Post by jeannerené on Sept 20, 2009 23:08:55 GMT -8
Second Step Down from the Porch -- Part 5
** Swearing and racial slurs in this section**
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
Part 4
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3240
Synopsis: ... a family story of tragic consequence
“Dinner‘s set. Come down an' eat.” Evelyn shouted upstairs. “Callie, come eat honey.”
At the McFarlane house dinners were always early, around four o'clock ... no later than four-thirty, and even though money was tight, Mama was never stingy with the meals. Yet despite her mother’s excellent cooking, Callie dreaded dinner time.
Late afternoon meals were spent in one of two manners, both of which were as if the perimeter of the kitchen table was that of impending battlefield waiting to be crossed over by uncompromising parties. The more tolerable of the two situations was dinner eaten along with an uncomfortable quiet, a brooding silence broken by a curious question about school or play … that or tending to Kenny’s squirming. The perimeter … the boundary of the table's edge maintaining a tenuous civility, the parties glancing across the Formica territory, suspicious and weary. The second deadly scenario was a meal spent with her mother and father arguing and yelling between every bite, a war of tempers and insults, and good food left unfinished or digested without pleasure.
Yet, in spite of the constant apprehension, for Callie there was always that jewel to be found … that promise to hold on to, that unexpected occasion when dinner was laughing and smiling, and complementing Mama on her good cooking. Something or other would make Daddy wink at Mama and she‘d grin and wink back. Giggling, whenever she saw her mother wink, Callie believed during those precious happy dinners that all the food tasted better, that all her parent's troubles would soon be gone and all the wrongs would be righted by tomorrow as long as they all kept laughing while they ate Mama’s cross rib roast. These were special times round the table much like those she had been invited to at Manda’s house. Dinners like these were as beautiful as a long awaited birthday or Christmas present. So at every meal whenever her father was home Callie pulled out the chair from under the table, knots in her stomach and a quick prayer on her lips … a prayer for “happy” dinner.
When Jamie came down carrying Kenny, Callie and her mother were already settled at the table. They always waited for Jamie to get Kenny in the highchair and seat himself before starting to eat. Mama liked proper etiquette. Saying a second secret prayer, Callie lifted her fork. She thought about Manda’s house, and how Mr. Johnson always recited a prayer out loud before everyone ate, and how she had cried the first time she sat down to the Johnson’s kitchen table. Poor Mrs. Johnson was so concerned that their new guest didn’t like the meal that had been prepared, but Callie explained she was just so excited to be invited to their house for dinner. Mrs. Johnson had taken her hand and given it a tender squeeze. Callie lingered over the memory and said a whispered Amen. She gave Babe, who had nuzzled at her feet in hopes of a nibble or two being dropped to the floor, a pet on the forehead. Looking up, Callie took a deep breath and chewed her first bite cautiously.
Except for the clamor of the wind and the sound of Jamie’s fork hitting the plate, dinner began with its customary hush. Jamie always stabbed at his food as if it were trying to escape him. A few quiet bits into the meal and Callie was hopeful. Looking up from her plate she returned the funny faces Kenny was making at the mashed carrots in his plastic bowl, till Evelyn told them both to mind their manners and spooned a mouthful of orange mash into Kenny’s sealed lips. Babe made an attempt to get up on all fours and beg for scrapes, but unsuccessful lay his head back down on the cold linoleum. The knots in Callie’s stomach were starting to ease . . . then came an extra loud stab of the fork hitting the plate.
“Al Hernandez got the new foreman’s position,” Jamie muttered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “fucking asshole, don’t deserve the job.”
His wife looked up at him. She should ask him not to swear in front of the kids, but instead looked away and continued to eat.
“Don’t know why I bother working my ass off over for that damned company. I get screwed every time I turn around, ” Jamie continued, the fork adding emphasis with each jab at the meat on his plate. “Screwed, every … god … dam … fucking … time!”
Evelyn winced with each emphatic beat. She looked up and knew she had better say something, “We’ve been doing ok on what you make. Don’t think about it.”
A beer bottle slammed down on the table. The plates jumped and Babe tried to scramble, his nails scrapping the smooth floor.
“Oh . . We’ve been doing ok. . . we’ve been doing fucking ok . . . Jesus, that’s all you have to say. shit, that’s not the point!! I deserve that job. I deserve it and I know it.” Jamie’s face contorted with anger. “shit, Evie, don’t you understand. I’m getting screwed here and all you can say is don’t think about it. You want to tell me what else am I supposed to think about?”
