Jimmy (10 page)

“Is that John the first Baptist?” Jimmy asked Daddy.

“Yes, the original article.”

Jimmy sat up to pay closer attention. Brother Fitzgerald reached the climax of his message with loud cries for repentance.

“And if you don't repent, you will all perish!” he thundered, and then he stopped to let the words find their mark.

“He's not really mad,” Jimmy whispered to Daddy. “He's having fun.”

“I know. Be quiet.”

The sermon lasted until 12:10 p.m. and was followed by the altar call. Several people went forward to the front of the church. Some cried; others seemed happy. The choir continued to sing as Brother Fitzgerald called for more people to come forward. Daddy flipped through his Bible and checked his watch.

Jimmy's mind left the sanctuary and wandered past Mr. Morton's fishing story to images of fuzzy green worms eaten by white-haired missionaries and crunchy locusts dipped in wild honey.

—
Seven
—

A
fter the final
amen
, the sanctuary immediately echoed with a hundred conversations. Even folks in a hurry allowed a few minutes to tell their neighbors hello. Anything less would have been rude.

Daddy left the pew and went outside, where he usually spent time with his friends under one of the large trees. Jimmy felt more comfortable beside Mama. Standing in a group of men and not knowing what to say made him nervous. He waited patiently while Mama worked out a schedule to provide meals to a family with a sick mother in the hospital. He followed her down the aisle into the bright sunshine.

“Go get your daddy,” she said. “We need to get the food out of the oven and take it to Uncle Bart's house as soon as possible. The Methodists have been out at least twenty minutes. Your aunt Jill will be miles ahead of me in getting dinner ready.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Jimmy found Daddy talking to Mr. Robinson and two other lawyers who attended the church. Jimmy's hope that he could pull on Daddy's sleeve unnoticed proved hollow.

“Here comes the witness now!” Mr. Robinson exclaimed.

Without his black robe, the judge looked like an ordinary person. “What did you think about my courtroom?” he asked.

Jimmy thought for a moment and tried to give an answer that would make Daddy proud of him. “Uh, it had pews and made me think about the church.”

One of the lawyers slapped the judge on the back and raised his eyes toward the sky. “If only more people viewed the halls of justice with the same reverence they do the sanctuary of the Almighty.”

“The boy is right,” Mr. Robinson shot back. “And I'll expect you to start showing proper reverence or find yourself in contempt. I may not be able to send you to a place of eternal punishment, but I can make you regret your stay on earth. What else did you notice about court?” the judge asked Jimmy.

“Uh, I think it would be nice if you had a red coat.”

“What does he mean?” Mr. Robinson asked Daddy.

Jimmy wanted to shrink into the ground.

“He means a red robe. It would give the court a little variety.”

“That could be fixed easily enough,” the other lawyer replied. “The judge could join the choir and use the same robe on Sunday and the rest of the week.”

Mr. Robinson shook his head. “A good idea, but my singing voice is perpetually trapped between two notes with no way to get out.”

Jimmy pulled on Daddy's sleeve. “Mama says it's time to go.”

“There is the true voice of authority in our society, gentlemen,” Mr. Robinson said. “I may hold sway in my courtroom for a few hours a week, but what is that compared to the perennial power of a woman?”

Jimmy and Daddy found Mama talking to Grandma.

When Jimmy came close, he heard Mama say, “We need a plan. I'll talk to you later in the week.”

They got into the car, and Daddy turned the air conditioner up as high as it would go. Jimmy glanced sideways and saw Mr. Morton leave the parking lot with his car window down and a red kerchief pressed against his brow. People leaving the church caused five minutes of busy traffic on the otherwise empty streets.

They drove home but didn't change clothes. Sunday dinner with relatives was part of the day's religious activities, and everyone wore nice clothes. Only after the dessert plates were carried to the kitchen did the men take off their jackets and go into the den to watch sports on TV.

Jimmy held the front door open while Mama carried out hot casseroles. Daddy arranged the dishes in a large cardboard box in the trunk of the car and wedged them in with towels to keep them from sliding around and spilling.

