— Leland. Welcome.
— Good to see you, Barry.
Barry embraced him. Lee looked down at the top of Barry’s head. Barry stood back.
— I’m afraid I don’t have beer.
— No problem. You know I’m dry.
— I do. And it makes me happy to hear it. Was everything in good shape with Mr. Yoon? I had him leave some things in the apartment. I thought they might make you a little more comfortable. It’s a simple place, but simple never harmed anybody. I can think of one guy in particular who didn’t mind a simple bed.
— Simple as can be, said Lee.
Lee was given a glass of lemonade. Desperate for a cigarette, he went out onto a deck overlooking the backyard. There was a swing set and a sandbox and a wood-line on the far edge of the property. He wandered down to the grass. He put the lemonade down beside him and lit a cigarette. For the moment, he was alone. He took off his shoes. His big toe poked through a hole in his sock. He looked around and then he stripped off the socks and flexed his feet in the grass. He picked up his lemonade and walked down to the wood-line. He wondered how much he’d expected them to look different, his mother and Donna. To be different. Or had he expected them to be the same, somehow? What had he expected at all? Along the wood-line, the trees were pine and the smell of sap was strong, cut pleasantly by the cigarette smoke. Needles blanketed the ground. A chipmunk stuttered past and branches creaked and insects whined and a hawk circled overhead.
Coming back up the yard ten minutes later, Lee saw that his mother and Barry were out on the deck, his mother sitting with her oxygen cylinder beside her, Barry starting the barbecue. Lee also saw a young man napping in a lawn chair beside the house. Lee put his socks and shoes back on his feet. He went up the steps.
— Would you like one sausage or two? said Barry. Never mind. I’ll make two for you anyhow.
Barry closed the lid on the barbecue. He turned to Irene. She was watching them intently and wearing the nasal tube. There was something obscene about it.
— Did you need anything, Mother?
— I’m fine, Barry.
Barry squeezed her hand. He went into the house.
— I can’t believe you’re home, said Irene.
— Me either, said Lee.
— Look at all those grey hairs you sprouted. But you’re still skinny as a beanpole.
— Not so much any more, said Lee, patting the small pad of belly fat he’d grown.
A quiet moment passed.
— Don’t be cross with Donna, said Irene. All this has almost turned her on her head.
— I didn’t have to come for dinner.
— Everyone is glad to see you, Leland. Of course you had to come. We’re your family.
— I know, said Lee.
A hornet buzzed around the rim of Lee’s lemonade glass. He waved it away.
— I seen a kid snoozing around the side of the house, said Lee. I’d say that’s Peter. I wouldn’t of known him from the pictures you sent me.
— I sent those snapshots years ago.
— Is he a good kid?
— Yes. He disappointed me when he quit going to church and school both, but yes, he’s a good fellow.
— He quit school?
— Yes. All he does is work at the gas station. Works and works. He left here at five o’clock this morning, and only got back here an hour ago. I can’t guess what he wants.
— Maybe he doesn’t know himself.
Lee drank down the lemonade. He crunched the ice cube between his back teeth and said: And I don’t guess he knows about any of the other business?
His mother looked out over the backyard. A long moment passed.
— Leland, said Irene, quietly, there’s no reason to stir up any of that old upset. Upset is all it would be.
Do you remember writing Christmas cards to your Uncle Lee? asked Donna.
The two boys did not respond. The elder was frowning at the tablecloth. The younger stared at Lee. Their names were Luke and John.
— Close your mouth, John, said Barry.
The boy managed to close his mouth for a short time and then it fell open again. From the other side of the table, Peter, older than his half-brothers by ten years, watched with amusement.
— They’re afraid of outsiders, said Peter. That happens when you home-school.
— Peter, said Donna.
The two young boys looked like Donna and Barry, with Donna’s high cheekbones and Barry’s black hair and blue eyes. Peter had brown eyes and thin blond hair. He had Donna’s high cheekbones but no other obvious suggestion of his parentage.
Luke finally spoke up.
— I remember you wrote some letters to us. You spelled
— Luke, said Donna.
— He put an
— That’s enough, said Barry.
— I’m sorry, Lee, said Donna.
— It’s okay, said Lee. See, Luke, I didn’t pay attention in school like you guys, so you’d think I’m a dummy if you read my letters. But I always liked to get them cards from you.
John stared at Lee. The boy’s jaw remained unhinged. Finally, he said: Didn’t they teach you to read and write in jail?
Donna clapped her knife and fork down.
— Maybe we shouldn’t of done this.
— Mom said you had school in jail, said John.
— John …
Lee turned his plate with his thumbs. The meal was potato salad and two overdone bratwurst sausages.
— You’re right, said Lee. There was school in jail. There was school for reading and writing, but that’s not what I learned. Because reading and writing is more for you guys, who can be anything you want when you grow up. A guy like me isn’t going to be a doctor or nothing like that, so I decided to learn something I was okay at, which was carpentry.
— You boys know what a carpenter is, said Barry.
— It’s a guy who builds things, said Luke.
— That’s right. That’s what Jesus was. So Uncle Lee learned a pretty good thing. What do we say about school?
The two brothers responded in unison: The Bible says it’s important to gain wisdom.
— Good, said Barry.
Lee nodded.
— You boys go to school right here at home? You’re lucky. You don’t have to wait for the school bus or nothing.
They chewed on through their meal and some quiet minutes passed. Finally, Barry said: Lee, Clifton Murray will be waiting for you on Thursday morning. He’s going to be real busy right through the fall. You boys remember Mr. Murray from church?
— Yes, Daddy.
— He’s given Uncle Lee a job as a carpenter.
— We’re very proud, said Irene.
The boys kept looking at him between bites. John had not closed his hanging mouth.
