CHAPTER 1

 

“Thirty-six Years Ago”

 

          Death dominated my waking moments.  When death wasn’t on my mind, a secret took over my thoughts.  A secret possibly too big to be kept.  Or if kept, the secret would intertwine with my thoughts of death until they became all consuming.

          I sat on the right side of the swing on the front porch of my grandparents' house.  I focused on the early morning summer rain.  I tried desperately to keep my fear, laced with sadness, at bay by avoiding my thoughts.  The chain creaked softly as I swung slowly back and forth in the wood slatted porch swing.  My legs were up on the bench of the swing, crossed in front of me.  I kept the swing going by subconsciously rocking with my upper body.  Traffic on the highway splashed through the tail end of an early morning rain shower.  Our house sat a couple hundred feet from the highway.  The distance and light rain muffled the truck sounds as they threw up clouds of water mist behind them.  I watched without seeing.  My mind was elsewhere.

          My grandma came out and sat beside me on the swing, interrupting the swing's smooth motion.  Dressed in a white, sleeveless, button up shirt and blue baggy shorts, she had her long hair pinned up off her neck in anticipation of another hot summer day.  She placed her right hand on my knee.  A cup of coffee occupied her left as it rested on the arm of the swing.  I have lived with my grandparents since my parents were killed in a car crash four days before my third birthday, nine years ago.  I can barely remember my parents.

          “I love the smell of these early morning rains. Everything smells fresh and new,” she said.

          “Sugar, why are you so sad?” she asked when I didn’t respond to her comment. “It's your birthday.  Your first day of being twelve.  You are almost a teenager.”

          “Sorry grandma, but I keep thinking about Tommy and it just ain't the same without him,” I said.

          It was all I could do to hold back tears.  There was something else I kept thinking about, but I didn't dare tell my grandma.  Something that made my stomach turn whenever I thought about it.  Something that often woke me in the middle of the night after invading my dreams, herding them into a recurring nightmare.

          She eased herself out of the swing and started toward the screen door, then stopped with her hand on the door handle.

          “It was a tragic accident, and we all miss him, sugar,” she said.  She looks out across the yard and up at the morning sky.  “Judging from the break in the clouds, I think the rain is about over.  It looks like it is going to be a beautiful day.  You relax, smell the rain cleansed air, think good thoughts.  Enjoy your birthday, sugar.  I will bring your birthday breakfast out to you in a little while.”

          She stepped through the door and let it bump softly against her backside before moving further into the house.

          I resumed swinging.  I watched a truck go by on the highway.  A plume of water flared up behind the truck. I thought of that first day of freedom.  The day after school let out for the summer just two weeks ago.  I closed my eyes, hoping the swing's rhythmic motion would ease my pain.  I squeezed my eyes together.  I fought back tears as I remembered that day.

 

*           *           *           *           *           “

 

          Come on you pussy,” Tommy yelled at me as an eighteen-wheeler soaked him with water spray.

          We had waited out the morning rain.  It rained nearly every morning in May and June in Rhodesville where we lived. Stuck about halfway between Florence and Waterloo, Alabama, Rhodesville was just a spot in the road with a half dozen houses, the Rhodesville United Methodist Church, and a grocery store that had only one gas pump with regular on one side of it and ethyl on the other.  We were officially a town, even though the traffic on Waterloo Road didn't have to slow down.  I had read somewhere that a town was not officially a town unless it had a post office.  The post office sat across the road from the grocery store.  The post office closed down in 1907, so maybe we weren't really a town.  Or, does it make us a town if the abandoned post office building still stood?

          Tommy headed up the road toward Florence before the last drops of the morning rain had fallen.  We were going to go spend a few days on the Tennessee River somewhere near Florence, or Sheffield.  Sheffield was across the river from Florence.  This was how we planned to get our summer started.  The idea was for both of us to hitch a ride for some or all of the fourteen mile trip.  Once there, we would find a place to camp out on the river.  We were prepared to live off fish and whatever else we could catch.  We chose Florence because we had just finished nine months of riding the school bus the twelve miles to Waterloo, where we went to school. We were tired of that part of the river.

          I caught up with Tommy and we began our journey east.  The sun began to work its way through the clouds.  With the sun's encouragement, the temperature jumped a good ten degrees.  Because of the increase in heat and humidity, both of us had a good sweat worked up in no time.

          

          “Danged, I'm sure glad I got that soakin',” Tommy said. “You look like you is hot.”

          By the time Tommy had made that observation, the rain had dried on his clothes.  He was just as sweaty as I was. Before I could say anything about it, we heard tires crunch on the gravel shoulder of the road behind us.  We turned to see Reverend Charles pull his old Dodge pickup to a halt.

          “You boys want a ride?” he asked after sticking his head out of the driver's side window.

          “Sure do, Reverend,” Tommy said as he tossed his bedroll in the back and climbed over the tailgate to get in.

          “Where you fellas headed?” Reverend Charles asked.

          “We're going to go camping on the river to celebrate the beginning of summer.  Thought we'd try someplace along Florence or maybe Sheffield” I said, stopping at his window to explain.

          “Well, I'm going into Florence for my weekly supply run.  I can drop you off wherever you need.”