It took about five minutes to drive to Uncle Bart and Aunt Jill's house. Daddy pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the two-car garage. Several other cars were in the driveway.

“Look at Bart's lawn,” Mama said. “It's so green.”

“He put in a sprinkler system that runs at night,” Daddy responded.

“Does Walt cut the grass?” Jimmy asked.

“No, his father hired a company to do it.”

As they walked to the front door, Jimmy spoke to Mama.

“Can I stay with you? I don't want to play with Walt.”

“You have been getting along fine recently, and I'm sure you don't want to hurt his feelings. I'll make sure not to let you wander off together.”

“Sometimes he's nice, but mostly he's mean.”

“I'll keep an eye out for you,” Mama said. “Have a good attitude.”

Jimmy followed his parents.

“Do you want to ring the doorbell?” Mama asked.

“No, ma'am.”

Aunt Jill opened the door. She was taller and heavier than Mama with blond hair and brown eyes. Uncle Bart, Mama's younger brother, shared his sister's reddish-brown hair but had a bigger nose.

“Come in,” Aunt Jill beckoned. “Everyone else is here.”

Inside were friends whom Uncle Bart and Aunt Jill considered close enough to invite for Sunday dinner. In addition to the adults, there were several very small children and three teenage girls. Walt wasn't in sight. None of the other guests were relatives of the Mitchells. Jimmy kept close to Mama's side during the round of greetings and hugs.

“Where's Walt?” he whispered.

Mama glanced around and then turned to Uncle Bart, who was carrying a basket of rolls to the dining room table. “Bart, where is Walt?”

“Upstairs in his room. He's being punished until we sit down to eat.”

Jimmy wanted to know what his cousin had done wrong, but Uncle Bart offered no explanation.

There were three tables set up for the meal: adults only, children who could eat unsupervised, and children who needed parental assistance. Jimmy, the teenage girls, and Walt were in the second group.

When the food was ready, Uncle Bart called upstairs. “Walt! Come eat!”

There was no answer. Everyone grew quiet. Uncle Bart walked partway up the stairs.

“Walt! Can you hear me? Come eat!”

Walt appeared at the top of the stairs and slowly came down. He was a male version of his mother, tall and slightly overweight with sandy-blond hair. He would be a junior at the high school in the fall.

“Walt, you've grown an inch or two in the past month,” Daddy said. “Has Coach Nixon seen you recently?”

“Football bores me,” Walt answered.

“I've tried to encourage him,” Uncle Bart said. “In a few months he could bulk up enough to make varsity. He's a lot stronger than he realizes. His arms are busting out of his shirt.”

Jimmy looked at Walt's arms. They were definitely getting bigger. Jimmy knew that special boys weren't allowed to play high school football; however, Daddy had told him that he might be able to serve as a manager. Jimmy wasn't sure what that meant, but Daddy had promised to explain it to him during the upcoming season. The Mitchell family, like many residents of Cattaloochie County, never missed a Friday night game.

Daddy spoke. “In my day, it would have taken a medical excuse for a big healthy boy like you to avoid going out for football.”

“I like football,” Jimmy added in a soft voice.

“Then why don't you play?” Walt asked.

“Walt!” Uncle Bart said. “Do you want to go back upstairs?”

Walt didn't answer but walked past his father toward the kitchen. Daddy and Uncle Bart moved toward their seats at the table for grown-ups. Mama helped Jimmy pour a glass of iced tea. He took it to a table set up in a wide hallway between the dining room and den. A hand gripped his left arm.

“What's up, squirt?” Walt asked.

Jimmy didn't answer. He tried to pull away. Walt's grip tightened, and he spoke into Jimmy's ear.

“Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you. It's not good manners.”

Jimmy looked for Mama, but the adults were not in sight.

“Stop it,” Jimmy said. “I want to get my food and eat.”

Walt released his hold. “Of course; we'll go together.”

Jimmy knew it was useless to complain. Adults had decided that Walt would be his tablemate, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dinner was served buffet-style with the smaller children going first. Mama helped Jimmy fill his plate.

“Walt is in a bad mood,” Jimmy whispered after his cousin had left the line.

