The Rich Part of Life by Jim Kokoris

Author:Jim Kokoris
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780312300708
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

“I THINK SHE WAS some type of dancer,” Aunt Bess said.

She was sitting on my bed, trying to explain how my father and mother met, an event that seemed to be shrouded in some mystery. Across the room, I could see Tommy’s leg sticking out from under his bed as he ate a piece of the German chocolate cake Aunt Bess had made for dessert. Downstairs, I was sure my father, Uncle Frank, and Bobby Lee were talking, but I couldn’t hear a word. Aunt Bess had closed and locked our bedroom door when she came up.

“Where did she dance?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, honey. In Tennessee. Or wherever she was from again. I’m not sure, honey.”

“Was my mother a ballerina?” I asked. I imagined my mother in pink tights, dancing and turning lightly onstage, her arms arched over her head, a holy and unapproachable look on her face.

“I don’t think she was a ballerina, honey. I think she was a different type of dancer. You should ask your father. When you’re older. When you’re eighteen or twenty-one. He’ll tell you then.”

“Where were they when they met?” I sat at my desk and picked at a piece of chocolate cake with my fingers. Eating in our room was something Aunt Bess normally didn’t allow. But I sensed that the rules were changing in our house, the old order vanishing, and I carefully licked a finger.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure. He saw her dancing and they met. Your father was at a conference. That’s how they met.”

I looked at the chocolate cake again, turning the plate slowly around in circles on my desk. Bobby Lee’s presence downstairs gave me a doctors-waiting-room feeling, a heaviness that made my stomach clench. I stopped turning my plate and pushed it away.

I could tell that Aunt Bess was nervous too. She kept getting up off the bed and checking the lock on the door. Then she would walk over to the window and check to see if it was locked as well, in the event that Bobby Lee tried to scale the outside wall.

“I wish we had a phone in this room,” she said. “I wish that black man, your guard, was around.”

“Maurice!” Tommy yelled.

“Yes, him,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“He’s large. Eat your cake.”

I pulled the plate back toward me, but made no effort to eat.

“Tommy, are you all right down there? Tommy?” She got down on her hands and knees, looked under the bed, then slowly stood up, shaking her head.

“Are you coming with us to Manassas?” I asked.

“Where? Oh, Virginia,” she said. She walked back to my bed and sat down with a sigh. “Of course I’m coming. I hope the hotel is nice. And I hope we go to some nice restaurants. That’s all I want. A nice restaurant. You know, we haven’t gone out to eat once since we won the money? Not once.” She shook her head. “Are you sure that’s where you want to go?”

I nodded.

“You like the Civil War too.

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