Post by jeannerené on Jul 25, 2007 6:52:48 GMT -8
The Second Step Down from the Porch --- a tragedy, some profanity, some racial content- -
the second step down from the porch she sat
the second down from the porch she wept
the second down from the porch he spat
The front door was thrown open. Only a single, naked bulb, swinging violently from a loose electric cord, lit the porch. There had come a wind up from hell that seemed to be trapped within the wrap-around porch, whipping the house with its own private cyclone. A carpet of brittle oak leaves covering the planks now danced in mad circles, and like a mournful soprano the wind whistled. It whistled through the cock-eyed screen door throwing it open with a jerk and pitching it back again with a bang. The screen door played an unrelenting percussion to the winds solo. On the bottom floor the lights inside flickered. Upstairs was dark.
She sat on the second step, of five splintered steps, leading up to the house. Callie sat there, brushing the tangled hair of her Barbie doll, not once minding the bang of the screen door. Her own hair played against her face and her gingham nightgown billowing about her bare legs, but she continued brushing in vain. It was near story time, as dusk bowed out of the day, giving the night a handful of stars to begin its reign. This flury, however, could not move the stars or move Callie from the second step tonight. She did not feel the rape of the wind, nor did she hear the screams of the house. She turned only when she heard the familiar foot fall of Babe come out from house. The old black lab came down to the third step and sat next to Callie. Reaching under Babe’s chin, turning white as an old man’s beard, the ravened-haired girl gave him a couple of gentle scratches, and smiled.
Coming slowly up the road, two headlights pierced the dark, giving the flying dust a false glimmer. The old Toyota slowed some as it passed Callie and Babe, honking a greeting. Callie looked straight on at the disappearing pickup, knowing the driveway it would turn into was just around the bend. Old pickups, blue and gray primer, white and gray primer, rusted with primer, traveled this dirt road, north to south, south to north, day after day. No real name to this road outside of Coalinga that carried too many pickups packed with hired help for the local farms, or the faded oldmoblies that taxied their wives and children. Callie went with the other children to school down this same dirt highway. Took a yellow school bus into town and back again, and afterwards waited for her daddy to come down this very same. Some days his pickup never came out of the horizon, and most days… when it did, it might have been better if it hadn‘t. Dirt highway was like a promise to her, but one she never knew would be kept or broken.
~~~~~~~~~
Callie’s mother didn’t look to the road anymore. She hadn’t been waiting this afternoon as the winds had started to come up ahead of the pickups, but Callie had. Callie had waited on the second step, pushing back her dark hair that flew across her eyes with the persistent gusts. Finally, she dug a rubber band out of the pocket of her pink jeans and fasten her hair back. She sat there waiting, looking at a horizon of bare fields, even as mama kept calling her name, begging her to tend to her homework.
“Ain’t got no homework, Evelyn,” Callie kept yelling back.
Evelyn pushed open the screen door and stepped down onto the porch, “Callie MacFarland, you think because you turned nine years old, and I just bought you a pink lipstick you can call me what you want?”
Callie thought better than to argue her independence, “No, mama.” Looking back over her shoulder she gave her mom a grin. Thank you for the lipstick, but its not pink it’s “baby bubble gum.”
“Still looks plain pink to me” Evelyn started back into the house, but turned and looked back at her daughter. She asked, “Callie, why you put yourself through this everyday? Why do you wait on him? When he comes he’s most likely to be in a mean way. He was already mad leaving this morning.”
“Because, mama, today. . . today will have been a good day. You wait and see, he’ll be happy today.”
“You pray for us, honey, that he will,” Evelyn surrendered underneath her sigh and left her daughter to her waiting.
Evelyn didn’t share her bright-eyed daughter’s faith, but neither did she share with her daughter the truth. Didn’t share with her how sometimes two people can just be plain ugly to each other, and there was likely nothing going to change it. Didn’t share with her the dead feeling that weighed her down everyday. Callie’s hope kept something inside of Evelyn alive. She needed Callie’s strength. Needed it to turn around and step back up into this old house. Needed it to pick up Kenny, Callie’s two year old brother, and allow herself to kiss him. She needed it now to stop these crazy thoughts that the baby she carried would somehow just up and die inside of her before she would be forced to tell her husband. Besides she loved her daughter as she had never loved anyone before, and the truth was not for those you love.
