Part 6 (1/2)

Then Frank got Franny's hair and yanked her head against the dining table leg; although I did not have b.r.e.a.s.t.s of my own, I could feel it in my chest when Frank dug his knuckles into Franny's breast. She had to let go of her headlock and he rapped her head against the table leg twice more, snarling her hair around his fist, before Coach Bob got three of their four legs in his huge hands and hauled them out from under the table. Franny lashed out with her free foot and caught Bob with a good blow to the nose, but the old Iowa lineman hung on. Franny was crying now, but she managed to strain against her hair hard enough to bite Frank on the cheek. Frank grabbed one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hand; he must have squeezed her hard because Franny's mouth opened against Frank's cheek and a losing sob broke from her. It was so terrible and defeated a sound that it sent Lilly running back to my room with her sheet. Father knocked Frank's hand from Franny's breast and Coach Bob got a headlock on Franny, so that she couldn't bite Frank again. But Franny had a hand free and she went for Frank's private parts; whether you were in a cup, in or out of a jock, or wearing nothing at all, Franny could get to your private parts when the chips were down. Frank was suddenly all arms and legs jerking, and a moan so blue escaped him that I s.h.i.+vered. Father slapped Franny in the face, but she wouldn't let go; he had to claw her fingers open. Coach Bob dragged Frank free of her, but Franny took a last kick with her long leg and Father was forced to slap her, hard, across the mouth. That ended it.

Father sat on the dining room carpet, holding Franny's head against his chest and rocking her in his arms while she cried. 'Franny, Franny,' he said to her softly. 'Why does everyone have to hurt you to stop you?'

'Easy, son, just breathe easy,' Coach Bob told Frank, who lay on his side with his knees up to his chest, his face as grey as one of the Dairy School colours; old Iowa Bob knew how to console somebody who'd been felled by a blow to the b.a.l.l.s. 'Feel kind of sick, don't you?' Coach Bob inquired, gently. 'Just breathe easy, lie still. It goes away.'

Mother cleared the table, picked up the fallen chairs; her determined disapproval of her family's inner violence registered on her face as enforced silence, bitter and hurt and full of dread.

'Try a deeper breath, now,' Coach Bob advised Frank; Frank tried and coughed. 'Okay, okay,' said Iowa Bob. 'Stick with the little breaths awhile longer.' Frank moaned.

Father examined Franny's lower lip while her tears streamed down her face and she made those gagging kinds of sobs, half strangled in her chest. 'I think you need some st.i.tches, darling,' he said, but Franny shook her head furiously. Father held her head tightly between his hands and kissed her just above her eyes, twice. 'I'm sorry, Franny,' he said, 'but what can I do do with you, what can I with you, what can I do do?'

'I don't need st.i.tches,' Franny mourned. 'No st.i.tches. No way.'

But on her lower lip a jagged flap protruded and Father had to cup his hand under Franny's chin to catch her blood. Mother brought a washcloth full of ice.

I went back to my room and coaxed Lilly out of the closet; she wanted to stay with me and I let her. She fell right asleep, but I lay in bed thinking that every time someone said 'Hotel,' there would be blood and sudden sorrow. Father and Mother drove Franny to the Dairy School infirmary, where someone would st.i.tch her lip together; no one would blame Father - least of all Franny. Franny would blame Frank, of course, which -in those days - was my tendency, too. Father would not blame himself - or at least not for long - and Mother would blame herself, inexplicably, for some while longer.

Whenever we fought, Father usually cried at us, 'Do you know how this upsets your mother and me? Imagine that we we fought all the time, and you had to live with it? But fought all the time, and you had to live with it? But do do your mother and I fight? your mother and I fight? Do Do we? Would you like it if we did?' we? Would you like it if we did?'

We would not, of course; and they didn't - most of the time. There was only the old old argument, the living-in-the-future-and-not-enjoying-today argument, which Coach Bob expressed more vehemently than Mother, though we knew it was her opinion of my father, too (that, and that Father couldn't help it). argument, the living-in-the-future-and-not-enjoying-today argument, which Coach Bob expressed more vehemently than Mother, though we knew it was her opinion of my father, too (that, and that Father couldn't help it).

It didn't seem like a big thing, to us kids. I rolled Lilly on her side so that I could stretch out flat on my back with both my ears off the pillow, so that I could hear Iowa Bob coaching Frank upstairs. 'Easy, boy, just lean on me,' Bob was saying. 'The secret's in the breathing.' Frank blubbered something and Coach Bob said, 'But you can't grab a girl's t.i.t, boy, and not expect to take a shot in the b.a.l.l.s, now, can you?'

But Frank blubbered on: how Franny was terrible to him, how she never let him alone, how she was always turning the other kids against him, how he tried to avoid her but she was always there. 'She's in the middle of everything bad that happens to me!' he cried. 'You don't know!' know!' he croaked. 'You don't know how she teases me.' he croaked. 'You don't know how she teases me.'

I thought I I knew, and Frank was right; he was also rather unlikable, and that was the problem. Franny knew, and Frank was right; he was also rather unlikable, and that was the problem. Franny was was awful to him, but Franny was not awful; and Frank was not really awful to any of us, except he (himself) was, somehow, awful. It bewildered me, lying there. Lilly began to snore. I heard Egg snuffle down the hall and wondered how Coach Bob would handle it if Egg woke up hollering for Mother. Bob had his hands full with Frank in the bathroom. awful to him, but Franny was not awful; and Frank was not really awful to any of us, except he (himself) was, somehow, awful. It bewildered me, lying there. Lilly began to snore. I heard Egg snuffle down the hall and wondered how Coach Bob would handle it if Egg woke up hollering for Mother. Bob had his hands full with Frank in the bathroom.

