The Potential Hazards of Hester Day by Mercedes Helnwein

Author:Mercedes Helnwein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2008-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

PREACH THE WORD

YOU KNOW that myth about kids always having to pee when you’re on the road? Well, it’s true. After a few hours of that Sunday, it seemed to me like Jethro’s sole purpose on earth was to urinate. The circumstances were merciless. What with Jethro’s hyperactive bladder and the camper not being equipped with a bathroom. On top of that my recent abdication from cigarettes was weighing hard on my soul and the only radio station Arlene tuned into was airing a show called “Reverend Hatton’s Lost Sheep Hour.” Need I say more? I might have wondered with distaste where the beautiful morning had gone, but I didn’t. Something maternal in me didn’t allow me to roll my eyes when Jethro announced that yet another bathroom break was in order. And I guess it was that same piece of machinery that made me say placidly, “Okay, honey.”

And so Fenton and I shared another one of those uninspired moments by the roadside, watching Jethro make for the bushes.

“Just look on the bright side,” I said.

“There’s a bright side to this?”

“I’m sure there is. We just have to find it.”

Our expressions had been numbed long ago and our eyes remained fixed on the indefinite distance. In the background Reverend Hatton was giving advice to a lady who was convinced that the cashier at the local hardware store was possessed by the devil.

“Oh, Lord,” I muttered.

Jethro was still selecting what bush to make use of. He had a habit of using the most remote bush available. Contrary to popular belief, this little kid had high standards in both hygiene and privacy.

I leaned myself up against the door on the passenger’s side and got out one of those books I had taken from the library, Who’s Who in Charles Dickens. Reverend Hatton asked his caller for more details, and I began to stare at the notes I had taken down on one of the pages. “He will hug you and kiss you and tell you more lies than leaves on the green tree or stars in the skies.”

I got most of my advice from old blues and folk songs. I didn’t believe there was any sense in getting your philosophy anyplace else—not when people had sung things like “…you may be a little rockin’, but baby, you all right with me… ” Didn’t that sum up just about every relationship between a woman and a man?

I swung my feet up on the seat and began to get comfortable with this new line of reasoning. I loved it when I caught hold of something that I could tear apart until the end of eternity. My mind loved to suck on ideals and impossibilities, and once I had started rolling, things didn’t easily get in the way. But of course my carefree concentration was not immune to everything. I felt something against my feet, and found Fenton’s ink-stained fingers trailing aimlessly over my ankles. My body became tense. This was clearly a violation of the “random body part” rule.

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