Old Babe moved around Evelyn slowly as she went back into the house. The dog didn’t move much beyond twenty feet or so away from the porch nowadays. His hip joints, probably worn close to flat, wouldn’t carry his weight without a great deal of pain. Sweet Babe couldn’t take the stairs anymore up to Callie’s room, and it made Callie cry to see him so sad standing at the bottom alone. Mama, couldn’t take the look in either of their eyes, so she had let Callie sleep on the living room couch all summer and weekends during school. The old dog would hunch up against the couch as close as he could get to Callie.
Babe came down the porch steps now ever so slow, but gleefully dangling Callie favorite doll from his jaw. He looked as if he wore a smile, knowing he was going to be scolded. Right on cue Callie squealed with familiar exasperation, “Babe, you give me that doll now! Bad boy. You bad boy. You made her hair all goobery. Yuck!”
She tugged her doll from his loose jaws, and he licked her cheek in satisfaction. Gingerly, Babe sat down beside her on the step, and if he were a cat he would have purred.
Coming from inside, she caught the sound of Kenny crying upstairs and heard mama get angry for something or other. Kenny cried a little louder and mama’s voice got a little meaner. She didn’t like it when her mother used that tone of voice. Sometimes mama had a look about her too, a far away look. Her face seemed like she didn’t know where she was. She hadn’t always had that look. It was a new look, one that made Callie worry, but she couldn’t put a name to the worry. Mama loved Kenny, it was just that he was so hard to manage and mama was awfully tired lately. Daddy always said that Kenny was just full of spit and vinegar, like he was when he was a boy. The crying was getting louder. Maybe
she’d better go help her mother, she thought. She'd watch Kenny so mama could start dinner. Besides the wind was kicking up pretty steady and was stinging her eyes. Just as she was about to jump up from the step, behind a rising dust cloud, Callie spotted his truck.
Her daddy’s truck was old, but not so old as most of the trucks come down this road. A dark red 1990 F150, 4X4, and he kept it clean. That dull gray paint wasn’t all over her dad’s truck either. The clean truck made her proud. It meant a lot of washing because of where they lived, and there was no garage and all that dust, but he was real particular about it, inside and out. Sometimes he’d let her help hose it down.
Callie peered deep into the cab of the truck as it turned into the gravel patch to the right of the house. Her gaze never left the man behind the wheel. She’d know soon as he turned off the engine . . . when he’d look up and over at the house what to expect. As he drove in, he slowed down the closer he got to the oak, braked and turned off the ignition. Next he ran his hand across his mouth, and hesitated before opening the door. This was not a good day.
Jamie MacFarland finally got out, pushed down the lock and closed the cab door. He hunched down in his denim jacket and juggled his keys in the pocket. As he walked toward Callie she couldn’t make out his eyes through his hair that slapped his face in the wind. Jamie had that odd colored dark-red hair. He was good looking in that rugged sort of way, and he knew it, and could have used it to his advantage on both men and women if his mouth didn't always get in the way. Callie had her mama’s hair color, but her eyes were her dad’s soft blue with generous long eyelashes that tempted you. So like her dad, when you saw her for the first time you couldn’t help but notice the eyes. Once, a long time ago, those eyes were all Evelyn had thought about.
The juggle of the keys, the hand wiped across the mouth. . . Callie knew these were not good signs. It meant something was bothering him bad, but there wasn’t much that didn’t bother Jamie MacFarland. Work bothered him. The weather bothered him. This old house and not enough money bothered him, and he was always mad about that. Things mama said made him mad. News on TV made him swear all the time. He’d even get mad at Old Babe, because Babe had to be fed and that took money. Babe was Evelyn’s dog. He had been her dad’s, but when grandpa died Evelyn insisted on taking Babe. Jamie said Babe was useless, so there was really no hope that he would ever like him. Callie knew if he walked by and yelled at the dog then probably it would happen tonight...again. She knew all the signs. Callie held her breath as he got closer to the porch.
“damn, stupid dog! Oughta put him out of his misery and save us some money,” Jamie yelled as he passed Babe on the steps.
