Hardscrabble Road by George Weinstein

Author:George Weinstein
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Deeds Publishing
Published: 2012-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

*

When we returned from school the following Monday, Papa’s truck was gone. Damp laundry hung on a line strung between two trees in the side yard.

The cotton field lay picked over and unattended. Nat and Lonnie had hired out to other farms where they hoped to earn enough to get them through the winter. My siblings and I passed through the kitchen and dropped off our wrinkled lunch bags, which were so worn they felt like moth-eaten cotton. While Jay and Chet started the chores out back, Mama took me aside. She said, “They learning you numbers in school?”

I boasted that I could already count to fifty, but instead of complimenting me, she pulled me outside to the line of drip-drying clothes. Beside her beige foundation garments—with the amazing curves and pads and tucks that stymied my imagination about how women were shaped—Mama had hung my father’s undershirts. Six of the sleeveless whites swayed from their clothes-pinned straps like prisoners dangling by shackled wrists. She told me to count them out loud and then said, “There’s always seven. But in the week gone by there’s just six.”

I recalled seeing a pink triangle of Papa’s flesh shortly after he steered Tommy back to the cafe on my birthday. He’d rubbed his hand across his chest, maybe unaccustomed to the texture of the shirt against his bare skin, maybe wondering why something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t tell her about Papa visiting my secret brother and the waitress, so I stretched up toward one of her drying underthings and grasped a heavily stitched, protruding cup almost twice the size of my hand. Water drizzled from the squishy fabric and trickled inside my sleeve. I asked, “What’s this do?”

Mama slapped my hand away and said, “Never mind that. Tell me about your birthday.” She crouched to my eye-level. In a softer voice, she said, “Won’t you tell me? I know you got disappointed. No picture show. No supper even. That ain’t right.”

“Papa said he felt sleepy.”

“Yeah, I know what comes before his best sleeping.”

I said, “He was sick, some bug coming on.”

“He got over it right quick. Did you stop anywhere?”

“On the way back. I wanted to see my friend.”

“I gave ’im hell for putting you out halfway between home and Timbuktu. I mean, did you stop in town?”

“He, ah, I-I—”

“You’re stuttering again. I ain’t gonna hit you for telling the truth, Bud. What kind of mother do you think I am?”

“He took me to Western Auto. To look at the bikes.” She let go, her mouth twitching. I rushed through the rest of my story. “Then he saw the prices and felt poorly and we left.”

She stood, peering down at me. “That’s near what he said. Nuthin more to it?”

“No’m.” I decided to press my luck. “But I didn’t get a proper birthday.”

She glanced back at the dangling undershirts and said, “Get your chores done, and we’ll set things right tonight.”

Papa arrived home in time for supper, but Mama announced that he would get right back in his truck and take me and her to the picture show.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.