Bigger.
The mall?
Bigger.
The sky?
Bigger.
Bigger than anything?
There isn"t anything in this world bigger, I a.s.sured him I a.s.sured him.
There must be something, he said, looking cross and suspicious he said, looking cross and suspicious.
We had played out this little ritual on many a night.
If you had a boyfriend, you"d love him more than me, wouldn"t you? he pressed. he pressed.
Of course not.
Promise?
Wait. I just thought of something.
Now he looked alarmed.
There is something bigger.
What?
S-a-r-a-h P-a-l-i-n"s stupidity.
Who"s she?
Never mind. There isn"t anything in the whole universe more important to me than you are. And there isn"t anyone in the whole world I would ever love more than you. I don"t care who they are. Well, maybe if I met J-o-h-n D-e-n-v-e-r....
He"s dead!
T-a-m-m-y W-y-n-e-t-te?
She"s so old!
O-b-a-m-a?
He looked thoughtful for a moment. You might love him more than me, You might love him more than me, he admitted he admitted.
Maybe.
You would not!
You"re right. I love O., but not as much as you.
I dabbed at his face. The humidity was so thick you could use it to rinse your chickpeas. I went to the bathroom, refreshed the washcloth with cold water, returned to his room, and laid it on his forehead, my signal that it was time for sleep.
Dad?
Yes?
I love you.
I love you, too. Sweet dreams.
He took my hand into his own, and I looked at his extra pinkie. He held my hand for a few moments. Then: Dad?
"Yes?"
Do you think Mom will remember me?
I nodded, hoping my doubt was safely hid behind a confident smile.
You sure?
Of course.
I can"t wait to see her!
Go to sleep.
5) Failure to thrive
IN MY MY room, I put Patsy Cline on the record player and she told me about "Seven Lonely Nights." room, I put Patsy Cline on the record player and she told me about "Seven Lonely Nights." I"m the kind of uncool guy who has a record player. Don"t feel sorry for me because I can pick up LPs at the used-book store or thrift shop for a buck each. I listen to ca.s.settes, too, and those are only ten cents a pop. Pretty cool when you make minimum wage. Makes you feel like you can actually buy something of value with it. Records are cheaper than candy bars, if you can believe that. I"m the kind of uncool guy who has a record player. Don"t feel sorry for me because I can pick up LPs at the used-book store or thrift shop for a buck each. I listen to ca.s.settes, too, and those are only ten cents a pop. Pretty cool when you make minimum wage. Makes you feel like you can actually buy something of value with it. Records are cheaper than candy bars, if you can believe that.
Ever since the time you told me our love was through Seven lonely nights I"ve cried and I"ve cried for you....
You preach it, girl, I thought, sitting on my bed and feeling lonely and miserable, wishing there was a man like Jackson Ledbetter in my bed, a man who would hold me and kiss me and make me feel alive again, if only one more time before the middle-aged spread took over my hips and sent me belly-flopping into dementia and adult diapers. I thought, sitting on my bed and feeling lonely and miserable, wishing there was a man like Jackson Ledbetter in my bed, a man who would hold me and kiss me and make me feel alive again, if only one more time before the middle-aged spread took over my hips and sent me belly-flopping into dementia and adult diapers.
I was perilously close to thirty-three. Thirty-five sat like an apocalypse on the not-too-distant horizon. What kind of life could there possibly be after that?
I looked around my room, not completely immune to the shabbiness of my existence. The sheets on my bed and the curtains on my window must have been spun during the Civil War. I had clothes that I wore in high school, and still wore. My dresser was a cast-off from my brother Bill. The bottom drawers are covered with stickers that Noah put there when he was two and which I"ve kept meaning to peel off and never have. There is no denying the fact that I make minimum wage, that I work part-time because I can"t find anything else, that I have no frills or ruffles to speak of, that I am part of the reason why Mississippi is the poorest state in the Union.
The words "failure to thrive" floated through my mind. So did "dirt-poor" and "redneck, p.e.c.k.e.rwood white trash."
No wonder Noah"s mother ran off.
Years ago, it had been suggested that I send Noah to live in Jackson at the Mississippi School for the Deaf. I couldn"t do it, and it wasn"t simply the expense. Despite the educational benefits, the constant contact with a large deaf community, all the ways it would improve his life, the lifelong friends he would make, I could not send him away. Mama and Bill had chided me endlessly about my selfishness, but I steadfastly ignored them. I was not about to punish Noah because he was deaf. It wasn"t a punishment, they countered. It was a chance at a decent life, a chance at a future. With luck he would learn to talk properly and read lips and find a place in the world of the hearing, be able to take care of himself, get a job, be a productive member of society, become independent, not lost in the world of the unhearing.
It was a chance, in other words, to teach him how not to be what he was, to not be deaf, or to find a way to pretend he wasn"t deaf and get along with "normal" people and live a "normal" life as though this fundamental fact about his existence was of no importance, as if he could somehow have a good life in spite of what he was if only he could find a way to hide his terrible infirmity.
I rejected that way of thinking. It had offended me deeply, not least because it was their exact same prescription for me as a gay man. Find a way to pretend to not be what you are. Find a way to live a heteros.e.xual life so you can fit in and enjoy the benefits of society.
I stretched out, feeling lonely, h.o.r.n.y, disconnected, anxious, tired but wide-awake.
It was your favorite pastime Making me blue....