'Go on,' Bob said. 'Just let me see you do it.' Frank sobbed. There!' cried Iowa Bob, as if he'd just discovered a fumble in the end zone 'See? No blood, boy - just p.i.s.s. You're okay.'

'You don't know,' Frank kept saying. 'You don't know.'

I went to see what Egg wanted; being three, he wanted something un.o.btainable, I thought, but I was surprised that he was cheerful when I came into his room. He was obviously surprised to see me, and when I returned all the soft animals to his bed - he had thrown them all over his room - he proceeded to introduce me to each of them: the frayed squirrel he had vomited on, many times; the worn elephant with one ear; the orange hippopotamus. He was upset whenever I tried to leave him, so I took him into my room and put him in my bed with Lilly. Then I carried Lily back to her room, although that was a long way for me to carry her and she woke up and became irritable before I got her in her own bed.

'I never get to stay in your room,' she said; then she was asleep again, instantly.

I went back to my room and got in bed with Egg, who was wide-awake and talking nonsense. He was happy, though, and I heard Coach Bob talking downstairs - at first, I thought, to Frank, but then I realized Bob was talking to our old dog, Sorrow. Frank must have gone off to sleep, or at least gone off to sulk.

'You smell worse than Earl,' Iowa Bob was telling the dog. And, in truth. Sorrow was dreadful to smell; not only his farting but his halitosis could kill you if you weren't careful, and the old black Labrador retriever seemed viler to me, too, than my faint memory of the foul odors of Earl. 'What are we going to do with you?' Bob mumbled to the dog, who enjoyed lying under the dining room table and farting all through mealtimes.

Iowa Bob opened windows downstairs. 'Come on, boy,' he called to Sorrow. 'Jesus,' Bob said, under his breath. I heard the front door open; presumably Coach Bob had put Sorrow out.

I lay awake with Egg crawling all over me, waiting for Franny to get back; if I was awake, I knew she'd come and show me her st.i.tches. When Egg finally fell asleep, I carried him back to his room and his animals.

Sorrow was still outside when Father and Mother drove Franny home; if his barking hadn't woken me up, I'd have missed them. 'Well, that looks pretty good,' Coach Bob was saying, obviously approving of Franny's lip job. 'That won't leave any scar at all, after a while.'

'Five of them,' Franny said, thickly, as though they had given her an additional tongue.

'Five!' Iowa Bob cried. Terrific!'

'That dog's been farting in here again,' Father said; he sounded grouchy and tired, as if they'd been talking, talking, talking talking nonstop since they'd left for the infirmary. nonstop since they'd left for the infirmary.

'Oh, he's so sweet,' Franny said, and I heard Sorrow's hard tail wagging against a chair or the sideboard - whack, whack, whack whack, whack, whack. Only Franny could he next to Sorrow for hours and be unaffected by the dog's various stenches. Of course, Franny seemed to notice smell, in general, less than the rest of us. She had never objected to changing Egg's diapers - or even Lilly's, when we were all much younger. And when Sorrow, in his his senility, would have an accident overnight, Franny never found the dog s.h.i.+t displeasing; she had a cheerful curiosity about strong things. She could go the longest, of any of us, without a bath. senility, would have an accident overnight, Franny never found the dog s.h.i.+t displeasing; she had a cheerful curiosity about strong things. She could go the longest, of any of us, without a bath.

I heard all the grown-ups kiss Franny good night and I thought: Families must be like this - gore one minute, forgiveness the next. Just as I knew she would, Franny came into my room to show me her lip. The st.i.tches were a crisp, s.h.i.+ny black, like pubic hair; Franny had had pubic hair, I did not. Frank did, but he hated it. pubic hair, I did not. Frank did, but he hated it.

'You know what your st.i.tches look like?' I asked her.

'Yeah, I know,' she said.

'Did he hurt you?' I asked her, and she crouched close by my bed and let me touch her breast.

'It was the other one, dummy,' she said, and moved away from me.

'You really got Frank,' I said.

'Yeah, I know,' she said. 'Good night.' Then she peeked back in my door. 'We are are going to move to a hotel,' she said. Then I heard her going into Frank's room. going to move to a hotel,' she said. Then I heard her going into Frank's room.

'Want to see my st.i.tches?' she whispered.

'Sure,' Frank said.

'You know what they look like?' Franny asked him.

'They look gross,' Frank said.

'Yeah, but you know what they look like, don't you?' Franny asked.

'Yes, I know,' he said, 'and they're gross.'

'Sorry about your b.a.l.l.s, Frank,' Franny told him.

'Sure,' he said. They're okay. Sorry about...' Frank started to say, but he had never said 'breast,' much less 't.i.t,' in his life. Franny waited; so did I. 'Sorry about the whole thing,' Frank said.

'Yeah, sure,' Franny said. 'Me too.'

Then I heard her testing Lilly, but Lilly was too soundly asleep to be disturbed. 'Want to see my st.i.tches?' Franny whispered. Then after a while I heard her say to Lilly, 'Sweet dreams, kiddo.'

There was, of course, no point in showing st.i.tches to Egg. He would a.s.sume that they were remnants of something Franny had eaten.

'Want a ride home?' my father asked his father, but old Iowa Bob said he could always use the exercise.

'You may think this is a crummy town,' Bob said, 'but at least it's safe to walk at night.'

Then I listened some more; I knew when my parents were alone.

'I love you,' my father said.

And my mother said, 'I know you do. And I love you.' I knew, then, that she was tired, too.