          “Thanks,” I said.  I tossed my bedroll in on top of Tommy and climbed in over the side of the pickup's bed by stepping up on the tire.

          As soon as I was seated, the reverend spun tires.  Gravel was thrown up against the underside of the pickup as he lurched back out onto the highway.  The pinging of the gravel didn't slow Tommy down any as he started talking about our adventure ahead.  Tommy was always talking, almost always about some big adventure or some way to get rich.  I usually tuned him out pretty quickly.  Which didn't matter to Tommy, he was perfectly happy carrying both sides of a conversation.

          I listened to Tommy's chatter and wondered how he could be so cheerful all the time.  His dad, a semi-pro football player for Birmingham, worked construction building giant hydroelectric plants and was rarely home.  When he was home, he was tough on Tommy.  Tommy’s dad was a very strict disciplinarian when it came to Tommy.  He was a softy when it came to Tommy’s little sisters.  Tommy’s mom was a candy striper at the hospital in Florence.  Tommy was usually left in charge of his three younger sisters.  I was surprised his mom was going to let him be gone for several days because he was their only babysitter.

          “Tommy,” I said, trying to interrupt his nonstop conversation with no one in particular.  He looked over at me but kept talking.

          “…and I told her we would be gone for a week, maybe ten days,” he said.

          “Tommy.” I tried again. “What's your mom going to do with your sisters while we are gone?”

          “Oh, didn't I tell you?  I thought I told you.  She quit the hospital for the summer.  Dad's never home. He sends the bulk of his paycheck every two weeks, and she doesn't have to work.  So, she decided to take the summer off.  Now, we can stay out as long as we want.  What do you think?  Can we stay for a week or two?  Hey, maybe three.”

          “I…”

          “It's a shame Ricky couldn't come, he sure could have used a break from that old man of his.  Don't you think?”

          “I…”

          “I know you don't have a job.  So do you think your grandma will care if we stay out for two or three weeks?”

          “I…”

          “Maybe we could stay out a whole month.  That would be cool.  Do you think we could survive a whole month in the wild?”

          I leaned back against the back of the cab and closed my eyes, content Tommy would talk nonstop the twenty minutes to Florence.

          “Maybe we could spend the summer on the river…”

 

*           *           *           *           *

 

          “Here’s your breakfast, sugar.”

          My grandma’s voice brought me forward to where I sat swinging on the front porch on my birthday.

          “Oh, thank you grandma.  It looks really good,” I said.

          “You are welcome, sugar.  You enjoy your breakfast. Now that the rain has stopped, I am going to walk over to Pearl’s and visit for a while over coffee,” grandma said.

          Aunt Pearl, grandma’s sister, was really my great aunt. She lived at the highway end of our driveway.  Her house was on the east side of our drive.  Old man Potter lived on the west side of our drive.  Old man Potter, who looked to be a hundred years old, was rumored to make moonshine and sell it out of his house.  At least that is what the kids at school said about him.  Since I rarely saw anyone at his house, I figured he must not make much of a living selling shine.

          Aunt Pearl met grandma at the end of our driveway, a coffee cup in each hand.  She handed one to grandma when she got there. “Happy birthday nephew,” Aunt Pearl yelled as she raised her cup in salute. “Thank you, Aunt Pearl,” I yelled.  I saluted back by raising my glass of orange juice. I watched as grandma and Aunt Pearl disappeared around the front of Pearl’s house.  I assumed they were headed to the front porch to sit in the rocker glider chairs that sat beside each other.  The chairs were separated by a small glass table.  The table had a couple insulated coasters on it. Knowing my grandma and aunt, they would hold their cups while they visited, occasionally resting them on the wooden arms of the chairs.  I doubted the coasters and the table would get used much during grandma’s visit. 8RHODESVILLE I turned my attention to the chocolate chip pancakes with eggs and bacon my grandma had prepared for my birthday breakfast. “Happy birthday young man,” Old man Potter said in that loud voice people who were hard of hearing often used. I just about choked on a mouth full of pancake.  He had walked up to the front of the porch without me seeing him.  I guess that is a testament to my delicious breakfast that I did not see him walk up. “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” I said. "How old are you gettin’ to be?" He asked.  His words were a little hard to understand because his bottom lip was packed with snuff.  I did not understand why anyone would want to suck on finely ground, dried tobacco.  My grandpa also used snuff.  I guess it is an old man thing.  I did not like the way it made my grandpa’s breath smell. "I am twelve.” “Sorry young man.  You are going to have to speak up. I am a little bit hard of hearing,” Mr. Potter said in that loud voice of his. “I said I am twelve,” I said, louder this time. "Well now, you are practically a growed man," Mr. Potter said. “You have yourself a good day young man.” Before I could reply, old man Potter turned, spat a long stream of snuff juice in the grass, and walked away.  He may be a hundred years old or so, but he certainly got around like someone much younger.  He did not even need a cane.  I 9RONNIE L RICHARDS supposed, as fast as he walked, a cane would only slow him down. I watched him walk away and smiled.  Maybe today will be a good day.  It has started out that way. Then I thought about Tommy and how he would not be around to help me celebrate.  Suddenly, I felt like I wanted to cry.  Maybe today wouldn’t be that good…