Evelyn looked over at Callie who kept her head down, trying to eat as if nothing was happening. She reached for a napkin and wiped some more carrot mush from her son’s cheeks. She bit down on her tongue. She was trying. God, she was trying.
“Or don’t you think I deserve it Evelyn. You think that Hernandez deserves it more. Young buck Mexican, you think he deserves it more than me?”
“Stop it Jamie. I didn’t say that. I just. . . ”
“That fucking wetback should get the job over me… that’s what you think?” Jamie stood up from his chair, hands braced along the table’s perimeter, leaning into his rage.
Evelyn spun around away from Kenny, “Jamie, stop it! You work hard, but sometim...”
“Don’t you tell me to stop it! But what ….? But what …..? What do you know anyway … what do you fucking know…. Nothing! What to you do but sit here getting fatter everyday? Sit here on your fat ass everyday.” Jamie exploded at his wife, banging his first on the table. The screen door banged in counter point and Babe barked.
Callie got up and started to get her brother out. Kenny had started crying and kicking his legs against the high chair.
Her dad turned to her, his face twisted with shame and guilt along with his unharnessed anger. He managed to take a deep breath, brushed his red hair back from his forehead, “Sit down. Finish your food.”
Callie stared at her mother, recognizing that look in Mama’s eyes. All she could think was “Mama please don’t … I’ll sit down. He’ll get over it … he’ll stop.” She held her breath, saying to herself over and over again “please don’t say anything, Mama … please don‘t say anything, Mama.”
“Don’t tell her what to do! You got no right to tell her what to do!” Evelyn jumped up, pointing a vicious and accusatory finger at her husband. “She doesn’t have to sit here and listen to you. She doesn’t ever have to listen to anything you tell her. Ever! Never! You go off like a nut-job and don’t never think about how you scare her and the boy. Don’t you dare tell her anything …. anymore.” Evelyn succumbed to her own rage, shaking but in no way backing down. “Do you think she’s stupid? Don’t you think she can’t see what you do? My God, Jamie, even she can figure out why you didn‘t get the position. You can’t control your own mouth, Jamie. You never can.”
Jamie had moved around side of the table, and Evelyn had moved in back of her chair keeping it between them.
“I work damn hard!!” screaming in defense of himself. “fucking harder than every God damn person down there!”
“You think you got to have all muscle and no brains to get yourself looked at?” Evelyn screamed back at her husband. “You really can‘t figure out why you didn‘t get the damn job, can you! God help you."
Evelyn turned to her daughter, “Callie take your brother and go upstairs. Go now, girl! You can finished your dinner later.” Her head down, but loud enough for her daughter to hear, “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”
Callie did not look in her dad‘s direction. She had to get out of the kitchen. She pulled Kenny out of the high chair and carried him best she could. All the way up the stairs she could hear her parents railing at each other. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over on her cheeks, down to her lips and she knew the familiar taste of salt as she caught each sob on her tongue.
Once in Kenny’s room she tried to put the two-year-old in his play pen, but he kept climbing back over. Half-heartedly Callie tried to cheer him up which only succeeded in Kenny getting a hold of her hair. He wouldn’t let go, so relenting she wrapped her arms around her little brother. He snuggled deep into his sister’s frail chest, his cries soon becoming a whimper. They sat on the floor, big sister rocking lonesome little Kenny in her lap, whispering in his ear and waiting for him to fall asleep. All the while she listened to her parent’s battle down stairs and to Babe’s barking.
Callie sighed a sigh deeper than any ten-year-old ought to…. but Daddy had had the look about him when he got home, so she guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. She had hoped just the same …. she had prayed just the same, because ya’ never knew…ya’ just never knew. Callie rocked back and forth, holding her little brother tightly, “ I love you, Kenny. Mama, loves you, Kenny. Daddy loves you, Kenny.”
The wind outside had kept a steady pace of growing stronger and louder. Callie wished the wind was even noisier so she didn’t have to hear the yelling in the kitchen. The tearful girl thought of Manda, and how they used to laugh when the wind messed up Miss Anzilonni’s fizzy hair, and made their school principle look like a Halloween witch. She suddenly felt angry at Manda, because all she wanted to do was to be able play with her best friend and her best friend had left her.
