Carry Me Home (4 page)

Floyd’s girl, Mary, don’t stay mad at him long either. Not even with Floyd having to go off with Jimmy to the National Guard on accounta he’s the other one who signed up. Mary don’t stay mad at Floyd ’cause he went and asked her to marry him before he leaves.

Floyd and Mary ain’t got time to put together a church wedding, which is all right by me. They get married by the justice of the peace, and me and Jimmy and Molly and the gang, along with Floyd’s daddy, Mary’s ma and dad, and Mary’s ugly sisters, all go. The girls cry and smile at the same time as the baldy-headed justice man reads off this paper all the things Mary and Floyd gotta promise to do. I think of how I ain’t never gonna get married, ’cause there ain’t no way in hell I’d ever remember all that shit. When the baldy guy is done yapping, everyone shakes Floyd’s hand and kisses and hugs Mary. Then we all go over to the town hall.

Ma and Mary’s ma, and most of the ladies that come into the store, they put together a real nice party for Floyd and Mary. They got big banners stringed across the walls in the town hall and a big white cake with frosting flowers that look so real I gotta lick ’em a little to know they are made of frosting. The tables are all decorated in red, white, and blue. A long table is crowded with food, and another table has a big coffeepot and a punch bowl on it, the cups lined up like soldiers.

Four guys from town, old and gray as fence posts, set up their little band in the corner. They call themselves Tommy and the Toe Tappers, but their name ain’t nothing but a goddamn lie. Them old buzzards don’t tap their toes, and they don’t play nothing you can tap your toes to either. All they do is strum their guitars while one yanks on his accordion. I look at poor Jimmy in his fancy new suit and know he ain’t gonna be doing no jitterbuggin’ tonight.

Mary ain’t wearing one of them poofy, lacy wedding dresses. She got on a white suit, white shoes, white hat, and even white gloves. So much white she looks like she was dipped in snow. Mary ain’t little and candy-cute like Molly, but she is pretty all the same. She is big, with moon titties and teeth long like a horse’s teeth, only they is whiter.

It takes me a while to find Floyd in the crowd. Floyd went to Sam’s Barber Shop in the morning, and Sam cut his hair short and slicked it down. All dressed up, his hair all slicked, and his fingers girly-clean, Floyd don’t even look like Floyd.

Everybody is having a good time—that is, except Molly, who is being real quiet and ain’t even looking at Jimmy like the other girls in the room are. As the guys are teasing Floyd and Mary about their honeymoon night, Molly and a red-haired girl go walking off. Jimmy watches her go, but he’s still laughing with the guys. Then that red-haired girl, she comes back and she tells Jimmy that Molly’s in the hallway crying and he’d better go talk to her. She’s looking at Jimmy like he done something wrong. I start tagging after Jimmy, but he tells me to stay put, so I do. When they come back, Molly’s eyes are blotchy, and she’s smiling, but she don’t look happy the whole rest of the night.

I’m still awake in my bed looking at my comic books when Jimmy gets back from taking Molly home. I take my comic book down to Jimmy’s room and ask him the question I didn’t get to ask before. “Hey, Jimmy, who you think is stronger, Captain Midnight or Superman?”

“I am,” Jimmy says, and he throws a pillow at me.

“What was Molly all sad about, Jimmy?”

Jimmy takes off his gangster pants and tosses ’em on his dresser, then he unbuttons his shirt and does the same. He goes to the dresser and rummages in the pocket of the shirt he just tossed and takes out his cigarettes. He lights one, jumps into bed, and covers up to his waist. “She wants us to get married before I leave.”

“You got enough to pay down on that Williams place, Jimmy?”

“Hell no,” he says. He’s combing his fingers through his hair. “And her daddy ain’t gonna let her marry me until I have a house to move her into either. Shit, I’m only gonna be gone a year. When I get back she can have one of those church weddings like girls always want. I’ll hang on to every cent I make in the Guard and see if I can save enough to make that down payment.”

“Jimmy?” I ask. “You remember how you said that after you get married, I get to go live with you?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay,” I say. “I just wanted to know if you still remembered.”