There were, however, two things Jamie was never mad about. He could be swearing at everything and everyone around him, but he was never real angry about his kids. Callie knew this. She knew that he loved them, but something else was wrong. She could feel his love in the way he talked to her. All the yelling would be at mama. It was always the same. Her daddy, when he came home would kiss her and call her sweet names. Then he’d always go find Kenny and spend time with him. Kenny would go crazy when his dad played with him, because he was hungry for play. When daddy didn’t come home for a day . . . or days, he’d always bring them some M & M’s to make up for it. Kenny would get five M & M’s and Callie got the rest. They'd sit down together and separate the candy into colors. He was the one who read to them at night, and it was as if reading to them, especially after a bad fight with mama made him ok again. Sometimes though Callie thought that her daddy was so nice to them just to hurt mama more. Sometimes it seemed like a game to her, a game between mama and dad.
Then there were those times he had yelled at her and Kenny, and his face was so mean that she thought he might hit them. The ugliness that became his face, was the same as when he yelled at mama and called her stupid and worthless. Mama would be quite at first, but then she’d come back with all kinds of bad things to say to him. Maybe, Callie thought, her mother should just be quite. That‘s how it always was, and she knew he only yelled at her and Kenny because he was already mad and mama wouldn’t stop talking back. He just couldn’t help to but to keep yelling. Callie could tell the difference, although she couldn’t understand what it was that made her dad so anger all the time.
“Callie girl, come inside now. Tell me what you did in school,” Jamie grabbed for his daughter’s hand as he took the steps. With his other hand he continued juggling his keys. He looked up irritated, “damn screen door could drive a person crazy in this wind.”
Callie took her dad’s hand, tucking her doll under her arm for security. Old Babe was left outside. He was too slow for there to be any kind of patience coming from Jamie. Once Jamie and Callie went into the living room Evelyn went back to the screen door and held it open for Babe. She closed the front door behind her now, and Babe made his way into the kitchen to keep her company. Evelyn cast a look into the living room ritual. She supposed she should be thankful. It wasn’t as if Jamie didn’t love his kids. The back and forth chatter between her husband and daughter almost made everything seem normal. Lost in thought for a moment she wondered if Callie hadn’t stolen Jamie from her. She felt her jaw tighten and “she makes him happy” slip out from under her breath. Intruding upon their intimacy, she watched with a frozen stare, until her mind shouted back at her ‘stop it, stop it Evelyn’ and she shook herself back into reality, slicing slowly 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, Callie girl, you are one smart kid,” Jamie praised, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “ Ah . . . you made any new friends today?”
Callie squirmed in place with this 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 about ten months earlier. Jamie and Evelyn really hadn’t known Manda’s folks. Their house was about two miles up the road where a few other Black families lived. Callie and Manda had been fast friends since kindergarten and when Manda got sick in second grade Callie didn’t abandon her. Even when Manda could no longer get out of bed, Callie was content sitting beside her. The parents never really said much beyond a hello and a wave when the girls were dropped off at each others house, but whatever uneasiness they felt about each other, they put aside because of the girls. When Callie realized that there was no hope for her friend, she cried and cried for days and refused to go to school. Manda passed away just after Thanksgiving of last year. When her 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 her daughter faithfulness. Evelyn sensed that Callie's recovery would be a long time coming. She knew her daughter still talked to Manda. She had heard Callie carry on whole conversations with her friend while sitting out on that step waiting for her dad.
~~~
“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.
“What do you mean difficult?”
When he got no response, Jamie still with his jacket on took his keys out of his pocket and threw them on the counter into the salad his wife was preparing. He turned around and headed up stairs.
“Kenny? Big boy, daddy’s here.”
~~~
Evelyn called from the kitchen that dinner was ready. Dinner was always early, around four o'clock or so, no later than four-thirty, and even though money was tight, mama was never stingy with meals. Still Callie mostly hated dinner. Dinner time usually came only two ways. There was complete silence, except dad and mama asking her questions about her day and the tending to Kenny to fill in the awkward space, or there was yelling. On a very rare occasion there was a nice dinner. Her father would be mad, but it wouldn’t be too bad and they were actually talking to each other. Dinners like these were like special present that you wanted to keep holding and never put away. But Callie never knew which it would be, so her stomach was always in knots. When Jamie came down carrying Kenny, Callie and her mama were already sitting down at the table, but they waited for Jamie to get Kenny in the highchair and seat himself. Callie always said a secret prayer before she lifted a fork.
