Jimmy (11 page)

“This is a good one,” Walt said.

Jimmy pulled back at the picture on the cover. A huge man with a bloody board in his hand stood over another huge man lying on the floor. Bright red blood covered the face of the second man. They were both wearing bathing suits.

“What's wrong?” Walt asked. “Don't you like wrestling? There are better pictures inside, but it's all fake. That's not real blood.”

“No,” Jimmy said. “I don't like it.”

Walt jerked the magazine from his hand. He opened another drawer and took out a clear plastic box.

“The pictures in here are real,” he said.

Jimmy liked photographs. It was fun to stare at a moment in time that never changed and think about what he was doing in the picture. Walt dug through the photos and handed one to Jimmy. A strange woman with brown hair was standing next to Daddy on the porch in front of the Mitchell home.

“Who is that with Daddy?” Jimmy asked.

“Your mama,” Walt said.

“No, it's not,” Jimmy replied. “Her face and hair isn't right, and she's too tall.”

Walt laughed. “If you don't like her face, you should check yourself out in the mirror. You look just like her. Haven't you ever seen any pictures of your real mama?”

Jimmy's eyes grew big. “Where did you get these?”

“I think your mama wanted them out of the house because she was jealous, so she gave them to my dad.” Walt picked up another one. “This one is in front of the Christmas tree at your house.”

Jimmy stared at the familiar scene. Daddy and the woman stood beside a Christmas tree in their living room. Jimmy recognized ornaments on the tree.

“This is my favorite,” Walt said, handing him another one.

The woman lay in bed cradling a tiny baby in her arms. Daddy stood beside her.

“That's you in the hospital after you were born,” Walt announced. “See how happy they are? At first, they didn't know you were retarded.”

Usually, Jimmy ran out of the room when Walt talked like that, but today he couldn't pull away from the picture. He stared into the woman's eyes. She seemed happy. Daddy was smiling too. He'd seen baby pictures of himself, but never one that included his other mom.

“Here's a goofy one,” Walt said.

The woman was holding a toddler's hands in the air as he stood in front of the coffee table in the living room at their house.

“Her name is Vera. That's a creepy name, isn't it? She's trying to teach you to walk. My mom says it took you a long time to learn how to walk. That's one way they realized you were dumb.”

Jimmy had heard Mama and Daddy say Vera's name, but he'd never seen her face.

“Can I have the pictures?” he asked.

Walt snatched them from his hand. “No way. I'm keeping them forever.”

Walt put the photos in the box and slammed the drawer shut. Jimmy stared at the drawer.

“Now, get a kid's book to read,” Walt said. “The stuff you might like is on the bottom shelf.”

Jimmy sat on the floor, unmoving.

Walt spoke. “You still can't walk very well, can you? I'll guess I'll have to get a book.”

Walt retrieved a book from the bookcase. “
The Story of Edward
,” he said. “I know you like this one. The story of a talking donkey for a real-life dumb—”

A loud knock at the door interrupted him.

“Who is it?” Walt called out as he unlocked the door.

The door cracked open. It was Mama.

“Are you boys okay?”

Before Jimmy could answer, Walt held up
The Story of Edward
. “Yes, I'm going to read this book to Jimmy.”

“That's a good choice. Please leave the door ajar so I can call Jimmy if I need him.”

“Sure.”

Mama left, leaving the door wide open.

“Your mama watches wrestling on TV after you go to bed,” Walt said after Mama's footsteps faded. “I bet she has the same magazine in her bedroom.”

“No, she doesn't,” Jimmy managed.

“How would you know? You're asleep.”

Jimmy could not think of an answer.

“Come sit on the bed, and I'll read the book,” Walt said.

Jimmy reluctantly sat next to his cousin. Walt opened the book and began to read. Jimmy knew by heart the story of the donkey's adventures across the French countryside; however, today the words and pictures didn't take him to the place of imagination. The woman with the baby filled his mind. When Walt finished, he patted Jimmy's knee.