I sit on Jimmy’s bed and turn the page of my new Captain Midnight comic book. “I think Cap’ could beat up Superman,” I say. Jimmy, he don’t say nothing. He’s blowing smoke rings and thinking real hard. Downstairs, the radio is still playing. Jimmy gets up and grabs his pants. “Where you going?” I ask, and Jimmy says down to talk to Dad. I start to follow him, but Jimmy says he’s gotta talk to Dad alone.

I get outta bed after Jimmy goes downstairs, and on my hands and knees I peek down through the vent next to my bed. The kitchen is under the vent, and if you poke your head so close to the vent that you can feel the strands of dust tickling your nose, then you can hear and see everything that’s going on down there. Ma’s alone. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and her other hand is on her hip. She’s gawking around the kitchen like she’s making sure it’s clean enough. Daddy’s still on his chair in the living room. You can’t see more than a little ways into the living room, unless you’re looking down Jimmy’s vent, so I just lean over and see Dad’s legs that are crossed at the ankle.

Jimmy asks to talk to Dad, and Dad says, “What is it, son?”

“Can we step outside or something?”

Ma slides over to the doorway. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and Jimmy says there ain’t nothing wrong.

“Well, where are you guys going?”

“Just outside for a bit,” Dad says.

It’s a lot of hoopla for nothing, I decide, when Jimmy comes back upstairs and says Dad’s gonna borrow him the money to buy Molly one of them engagement rings. “Don’t say nothing to Ma, though. She’ll find out soon enough.”

The next morning, Jimmy wakes me up while it’s still dark outside. “Hey, Earwig, you want to ride with me over to the jewelry store in Ripley?” I rub the crusty gunk outta the corners of my eyes. “Sure,” I say, just ’cause Jimmy is leaving today and I’m missing him already and he ain’t even gone.

We drive to Ripley ’cause we ain’t got a jewelry store in Willowridge, but we gotta drive fast ’cause Jimmy and Floyd gotta be on the 2:15 bus.

“Hey, Jimmy, why do guys give their girls them dumb rings anyway?” I ask as we roar down the highway so fast the trees alongside it ain’t nothing but smears.

“Well, Earwig. It’s like a promise. When I give a ring to Molly, it means I promise to marry her, and if she accepts it, it means she’s promising to marry me.”

“Why can’t you just say the promise?”

“Well, ’cause girls like promises they can show off to their girlfriends.”

“Oh.”

“Well,” Jimmy says, “it’s a promise that the girl ain’t going to let anyone else feel her up too, and a promise that the guy ain’t going to hose any whores.”

Jimmy buys a ring that is little and sparkly like Molly, then he whistles most of the way home, and his whistle sounds all happy. I ain’t feeling happy, though. Today Jimmy is leaving for one whole year, and I’m gonna miss him something fierce.

When we get back home, Molly is at our house. Jimmy goes in, and he takes Molly’s hand and starts leading her up the stairs. Ma calls out, “Jimmy, what are you doing?” ’cause Jimmy ain’t supposed to bring girls up to his bedroom, but Dad tells Ma it’s okay.

When they come down, Molly’s eyes are shining with happy tears, and Jimmy is grinning like he just caught a ten-pound walleye. “Ma, Dad . . . Molly and I are engaged.” Ma’s hand clamps over her mouth and her eyes look like they are gonna bug right out of her head. Molly shoves her hand out so everyone can see her new ring. Dad hurries to shake Jimmy’s hand and gives Molly a hug. Ma kisses Molly’s cheek, but before she does, she gives Dad a mad look like she just caught him lying. Ma’s acting how she does when she wants to get the store cleaned up and some lady comes in and stays forever, flapping her gums about her aches and pains. She smiles then too, but it’s a smile that don’t creep up into her eyes.

When Ma and Dad stop fussing, Jimmy looks at me and says, “Well, Earwig?” and I say, “Well, what?” Dad laughs and tells me to congratulate my brother and his new fiancée. I feel sorta silly shaking Jimmy’s hand, ’cause I ain’t never done that before, so I’m glad when Jimmy starts jabbing little punches on my belly.

I stick out my hand to congratulate Molly too, and Molly takes it, then she gives me a big hug. I can feel her little titties right up against me, and her hair smells real good, like lemon cake. When she lets go of me, I feel downright dizzy and it feels like I got a campfire cooking under my cheeks. Jimmy grins and says I’d better not chase his girl while he’s gone, and everybody laughs.

