybe. He was difficult again today,” she answered without looking up from the kitchen counter. “Dinner won’t take long.”
“What do you mean difficult, Evie?”
“You know what I mean…difficult.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Did he come downstairs to play today?”
Jamie waited for a response but got none. Grabbing his keys out of his pocket he threw them at the counter into the salad his wife was preparing. He turned around and headed up stairs.
“Kenny? Big boy, daddy’s here!”
~~~~~
*****end of part 4 ... to be continued