“You're kind of cute in a weird way,” he said.

“H
OW WAS YOUR TIME WITH
W
ALT?
” M
AMA ASKED DURING
the drive home.

“He showed me some of my baby pictures but wouldn't let me keep them.”

“Why not?” Daddy asked.

“Because of my other mama.” Jimmy paused. “I don't know what to call her.”

Mama turned in her seat. “Was your birth mother in the pictures?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“What was Walt doing with pictures of Vera and me?” Daddy asked.

“Uh, I think I showed some to Bart when we first married,” Mama answered.

“Walt has no business dragging that up.” Daddy put his foot on the brake. “Let's go back and—”

“Please, Lee,” Mama said. “Not now.”

Daddy grunted and didn't say anything but stepped on the gas.

“Jimmy,” Mama said as the car picked up speed. “We'll talk about it later, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

T
HAT NIGHT WHEN
M
AMA CAME INTO
J
IMMY'S ROOM TO PRAY
and tuck him into bed, she had something in her hand. Turning on the light near his pillow, she handed him a photograph. It was his birth mama in a white dress standing next to Daddy.

“This is the day your birth mother and Daddy got married.”

“They look happy,” Jimmy said.

“They were for a while.”

Mama handed him a photo of a baby in a stroller being pushed by his birth mama. The baby was wearing a tiny blue cap.

“This is when you were six months old. I think this is your first cap.”

Jimmy studied the picture. “I wish I still had the cap. I couldn't wear it, but I could put in on a shelf.”

“I don't know what happened to it.”

Mama handed him a third picture. In this one, the baby was sitting in a sandbox in the backyard. The woman was sitting on the grass beside him with a tree behind her. She had her hand behind Jimmy's back.

“I know that tree,” Jimmy said. “It's the one with the tire swing on it.”

“Yes.”

Jimmy looked at the three pictures again. This time he studied the woman's face but learned nothing.

“Where does she live now?” he asked.

“We don't know,” Mama said. “Your daddy hasn't heard from her for almost eleven years.”

“Why did she go away?” Jimmy asked. “Was it because of me?”

In an instant, Mama had her arms around him and brought his head into her shoulder.

“Don't ever say or think that again,” she said. “You are a wonderful boy. Anyone would be proud to have you as a son.”

Jimmy enjoyed the hug but wasn't sure why Mama did it. She stroked the back of his head, kissed him on the forehead, and released him.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” he answered.

“Do you want to keep the pictures?” she asked.

Jimmy held the photos lightly in his hand. “Is it okay with Daddy?”

“Yes, we talked it over and decided you were old enough to have them.”

“I'll put them in my desk drawer but not on my board.”

“That's fine.”

Mama prayed for him then stood up.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night, Mama.”

As Mama turned to leave, Jimmy spoke. “If I ever meet the woman in the pictures, what should I call her? I can't call her Mama, because you're my mama.”

Mama was still for a second.

“I'm not sure,” she answered in a slightly shaky voice. “Maybe you should call her Ms. Horton. Her name is Vera Horton.”

—
Eight
—

T
he first week of summer vacation, Jimmy helped Mama around the house. Each morning they worked in the backyard vegetable garden. By early June the Georgia sun had coaxed tomatoes, green beans, yellow squash, okra, and three rows of corn from the red clay. Jimmy enjoyed routine, repetitive tasks that most people found boring and was an expert at pulling weeds. Mama taught him the difference between the good plants and the bad plants, and he carefully worked his way down each row, leaving weed-free soil behind him.

Buster enjoyed having Jimmy home from school and often interrupted by begging for a stomach scratch. Mama wore a broad-brimmed straw hat while she worked. Jimmy wore an Atlanta Braves cap with a big
A
on the front. Mama told him he received an A as a weed puller.

One morning as Jimmy finished the last row, Mama came across the yard with two glasses of lemonade.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am.”

