I flip on a lamp, adjusting the shade from nearly knocking it over in my haste as Hank tosses his hat on the coffee table and quietly asks, “Evening Pops, fall asleep in front of the television?”
He rouses, blinking his exhaustion away. “You boys home? Have a good time?”
“Sure did,” Hank grins. “Where’s Ma hiding?”
“She doesn’t appreciate television. Prefers to read. Says she can’t...”
We all say, “Bear the racket!”
“Your Mother is old fashioned, boys, you know that.”
Hank sits on the sofa’s arm.
I stand with mine crossed. “Say Pop, how ya feelin? Any better?”
His eyes don’t match, “Better every day, Jerald better every day!” He glances between us, sees we’d prefer the truth, and sighs, “I’m tired, but that’s to be expected. The doctor assures me surviving one heart attack means your chances of living past another are higher.”
Hank rubs his head, “Listen here! You need to take better care of yourself!”
“He’s right, Pops. We want you sticking around.”
“Speaking of that. What time is your plane leaving again?”
“Monday at fourteen hundred hours.”
He smiles, “Two o’clock to us non-military folk then.”
“I can drive him, Pops!”
“I’d say not, Hank. Let you drive my car?”
“I’m old enough.”
“In years maybe”
Hank glowers at first, but quickly remembers how close we were to being fatherless. “If you’re tired, is all I’m saying. I’m ready and able, despite what you might think of me. And I would be happy to take Jer. Not happy to see him go, but you get the idea.”
“Yes, son, I do.” He closes his eyes, showing his age.
Hank and I stare at him as his mouth slackens with sleep. I jerk my chin to the stairs and my brother nods, quietly disembarking the sofa-arm and following me up to our rooms. I toss my hat on a hook by the front door. We watch to see if it catches. It always does. Hank slaps my shoulder with approval, saying, “No matter how much I try, mine always falls! You say it’s in the wrist. I think it’s in the attitude.”
The creak of the final stair brings our Mother’s voice around. “Raymond? Is that you?”
“No, Ma, it’s Hank and me.”
“Oh, you’re home. Come visit with me a moment!”
We stroll in to find her sitting up in bed, long-sleeved green nightgown matching the scarf knotted around her pin curls. The book is still opened in her hands.
As I inherited her love of them I ask, “Whatcha readin?” before we even walk in.
“How did you know I was... oh, you’ve spoken with your Father. Is he coming to bed?”
Hank clears his throat. “Still watching his show, I’m afraid. Should be up soon.”
Let Pops rest, that’s the general idea. If he came up here now, she’d want to tell him about her romance novel. And that wouldn’t do. The man has to get well, not aggravated. Especially not by what he calls ‘poppycock.’
Ma holds up her novel to answer my question, happy someone wants to know, “It’s called Gone With The Wind.”
Hank asks, “The movie? I didn’t see it.”
“That came out when I was a senior. That had to be what, 1940? You were only thirteen at the time, so why would you?”
He looks at me. “Has it been that long?”
“Feels more like ten years to me.”
Ma swats the air to offer her opinion. “You know I don’t like moving picture shows. But I cannot believe I hadn’t yet read this.” She looks at the pages. “Perhaps because of all the fuss.Tillie and Jane both have and cannot believe it, either. You know it takes place in Georgia? During the civil war, but in Georgia just the same. Nice to read about our state. Makes it that much more real.”
I plant my shoe on the chest at the end of her bed. “I know of the book, Mother. Though can’t say I’ve read it. And I certainly didn’t see the film, though the girl I was dating at the time wanted to.”
“Why don’t you take it with you, Jer?” Hank grins and swats my arm. “I’ll give you ten dollars if you take that book on the submarine and show the fellas what you’ve got in your bunk!”
“Ten dollars. That’s a steep bet.”
“Enough to make a fella think!”
I chuckle, “You keep your savings. I’m in the middle of reading a book of my own. And I would’ve been farther along if you hadn’t talked me into coming to your dumb dance.”
“Oh dumb dance, was it? You weren’t complaining when you were falling all over May Kearns, now, were you?”
Ma perks up, closing the novel with a finger holding her place. “What’s this now? Who is May Kearns?”
“Pipe down, Hank,” I grumble. But it’s no use. Neither one of them will let go of a subject once it’s live.
“May is a sweet girl, Mother, with bright blue eyes and hair like the sun.” He bats his eyes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re something else.”
“Too poetic for you, Jer? From the looks of things, you were over the moon for her and could do much better in the poetry department if you just opened your mouth and said something about her.”
“Sun. Moon. The way you talk. Which is it?”
“I’ll tell ya what. You pick! Which better describes her, Jer, the sun or the moon?”
Ma sighs, “The only good side of your Father’s predicament is it brought you home. I so miss seeing you boys tease one another. It feels empty and quiet without you here, Jerald. Sometimes I can’t bear it.”
Hank doesn’t argue, and I expected him to make a joke at my expense and keep the mood light. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and rubs the floor with his heel.
Mother pointedly asks, “Is she a nice girl, Jerald?”
“Very nice.”
“And you fancy her?” At my silence she smiles, “I’d like to meet this May.”
“Oh, I don’t know...”
“Well, why shouldn’t I meet her?”
Hank