Chapter 5

B
ig raindrops are plopping on our windshield as we drive Jimmy to the bus station. Ma and Dad are sitting in the front, and Jimmy and me are in the backseat, Molly smack-dab between us. Her and Jimmy got their heads tipped together, and Jimmy is rubbing Molly’s hand, real soft-like. I turn and look out the back window, and there is Floyd and Mary in the car behind us and they got their heads stuck together too.

Ma, she keeps reminding Jimmy that it’s just for a year, and Dad says it won’t be nothing but a Boy Scout camp. Molly’s eyes are dripping tears, but she don’t make a peep. Jimmy lifts her hand, the one that’s got that new ring on it, and he gives it little kisses, over and over again.

When we get to the bus depot, Ma starts telling Jimmy what all she packed for him, like he ain’t gonna see that for hisself when he opens his suitcase. “There’s stamps inside the pocket under the lid, and paper and envelopes too. You keep us posted. And I put some candy bars in the other side pocket, and don’t forget to change your socks every day because you know how your feet break out if you don’t.” But Jimmy ain’t listening. He’s looking at Molly, like he wants to cry too. Dad don’t say much. He just asks Jimmy if he’s sure he’s got enough money on him, and Jimmy nods.

“You take good care of my girl, Earwig,” Jimmy says when they say the passengers gotta board the bus. I grab Jimmy’s arm and tell him I want to go with him. Jimmy gives me a hug, and I bury my face right on his shoulder and cry like a titsy baby. I feel like a goddamn fool, blubbering like this, but ain’t nothing I can do to make the blubbering stop.

Daddy takes me by the shoulders. “Come on, Earl. Jimmy’s got to get on the bus now.” I still got ahold of Jimmy’s jacket, though, and I don’t want to let go. Ma takes my hand away and she pinches my wrist, just like she used to do when I was little and didn’t sit nice in church. She leans over to my shoulder and hisses quiet-like, “Jimmy feels bad enough about leaving without you making him feel worse.” So I swallow them tears and let go.

Jimmy gets on the bus, looking like a gray ghost as he moves down the aisle. Then Floyd, he has to board the bus too. He gives Mary a big kiss good-bye. Her face is all slobbery wet with tears, but he kisses her anyway. Dad shakes Floyd’s hand while he pats his shoulder, saying, “Take care, son,” then Ma and Molly give him a kiss and a hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Floyd,” I say, as I give him my hug. Floyd pats me on the back so hard I can hear thuds. “See ya, Earwig,” he says. “Don’t you go draining the millpond of suckers while we’re gone, and keep an eye on Mary for me.”

After Floyd gets on the bus, Mary and Molly stand together, holding each other at the waist and crying. We all wave as the bus pulls away.

We drive home with no sound in the car but for Ma’s crying. Nothing feels right, and I think maybe it ain’t gonna feel right for a long, long time.

Chapter 6

I
t’s Sunday, so I don’t gotta work in the store ’cause the store ain’t open on Sundays. Instead, I gotta go to church.

Ma sighs and groans as she rubs Brylcreem into my hair. That guy who sings about Brylcreem on the radio, he says that a little dab’ll do, but that’s a goddamn lie. Ma squeezes so much of that goo into my hair that it’s making soapy sounds. She digs the comb teeth into my scalp and slaps and pushes my hair, but when she’s done, it still stands up like quack grass. Ma spins me around and checks me over. She tells me to tuck my shirt into my pants better.

It ain’t goddamn fair that I gotta go to church with her all the time, and I tell her so, but I don’t say “goddamn” when I say it or I’m gonna be eating a bar of Lava soap and farting bubbles for a week. “You didn’t make Jimmy go to church when he was old as me. And Dad, he don’t gotta go on days he don’t feel like going.”

Dad is sitting on his chair, having his morning coffee. He looks over, but he don’t say nothing.

Ma starts to say something, then she stops. She’s got her lips painted cherry and her eyebrows pencil-drawed into boomerangs. She’s got a blue hat on that, I shit you not, she puts on by poking a pin long as my finger right into her head. She drops her hands and looks at me, like I ain’t looking so good, then she sighs and says I don’t have to go.

