The following is excerpted from a novel I am currently writing.
Reggie kept picking up the ball and throwing it. First in one direction, then after walking over to pick it up, in another direction. He was mindful of not throwing the ball near his mother and baby sister who were sitting in a lounge chair. Reggie was also being careful to avoid his father and big brother who were constructing a tree fort. He had started the morning helping his dad and brother Jerry — or at least trying to — but handing them tools or holding something for them or fetching them a glass of water was no fun, so he began playing with the ball. Reggie’s sister, Lisa, was only two years old, he loved her and liked to spontaneously hug her or hold her hand while they walked, but she wasn’t much fun to play with. Right now mom was reading her books. It seemed that when she wasn’t doing chores around the house or cooking, Reggie’s mother was always reading. Sometimes she read to Reggie, sometimes to Lisa and sometimes she read books herself, ones without pictures in them that seemed incomprehensible to Reggie.
Reggie finally got bored with throwing the ball to no one and went over to watch his dad and Jerry work on the tree fort. If you asked him straight out Reggie would have said he loved his father and brother. They were big strong men who helped make him feel secure. He liked sitting in his father’s lap and watching TV and enjoyed rough-housing with Jerry. However Reggie felt a little bit of distance from the two older men. Neither was tender with him. Neither gave him warm, affectionate hugs or cooed “I love you” to him like his mom did. Nor did either of them make him laugh or feel special. Reggie was only six years old and didn’t have the words for it but if he did he would have said that he seemed more like a fun accessory to his dad and Jerry than a real person. But Reggie’s mother made him feel like he was a special person worthy of all the love she could give.
Bored watching Dad and Jerry work, Reggie walked over to his mother and Lisa who were about to start his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham. Mom made room for him on her lap and as she did so Lisa leaned over and kissed Reggie on his cheek. Because Lisa was forever kissing him on the cheek, Reggie didn’t give it a thought but he reflexively wiped the wetness away. As Mom started the story, Reggie checked to make sure his father wasn’t looking in their direction, he was pretty sure Dad would have admonished for joining Lisa on Mom’s lap. Dad was increasingly trying to get Reggie to act more like a grown up man. “Start being a tough guy, Reggie, you’re not a baby anymore,” he’d say. Reggie wanted to please his father but he was confused by exactly what he wanted. It seemed like Dad wanted him to act all grown-up like Jerry, who was eleven. But Reggie didn’t feel ready. He liked sitting in his mother’s lap, he liked playing with his sister, he liked playing with kids his own age and he liked the freedom to play unsupervised sometimes while still being able to run inside and get cozy with his mom.
By the time Green Eggs and Ham was finished Lisa had fallen asleep. Reggie climbed off his mother’s lap as she carried the little girl into the house and put her down for a nap. Reggie stood outside wondering what to do next. He thought about re-joining his dad and brother but the thought made him a little sad. Maybe instead he’d play with some of his outdoor toys like his truck and bulldozer. But he knew this would involve dirt and that he’d get all messy and that might annoy his mother because Grandma would be coming over soon. Reggie always got excited when Grandma came over. It made the day special. Two years before Grandpa had died of a heart attack and everyone had been real sad for a long time, especially Grandma who always seemed to have a sad expression and tears in her eyes. Grandpa had been sixty years old when he died which still seemed like a huge number to Reggie, but everyone talked about how young he was and what a tragedy it was that he had died just before retirement. Two years on Reggie could barely remember his grandfather.
Grandma was as nice to Reggie as his mom was. She always brought him and his siblings a present or candy and when they went to her place she always had a gift and cake or ice cream waiting for them. Grandma never had a harsh or angry word for or about anyone and now that she was used to Grandpa being dead, she was smiling all the time again and seemed happy. Reggie remembered his mother saying to Dad something about how she was relieved after selling all of Grandpa’s businesses and his holdings. Reggie had no idea what it meant but it sounded complicated and unfathomable but he was glad it made Grandma feel better.
Ultimately Reggie decided not to play with his outdoor toys. Clouds had suddenly appeared and blocked the sun and the nice breeze they’d been enjoying turned into a strong wind. So now it was cold and Reggie thought he’d go inside and play there. First he checked on his mom who had started getting lunch ready.
“What’s today, Mom?”
“If you mean what day of the week, it’s Monday. If you mean what occasion, it’s Columbus Day.”
