Carry Me Home Page 4

  One thing I know for sure is that when I get twenty-one, you ain’t gonna catch me running off and getting drop-dead drunk with my buddies, then going into some National Guard place with the only buddy who’s still standing and signing myself up for Guard duty just ’cause the buddy with the new big-titted girlfriend dared me to before he passed out. No sirree, I ain’t gonna do that, but that’s what Jimmy did.

  He come home three days later, his hair matted like a collie’s ass, dried puke streaked down his shirt, and Ma, who is worried sick, and Molly, who is mad as hell, they start chewing on him like he’s a dead fox and they is hungry crows. Now, when you piss off a guy, you don’t gotta say you’re sorry even after you shoot ’em in the head with bird shot, but when you piss off a girl, saying “I’m sorry” ain’t even good enough. You gotta say it about a hundred times, and you gotta yammer on and on about how dumb you are and how you don’t blame ’em if they never speak to you again. Jimmy says all them things, and he looks mighty sorrowful when he says ’em, but Ma and Molly, they just stand there with their arms crossed over their titties and their lips stretched into crabby little lines.

  Nobody stays mad at Jimmy long, though. Not once Jimmy gets word from them National Guard people that he’s gotta show up for active duty in one week. Ma fusses at Dad when Jimmy gets the news, telling him he should go down to Janesville and get Jimmy’s name scratched right off that sign-up sheet. “Tell them Jimmy is a foolish boy who did it on a dare while he was drunk. Tell them he didn’t know what he was doing.” Dad looks at her like she’s gone nuts. Then he says, “The draft went into effect today, Eileen. Jimmy would be heading in that direction anyway.”

  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 dri
ve 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

  Big 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

  It’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 an
yhow. 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.