Lightning Song (6 page)

The llamas fanned out, away from Swami Don, running along with such strange ease that they reminded Leroy of giraffes, necks swaying like slender trees in the wind. He watched his daddy. He regretted the limitations he saw in him. He was embarrassed that he was a farmer, that he had only one arm, that he did not glitter like Uncle Harris did.

Swami Don drove the tractor into the shed and switched off the engine. Leroy eased out of his lean-to. He watched as Swami Don got down off the tractor and squinted his eyes in the sun, looking. He was looking at the sporty little car. Leroy couldn't tell whether he recognized it. Leroy moved on around to the back of the house. He had wanted to go inside with the
others but couldn't go alone. He would walk in with his daddy, he supposed. He couldn't hide forever. He wished now he'd taken his turn at swinging in Uncle Harris's arms, taken his three kisses.

Swami Don hauled his withered arm around and let it drop by his side. Leroy watched every move, felt critical and even angry. Swami Don untied the bandana with his good hand and used it to mop sweat out of his eyes. He walked up to the car and looked inside at the dusty leather seat covers. He stepped back. He walked around it. He kicked a tire. He wiped his neck with the bandana and then he wiped a streak of dust off one of the fenders and stuck the bandana in his back pocket, where it hung halfway out. What in the world? his expression seemed to say.

Leroy walked out to the drive. He walked up behind his daddy.

He said, “It's Uncle Harris's car.”

Swami Don turned around. This was the first time Harris had ever visited the farm.

Swami Don said, “Oh, hey, Leroy. I figured as much.”

Leroy said, “He's great.”

Swami Don looked at Leroy.

He said, “I know.”

Swami Don ambled on up to the porch. Leroy followed him. Uncle Harris hadn't wasted any time. There was almost a party going on up there. Elsie and Harris were sitting in the
wicker furniture and talking. The girls were sitting nearby, trying to behave so they could stay forever. Everybody was having something cool to drink, lemonade, maybe, two tall glasses filled with ice, and a sweating pitcher between them on a low wicker table.

Leroy's mama's face was still flushed with joy. It was impossible to say why this frightened Leroy.

She said, “Donald, look who's here!”

Elsie had taken the wicker rocker and seemed perched there, birdlike, while Harris was lounging like a benevolent king on the chaise, hands clasped confidently behind his head. Laurie and Molly were underfoot, in love with their Uncle Harris. Leroy was no less in love with Uncle Harris than his two sisters were. He stood half hidden behind his daddy. He pushed at a little pile of dead flies on the porch floor with his toe. Before he had gone out to play in the sand pile he'd been out here killing flies. Flies came in during rains, and Swami Don had told Leroy he'd give him a penny for every ten flies he killed. Leroy was trying to figure out how many flies it would take for him to get a motorcycle. Maybe now he would go for a sports car instead.

While Swami Don had still been outside kicking the tires of the sports car, Leroy had looked up onto the porch and had seen something he knew Swami Don was not meant to see. When his mama poured the lemonade, Harris had taken a small silvery flask from his pocket and unscrewed the cap. He
held it as if to offer it to Elsie. Then he smiled at her blushing and tipped the little bottle to the side of his lemonade. Leroy saw his mother mouth the words “You're bad.”

Swami Don said, “Has something happened to Hannah?”

Hannah was Harris's wife. Swami Don had once dated Hannah in high school and Harris took her away from him. Everybody knew this. Leroy had forgotten, but now he remembered.

Elsie said, “Well, for heaven's sake, Donald, can't you at least say hello to your brother before you give him the third degree?”

Swami Don said, “Oh. Well— Sure. Hi, Harris.”

He pulled the red bandana out of his pocket and mopped his neck again.

Elsie smiled her brightest smile.

She said, “Okay, then! That's better, you two!”

This next part probably wasn't true, but later on it was the way Leroy remembered it: in the memory, Uncle Harris now seemed to be wearing a wide-brimmed white straw hat and a white Panama suit with an open-collared shirt and a long red kerchief dangling from the suit's jacket pocket. Leroy remembered that his Uncle Harris dipped a bright red cherry out of his lemonade, gave Elsie a big wink and a white smile, and popped that cherry into his wide-open mouth, yum yum yum.

