Post by Turn 360 and walk away on Apr 19, 2011 18:08:59 GMT -5
Mother. She was nice. She liked to bake, I remember that. She just loved it. So did Papa. Papa loved it more than anything. The figure on the grainy television screen covered his mouth and broke into fits of shoulder-shaking laughter. The sound wasn't caught on the microphone, and the silent laughter pervaded the room for one minute and 37 seconds. The figure pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and continued. Papa hated it. Papa hated everything though, so I didn't really notice. Papa hated the bills and the old chair and the house and the dog and the preacher and Mother, so that isn't a surprise. One time Papa hit Mother real hard. She was lying on the ground because Dinner wasn't good. Tammy and me liked it. Papa didn't. Papa said that it had too much spice in it, or something. How stupid is that?
"Who's Tammy?" said one of the many men watching the monitor closely.
"This guy's younger sister. She's like, 20-something now? Twenty... one?"
"Just a couple years younger then."
So, here's Mother lying on the ground right? And here comes Papa with the bowl of soup and he's dumping it on her. I mean, it was hot. H-O-T hot. And she's crying and saying how much it burns and Papa walks away and rinses out the bowl in the sink and goes into the living room and plops into the couch and turns onto the news. The figure chuckles through a tight smile and his head is in his hands, like he's trying to fight through the absurdity of it all to recount the story. Tammy and me finish our dinner and we watch the news too.
On the other side of the monitor, the figure was a handsome man with close-cropped hair that was somewhere between brown and blond, a smile that that shined with the friendliness of a politician's, and heavy glasses that magnified dark-colored eyes. He was itching to leave the chair and walk as he talked. He thrived in that room where he could talk. His energetic friendliness leapt beyond his smile, and he thrived on talking to people. His body language told all this. He gesticulated wildly when he spoke, and couldn't help but shift impatiently during any silent moments. In his orange jumpsuit, he looked like sunshine incarnate.
He sang an excerpt of "In The Air Tonight" and banged on an imaginary drum kit.
"What happened next, Mister Ferry?"
"Sean, please." The figure steepled his fingers in front of his face and continued his recounting.
After Mother was gone it was weird with Papa.
Papa came home one day and said that Mother went away on vacation and that we wouldn't ever see her again. Papa said that Mother asked to see Jesus and that we all needed to go. So we moved. Our new house was in Little Rock. I didn't like that. the house was small and it was hard making friends. Then police came for Papa and people started calling me and Tammy and him bad names, and that made it harder. I think Tammy had the hardest time.
We only saw Papa once on the TV though, before the police started leaving us alone. Papa never talked about it.
But it was still weird with him. Tammy thought so too. Papa had Tammy move her bed in his room so he could have the room as a office. Then Papa made Tammy get rid of her bed because it was a little girl bed and she wasn't a little girl any more, but that was okay. Papa still had that big bed that him and Mama shared, so Tammy still had a bed.
Tammy would yell a lot in her sleep. Mostly just "no" and stuff, but she would do it every night. Once I asked Papa if it woke him up and he hit my head for asking about Tammy. I guessed I shouldn't care. Papa thought so. One night she wasn't yelling in her sleep any more. She would cry sometimes, but no more yelling. That was nice.
Tammy started wearing nothing but really long sweaters and pants and stuff. I thought that was funny because last summer she was acting like all the other girls at junior high and trying to wear less and less, like, I mean, swimsuits and stuff. But that year it was always long sleeves and pants and lots of hiding and lots of crying.
Papa kept talking about a baby brother. That was funny because we never had a mother after Mother, so I didn't know what he was talking about.
But when Tammy started gaining weight papa made me move out. Tammy was crying because her diet wasn't working and Papa and me were sitting at the kitchen table and he was calling all the people in the newspaper about jobs for me. A man on a cattle ranch took me on as help and even let me stay in his guest house. No rent because I was working for him. That was fun. the ranch, not moving. Moving wasn't fun. papa only let me take the tings that were mine. He said that anything we shared stayed with him. I didn't have a lot. At least packing and unpacking didn't take a lot of time.
"Who's Tammy?" said one of the many men watching the monitor closely.
"This guy's younger sister. She's like, 20-something now? Twenty... one?"
"Just a couple years younger then."
So, here's Mother lying on the ground right? And here comes Papa with the bowl of soup and he's dumping it on her. I mean, it was hot. H-O-T hot. And she's crying and saying how much it burns and Papa walks away and rinses out the bowl in the sink and goes into the living room and plops into the couch and turns onto the news. The figure chuckles through a tight smile and his head is in his hands, like he's trying to fight through the absurdity of it all to recount the story. Tammy and me finish our dinner and we watch the news too.
On the other side of the monitor, the figure was a handsome man with close-cropped hair that was somewhere between brown and blond, a smile that that shined with the friendliness of a politician's, and heavy glasses that magnified dark-colored eyes. He was itching to leave the chair and walk as he talked. He thrived in that room where he could talk. His energetic friendliness leapt beyond his smile, and he thrived on talking to people. His body language told all this. He gesticulated wildly when he spoke, and couldn't help but shift impatiently during any silent moments. In his orange jumpsuit, he looked like sunshine incarnate.
He sang an excerpt of "In The Air Tonight" and banged on an imaginary drum kit.
"What happened next, Mister Ferry?"
"Sean, please." The figure steepled his fingers in front of his face and continued his recounting.
After Mother was gone it was weird with Papa.
Papa came home one day and said that Mother went away on vacation and that we wouldn't ever see her again. Papa said that Mother asked to see Jesus and that we all needed to go. So we moved. Our new house was in Little Rock. I didn't like that. the house was small and it was hard making friends. Then police came for Papa and people started calling me and Tammy and him bad names, and that made it harder. I think Tammy had the hardest time.
We only saw Papa once on the TV though, before the police started leaving us alone. Papa never talked about it.
But it was still weird with him. Tammy thought so too. Papa had Tammy move her bed in his room so he could have the room as a office. Then Papa made Tammy get rid of her bed because it was a little girl bed and she wasn't a little girl any more, but that was okay. Papa still had that big bed that him and Mama shared, so Tammy still had a bed.
Tammy would yell a lot in her sleep. Mostly just "no" and stuff, but she would do it every night. Once I asked Papa if it woke him up and he hit my head for asking about Tammy. I guessed I shouldn't care. Papa thought so. One night she wasn't yelling in her sleep any more. She would cry sometimes, but no more yelling. That was nice.
Tammy started wearing nothing but really long sweaters and pants and stuff. I thought that was funny because last summer she was acting like all the other girls at junior high and trying to wear less and less, like, I mean, swimsuits and stuff. But that year it was always long sleeves and pants and lots of hiding and lots of crying.
Papa kept talking about a baby brother. That was funny because we never had a mother after Mother, so I didn't know what he was talking about.
But when Tammy started gaining weight papa made me move out. Tammy was crying because her diet wasn't working and Papa and me were sitting at the kitchen table and he was calling all the people in the newspaper about jobs for me. A man on a cattle ranch took me on as help and even let me stay in his guest house. No rent because I was working for him. That was fun. the ranch, not moving. Moving wasn't fun. papa only let me take the tings that were mine. He said that anything we shared stayed with him. I didn't have a lot. At least packing and unpacking didn't take a lot of time.