Part 5 (1/2)
One thing you notice is that there's been a lot of sickness out there. A lot of pain. Hardly anybody in the family has a full set of fingers. The mother died of cancer thirty years ago, and Vernon's body showed any number of tumors that the medical examiner identified as quote unquote potentially malignant potentially malignant. That's as far as they take it. There was a large one in his throat. What looked like skin cancer in a number of places too, which is what you'd expect from a man of his age doing outdoor work. Probably more of them elsewhere, but we don't know yet. I should think that the tumor in his throat may have obstructed his breathing a little, but that would be up to the medical examiner. We'll have to wait for his final report.
I don't know what killed the father.
Vernon seems to have developed bladder problems on top of everything. According to Creed he couldn't hold his water. The bed was always wet. Creed volunteered that information. I hadn't questioned him along those lines, because I didn't remember anything in the report that would have suggested it in particular. It would certainly explain the condition of the mattress, although I guess it really could have been any one of them doing it. Or all three. The lab work may tell us more, but to my mind Creed's statement was telling.
It got me thinking down certain lines.
People were coming and going in the outer office and I could hear them muttering to one another about the smell. They kept their voices low, but I knew what they were talking about. I didn't think Creed needed to hear that, so after a while I shut my door and switched off the air-conditioning and opened up the windows. There was a little cross breeze coming through and it made his beard flutter. Sitting there, he looked like the old man of the mountain. Rip Van Winkle. Somebody from a fairy tale. He's not nearly as old as he looks, though. It's just that the years have been unkind to him. My own father, for example, is a good bit older than anybody in that family, substantially older than Vernon, although you'd never know it to look at him. He retired out of the school district with a good pension. That's one of the things he raised me to seek out in this life, a good pension. I ended up here. How's that for an indication of the world I was brought up to live in.
Audie.
THE MILK TRUCK CAME and he was full of questions just like that trooper. He wanted to know when the funeral would be but I couldn't say. I said I guessed we had to dig a hole first. He could keep an eye out for that if he wanted to know about the funeral. He asked where Creed was and I said he'd gone off. and he was full of questions just like that trooper. He wanted to know when the funeral would be but I couldn't say. I said I guessed we had to dig a hole first. He could keep an eye out for that if he wanted to know about the funeral. He asked where Creed was and I said he'd gone off.
I hoped he would be home for lunch but lunchtime came and he wasn't home. I was out in the field where I belonged and by the sun it was time but he wasn't home yet so I just kept going. Some days I never want to get off that tractor.
Creed.
WE WAS HAVING a nice talk. I had a cup of coffee and there was a breeze through the window. It was nice just to set. I told him Audie needed me back to home but he wouldn't bring me. He had a million questions. After a while he pushed a b.u.t.ton on the telephone and said would somebody go get us some hamburgers. They done it right off. I seen them go, through the window. They come back with the hamburgers and some fries too and a couple little apple pies and we had more coffee from the pot. I was thinking we ought to get Vernon in the ground, and I asked him where they had him and he said in Syracuse at the morgue. The county morgue. I said how about that, Vernon got to Syracuse before me. How about that. I said I ought to be going home once we got done eating. We finished and somebody come in and took the bags. Then we talked for a while more and then he begun talking about how I killed my brother. He had me talk about it too. Before he would bring me home we had to work it out between us. We had hamburgers for supper too. a nice talk. I had a cup of coffee and there was a breeze through the window. It was nice just to set. I told him Audie needed me back to home but he wouldn't bring me. He had a million questions. After a while he pushed a b.u.t.ton on the telephone and said would somebody go get us some hamburgers. They done it right off. I seen them go, through the window. They come back with the hamburgers and some fries too and a couple little apple pies and we had more coffee from the pot. I was thinking we ought to get Vernon in the ground, and I asked him where they had him and he said in Syracuse at the morgue. The county morgue. I said how about that, Vernon got to Syracuse before me. How about that. I said I ought to be going home once we got done eating. We finished and somebody come in and took the bags. Then we talked for a while more and then he begun talking about how I killed my brother. He had me talk about it too. Before he would bring me home we had to work it out between us. We had hamburgers for supper too.
1985.
Tom.
THE DAZED-LOOKING GIRL was named Sh.e.l.ly. She still looked dazed come morning, so Tom figured it was a regular thing with her. They got up and there wasn't any coffee in the apartment so they put on some clothes and walked down the street to d.i.c.kie's. The body and fender guys were banging away downstairs and Tom was late for work in Utica, but he decided what the h.e.l.l. Either he'd go in late or else maybe he'd just make it a long weekend. f.u.c.k the overtime. You had to make allowances. was named Sh.e.l.ly. She still looked dazed come morning, so Tom figured it was a regular thing with her. They got up and there wasn't any coffee in the apartment so they put on some clothes and walked down the street to d.i.c.kie's. The body and fender guys were banging away downstairs and Tom was late for work in Utica, but he decided what the h.e.l.l. Either he'd go in late or else maybe he'd just make it a long weekend. f.u.c.k the overtime. You had to make allowances.