“And Columbus was the man who found America so that’s why there’s no school today?”
“Well yes, Reggie. Actually, Columbus didn’t discover America, there were already a lot of people. The Indians, you know who I mean by Indians.”
“Sure I do. But why do we have a holiday for Columbia if he didn’t do anything?”
“It’s Columbus, sweetie, not Columbia. Columbia is the name of a river and of a university back East. But that’s an excellent question. Columbus, you see, was the first European to come here and because of him many, many more people came from Europe and before you knew it the United States was born.”
“Oh.” Reggie said flatly. He wasn’t entirely clear on any of it, least of all why there was no school because it was the birthday of a person who hadn’t even discovered anything. Reggie decided to change the subject.
“When’s grandma going to be here?”
“Soon.”
“She’s not all sad all the time anymore like she used to he, huh?”
“That’s right sweetie. Well, she is sad still that your grandfather died and always will be, but she’s able to be happy a lot of the time. It helps her a lot to see you and Lisa and Jerry.”
“And you too, huh, Mom?”
“Yes and me too.” Esther Polk patted her son on the head and feeling that wasn’t enough bent down and gave him a hug.
Reggie strolled around the house aimlessly, even though they’d live in their big house on Oak Street since he was two, Reggie was still awed by the size of their home. There were so many rooms to explore. He wandered into his parents’ bedroom which was at once the most boring room in the house — there was, after all, nothing fun in it — but still the most comforting. If he had a bad dream he could always come into the room and get into bed on his Mom’s side. The room was the safest place on Earth to Reggie. His brother’s room was scary because if Jerry ever caught him in it he got very angry. His sister’s room was full of girl’s stuff like dolls and teddy bears, nothing he was ever interested in. Reggie loved his room because all his toys were in it and if he ever felt like it Reggie could spend hours in his room and never get bored. There were bathrooms both upstairs and downstairs. The one downstairs didn’t have a bathtub, just a toilet. Downstairs were three other big rooms, the kitchen — where his Mom spent a lot of time — the dining room — where they ate dinner — and the living room — where they watched TV or sat around and talked or read. Reggie loved the kitchen because it was the source of food and the intoxicating aromas of meals being prepared and cookies, pies or cakes being baked. The dining room was kind of boring with the big table and straight back chairs and not much else. It was the room where you got to eat but you always had to be extra polite in the room, especially if company was over, like Grandma. Reggie didn’t like all the rules that were enforced in the dining room and it seemed like he was always committing a faux pas of one kind or another like putting his elbows on the table, or talking out of turn, or using the wrong utensil. The living room was the most relaxed place in the house. There you could sprawl across one of the sofas or lay on the floor. The TV provided hours of entertainment, especially when cartoons were on. His dad usually sat there and read the paper or a fishing magazine. Reggie’s mom would knit or read. She rarely paid attention to anything on TV. Lisa sometimes looked at the TV but she usually played on the floor. Jerry didn’t spend much time in the living room, except sometimes to watch sports with his dad. Reggie was getting to like watching sports too, it was fun to watch grown-ups play a game. Reggie never ventured into either the basement or the attic, both were crowded with totally uninteresting objects and were dark and scary. He’d been warned about rats in both rooms and Jerry had told him that there were ghosts in the attic and a goblin in the basement. Reggie wasn’t sure what a goblin was but it sounded like something best avoided.
Reggie eventually made his way back outside and looked on as his father and brother worked on the tree fort, even as it grew darker, colder and windier. Reggie didn’t want to be cold, so he went back inside.