Except for the wind whistling outside and the sound of Jamie’s fork hitting the plate, dinner began with its usual silence. Jamie always stabbed at his food as if it were trying to escape him. Callie started to giggle at the faces Kenny was making at the mashed carrots in his plate, till Evelyn told them both to mind their manners and spooned a mouthful of orange mash into Kenny’s sealed lips. Ever hopeful, Babe made an attempt to beg for scrapes, but unsuccessful dropped down by Callie’s feet. The knots in Callie’s stomach were starting to ease. Then came an extra loud stab hitting the plate. When her dad spoke Callie said a second prayer.
“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 wanted to ask him not to swear in front of the kids, but didn’t dare.
“Don’t know why I bother working my ass off over there. I get screwed every time I turn around.”
Evelyn 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.
“Oh . . We’ve been doing ok. . . we’ve been doing ok . . . that’s all you have to say. damn it, that’s not the point! I deserve that job. I deserve it and I know it.” Jamie was starting to yell. “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 was trying to eat as if nothing was happening.
“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. . . ”
“Don’t you tell me to stop it! What do you know. . . what to you do but sit here getting fatter everyday?” Jamie yelled at her, 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. Kenny had started crying and kicking his legs against the high chair.
Her dad turned to her. He seemed to take a deep breath, “Sit down. Finish your food.”
Callie looked at her mother. 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.’
“Don’t tell her what to do. She doesn’t have to sit here and listen to you. Your scaring her and the baby. Don’t you dare tell her what to do. Do you think she’s stupid? Don’t you think she can’t see what you do? You think no one can see what you do? You really can‘t figure out why you didn‘t get the damn job! God help you." Evelyn yelled back. “Callie take your brother and go upstairs. You can finished your dinner later.”
Callie didn’t look at her dad. She had to get out of the kitchen. She got Kenny out of the high chair and carried him best she could. All the way up the stairs she could hear them screaming at each other, and she cried the tears she had cried so many time before. She took Kenny into his room and put him in his play pen. She half-heartedly tried to cheer him up, but she knew soon he would be exhausted. So she sat in his room waiting for him to cry himself to sleep and listened to her parent’s battle and Babe’s barking. She had expected it since she saw her father get out of the pickup. He had the look about him when he got home, but she had hoped. Callie sat on the floor and rocked herself. Becoming aware of the wind again outside, she was glad it was so loud. She thought of Manda and wished she was with her.
......continued in Part 2
the second step down from the porch she sat
the second down from the porch she wept
the second down from the porch he spat
The front door was thrown open. Only a single, naked bulb, swinging violently from a loose electric cord, lit the porch. There had come a wind up from hell that seemed to be trapped within the wrap-around porch, whipping the house with its own private cyclone. A carpet of brittle oak leaves covering the planks now danced in mad circles, and like a mournful soprano the wind whistled. It whistled through the cock-eyed screen door throwing it open with a jerk and pitching it back again with a bang. The screen door played an unrelenting percussion to the winds solo. On the bottom floor the lights inside flickered. Upstairs was dark.
She sat on the second step, of five splintered steps, leading up to the house. Callie sat there, brushing the tangled hair of her Barbie doll, not once minding the bang of the screen door. Her own hair played against her face and her gingham nightgown billowing about her bare legs, but she continued brushing in vain. It was near story time, as dusk bowed out of the day, giving the night a handful of stars to begin its reign. This flury, however, could not move the stars or move Callie from the second step tonight. She did not feel the rape of the wind, nor did she hear the screams of the house. She turned only when she heard the familiar foot fall of Babe come out from house. The old black lab came down to the third step and sat next to Callie. Reaching under Babe’s chin, turning white as an old man’s beard, the ravened-haired girl gave him a couple of gentle scratches, and smiled.
Coming slowly up the road, two headlights pierced the dark, giving the flying dust a false glimmer. The old Toyota slowed some as it passed Callie and Babe, honking a greeting. Callie looked straight on at the disappearing pickup, knowing the driveway it would turn into was just around the bend. Old pickups, blue and gray primer, white and gray primer, rusted with primer, traveled this dirt road, north to south, south to north, day after day. No real name to this road outside of Coalinga that carried too many pickups packed with hired help for the local farms, or the faded oldmoblies that taxied their wives and children. Callie went with the other children to school down this same dirt highway. Took a yellow school bus into town and back again, and afterwards waited for her daddy to come down this very same. Some days his pickup never came out of the horizon, and most days… when it did, it might have been better if it hadn‘t. Dirt highway was like a promise to her, but one she never knew would be kept or broken.