~~~~
End of Part 5 …. To be continued …
** Swearing and racial slurs in this section**
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
Part 4
poetichorizons.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=story&action=display&thread=3240
Synopsis: ... a family story of tragic consequence
“Dinner‘s set. Come down an' eat.” Evelyn shouted upstairs. “Callie, come eat honey.”
At the McFarlane house dinners were always early, around four o'clock ... no later than four-thirty, and even though money was tight, Mama was never stingy with the meals. Yet despite her mother’s excellent cooking, Callie dreaded dinner time.
Late afternoon meals were spent in one of two manners, both of which were as if the perimeter of the kitchen table was that of impending battlefield waiting to be crossed over by uncompromising parties. The more tolerable of the two situations was dinner eaten along with an uncomfortable quiet, a brooding silence broken by a curious question about school or play … that or tending to Kenny’s squirming. The perimeter … the boundary of the table's edge maintaining a tenuous civility, the parties glancing across the Formica territory, suspicious and weary. The second deadly scenario was a meal spent with her mother and father arguing and yelling between every bite, a war of tempers and insults, and good food left unfinished or digested without pleasure.
Yet, in spite of the constant apprehension, for Callie there was always that jewel to be found … that promise to hold on to, that unexpected occasion when dinner was laughing and smiling, and complementing Mama on her good cooking. Something or other would make Daddy wink at Mama and she‘d grin and wink back. Giggling, whenever she saw her mother wink, Callie believed during those precious happy dinners that all the food tasted better, that all her parent's troubles would soon be gone and all the wrongs would be righted by tomorrow as long as they all kept laughing while they ate Mama’s cross rib roast. These were special times round the table much like those she had been invited to at Manda’s house. Dinners like these were as beautiful as a long awaited birthday or Christmas present. So at every meal whenever her father was home Callie pulled out the chair from under the table, knots in her stomach and a quick prayer on her lips … a prayer for “happy” dinner.
When Jamie came down carrying Kenny, Callie and her mother were already settled at the table. They always waited for Jamie to get Kenny in the highchair and seat himself before starting to eat. Mama liked proper etiquette. Saying a second secret prayer, Callie lifted her fork. She thought about Manda’s house, and how Mr. Johnson always recited a prayer out loud before everyone ate, and how she had cried the first time she sat down to the Johnson’s kitchen table. Poor Mrs. Johnson was so concerned that their new guest didn’t like the meal that had been prepared, but Callie explained she was just so excited to be invited to their house for dinner. Mrs. Johnson had taken her hand and given it a tender squeeze. Callie lingered over the memory and said a whispered Amen. She gave Babe, who had nuzzled at her feet in hopes of a nibble or two being dropped to the floor, a pet on the forehead. Looking up, Callie took a deep breath and chewed her first bite cautiously.
Except for the clamor of the wind and the sound of Jamie’s fork hitting the plate, dinner began with its customary hush. Jamie always stabbed at his food as if it were trying to escape him. A few quiet bits into the meal and Callie was hopeful. Looking up from her plate she returned the funny faces Kenny was making at the mashed carrots in his plastic bowl, till Evelyn told them both to mind their manners and spooned a mouthful of orange mash into Kenny’s sealed lips. Babe made an attempt to get up on all fours and beg for scrapes, but unsuccessful lay his head back down on the cold linoleum. The knots in Callie’s stomach were starting to ease . . . then came an extra loud stab of the fork hitting the plate.
“Al Hernandez got the new foreman’s position,” Jamie muttered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “fucking asshole, don’t deserve the job.”
His wife looked up at him. She should ask him not to swear in front of the kids, but instead looked away and continued to eat.
“Don’t know why I bother working my ass off over for that damned company. I get screwed every time I turn around, ” Jamie continued, the fork adding emphasis with each jab at the meat on his plate. “Screwed, every … god … dam … fucking … time!”
Evelyn winced with each emphatic beat. She looked up and knew she had better say something, “We’ve been doing ok on what you make. Don’t think about it.”
A beer bottle slammed down on the table. The plates jumped and Babe tried to scramble, his nails scrapping the smooth floor.
“Oh . . We’ve been doing ok. . . we’ve been doing fucking ok . . . Jesus, that’s all you have to say. shit, that’s not the point!! I deserve that job. I deserve it and I know it.” Jamie’s face contorted with anger. “shit, Evie, don’t you understand. I’m getting screwed here and all you can say is don’t think about it. You want to tell me what else am I supposed to think about?”