The waitress brought coffee without asking. Tom ordered scrambled eggs and Sh.e.l.ly asked for a slice of that coconut cream pie that d.i.c.kie's was famous for. When it came he asked her where she had to be this morning.
”No place special. It's summertime.”
Tom sat watching her work on her coconut cream pie, trying to persuade himself that she looked like college material.
She had grown up in Canastota and she had a brother just a little bit older than Tom. She said he always called her Baby and Tom could too if he wanted but he didn't want to. That was all right, he said.
It was turning into a good day to sit on the beach but first they had to get some Slim Jims and a bag of chips and a couple of six-packs. At the register Tom splurged on two packs of cigarettes, different brands, his and hers. He had a foam cooler they used for the beer. The store was out of ice and the lake water was pretty warm already, so he filled the cooler up with water from a hose alongside a house that faced the beach. He and Sh.e.l.ly tried lifting it but they couldn't. So they tipped it over and emptied it on the guy's driveway and walked it down as far as the hose would reach and filled it up again but only halfway this time. Then they worked it down the rest of the way, picking it up sometimes and sometimes sliding it on the gra.s.s and then on the sand. They left the hose.
The beach was full of kids. There was a playground over by the snack bar with an iron carousel that wouldn't stop going around and around, sending up a screech that Tom thought was going to saw his head in two. Sh.e.l.ly watched the kids jumping onto it and flying off again. She had a dreamy look in her eyes that Tom thought made her look like a babysitter. You'd never get that innocence back. She turned from the carousel and leaned back on her elbows to look out over the lake. He did the same. The water smelled better since the sewage regulations had gone in when he was a kid, but he still didn't feel like getting his feet wet. He didn't even own a suit. He lived right here, and he didn't even own a suit.
Sh.e.l.ly said her brother was the one got her started smoking. Dope, she meant, not cigarettes. She could hardly remember when she hadn't smoked cigarettes. The dope came later, when Nick was out of two-year college and living back home those years and she was what, maybe fifteen. Nick was a bad apple. That's what her father used to say: His son kept coming back like a bad apple.
”I think he meant a bad penny,” Tom said. ”It's a bad penny that comes back.”
Either way, he was the best brother there ever was. He always treated her like an equal and he trusted her to do anything she wanted. Anything at all. That was why she'd left her parents' place and moved in with him.
Tom finished his beer and started another one and looked over at the girl and then back down at the lake. He'd been in trouble with fathers before, but never with brothers. He wasn't sure how much he liked the idea. Then again if Nick was such a bad apple they might turn out to have a lot in common. They might share a whole worldview. How about that.
Preston.
TOM HAD SOME BUSINESS or other up in the hayloft. I always thought it was funny how when he was a little boy and DeAlton'd bring him out he'd sneak around like he didn't dare touch anything, and now that he was all grown up he felt different. I always got a kick out of that. The irony of it. How he'd come to see the use of certain things. I believe that's something that happens to a man when he gets his growth. He starts seeing the use of things he never cared about or understood before. or other up in the hayloft. I always thought it was funny how when he was a little boy and DeAlton'd bring him out he'd sneak around like he didn't dare touch anything, and now that he was all grown up he felt different. I always got a kick out of that. The irony of it. How he'd come to see the use of certain things. I believe that's something that happens to a man when he gets his growth. He starts seeing the use of things he never cared about or understood before.
Tom was in the hayloft and the rest of us were on the porch and Vernon was saying how his throat hurt. He had a sack of h.o.r.ehound drops that he sucked on when he wasn't chewing tobacco. He'd take them one right after another. I don't believe they helped even the slightest little bit. I think he knew that, but I guess he always hoped for the placebo effect. He had his left hand in his lap and he was rolling up little pellets of stuffing from the chair with his right hand when he wasn't rubbing at the place on his leg where that tooth from the harrow went in. They say Audie has a nervous problem, but it runs straight through that whole family. There isn't one of them could keep still if you put him on the payroll for it. It goes all the way back to Lester and maybe beyond him.
We knew when Tom came down because we heard his car doors open and shut. First one door and then a little wait and then the other. He was fooling with something in the car. Vernon said he hoped Tom would come around to the porch and pay his respects before he went home, on account of he was tired and didn't want to get up. He said he'd just as soon sit right there and if that no-good nephew of his didn't see fit to bother coming around then so be it. They all could do without. But after a few minutes Tom did come around. He had a little plastic bag and he put it on Vernon's lap, and Vernon gave him a look like it was trick or treat. I had a suspicion about that bag but I didn't know for sure. Not then. When Tom told his uncle he ought to be careful since that right there was a good fifteen dollars' worth, I knew.