Soon as Ma leaves, I rip them Sunday clothes off and I put on my flannel shirt and overalls. I put on a regular pair of socks, then slip one of them wool pairs over ’em, ’cause it’s colder than a witch’s tit now that it’s December. I race down the stairs so fast I almost fall on my ass.

“I’m going over to Eddie’s,” I tell Dad, and he nods. By this time of year, it seems like it just gets light and it starts getting dark again. By the time Eddie gets home from school and eats his supper, and by the time Ma and me lock up the store and have our supper, it’s blacker than a bear’s ass and I can’t go nowhere. I gotta wait ’til Sundays to have any fun in the winter.

I stand inside Eddie’s front door, my boots staying on the rug so I don’t slop up his ma’s waxed floor. Her and Eddie are decorating the Christmas tree they got propped in the corner, even though it won’t be Christmas for a lot more days. “Can Eddie come out and play?” I ask.

“Well, we
were
decorating the tree,” his ma says. Her name is Pearl McCarty, and she is short and turkey-fat like Eddie. She is real nice.

I look at the tree. “Maybe you should let Eddie come out and play instead,” I say, “’cause it don’t look like he knows how to decorate a tree real good anyhow. He’s got all them bulbs in that one spot right there, and the rest of that tree looks butt-naked.” Eddie’s ma laughs a little, but she stops laughing when Eddie asks her if I can help decorate the tree too.

“The decorating can wait until later, Eddie,” she says, then she comes over to me ’cause I’m standing close to where the front closet is, and she gets out Eddie’s winter stuff.

“We probably ain’t gonna have a tree this year,” I tell her. “Ma said she don’t even feel like having Christmas this year, ’cause Jimmy ain’t coming home for Christmas anyway.”

“Oh, your poor mother,” Pearl McCarty says as she starts stuffing Eddie into his brown snowsuit. “Where is your brother now, Earl? Is he in Kentucky, or Louisiana? He’s in the National Guard, right? Oh, I just can’t keep track of whose son is where anymore.”

“He ain’t in neither place, Mrs. McCarty. First he went to a place called Fort Knox, and him and Floyd and the rest of them Janesville guys, they got sweared in to the real army and now they is Company A of the 192nd Battalion. That’s a tank battalion.” I can’t help feeling proud when I tell her this stuff, ’cause I had to have Dad tell me them numbers lots of times before I remembered ’em good enough to tell people when they ask about Jimmy. “Then last summer, they got sent to some other camp. I can’t remember where. They was learning more about how to be soldiers there. He liked it there too. They had to work hard, but Jimmy is tough, so he didn’t mind. They played cards there, and guys who could play music played for ’em at night. They had a baseball team too, and Jimmy pitched and his team didn’t get beat, not even once.”

Eddie’s ma is stuffing Eddie’s hands, round and white like two snowballs, into his mittens. Eddie starts fussing ’cause his thumb ain’t in the thumb part, and his ma takes the mitten off and starts over. “Well, Jimmy was always real good at baseball,” she says.

“He sure always was, ma’am,” I say. “But Jimmy ain’t there no more. He wrote around Halloween time, and that letter come clear from San Francisco. That’s way across the country, Mrs. McCarty, ’case you don’t know that. Jimmy and Floyd and the rest of them guys, they were at some ‘deplortment’ place they called it, where they got shots so they don’t get the tetanus, ’cause they was getting shipped overseas—that means they had to go across the ocean.”

“I hate shots, Earlwig,” Eddie says, and I tell him I know that already.

Eddie’s ma is shoving Eddie’s feet into his boots, and she is grunting real hard. “Straighten your toes and push, Eddie.” Then she says to me, “Where overseas, Earl?”

“Well, they taked a ship over to this place called Manila. Just like
vanilla
, but with a
mmm
sound. They got there on Thanksgiving Day, Jimmy thought it was. Then from there, they taked a train to Clark Field, I think it’s called, in the Philippines. You know where that is, Mrs. McCarty?”

“Well, I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know exactly where it is,” Eddie’s ma says as she hangs on to the wall so she can hoist herself up, then grabs Eddie’s hand and pulls him up. He’s so fat with clothes he can’t hardly move.

