Chapter 3By the time Jimmy got through at the doctor's, it was rush hour again. Only this time, Daddy didn't fuss at the other drivers. He didn't yell and shake his fist. He didn't even mumble stuff that I couldn't understand. He just drove the car. He and Mama didn't say a word.
Afternoon rush hour was even worse than in the morning. The cars were packed together almost as close as we had been in the parking garage. Daddy had to drive so slowly that Jimmy couldn't stick his hand out the window and play airplane in the wind.
Jimmy finally got bored. He lay down in the seat and put his head in my lap. Usually when he did this, I shoved him off and told him to stay on his own side of the car.
This time I didn't.
He almost always flopped and wiggled around a lot. But now, his head just stayed in one spot -- real tiredlike. There were little Band-Aids on his arms, and he went right to sleep without even squirming.
We hadn't driven far on the four-lane when Daddy askedMama if she wanted to eat at Applewoods.
I liked Applewoods. It was a fun place to eat. From the time we'd get there until the food came, this lady would come around with a basket and put apple fritters on our plates. They were fried-bread things, covered with lots of powdered sugar and with little chunks of apple inside.
"I want to go home," was all Mama said.
The way she said it scared me. Her voice cracked like she was crying. I tried to lean over and see if she had tears, only with Jimmy's head in my lap, I couldn't get far enough to see her face.
When we got to Chickasha, Daddy stopped at Hardee's. In the drive-through he and Mama got a salad. Jimmy and I got a hamburger and fries and everybody got a shake. We went home to eat.
I was still worried about Mama because she didn't talk much or eat much of her salad. She only played with it. Mama didn't have any tears though.
When we finished, Mama went to her room. She said she was going to take a nap. Daddy went out to mow the yard.
Now, I was really getting worried. Mama never took a nap. Daddy never mowed the lawn this late in the evening. Besides, he just mowed it last week.
Something was wrong, and nobody would tell me what. Jimmy blew some more bubbles in his shake, then finished slurping the foam off the bottom of the cup. I took our trash and put it in the can in the kitchen. We went outside to play on the tire swing in the backyard. I shoved Jimmy -- trying to keep the tire straight so it wouldn't spin around and around.
"What did the doctor say?" I asked when I shoved.
"Nothing," he answered, swooping back to me.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
I shoved again.
"Are you sick?"
He swung to me.
"I don't know."
I shoved it again.
"Do you have to go again?"
He swung back to me.
"I don't know."
This time, instead of shoving him, I caught the tire "Were you in there, right before we went home, with Mama and Daddy?"
"Yes."
"Was the doctor with you?"
"Yes."
"Did he talk to Mama and Daddy?"
"Yes."
"Well...what did he say?"
There was a long pause.
"I don't know."
I ground my teeth together. Little brothers sure are dumb sometimes.
"Look," I said, turning the tire so he had to face me, "you were in there. The doctor was in there. And he was talking to Mama and Daddy. Surely you heard them talking."
Jimmy shrugged.
"Yeah. But they were using big words and talking soft and I don't know what they were talking about. I couldn't understand the words."
My shoulders sagged. I think grown-ups talk like that when they don't want kids to know what's going on. I started shoving Jimmy's tire again.
I got him going real fast before pushing on one side of the tire, as hard as I could. He spun round and round and round. Jimmy squealed and laughed -- that high, squeaky laugh that sounded like tiny bells jingling in a tin bucket.
After that, we played catch with the Nerf soccer ball. Jimmy told me about the needles they poked him with and all the blood they took out of his arm and about a big, cold table he had to lie on so they could take something called X rays and about a thing like a cave that they put him in. He said the table they made him lie on slid right into the cave. There were lights on the walls of the cave and it made a loud, roaring noise and it went in a circle around him. He wanted to take off running and get out of the cave, but the nurses told him to lie very, very still and not to move. He said they made it sound awfully important and scary, so even though he was so scared he wanted to run, he didn't.
"I felt like, if I tried to run, the cave monster or something was gonna get me."
He laughed when he said that. I laughed, too.
We talked some more and I told him about Daddy and me going to watch the big machines at the new mall. I told him about the huge thing with big tires that looked like a truck, only it had blades on the bottom that scooped up the dirt as it drove across the top of a hill. There were a bunch of machines like that, and they would take the dirt and dump it beside the creeks or gullies, before bulldozers would shove it into the over it to pack it down.
Then we decided to go in and watch John Wayne and The Cowboys on the VCR. While Jimmy was finding the right tape, I glanced out the front window to see how Daddy was doing with the lawn.
He screwed the gas cap back on the mower and set the gas can on the driveway. He tugged on the starter rope a couple of times. It didn't start.
He fiddled with something on the side of the mower, then pulled the rope a couple more times. It still didn't start.
I knew what was coming next.
Only...what was supposed to happen didn't happen. Daddy didn't kick the lawn mower. He didn't yell at it. He didn't call it bad names that made Mama's face turn red or made her put her hands over our ears.
He didn't do anything.
Instead, he plopped down on his bottom, right in the middle of the front yard. He put his face in his hands and just sat there.
I knew something was wrong. Now I was really scared -- scared more than I could ever remember. But, as I said, when you're a big brother, you can't be scared. So I went in and watched The Cowboys with Jimmy.
About halfway through the movie, Jimmy had to go to the bathroom. I went in the kitchen where Mama was. I walked right up to her and put my hands on my hips.
"What's wrong with Jimmy?" I demanded.
Mama reached out and hugged me tight against her. I thought she was crying because of the way her tummy jerked, only I couldn't see any tears.
"Nothing," she managed.
Daddy came in about then. He was all dusty and grungy from mowing the dirt (there wasn't much grass to mow). I turned to him.
"What's wrong with Jimmy?"
He ruffled my hair and looked at Mama.
"Nothing."
Something was wrong. Bad wrong. And since nobody would tell me what, I was going to find out for myself.
Copyright © 1990 by Bill Wallace