Creed knew the same. ”If that's fifteen dollars' worth,” he said, ”I don't know why I been fooling with feed corn.” Words to that effect. You couldn't blame him.
Vernon asked him could he chew it because he didn't care much for smoking anymore and Tom said that wasn't how most people used it. He didn't know if chewing it would work or not, but he couldn't make any promises and since that little bag was worth a good fifteen dollars of anybody's money why take chances with it. Most folks either smoked it or made brownies. Vernon said he wasn't much good in the kitchen so he thought he'd just stick with the regular way. Tom had some papers in his pocket and he gave them to him and then he left.
I'd heard that before about the brownies, but I'd always thought they were just pulling my leg. It turned out it was true.
Audie.
VERNON WAS FEEDING TURKEYS through the window. He had the feed sack lifted up and he was tossing in handfuls and the turkeys were jumping behind the gla.s.s. I couldn't hear them holler but I knew they were. Behind the window the air was all feathers. Vernon was smoking and there was smoke in the air outside and feathers inside. I was over by the woodpile. Tom drove up the road and he parked by the barn and came on around. He was coming about every day. He waved and I waved back. He went toward the barn but then he saw Vernon feeding the turkeys and he went there right off instead. He was in a hurry. He didn't wave at Vernon like he waved at me. He just went straight over to the bus where Vernon was feeding turkeys through the window. through the window. He had the feed sack lifted up and he was tossing in handfuls and the turkeys were jumping behind the gla.s.s. I couldn't hear them holler but I knew they were. Behind the window the air was all feathers. Vernon was smoking and there was smoke in the air outside and feathers inside. I was over by the woodpile. Tom drove up the road and he parked by the barn and came on around. He was coming about every day. He waved and I waved back. He went toward the barn but then he saw Vernon feeding the turkeys and he went there right off instead. He was in a hurry. He didn't wave at Vernon like he waved at me. He just went straight over to the bus where Vernon was feeding turkeys through the window.
Tom.
YOU HAVE TO TELL some people everything. Take, for example, the old farmer alongside the school bus with a homemade cigarette dangling from his bottom lip like a regular smoke. Just working on it slow, the way anybody might work on something he'd lost the savor of. The thing was stuck to his sun-split lip, it had been there so long. Dangling, dripping ash and weed. Tom just about blew his top. some people everything. Take, for example, the old farmer alongside the school bus with a homemade cigarette dangling from his bottom lip like a regular smoke. Just working on it slow, the way anybody might work on something he'd lost the savor of. The thing was stuck to his sun-split lip, it had been there so long. Dangling, dripping ash and weed. Tom just about blew his top.
He stamped over to where his uncle stood not even sucking on it and he s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of his mouth. He almost put it in his own but reconsidered. The turkeys were squawking in the school bus and he could barely make himself heard over their racket. ”You don't do this in the yard,” he said. ”And you don't do it that way. You roll it up tight and you suck it in and you hold on to it. It ain't a regular smoke. You keep it in your lungs. You concentrate on it and you get the value from it. And above all you don't do it in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned yard.”
He pinched it out and twisted it up and stuck it in his uncle's breast pocket, then he thought better of his haste and gave him an apologetic pat right there where he'd put it. Just over his heart. He turned his back and went off across the dirt yard and up to the hayloft for some of what he kept there, and then back down to the car. He had dirt on his hands from the hayloft ladder and he rubbed it off against his pant legs before he got in. Sh.e.l.ly was in the front seat and they were headed someplace. She put up a hand and waved to Audie over by the woodpile and he waved back, tentative, looking like he'd fallen in love.
1939.
Preston.
THE OLD MAN was made of nails. I never saw the hay bale he couldn't lift or the mule he couldn't drive or the roofline he couldn't walk with his eyes shut. The weather he couldn't withstand. He was a figure from a world that was pretty much gone even then, and you knew right off there was something about him you had to respect even if you might never understand it. was made of nails. I never saw the hay bale he couldn't lift or the mule he couldn't drive or the roofline he couldn't walk with his eyes shut. The weather he couldn't withstand. He was a figure from a world that was pretty much gone even then, and you knew right off there was something about him you had to respect even if you might never understand it.
He knew how to last, is what it was. He knew how to endure and he knew how to bend things to the way he wanted them. He used whiskey for medicine and entertainment both. And if you were smart you didn't cross him. That goes without saying.
What else? Like I said, it took an awful lot to kill him.