L
ater on, after the sun went down, the fireflies appeared in the yard in numbers. The heatless light of their golden tails looked like peepholes in the darkness into a bright strange world. A sweet fragrance of insecticide wafted from the orchard, through the screens, to their nostrils. The hours passed. Leroy caught these glimpses of his old familiar world.

Conversation settled down some as evening dropped over them. The hilarity subsided. The children were allowed to hang around longer than usual to visit with their uncle. The subject of Hannah came up again. Hannah was fine, just fine, Harris assured them, don't you worry yourself about Hannah, he said. He apologized for his sudden appearance, right out of the blue, with no warning. “Sorry for dropping in like this, I should have called first, it was rude, I realize, I just thought, what the heck, it's my brother for Pete's sake, if you can't drop
in on your own brother, well, anyway, I hope it's all right, hope I'm not intruding, I wouldn't want to be a bother.”

This was the quiet way they had begun to talk. Leroy liked this as much as the mad entrance. It seemed in some ways equally foreign to his customary evenings on this porch.

Finally Harris got around to telling Swami Don and Elsie what he was really doing here, what had happened. He told them Hannah wanted a divorce.

For a moment no one spoke. Leroy held his breath.

Swami Don said, “A divorce?”

No one had ever spoken of a divorce on this porch before. It was an odd thing to be thinking, but it was what came to Leroy's mind. It thrilled him, in a way. The world had changed. He had been right.

Elsie said, “Oh, you poor thing.”

Leroy didn't know whose face to watch.

Harris had on his serious look now.

“She kicked me out,” he said.

His wife had kicked him out? It was like television. Leroy watched his mother nod seriously as if this were the kind of conversation she had every day. Later on Leroy would learn that what she was doing was “being supportive.” Right now Leroy knew she was as astounded as he was.

Harris put his tanned face into his hands. He sobbed a little.

“I wanted to be near family,” he said when he looked up. “For a night or two, at least.”

“Of course,” Elsie said quickly.

“You can understand that, can't you, I hope you can, but hey, look, if I'm in the way, if this is any bother whatsoever, well—”

Elsie said, “Oh Harris, of course—of course we understand. And no, of course not, no bother at all, don't be silly, we wouldn't have it any other way. We're here. We're family. Absolutely.”

Swami Don bounced his withered hand in his good hand. A few seconds were allowed to pass. It was clear Elsie wanted him to chime in with some kind of agreement.

In fact, she said, a little fiercely, “Chime right in, Donald, anytime you have something to offer.”

Leroy might as well have been watching a tennis match, back and forth, he was dizzy as a witch.

Swami Don said, “This is the first time you've ever come to see us.”

Elsie gave him a look. Leroy almost said something but managed to stay quiet.

Harris nodded. He said, “I've been remiss.”

Elsie let out an exasperated sigh in order to change the subject. She got up out of her chair and sat back down again. She rocked as fiercely as she spoke.

She said, “What is
wrong
with that woman?”

Meaning Hannah, of course, Leroy realized.

There was a long silence. Leroy paid careful attention.

Swami Don said, “There's nothing wrong with Hannah.”

Elsie looked at her husband as if he were a stranger who had just walked up on the porch.

Swami Don did not shrink from her black gaze, as normally he might have done.

Harris seemed to know better than to let the remark about Hannah stay in the air long. He said, “Oh, absolutely, you're absolutely right. Hannah is not at fault here, please don't get me wrong, no sir, no siree, no way José, I'm not blaming Hannah, not anybody really, certainly not Hannah, blameless as the day is long, perfectly innocent, didn't mean to imply otherwise, you know that, don't you, you know I didn't mean to say anything against Hannah, sweet as she is pretty, and smart, too, of course, she's not seeing things too clearly right now, taking bad advice from well-intended friends maybe, but blame? Hannah? Me? Not a chance, not a snowball's chance in aitch ee double-el, pardon my parly voo, no ma'am, uh-uh, let me set the record straight, it's not anybody's fault, not that good woman's fault that she unfairly, unexpectedly, cruelly, and with no provocation whatsoever, save only vicious and unsubstantiated rumors and lies, kicked me out of my own house and gave my clothes to the Salvation Army and changed all the locks on the doors, no way. I'm not saying anything is anybody's fault. Not at all. Not entirely. There are things I could have done differently, too, probably, I'm sure there were. There probably were things I could have, you know— Darn straight. I'm not blaming Hannah.”