They sat down, leaned against a large tree, and stretched out their legs. The late-morning air was still. It was as quiet as only a small town in the summer can be. Drops of water ran down the outside of the glasses. Buster lay down beside Jimmy.

“I'm glad you're my mama,” Jimmy said.

“Me too.”

“You chose me, didn't you?” Jimmy asked.

“You know I did.”

“Tell me again.”

Mama smiled. “Do you like that story?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“How old
were you when I first met you?” Mama asked.

“Four years old.”

“Do you remember the first time I saw you?” Mama asked.

“I pretend that I can.”

“Well, you were the cutest four-year-old boy in Piney Grove. I worked in the clerk's office at the courthouse and knew your daddy because he was a lawyer.”

“The best lawyer in Piney Grove.”

“That's right.”

“One day he picked you up from the babysitter and brought you to the clerk's office. I looked up from my desk, and there you were, standing in front of me.”

“Was I wearing glasses?”

“Yes, and you blinked your eyes several times and stared at me.”

Jimmy chuckled. “Why was I staring and blinking my eyes?”

“I'd like to think it was because you knew I was going to be your mama, but I think you wanted me to give you a lollipop from the jar I kept on my desk.”

“Did you give me a lollipop?”

“Not until I asked you to tell me your favorite flavor. You said ‘grape,' which was my favorite too. We each ate a lollipop.”

“Where was Daddy?”

“He was watching us. We'd been talking on the phone and eating dinner together for several months, and he wanted me to meet you.”

“What did you think?”

“I liked your daddy a lot.”

“No, about me,” Jimmy said, smiling.

Mama took a sip of lemonade. “I loved you the first time I saw you. Now I love you with my whole heart. I couldn't love you any more if I tried.”

Jimmy felt doubly warm—from the sun above and the love sitting beside him.

“A few months later, I planned your five-year-old birthday party,” Mama said. “The next week your daddy asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Because you loved both of us.”

“Yes. And we got married at Christmastime.”

Jimmy had a picture in his room of Mama and Daddy in front of a Christmas tree. Mama was wearing a white dress. They got married at the house and both looked happy.

“Where was I when they took the picture of you in the white dress in front of the Christmas tree?”

“Probably eating wedding cake in the dining room.”

“Do you still have some of the cake in the freezer?”

“Yes, your daddy and I will eat it after we've been married ten years.”

“Can I have some too?”

“Yes, we'll give you a bite.”

Jimmy rolled a piece of ice around in his mouth, then put it in his hand for Buster to lick.

“Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

Mama lowered her glass from her lips. “What made you think about that?”

“Max has a sister. Denise has a brother and a sister.”

Mama turned slightly and rested on her arm so that she faced him.

“Some people love their own children; others get to love a child who's already been born. Daddy and I wanted to have more children, but the doctors said that we can't. I'm happy to have you to love. That's enough for me.”

Jimmy looked closely into Mama's face.

“Did I make you sad?” he asked.

Mama reached over and stroked his hand. “No, but it was a serious question. Do you understand my answer?”

“I think so.”

“Tell me.”

Jimmy was used to this. It was how he learned best.

“You and Daddy went to the hospital to get a baby, but the doctors told you there wasn't one for you, so you came home and kept loving me.”

“Yes, that's right.”

They finished their lemonade. Jimmy carried the tools back to the rear of the house and leaned them against the wall. Mama followed with the empty glasses.

“You're a good worker,” Mama said. “On Monday you're going to help your daddy at the office.”

“But I don't know what to do.”

“There are weeds that need to be pulled at a law office too.”

O
N
M
ONDAY MORNING,
J
IMMY PUT ON A NICE PAIR OF PANTS
and a collared shirt. He went downstairs to the kitchen and watched Mama remove a crisp strip of bacon from the skillet and place it on a paper towel.

“Lawyers' helpers need to eat a good breakfast,” she said with a smile.