“Well, Dad showed me where it is on this map he’s got in a book. You can’t even see it good on there, though. Those islands look like little dots, but Dad says if you could see that place better, it would look like a thumb pointing into the water. They got palm trees there, Jimmy said in his letter. You ever see a palm tree before, Mrs. McCarty? Dad showed me in a picture. Craziest-looking trees I ever see’d. Anyway, Jimmy says it’s nice there. It’s hot, but it’s real nice there, Jimmy says.”

“You must miss your brother very much,” Mrs. McCarty says.

“I sure do, ma’am, but it don’t hurt like a toothache in my guts all the time no more, making me so sick I can’t eat. Now it’s more like when you got a bruise, how it don’t hurt all the time, just when you bump it. Sometimes I still think I hear Jimmy’s car, or I forget he ain’t in his room and go to tell him something.” Mrs. McCarty looks like she’s gonna cry for a second.

“Louie is gone now too, and so is John. They’re my friends. Louie signed up for the Navy right after Jimmy and Floyd left. I’d rather fly on an airplane, but Louie, he likes ships best. He’s done now with that training stuff and he’s on a boat in a place called Hawaii. John was gonna wait to get drafted, but then he, he”—I know I can’t say that John was shit-canned at the factory, so I gotta stop a minute and think—“he didn’t have a job no more, so he thought he might as well join up with the army instead of doing nothing but waiting around to get drafted. He’s at Camp McCoy now. That’s right here in Wisconsin.”

Eddie’s ma is shutting the closet door. I don’t think she’s listening no more, ’cause all she says is, “That’s nice,” when what’s nice about having all your friends gone ’cept Eddie?

Eddie’s ma holds the door open. I take Eddie’s arm and give him a tug down the steps. She reminds us not to stay out too long and tells me to be sure and walk Eddie home when we’re done playing.

Me and Eddie go to the woods off Circle Road and we find sticks long enough to be rifles. Then we start looking for swish marks in the snow, the ones that look like a feather was dragged across it, ’cause them would be rabbit tracks. When we hunt, we bring our hound with us. Eddie named our dog Spot, like in his reading book. Spot ain’t no real dog, just a play dog, but just like Scout, he’s one smart dog.

We don’t see no real rabbits today, so we shoot at the rabbits we don’t see, and Spot races to fetch ’em. He brings ’em back, and they flop, all dead, from his mouth. “Good boy, good boy!” we tell Spot, and we scratch him behind the ear.

When I get tired of hunting rabbits, I start to thinking about how maybe we should hunt Japs. I think I see one of them slant-eyed bastards behind a tree, so I yell out, “Japs!” I run real fast and dive behind a falled-over tree.

Eddie starts to screaming. “Where? Where?”

“Right there! Behind that clump of sumac! Watch it, there’s some in those red pines too! Get down, Eddie! Get down!”

I prop my rifle up on that rotted tree and I shoot, “Pow! Pow! Pow!” I’m powing all over them goddamn trees, but Eddie, he’s just standing there scared as shit. He drops his rifle and covers his eyes with his mittens. “Earlwig!” he screams.

I get up and run to Eddie, quick, before he pisses his pants. First I try to tell him that they ain’t for-real Japs I’m shooting at, but play Japs, but Eddie, he’s so busy screaming he can’t hear me. I figure the only way to make those Japs be gone so Eddie stops screaming is to shoot all those bastards dead. I pick up his rifle and shove it back into his mittens. “There, Eddie. Behind the palm trees. Shoot, quick, before they kill us dead! Open your goddamn eyes, Eddie, so you can see ’em!”

Eddie opens his eyes and his eyeballs bounce all over inside them sockets. Then he grins a bit, like he finally gets it that them Japs is just play Japs, and he starts making his rifle pow too. When we is done, them dead Japs are laying all over and Spot is trying to fetch ’em. I shout to Spot to leave ’em there, ’cause what in the hell we gonna do with dead Japs anyway?

We play ’til Eddie’s nose is running snot and he’s whining ’cause he’s cold, then I walk him home, just like I’m suppose to. “Earlwig, is Jimmy fighting Japs?”