~~~~~~~~~
Callie’s mother didn’t look to the road anymore. She hadn’t been waiting this afternoon as the winds had started to come up ahead of the pickups, but Callie had. Callie had waited on the second step, pushing back her dark hair that flew across her eyes with the persistent gusts. Finally, she dug a rubber band out of the pocket of her pink jeans and fasten her hair back. She sat there waiting, looking at a horizon of bare fields, even as mama kept calling her name, begging her to tend to her homework.
“Ain’t got no homework, Evelyn,” Callie kept yelling back.
Evelyn pushed open the screen door and stepped down onto the porch, “Callie MacFarland, you think because you turned nine years old, and I just bought you a pink lipstick you can call me what you want?”
Callie thought better than to argue her independence, “No, mama.” Looking back over her shoulder she gave her mom a grin. Thank you for the lipstick, but its not pink it’s “baby bubble gum.”
“Still looks plain pink to me” Evelyn started back into the house, but turned and looked back at her daughter. She asked, “Callie, why you put yourself through this everyday? Why do you wait on him? When he comes he’s most likely to be in a mean way. He was already mad leaving this morning.”
“Because, mama, today. . . today will have been a good day. You wait and see, he’ll be happy today.”
“You pray for us, honey, that he will,” Evelyn surrendered underneath her sigh and left her daughter to her waiting.
Evelyn didn’t share her bright-eyed daughter’s faith, but neither did she share with her daughter the truth. Didn’t share with her how sometimes two people can just be plain ugly to each other, and there was likely nothing going to change it. Didn’t share with her the dead feeling that weighed her down everyday. Callie’s hope kept something inside of Evelyn alive. She needed Callie’s strength. Needed it to turn around and step back up into this old house. Needed it to pick up Kenny, Callie’s two year old brother, and allow herself to kiss him. She needed it now to stop these crazy thoughts that the baby she carried would somehow just up and die inside of her before she would be forced to tell her husband. Besides she loved her daughter as she had never loved anyone before, and the truth was not for those you love.
Old Babe moved around Evelyn slowly as she went back into the house. The dog didn’t move much beyond twenty feet or so away from the porch nowadays. His hip joints, probably worn close to flat, wouldn’t carry his weight without a great deal of pain. Sweet Babe couldn’t take the stairs anymore up to Callie’s room, and it made Callie cry to see him so sad standing at the bottom alone. Mama, couldn’t take the look in either of their eyes, so she had let Callie sleep on the living room couch all summer and weekends during school. The old dog would hunch up against the couch as close as he could get to Callie.
Babe came down the porch steps now ever so slow, but gleefully dangling Callie favorite doll from his jaw. He looked as if he wore a smile, knowing he was going to be scolded. Right on cue Callie squealed with familiar exasperation, “Babe, you give me that doll now! Bad boy. You bad boy. You made her hair all goobery. Yuck!”
She tugged her doll from his loose jaws, and he licked her cheek in satisfaction. Gingerly, Babe sat down beside her on the step, and if he were a cat he would have purred.
Coming from inside, she caught the sound of Kenny crying upstairs and heard mama get angry for something or other. Kenny cried a little louder and mama’s voice got a little meaner. She didn’t like it when her mother used that tone of voice. Sometimes mama had a look about her too, a far away look. Her face seemed like she didn’t know where she was. She hadn’t always had that look. It was a new look, one that made Callie worry, but she couldn’t put a name to the worry. Mama loved Kenny, it was just that he was so hard to manage and mama was awfully tired lately. Daddy always said that Kenny was just full of spit and vinegar, like he was when he was a boy. The crying was getting louder. Maybe
she’d better go help her mother, she thought. She'd watch Kenny so mama could start dinner. Besides the wind was kicking up pretty steady and was stinging her eyes. Just as she was about to jump up from the step, behind a rising dust cloud, Callie spotted his truck.
Her daddy’s truck was old, but not so old as most of the trucks come down this road. A dark red 1990 F150, 4X4, and he kept it clean. That dull gray paint wasn’t all over her dad’s truck either. The clean truck made her proud. It meant a lot of washing because of where they lived, and there was no garage and all that dust, but he was real particular about it, inside and out. Sometimes he’d let her help hose it down.