Evelyn looked over at Callie who kept her head down, trying to eat as if nothing was happening. She reached for a napkin and wiped some more carrot mush from her son’s cheeks. She bit down on her tongue. She was trying. God, she was trying.
“Or don’t you think I deserve it Evelyn. You think that Hernandez deserves it more. Young buck Mexican, you think he deserves it more than me?”
“Stop it Jamie. I didn’t say that. I just. . . ”
“That fucking wetback should get the job over me… that’s what you think?” Jamie stood up from his chair, hands braced along the table’s perimeter, leaning into his rage.
Evelyn spun around away from Kenny, “Jamie, stop it! You work hard, but sometim...”
“Don’t you tell me to stop it! But what ….? But what …..? What do you know anyway … what do you fucking know…. Nothing! What to you do but sit here getting fatter everyday? Sit here on your fat ass everyday.” Jamie exploded at his wife, banging his first on the table. The screen door banged in counter point and Babe barked.
Callie got up and started to get her brother out. Kenny had started crying and kicking his legs against the high chair.
Her dad turned to her, his face twisted with shame and guilt along with his unharnessed anger. He managed to take a deep breath, brushed his red hair back from his forehead, “Sit down. Finish your food.”
Callie stared at her mother, recognizing that look in Mama’s eyes. All she could think was “Mama please don’t … I’ll sit down. He’ll get over it … he’ll stop.” She held her breath, saying to herself over and over again “please don’t say anything, Mama … please don‘t say anything, Mama.”
“Don’t tell her what to do! You got no right to tell her what to do!” Evelyn jumped up, pointing a vicious and accusatory finger at her husband. “She doesn’t have to sit here and listen to you. She doesn’t ever have to listen to anything you tell her. Ever! Never! You go off like a nut-job and don’t never think about how you scare her and the boy. Don’t you dare tell her anything …. anymore.” Evelyn succumbed to her own rage, shaking but in no way backing down. “Do you think she’s stupid? Don’t you think she can’t see what you do? My God, Jamie, even she can figure out why you didn‘t get the position. You can’t control your own mouth, Jamie. You never can.”
Jamie had moved around side of the table, and Evelyn had moved in back of her chair keeping it between them.
“I work damn hard!!” screaming in defense of himself. “fucking harder than every God damn person down there!”
“You think you got to have all muscle and no brains to get yourself looked at?” Evelyn screamed back at her husband. “You really can‘t figure out why you didn‘t get the damn job, can you! God help you."
Evelyn turned to her daughter, “Callie take your brother and go upstairs. Go now, girl! You can finished your dinner later.” Her head down, but loud enough for her daughter to hear, “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”
Callie did not look in her dad‘s direction. She had to get out of the kitchen. She pulled Kenny out of the high chair and carried him best she could. All the way up the stairs she could hear her parents railing at each other. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over on her cheeks, down to her lips and she knew the familiar taste of salt as she caught each sob on her tongue.
Once in Kenny’s room she tried to put the two-year-old in his play pen, but he kept climbing back over. Half-heartedly Callie tried to cheer him up which only succeeded in Kenny getting a hold of her hair. He wouldn’t let go, so relenting she wrapped her arms around her little brother. He snuggled deep into his sister’s frail chest, his cries soon becoming a whimper. They sat on the floor, big sister rocking lonesome little Kenny in her lap, whispering in his ear and waiting for him to fall asleep. All the while she listened to her parent’s battle down stairs and to Babe’s barking.
Callie sighed a sigh deeper than any ten-year-old ought to…. but Daddy had had the look about him when he got home, so she guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. She had hoped just the same …. she had prayed just the same, because ya’ never knew…ya’ just never knew. Callie rocked back and forth, holding her little brother tightly, “ I love you, Kenny. Mama, loves you, Kenny. Daddy loves you, Kenny.”
The wind outside had kept a steady pace of growing stronger and louder. Callie wished the wind was even noisier so she didn’t have to hear the yelling in the kitchen. The tearful girl thought of Manda, and how they used to laugh when the wind messed up Miss Anzilonni’s fizzy hair, and made their school principle look like a Halloween witch. She suddenly felt angry at Manda, because all she wanted to do was to be able play with her best friend and her best friend had left her.
~~~~
End of Part 5 …. To be continued …