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George Polk was putting the finishing touches on the platform for the tree fort that he’d been promising his two sons for months. He was glad for something to keep him occupied because this was one of those days when his mind was enveloped in darkness. These types of days had begun to increase lately, to the point where he was experiencing them several times a month. He paused and looked at the skies and reflected on how they mirrored his mood: dark, cold and bereft of promise. George loved his wife and children but he was finding it increasingly difficult to be affectionate with his sons and he didn’t even like holding Lisa for too long. He knew it was wrong but for some reason touching them or even talking to them became uncomfortable after awhile. It was easiest to be with Jerry who was getting older and was quiet by nature. George could relax and be himself with his oldest boy, without having to listen to a lot of silly chit chat. George was still able to show affection to Esther, although it was usually in the form of routine pecks on the cheeks or quick hugs. When he was horny enough, love-making was no problem. But George Polk went to great lengths to avoid having long conversations with his wife which wasn’t too hard given how busy she was with the children, her job at the library and all the volunteer work she did. Now his mother-in-law was coming over and George knew he’d be expected to make at least a modicum of small talk with her. Fortunately she generally spent most of her time talking to Esther or fawning over the children. George reckoned he’d make it through the day well enough, after all he was duty-bound to be a good father and loving husband. He was at least determined to have a happier home life than he grew up in, which was not exactly a difficult task given what a living hell his childhood was. George’s father beat him and his siblings, especially when he was drunk — which was most of the time. When he was nine George had seen his dad touching one of his sister’s private parts and later learned that he had similarly touched his other sisters’ privates. George’s mother was little better. She was an uncommonly lazy woman whose idea of dinner preparation was heating something out of a can. She only rarely cleaned house, leaving such tasks to the older children and when their father was away — he was a truck driver — which was often, she would sometimes get sloppy drunk and entertain men in her bedroom. Compounding his misery, George didn’t get along with most of his siblings, many of whom beat him regularly for no reason that George could understand. When he joined the army and said goodbye to his family he knew he would never see nor have any contact with them again. He only ever missed his sister Willa, who had always been nice to George. She died of leukemia weeks before George left. George figured he’d been through the worst possible circumstances growing up and was determined that his children should experience a normal, happy upbringing.
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Jerry Polk liked doing stuff with his father. He thought of his dad as the strongest, smartest, toughest man in the world. His dad could build things and fix things, he knew all about hunting and fishing and was able to help him understand football. Jerry figured he’d grow up to be like his old man although he wasn’t sure he wanted to bother with a wife and certainly not with kids. Jerry resented his younger siblings. They detracted from the attention that used to be directed solely to him. He didn’t much care for Reggie or Lisa anyway. They were too young and immature to spend any time with and he didn’t like that they always wanted to hold his hand or hug him or any of that other stuff he thought of as girly. Jerry liked his mom a lot. She was a terrific cook who always had food ready for him and she kept the house clean and washed his clothes and bought him whatever he needed. Jerry was too old to be mushy with his mother anymore and he sensed that she was disappointed that he no longer liked to be hugged, but after all he was becoming a man now. The only real problem with his mother, though, was that she was always asking questions about school and what he learned and what he was interested and Jerry did not like talking about the kind of stuff. Right now Jerry was focused on the tree fort. He was sure excited about it and thought it would be keen to play in it, though he supposed he’d have to share time in it with Reggie, which could spoil the whole deal. Most of all he was happy to be working on it with his dad, especially since his father gave him things to do like hammer a few of the nails and saw wood. As it got colder and darker Jerry knew that rain was coming and that his grandmother would be at the house soon and they’d have to stop for the day. It made him sad. A lot of things made Jerry sad although he never talked about them with anyone. He tried to ignore the sadness and do things that made him happy. It wasn’t easy but he tried.
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Half an hour later Reggie’s grandmother, Elizabeth O’Toole, arrived and as usual had gifts for her grandchildren. Reggie and Lisa crawled all over her but this time their grandmother said, “Reggie you’ve gotten to be too big a boy for your old granny’s lap.” Reggie felt a mixture of sadness at not being able to perch on his beloved Grandma and pride that he was getting to be a big boy.
“Yes, Grandma,” he said dutifully. Esther’s heart ached for her younger son and she invited Reggie to sit by her.
At Esther’s prodding, Elizabeth regaled the family with stories about coming to the United States from Ireland when she was a little girl and how confusing and exciting and frightening and dramatic New York seemed to her at the turn of the century. Soon she fast forwarded four years to the family’s move west and the seemingly endless train ride across the country. Then she zipped ahead to when she was a young woman and met her future husband Patrick O’Toole, who was as Irish as Elizabeth, though born on U.S. soil a month after his parents emigrated.
Reggie didn’t understand all of his grandmother’s stories but he loved to hear her talk and he loved how happy it made his Grandma to tell stories and he loved what obvious delight his mother took in her oft-told tales. Had he bothered to look in his father and big brother’s direction and studied their faces he might have been disappointed to note that they were sitting stoically, seemingly listening to Elizabeth out of sense of obligation with no apparent enthusiasm. But Reggie did not look in their direction and he did enjoy Grandma’s storytelling and he was a very happy boy.
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