Callie peered deep into the cab of the truck as it turned into the gravel patch to the right of the house. Her gaze never left the man behind the wheel. She’d know soon as he turned off the engine . . . when he’d look up and over at the house what to expect. As he drove in, he slowed down the closer he got to the oak, braked and turned off the ignition. Next he ran his hand across his mouth, and hesitated before opening the door. This was not a good day.
Jamie MacFarland finally got out, pushed down the lock and closed the cab door. He hunched down in his denim jacket and juggled his keys in the pocket. As he walked toward Callie she couldn’t make out his eyes through his hair that slapped his face in the wind. Jamie had that odd colored dark-red hair. He was good looking in that rugged sort of way, and he knew it, and could have used it to his advantage on both men and women if his mouth didn't always get in the way. Callie had her mama’s hair color, but her eyes were her dad’s soft blue with generous long eyelashes that tempted you. So like her dad, when you saw her for the first time you couldn’t help but notice the eyes. Once, a long time ago, those eyes were all Evelyn had thought about.
The juggle of the keys, the hand wiped across the mouth. . . Callie knew these were not good signs. It meant something was bothering him bad, but there wasn’t much that didn’t bother Jamie MacFarland. Work bothered him. The weather bothered him. This old house and not enough money bothered him, and he was always mad about that. Things mama said made him mad. News on TV made him swear all the time. He’d even get mad at Old Babe, because Babe had to be fed and that took money. Babe was Evelyn’s dog. He had been her dad’s, but when grandpa died Evelyn insisted on taking Babe. Jamie said Babe was useless, so there was really no hope that he would ever like him. Callie knew if he walked by and yelled at the dog then probably it would happen tonight...again. She knew all the signs. Callie held her breath as he got closer to the porch.
“damn, stupid dog! Oughta put him out of his misery and save us some money,” Jamie yelled as he passed Babe on the steps.
There were, however, two things Jamie was never mad about. He could be swearing at everything and everyone around him, but he was never real angry about his kids. Callie knew this. She knew that he loved them, but something else was wrong. She could feel his love in the way he talked to her. All the yelling would be at mama. It was always the same. Her daddy, when he came home would kiss her and call her sweet names. Then he’d always go find Kenny and spend time with him. Kenny would go crazy when his dad played with him, because he was hungry for play. When daddy didn’t come home for a day . . . or days, he’d always bring them some M & M’s to make up for it. Kenny would get five M & M’s and Callie got the rest. They'd sit down together and separate the candy into colors. He was the one who read to them at night, and it was as if reading to them, especially after a bad fight with mama made him ok again. Sometimes though Callie thought that her daddy was so nice to them just to hurt mama more. Sometimes it seemed like a game to her, a game between mama and dad.
Then there were those times he had yelled at her and Kenny, and his face was so mean that she thought he might hit them. The ugliness that became his face, was the same as when he yelled at mama and called her stupid and worthless. Mama would be quite at first, but then she’d come back with all kinds of bad things to say to him. Maybe, Callie thought, her mother should just be quite. That‘s how it always was, and she knew he only yelled at her and Kenny because he was already mad and mama wouldn’t stop talking back. He just couldn’t help to but to keep yelling. Callie could tell the difference, although she couldn’t understand what it was that made her dad so anger all the time.
“Callie girl, come inside now. Tell me what you did in school,” Jamie grabbed for his daughter’s hand as he took the steps. With his other hand he continued juggling his keys. He looked up irritated, “damn screen door could drive a person crazy in this wind.”
Callie took her dad’s hand, tucking her doll under her arm for security. Old Babe was left outside. He was too slow for there to be any kind of patience coming from Jamie. Once Jamie and Callie went into the living room Evelyn went back to the screen door and held it open for Babe. She closed the front door behind her now, and Babe made his way into the kitchen to keep her company. Evelyn cast a look into the living room ritual. She supposed she should be thankful. It wasn’t as if Jamie didn’t love his kids. The back and forth chatter between her husband and daughter almost made everything seem normal. Lost in thought for a moment she wondered if Callie hadn’t stolen Jamie from her. She felt her jaw tighten and “she makes him happy” slip out from under her breath. Intruding upon their intimacy, she watched with a frozen stare, until her mind shouted back at her ‘stop it, stop it Evelyn’ and she shook herself back into reality, slicing slowly 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, Callie girl, you are one smart kid,” Jamie praised, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “ Ah . . . you made any new friends today?”