“Dad says Jimmy ain’t doing nothing but holding down the fort over there in that Pacific. But it ain’t a real fort, not like Daniel Boone was in, anyway. It’s what’s called an army base. Him and Floyd and the rest of them Janesville ninety-nine, they is holding down that place, along with some Filipino guys, Dad says.”

“Well, it’s good he ain’t fighting Japs, because he could get kilt if he was.”

“He wouldn’t get killed, Eddie,” I say. “Jimmy’s the best shot there is. He’d kill any Jap that even peeked at him cross-eyed from behind one of them crazy trees. He’d shoot before that Jap even had time to fart.” Eddie laughs when I say “fart.”

Mrs. McCarty opens the door before we even get up the steps. Her hand is wrapped around her neck and she looks all shook up. She guides Eddie by the back of his head into the house and tells me I’d better hurry on home. Something about the way she says it makes me feel scared in my stomach, so I run all the way, my breath coming in gray puffs like diesel-engine smoke.

When I get home, the whole store is filled up with ladies even though it’s Sunday and the store ain’t even suppose to be open. I hear men talking in the house part too. Ma is carrying a tray of coffee cups from the kitchen and Ethel Larson hurries to help her ’cause them cups are rattling on that tray. Edna Pritchard is there, and Betty Flannery, and even Eva Leigh, with that slobbery baby on her poked-out hip. Them ladies got teary-red eyes. The radio is on, but they are making so much racket, I can’t tell what’s on. First I think it must be that show them ladies listen to,
Backstage Wife
, and maybe they is upset ’cause that Mary Noble died or something.

When they are quiet long enough to hear anything, there ain’t nothing on that radio but the Philharmonic Orchestra, and even though I don’t like that program either, I know damn well that music ain’t enough to make somebody cry.

I go over by Eva Leigh, figuring she’d be the most likely to tell me what’s going on and ’cause she’s standing the farthest away from Mrs. Pritchard. Eva Leigh is rocking side to side like she’s trying to shut up her baby, but he ain’t even fussing. He’s just biting on his fist and making more slobber. “The Japanese—” She don’t even get her words out, when suddenly all them ladies are going “Shhh, shhh!” and waving their hands at each other.

They make so much racket saying “Shhhhh” that it takes a minute before we can hear the radio announcer say what we were suppose to shush for. “Hank!” Ma calls, and Daddy, Ben Olson, Charles Flannery, and Delbert Larson come into the store. That radio is all staticky when them news reporters are talking from faraway places, but still I make out enough words to hear ’em say that them Japs, they attacked a place called Pearl Harbor from the air, which means they flew over like Captain Midnight and dropped a shitload of bombs.

I lean down to Eva Leigh and ask her where Pearl Harbor is, ’cause I ain’t never heard of that place before and I hope to hell it ain’t in that Pacific where Jimmy is. Eva is busy looking across the store, where I notice that Louie’s ma, Louise Olson, is sitting on the stool Ma keeps in the store for when her legs get tired. Louise Olson is crying, and Ma is rubbing her back a bit with one hand and dabbing at her worried eyes with the other.

“I didn’t know either, until your ma told me. It’s in Hawaii,” Eva finally answers.

“Where Louie is?”

Eva is rocking so hard she’s bumping against me, but she don’t notice. “Yes,” she says, and her voice ain’t hardly more than a whisper.

That reporter, he says that the bombing in Pearl Harbor, it’s been going on pert’ near two hours. Louise Olson lets out a little cry. Then that news guy says he’s got to get off the air so that goddamn orchestra can play some more, but he don’t say “goddamn.”

Dad slams his fist down on the counter. “We’re getting attacked, for crissakes. You’d think those goddamn advertisers could give up enough airtime to let us find out what in the hell’s going on.”

My legs don’t feel like they are there anymore, and my insides are so jumpity that I’m scared I’m gonna start slapping my head. I don’t even see Dad come up to me. He don’t say nothing, he just puts his arm across my shoulder, and his arm holds that fear down a little bit.

The radio starts playing music again, and everybody is talking. Daddy leaves me and joins the guys. They are cussing about the Japs, who they say was talking out of their asses when they was talking peace to Washington.