The man behind the bar gave Momma a drink that looked something like the hot chocolate he gave me. Both were in a tall mug and steaming hot. As my mother blew on her drink, I could see a pat of butter sitting on top of the hot liquid, just like I’d imagined.
After we finished our drinks, my mother asked the man behind the bar if he would call us a cab. Momma explained to me that Uncle Forrest didn’t drive and didn’t have a car, so he couldn’t pick us up.
When we got to Uncle Forrest’s place I was immediately impressed by how tall it was. All the houses in Bakersfield were one-story buildings, so Uncle Forrest’s house looked like a mansion to me. It was sitting on a hillside, with dozens of steps leading up to it.
The cab driver was kind enough to carry our suitcases up all those stairs, and by the time we reached the top Uncle Forrest was standing at the door to greet us. He had a big smile on his face as he bellowed, “Welcome!”
Aunt Opal was standing just behind Uncle Forrest, and she was laughing with glee.
My mother and my uncle stood and smiled at each other for a minute, and then Uncle Forrest said, “Come in, come in. Put those suitcases down and take a load off.”
Aunt Opal repeated his words, “Yes, yes, come in. I’m so happy you’re finally here!”
I hadn’t seen either my uncle or my aunt since I was a baby, and I really didn’t remember them. But I did remember what it felt like to be in their presence: I felt all warm inside and immediately felt happy we had moved to be with them.
Standing behind Uncle Forrest and Aunt Opal was a slight man, much shorter and smaller than Uncle Forrest. My mother took one look at him and, without greeting him, turned away. He didn’t seem fazed by Momma’s slight of him but turned to me and said, “Hello, Bevy. I’m your uncle Frank.”
The only other person who called me Bevy was my mother, so I was surprised to hear that name coming from a stranger. The man reached out his hand to me and I stepped forward from behind my mother to shake it.
“Yes, Bevy, this is your uncle Frank,” Uncle Forrest said cheerfully. “He’s been staying with us awhile, so we’re going to have a full house!”
Uncle Forrest wasn’t looking at me but at my mother.
I already knew Momma hated Uncle Frank. She had been estranged from him for years, with absolutely no communication between them. I got the feeling that she was surprised to discover that Frank was staying with Forrest, just like she’d been surprised by the fact that it was still snowing in June.
Now Uncle Forrest turned his full attention to me. “My, you are a big girl, aren’t you?”
I knew he was referring to the fact that I was big for my age; I was the tallest girl in my class, and I had what was at the time referred to as “big bones.” But his comment hurt my feelings, not just because of the words he had said but the way he said them. He sounded like he was criticizing me, telling me I shouldn’t be so big. And I wished it wasn’t the first thing he said to me. I wished he had said something like, “I’m so glad to see you.” In spite of this, I noticed that he had kind eyes, and something about him told me he had a kind heart.
All of a sudden, Aunt Opal was all over me, hugging me and laughing. “Oh Bevy, I haven’t seen you in so long. I can’t believe you are so grown up!”
I felt a bit awkward having this woman be so friendly to me, but I liked it. I may have lost Pam but I’d gained an aunt. Aunt Opal was just what you’d want an aunt or a grandmother to be—cheerful, warm, sweet, and cuddly.
Uncle Forrest’s house turned out not to be a house at all but what they called a “duplex”—meaning that Uncle Forrest only rented one half of the building, and another family lived on the other side. Because of that, everything about their apartment seemed all mixed up. The bedrooms were on the first floor and the kitchen and living room was upstairs. And the stairs going up to the living room and kitchen seemed like they chopped off the other half of the house—everything was arranged on the left-hand side.
Uncle Forrest put our suitcases in one of the two bedrooms downstairs and explained that Uncle Frank would be sleeping on the couch upstairs. “Make yourself at home, Olga. This will be your room for as long as you want it to be,” he said with a warm smile.
My mother had told me that Uncle Forrest was the most stable of her brothers, and the most loving. He had been married to Aunt Opal for many years and they had one child, Joanne, who was already grown and married.
Uncle Forrest was an attractive man in a rough kind of way. He looked a lot like Humphrey Bogart with his long, weary face and black, slicked-back hair. He even had some of Bogart’s mannerisms, like the way he patted his hair to make sure it was in place and the way he lowered his head and looked up at you.
He was quite intimidating to me at first. He was bigger than life, with a great deal of charisma and intensity. When he was in the room, he was in charge. He spoke in a very loud voice, which I later learned might have been due to a hearing loss. Aunt Opal was always telling him to lower his voice because she was afraid the people living in the other half