Callie squirmed in place with this 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 about ten months earlier. Jamie and Evelyn really hadn’t known Manda’s folks. Their house was about two miles up the road where a few other Black families lived. Callie and Manda had been fast friends since kindergarten and when Manda got sick in second grade Callie didn’t abandon her. Even when Manda could no longer get out of bed, Callie was content sitting beside her. The parents never really said much beyond a hello and a wave when the girls were dropped off at each others house, but whatever uneasiness they felt about each other, they put aside because of the girls. When Callie realized that there was no hope for her friend, she cried and cried for days and refused to go to school. Manda passed away just after Thanksgiving of last year. When her 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 her daughter faithfulness. Evelyn sensed that Callie's recovery would be a long time coming. She knew her daughter still talked to Manda. She had heard Callie carry on whole conversations with her friend while sitting out on that step waiting for her dad.
~~~
“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.
“What do you mean difficult?”
When he got no response, Jamie still with his jacket on took his keys out of his pocket and threw them on the counter into the salad his wife was preparing. He turned around and headed up stairs.
“Kenny? Big boy, daddy’s here.”
~~~
Evelyn called from the kitchen that dinner was ready. Dinner was always early, around four o'clock or so, no later than four-thirty, and even though money was tight, mama was never stingy with meals. Still Callie mostly hated dinner. Dinner time usually came only two ways. There was complete silence, except dad and mama asking her questions about her day and the tending to Kenny to fill in the awkward space, or there was yelling. On a very rare occasion there was a nice dinner. Her father would be mad, but it wouldn’t be too bad and they were actually talking to each other. Dinners like these were like special present that you wanted to keep holding and never put away. But Callie never knew which it would be, so her stomach was always in knots. When Jamie came down carrying Kenny, Callie and her mama were already sitting down at the table, but they waited for Jamie to get Kenny in the highchair and seat himself. Callie always said a secret prayer before she lifted a fork.
Except for the wind whistling outside and the sound of Jamie’s fork hitting the plate, dinner began with its usual silence. Jamie always stabbed at his food as if it were trying to escape him. Callie started to giggle at the faces Kenny was making at the mashed carrots in his plate, till Evelyn told them both to mind their manners and spooned a mouthful of orange mash into Kenny’s sealed lips. Ever hopeful, Babe made an attempt to beg for scrapes, but unsuccessful dropped down by Callie’s feet. The knots in Callie’s stomach were starting to ease. Then came an extra loud stab hitting the plate. When her dad spoke Callie said a second prayer.
“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 wanted to ask him not to swear in front of the kids, but didn’t dare.
“Don’t know why I bother working my ass off over there. I get screwed every time I turn around.”
Evelyn 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.
“Oh . . We’ve been doing ok. . . we’ve been doing ok . . . that’s all you have to say. damn it, that’s not the point! I deserve that job. I deserve it and I know it.” Jamie was starting to yell. “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 was trying to eat as if nothing was happening.
“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. . . ”
“Don’t you tell me to stop it! What do you know. . . what to you do but sit here getting fatter everyday?” Jamie yelled at her, 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. Kenny had started crying and kicking his legs against the high chair.
Her dad turned to her. He seemed to take a deep breath, “Sit down. Finish your food.”
Callie looked at her mother. 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.’
“Don’t tell her what to do. She doesn’t have to sit here and listen to you. Your scaring her and the baby. Don’t you dare tell her what to do. Do you think she’s stupid? Don’t you think she can’t see what you do? You think no one can see what you do? You really can‘t figure out why you didn‘t get the damn job! God help you." Evelyn yelled back. “Callie take your brother and go upstairs. You can finished your dinner later.”
Callie didn’t look at her dad. She had to get out of the kitchen. She got Kenny out of the high chair and carried him best she could. All the way up the stairs she could hear them screaming at each other, and she cried the tears she had cried so many time before. She took Kenny into his room and put him in his play pen. She half-heartedly tried to cheer him up, but she knew soon he would be exhausted. So she sat in his room waiting for him to cry himself to sleep and listened to her parent’s battle and Babe’s barking. She had expected it since she saw her father get out of the pickup. He had the look about him when he got home, but she had hoped. Callie sat on the floor and rocked herself. Becoming aware of the wind again outside, she was glad it was so loud. She thought of Manda and wished she was with her.
......continued in Part 2