I needed a man. s.e.x would be nice too, but I needed someone to talk to, someone to bounce off, to make me laugh, to remind me that it"s good to be alive, someone who would make me feel young again, attractive, desirable, someone to walk through life with. I needed to put an end to this long loneliness of raising a silent boy who lived in a silent world, a Deaf World, a world I could visit but never truly be part of.
I pictured Jackson Ledbetter smiling at me with those come-hither eyes. I"d put my hands on his hips. I"d feel his belly, his chest, his nipples. I"d stare at his business, and he"d know I was hungry for it because I"ve been hungry for c.o.c.k my whole life and I can"t lie.
Patsy Cline said she was Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you.... Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you....
It was a long time before I fell asleep.
6) Sunday at Mama"s house
THE NEXT NEXT morning was Sunday and Noah and I sat through Father Gray"s sermon on the abortion holocaust, which St. Joseph"s was publicly protesting with a display of freshly-painted white crosses out on the front lawn that could be seen by any and all driving down Gloster Street headed for the mall. morning was Sunday and Noah and I sat through Father Gray"s sermon on the abortion holocaust, which St. Joseph"s was publicly protesting with a display of freshly-painted white crosses out on the front lawn that could be seen by any and all driving down Gloster Street headed for the mall.
Why I went to this church, I could not say. Habit, perhaps. A chance for Noah to socialize. Each time I saw those crosses on the front yard, I rolled my eyes. I had little patience with folks who cared more about zygotes than actual human beings.
I followed Noah in the line for Communion. With a bit of Jesus to fill our empty bellies, we headed for Mama"s house in New Albany, about thirty minutes from Tupelo. The radio was filled with Sunday-morning-in-the-South programming: religious services, gospel music, sermons. The sky was clear and blue and the weatherman promised a high of ninety. A public service announcement reminded us not to leave babies left unattended in the car during this heat. Look before you lock! Look before you lock!
Noah wore his only suit, now about two inches short at the ankle and an inch too short at the wrist. My sister-in-law Sh.e.l.ly said she would bring some of Eli"s old clothes to see if they would fit. Eli was three years older than Noah and provided a convenient flow of cast-offs and hand-me-downs. G.o.d forbid Bill and Sh.e.l.ly should actually spend good money and buy their nephew something new.
The ride into New Albany was lovely. Endless trees, sugar maples, pines, oaks, their branches choked with kudzu, marched up and down the sloping hills. The woods had a mysterious, dark look. Turkey buzzards slowly circled the sky, homing in on some poor unfortunate animal that had met its end, either on the road or deep inside the forests. Yellow wildflowers crept up from the ditches. Full summer was now bearing down and the green had exploded with fury.
Noah held his hand out in the air, smiling happily.
New Albany was full of stately old homes with spiffy new ones thrown up here and there. The downtown sat next to a river that wound slowly through hills. Biking paths offered a way to escape the modern world.
Mama lived in a large house a few miles from the downtown area. The river skirted her property on the east side, which was about sixty acres of trees and privacy and quite literally in the middle of nowhere. She had inherited the property from her parents. Papaw, her father, still lived with her. He had good days and bad days as he drifted into dementia. When he was in a good mood, he had a wicked, though rather crude, sense of humor.
Mama"s golden lab, b.u.mblebee, greeted us affectionately, licked Noah"s face.
"b.u.mple!" Noah exclaimed.
He"d never been able to get her name right.
A stone statue of St. Francis presided over Mama"s roses in the neatly tended flowerbed near the side porch. The roses were a riot of reds and yellows. Pink-and-red crepe myrtles added to the effect.
Papaw sat on the porch. He wore overalls with an Ole Miss hat covering his thinning hair. He looked like he might be on his way to the barn to milk the cows but for the slippers on his feet.
"How are you, Papaw?" I asked.
"I"m still not dead," he announced. "Your mother might kill me with her cooking, or what she calls cooking. You still a f.a.ggot, Wiley?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Good for you," he said. "Don"t run away from your problems, kid. Just take "em up the chuff and use a lot of Crisco, eh?"
"Don"t start on me, Papaw," I said.
"Is that the deaf kid there?" he asked, glancing at Noah, knowing very well that it was.
Noah was a bit afraid of Papaw.
"Don"t call him that, Papaw," I said, knowing it was pointless.
"Better feed him more beans or you"re going to have a midget on your hands, Wiley," he said. "It"s bad enough to be deaf, but to be a deaf midget... oh G.o.d, help us. I had a dog like that once."
"You did not!"
"Swear to G.o.d. He started off as a hound dog, but he just never grew. And he never listened to a word you said. The dumbest dog we ever had. Course we didn"t know he couldn"t hear a word you said. What a dumb dog he was. We took him down to the government office, got disability payments for him."
"You did not," I repeated, smiling.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, making the sign of the cross.
"You"re full of it, Papaw, and you know it," I said.
He laughed.
"Oh, sorry, I"m thinking about Cousin Mary. Talk about a dog. That girl was so ugly we had to put a bag over her head when we went to town so we wouldn"t get arrested for public indecency."
"Cousin Mary was a handsome woman," I pointed out.
"She was a cow!" Papaw exclaimed. "Every time she opened her mouth, all she could say was Moooooooo Moooooooo! The town was scared to death of her."
"You are so mean," I said.
"Someone"s got to tell it like it is, don"t you think?" he asked.
Noah and I went inside. Mama, my brother Bill, and his wife Sh.e.l.ly were in the kitchen. Their sons Eli and Josh were out back. The oldest, Mary, was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey y"all," I said.
"There"s my baby," Mama exclaimed, leaving off the fried chicken to make a fuss over Noah.