The Sand Castle (7 page)

Mother stared out the window; there was a beautiful small white church in the distance. “I don't know. We think men are uncomplicated, that
part of them, but I'm not so sure. Seems to be a lot of problems in that area. Bill's not the only one. Remember when Tommy Lavery passed out then came to and threw up? We thought he had an appendicitis attack but it was one of those tubes from his testicle that got twisted although the pain was in his guts.” Mother shook her head. “Must have been just awful.”

I pretended not to listen. The ice was melting so I wrung the towel out into the ice bucket, plucked out more cubes, wrapped them up, and handed it to Leroy.

“Usually you can see if something's wrong down there,” Louise replied. “But sometimes you can't. Course, when we have female troubles you can't see a thing.”

“You and I have been very lucky on that front,” Mother changed the subject. “Remember when we were teenagers and everything was happening? I mean, you'd wake up to a different body? All of a sudden breasts appeared.”

Louise smiled. “God, I wouldn't go back and do that over for all the tea in China.”

“But did you ever think what it's like for boys? No control. Their part stands up at the darnedest times. How embarrassing.”

“Sure made us all laugh, though, didn't it?”

“I'm not one hundred percent sure they ever really get it under control. Reach a certain age and it doesn't work right or it stands up but then dies on you.”

Louise raised an eyebrow. “Chessy,” she used Dad's name, “having problems?”

“No. But you hear about it, you know?”

“Oh.”

They launched into a discussion of their girlfriends and their husbands. I tuned out. Leroy fell asleep.

Silence in the back alerted Mother. She turned around.

“He's asleep.”

“I can see that.” She half rose, got on her knees, and leaned over the front seat. “Hold the ice on him for awhile. When it's all melted you can stop. That ought to help.”

“I'm not touching him.”

“Nickel.”

Just the way she said my name made me grimace. I reached over because his hand had slipped, repositioned the small towel, and held it while I plotted some future, great revenge.

The ice seemed to melt at a glacial rate. My left arm was tired from holding the towel straight and I hated the procedure. Every now and then Mother would turn around.

“It's almost melted,” I lied.

“Wait until it's all gone.”

I must have pushed down a little harder than necessary because he woke with a whimper. I pulled my hand away as though it was on fire.

“Hey!” He was as horrified as I was.

“Mother made me do it,” I quickly proclaimed.

Mother whirled around, “Yes, I did. Leroy,” a long pause followed, “we want to make sure you're all right. That everything works. You'll thank us when you're married.”

“I'm never getting married.” He put his hand over the towel.

“Me neither.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Does it still hurt?” Louise asked, never taking her eyes off the road.

“It's cold.”

“Does it throb?” Louise prodded.

“I don't know.”

“How can you not know?” I giggled.

“Cause I can't feel anything. It's too cold. The cold hurts.”

“Well, take the towel off for a while and if it swells up or starts to really throb then put ice back on.” Mother then addressed me. “See that he does, Nick.”

“Mom, I don't want to. . . .” I didn't finish.

“I can do it. I'm not going to fall asleep.” He leaned toward me and whispered. “You touch my pecker and you die.”

“I'll kill you first. I don't want to touch that silly worm and besides, there was a towel on it. I never really touched you, Leroy.”

“You say.”

I readied to hit him, then remembered he was incapacitated, sort of, so I folded my arms back over my chest and stared out the window.

“Look, you two, this is going to be a long ride. I don't want to hear a peep.” Louise shook her head as she did when we irritated her.

The ice finally did melt and Leroy removed his towel, looked down. He put the towel in the bucket while covering himself.

Mother noticed the movement, “Well?”

“I'm okay.”

“Is it swollen?” She continued her line of questioning.

“No.”

“Leroy, how does it look?” Louise had had enough.

“It's cut a little but it's not swollen.”

“Is it discolored?” Louise wanted to know.

“Uh,” he was at a loss.

“Wheezie, he had the ice on it so it's probably a little blue.

Mother's reply to her sister made Leroy look at his part. “Color's coming back.”

“Some pain might come back with it,” Mother said, then joked, “Honey, we want that part to work. My sister can't wait to be a great-grandmother.”

Because Louise married at sixteen, Ginny born a year after, and Ginny married at sixteen, chances were strong that Louise might live long enough to see great-great grandchildren if they kept marrying so young.

Mother, on the other hand, waited until her midtwenties to marry, being in no hurry to be tied down. Her endless sociability gave Louise the vapors and the platinum wedding ring on her
finger never produced the staidness that Louise thought would follow. If anything, Mother threw herself into even more activities and when I appeared she threw me into them, too. I was probably the only child in the state of Maryland happy to go to bed at night. I needed the rest.

“I'm not getting married.” Leroy repeated, with more vehemence.

“We'll see.” Louise used her singsong voice, which we both hated.

“I'm not! I don't want children. I want my mother!” His face shone crimson.

Mother told him soothingly, “We all do, honey, we all do.”

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” Louise said.

“Why? Why, Wheezie?” He shouted. “Why did He take Mama when there are old people to take? Everything God makes dies.”

Frightened from his outburst and his sorrow, I wedged myself up against the door.

“Wheeze, pull over,” Mother ordered.

A stunned expression crossed Louise's pretty features. She pulled over. Mother got out and opened the door. Had I not been hanging onto the door handle I would have plopped onto the side of the road.

“Nickel, come up with me,” Louise ordered softly.

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Mother patted my shoulder as I lurched out then slid onto the front seat and closed the door. She closed the back door, moving next to Leroy, and put her arms around him. He buried his face in her soft bosom and sobbed his heart out.

Louise pulled back onto the road. When I looked around Mother was crying, too, and that made me cry—that and everything.

Louise, tears in her eyes, gently said, “Nickel, sometimes God seems cruel. We can't understand it. You have to believe and you have to be strong. Only the strong survive.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Louise swallowed hard and reached for my left hand with her right. She gave it a hard squeeze, regaining her composure.

When I next looked around Leroy had fallen asleep on Mother's breasts, her blouse soaked by his tears. She held the towel over his part but it didn't have ice in it. She smiled at me but put her finger to her lips. I smiled back.

I stayed awake, which I usually did in the car because I lived in fear that I'd miss something. I loved to look at fields full of cattle and see if I could count them before they were out of sight. Houses, churches, stores, road signs, colors, big trees, it all fascinated me. Sometimes I could even identify birds in flight or see a big Red-tailed Hawk perched in a tree waiting for supper. I didn't say a word until Louise dropped us off at our house and Leroy woke up.

Mother kissed him, pulled his pants up as he woke. “You'll be okay.”

He hugged her.

“Leroy, come on up here with me,” Louise said.

He opened the car door and walked around but he walked funny, keeping his legs apart. I kissed him, too.

As we walked toward the back door I remembered the crab claw in my pocket so as Mother moved ahead—she always walked so fast—I dumped out the claw.

Dad came into the kitchen when he heard the back door open. He gave Mother a big kiss and one to me, too. Dad was a hugger and kisser but he especially liked kissing Mother.

“How was your day?”

“Chessy, I don't even know where to start.”

I did. “Daddy, a crab bit Leroy's pecker!”

Dad's beautiful blue eyes widened. He turned to Mother. “I hope it was a female crab.”

*   *   *

As I write this I am fourteen years older than Mother and Dad were back then. They're all gone. Louise made it to one hundred if you believed her birthday. Chances were she had tipped over the century mark.

Leroy and I kept our promise. Neither of us did marry. He became a marine just like his father. He was killed in Vietnam.

Louise kept the flag the marines gave her at the funeral. I have it now, folded in a triangle, on my bookshelf. I put a plastic crab on it.