As they drove home, Mom was
still steaming, humming to herself, talking shortly when necessary, and making
all the turns and lights in a precise punctuation that spoke as loudly as words
of her displeasure. For a while Timmy was worried, sitting quietly himself, but
by the time they pulled into home he could tell Mom had relaxed into a weary
acceptance. When she opened the door and the car light came on, he shot her a
wary smile. She smiled back.
“Go ahead and start
unloading,” she said, eyes twinkling. “But don’t expect me to help you. This is
all your job now. Get it into your room and don’t let me see any more of it
until it’s all sorted, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He put on his
most earnest face. “I can handle things. Don’t you worry about it.”
“Oh, but I do worry about
it.” Her nose wrinkled. “If you find any bugs, don’t tell me about it. Just
squish them. I’ll be around with a spray before bedtime to give things a
precautionary spritz.”
“Yes ma’am,” he repeated.
Timmy moved around to the back and popped open the hatch while Mom headed for
the side kitchen door. As he struggled the first bin down off the back of the
SUV, the safety light popped on under the covered porch.
Mom watched patiently
holding the door open as he waddle-walked the bin over and then pushed it up
and over the lintel onto the linoleumed floor inside with a rasping, sliding
sound.
“Hello! What’s this?”
Dad was sitting at the
kitchen table, newspaper spread out before him and a coke in his hand. The
wrappers and remains of a couple of Whataburger meals lay wadded nearby. It was
obvious that he and Gabe were back from football practice and had enjoyed their
customary after-work supper.
Timmy grunted, never
stopping, as he hefted the bin and shuffled the weight towards the hall.
“Hi, Dad. I got to get this
stuff put away right quick. ‘Scuse me.”
Dad looked up at Mom as she
stepped in. He arched his eyebrows. Timmy heard Mom as he turned the corner and
headed down the hall.
“Do you remember my Uncle
Samuel?”
“Sam-Sam? Yeah, what about
him?”
“Well, Granny’s given Timmy
his books.”
“Really? That looks like
quite the load.”
“Honey, you don’t know the
half of it.”
The boy lost the rest of the
conversation as he struggled on down the dim hallway. It became a distant buzz
until it suddenly burst out into a tremendous guffaw of laughter. Timmy paused
in surprise. Dad seldom laughed out loud, but when he did, he never held back.
The end of the hallway was
dark except for the outline of light framing Gabe’s door. Pounding music
thumped dully behind it. His brother was obviously oblivious to the world,
resting after a hard day’s workout. Timmy set down his burden and opened his own
door across the way, reaching in and snapping on the light. It was just as he’d
left it, mostly tidy but bed slightly rumpled, Kindle perching hazardously
halfway off the night table. It seemed
like a million years since he’d left.
There was a blank space
along the wall between his bed and the window. It was the place he had always
allotted for his ‘set-ups’, elaborate dioramas using blocks, backgrounds and
action figures in dizzying complexity, scenarios that he entered into more in
imagination than manipulation. But for the last few months these had grown far
and few between, and everything was packed away in the toy chest next to his
closet. Right now it seemed the ideal spot to set the bins for sorting. At
least temporarily.
Timmy had just shifted the
bin into position and was straightening his back and stretching when Dad came
in. To his surprised he was hefting one of the bins rather easily in his brawny
arms.
“Thought I’d give you a
hand, Timbo. That way we don’t have to have the doors open so long.” He
grinned.
“Thanks, Dad. That really
helps.” The boy took the bin, and since it started high off the ground, was
able to walk it right over and put it on the top of the other one. Dad seemed
pleased with his feat of strength.
“So, you finally wangled
some of Granny’s hoard away from her, eh? I’m amazed she let anything go.
Still, I’m not totally surprised.”
“Surprised about what, Dad?”
His father laughed.
“I always knew that your
Mom’s family was crazy. I just wondered when and how it would turn up in you
kids.”
(To Be Continued)
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