“That's because he got in trouble before we arrived. It will be better after we eat.”

Jimmy sighed and went back to his table.

“Do you want me to cut up your meat?” Walt asked.

“No, thank you,” Jimmy said.

Walt picked up the table knife and rubbed it against his thumb. “Are you safe to use this? You might cut yourself.”

“No. I have a real knife at home.”

“I'd like to see it. I can do lots of things with knives.”

“I'd have to ask Mama. It's not a toy.”

Walt leaned over close and said, “I know you're a mama's boy, but there isn't anything wrong with that. I think it's kind of cute.”

One of the girls at the table spoke to Walt, and they began to talk about school. Jimmy wasn't very hungry, but he picked away at his food, keeping his head down and trying to think about something happy, like washing Deputy Askew's car. He finished eating without any more trouble from Walt, who seemed to like talking to the girls.

Aunt Jill rang a little bell, signaling that the dessert table was open. Jimmy didn't need Mama's help in choosing dessert. Everyone
rushed into the room, creating momentary chaos around the banana pudding bowl. Jimmy liked Aunt Jill's banana pudding but didn't try to force his way to the large round container. He waited his turn and took a piece of Mama's pineapple upside-down cake along with a thin sliver of German chocolate cake. He stopped by to show Mama his plate.

“How are you doing with Walt?” she asked.

“Okay,” he answered. “Are we going to stay a long time?”

Mama patted him on the arm. “We can't eat and run. It would be bad manners.”

Jimmy had an idea. “Can I help clean the dishes?”

Mama looked down at the nice china. “You would have to be very careful.”

“I'll hold each one with both hands,” Jimmy promised.

“We'll see. Go enjoy your dessert. Thanks for selecting my cake.”

Jimmy returned to the table. Walt had a massive portion of banana pudding that threatened to spill onto the tablecloth. He looked at Jimmy's plate.

“Hey, I can't eat all this. Why don't you have some?”

“Uh, thanks.”

Walt scraped some pudding onto Jimmy's plate. Jimmy saw a salt shaker near Walt's hand and took a small bite of the pudding. Several times in the past, Walt had given Jimmy bad food and then laughed at his reaction. Today it tasted fine.

“What do you want to do after we eat?” Walt asked.

“I'm going to help with the dishes.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No.”

“Then skip it.”

Jimmy didn't answer. He finished his dessert and took his plate into the kitchen. Aunt Jill, wearing a white apron trimmed in pink, stood at the sink scraping excess food down the disposal.

“I'm here to help,” Jimmy announced.

Jill looked over her shoulder. “That's sweet, Jimmy, but the ladies will take care of it. You'll just be in the way. Check with Walt. I'm sure he has something you can do together.”

Jimmy remained planted in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“I'm here to help,” he repeated. “I'll be careful not to break anything.”

Aunt Jill dried her hands on her apron and turned toward him.

“No, thank you,” she said in a voice that left no room for debate.

Walt stuck his head in the kitchen door. “There you are. I told you not to mess with the dishes. You'll break more than you clean.”

“Don't be mean,” Aunt Jill said. “You should offer to help sometime.”

Mama came into the kitchen.

“Jimmy wanted to clean the plates, but I told him to go have fun,” Aunt Jill said.

“I'll read to him,” Walt suggested.

“Go ahead,” Mama said. “I'll help clean up.”

“Come up to my room,” Walt said.

Jimmy followed his cousin upstairs. Walt had a large bedroom. He, like Jimmy, did not have any brothers or sisters. A computer workstation filled one corner of the room. A large-screen TV with surround-sound speakers sat in another.

“How does it feel being retarded?” Walt asked as soon as they entered the bedroom. “I mean, what is it like to be inside your stupid head?”

Jimmy stopped. “I'm going to tell Mama what you said.”

Walt stepped around him and blocked the door. “I'm kidding. Can't you take a joke?”

Jimmy wanted to push the larger boy aside.

“Be nice, or I'll tell,” he responded.

Walt held up his hands. “I'm terrified.”

Walt closed the door and locked it. He opened the bottom drawer of his computer desk and took out several magazines. He flipped through them and handed one to Jimmy.