Elsie put her hand on Harris's hand.

She said, “And don't blame yourself either, Harris. You're too good a person for that. I hope you will believe that.”

Leroy said, “Will you teach me to yodel?”

He couldn't think of anything else to say. He might as well say this. Nobody paid any attention to him anyway.

Elsie withdrew her hand and sat back in her chair.

Swami Don said, “But
is
Hannah all right? Does she know where you are? I mean, should you at least call and let her know where you are?”

Leroy said, “You don't hear a lot of yodelers. I was thinking I might take it up.”

Everyone looked at him as if he had just walked in from another planet.

Harris smiled. He said, “As a hobby?”

Leroy said, “Right. You know.”

“One of Captain Woody's puppets can yodel,” Harris said. “I may have it out in the car.”

“A yodeling puppet?”

“Right.”

“Wow.”

Elsie said, “Let's don't rush him, Donald. Let's just let Harris make all his own decisions, in his own time. Okay? Is that okay with you, Harris? Let's let him teach Leroy to yodel first, okay? Is that a Swiss puppet, Harris? There used to be a yodeler on the “Grand Ole Opry” show, didn't there? Well, I don't guess he was Swiss, though. So, anyway, Harris doesn't
need anybody rushing him right now, do you. Okay, Donald? Isn't that okay, not to rush him? Rushing is the last thing your sweet brother needs right now, what with yodeling lessons and all. Just tell me if I'm wrong. If I'm wrong, I'll be the first to admit it.”

Harris shrugged helplessly.

He said, “She changed all the locks. On the
doors
.”

Swami Don said, “You don't need a door key to dial a telephone.”

Elsie gave him a poisonous look.

Leroy made a gargling noise in his throat. It was the closest he could come to a yodel.

Harris wagged his head slowly, side to side.

“I just don't know,” he said. “I only wish I knew.”

They sat for a long time in the silence of the deepening evening. A cool breeze blew through the screens. Heat lightning showed silent yellow reflections on faraway clouds. Leroy had started thinking about what to do if he got sent to bed.

Harris made a puppet out of Molly's rag doll. He gave Leroy that bright smile. He made the puppet talk in a comical voice. The puppet yodeled, “Hold the old man while I kiss the old-lady-oh!”

B
y the next morning Harris had moved into the attic and transformed the whole house, filled it with high spirits, flags, banners, might as well have been flying, circus horns, jugglers, and magicians. The days passed and were filled with laughter. Leroy had never laughed so much. His cheeks ached from laughing. Laughter was Uncle Harris's constant companion. He had a wonderful laugh, too, Leroy realized, loud and sturdy but also childlike, high-pitched at times, almost a squeal. A strange musical instrument with bells and banjos seemed to be playing when Uncle Harris laughed, that was how rich Leroy found those refrains to be. No matter how corny the joke, how tall the tale, you couldn't keep from laughing with Harris when he laughed that laugh of his. It was contagious, oh what a laugh it was. Leroy watched his daddy who almost never laughed. Sometimes he only stood with wide-open eyes, a scared little smile, but other times even
Swami Don could not contain himself. Uncle Harris told a tale about a blue runner snake that chased a man down and hid in his asshole. Leroy's eyes widened. “It's in a blue runner's nature,” Harris said, “to hide in a man's asshole, ask anybody, look it up, it's a fact, it's science, Leroy, the asshole aspect of the Mississippi blue runner.” Leroy thought he might actually faint. “Slithered right up in his asshole and nested down,” Uncle Harris said, and laughed that fine big rich laugh of his, and then everybody else laughed too, even Swami Don. Leroy knew this was a joke, but he believed it anyway. He whispered, “Yikes.” What health seemed to follow Harris wherever he went! Even the sad marital split that had sent Harris here became a part of the joking, the clothes in the street, new locks on the doors, the Salvation Army on the march, it was hilarious, all of it, how could anybody be so funny? Sadness scurried before Uncle Harris like geese before a child's cane. Then Hannah disappeared from conversation, from memory, almost. Harris's grief seemed to fade in the glittering presence of that laugh. People begged him to repeat their favorite stories, even little Molly.