happen.
Picture yourself jumping out a hospital window and landing on two feet—a little glass on your head maybe, a gash down one side of your shin—you’re out of there.
To be honest, he said, the person whose arm worries me here isn’t you, Henry. It’s your mother.
You could use some serious remedial work, Adele, he said. You, I might need to work with you a lot longer. Years possibly.
Seeing her laugh like that, I realized it was a sight I hadn’t witnessed in a long time. I was catcher now. Frank was still pitching, but now he stepped away from the spot he’d designated as the mound and approached my mother on the plate. He positioned himself so he could wrap his long arms around her. Send one our way, Henry, he said, tossing me the ball.
Only one pitch, since there was no catcher. I raised my armand released the ball. The two of them swung. There was a hard, solid cracking sound. The ball went flying.
From over in his lawn chair, Barry let out a yelp.
M Y FATHER CALLED . H E AND M ARJORIE and the kids were at a cookout. He wanted to know if we could do our Friendly’s night tomorrow instead of tonight. There was a sound to his voice, as he said this, that reminded me of how people acted on the phone, times when my mother got me to help her out with MegaMite, and I’d knock on the door of someone who used to be a customer, but didn’t want to buy vitamins anymore, and I knew they were just wishing I’d go away so they could get back to their life and stop feeling guilty.
You and your mother doing OK? he said. His voice had that sound where I knew he was feeling sorry for us, at the same time he just wanted to get off the phone and back to his other family, where things were easier.
We’ve got friends over, I told him. As Frank would have said, I could pass a lie detector test with that statement.
Evelyn also called. Traffic had been so bad on Route 93 it had been two o’clock when she reached the hospital. They were waiting to talk with the doctor now. She was hoping Barry could stay on till after dinnertime.
Just get here when you can, Evelyn, I heard my mother say into the receiver. He seems to be doing all right.
Evelyn must have asked about the diaper situation then. That was the part that worried her. He was a big boy now, Barry. Not the easiest thing anymore, lifting him out of the chair.
My mother didn’t say Frank was the one who’d changed him. Frank, the one who’d carried him back into the house after the baseball practice and run him a bath, filled it with ice cubes and shavingcream. From where I sat, in my room, I could hear the two of them: Barry making small, cooing noises; Frank whistling.
What kind of idiot am I? Frank said. I never got around to introducing myself, buddy. My name is Frank.
Barry made a sound then.
That’s right, Frank told him. Frank. My grandmother called me Frankie. Either one is fine by me.
He made us dinner again. My mother sat on the edge of the counter, sharing a beer with him. She had dug up an old Chinese fan, probably from some dance routine she’d done one time. Now she was fanning him.
I bet you could think up a nice dance to do for me with that one, Adele, he told her. You’d probably have some great-looking outfit to go with it. Or not.
Nobody was hungry, due to the heat, but Frank had made a cold curry soup with the last of the peaches and the last of an old container of hot sauce we had, from some take-out food we got once. After, my mother fixed root beer floats, and Barry and I sat in the backyard, beyond the sight lines of the Jervises’ aboveground pool, where we could hear the splashing of the girl with asthma and her little brother. When the bugs got bad, we came inside and turned on the television. They were showing Close Encounters of the Third Kind . Frank propped up Barry in his chair and wrapped another cool cloth around his neck. My mother made popcorn.
When we heard the sound of Evelyn’s car pulling up, Frank
Picture yourself jumping out a hospital window and landing on two feet—a little glass on your head maybe, a gash down one side of your shin—you’re out of there.
To be honest, he said, the person whose arm worries me here isn’t you, Henry. It’s your mother.
You could use some serious remedial work, Adele, he said. You, I might need to work with you a lot longer. Years possibly.
Seeing her laugh like that, I realized it was a sight I hadn’t witnessed in a long time. I was catcher now. Frank was still pitching, but now he stepped away from the spot he’d designated as the mound and approached my mother on the plate. He positioned himself so he could wrap his long arms around her. Send one our way, Henry, he said, tossing me the ball.
Only one pitch, since there was no catcher. I raised my armand released the ball. The two of them swung. There was a hard, solid cracking sound. The ball went flying.
From over in his lawn chair, Barry let out a yelp.
M Y FATHER CALLED . H E AND M ARJORIE and the kids were at a cookout. He wanted to know if we could do our Friendly’s night tomorrow instead of tonight. There was a sound to his voice, as he said this, that reminded me of how people acted on the phone, times when my mother got me to help her out with MegaMite, and I’d knock on the door of someone who used to be a customer, but didn’t want to buy vitamins anymore, and I knew they were just wishing I’d go away so they could get back to their life and stop feeling guilty.
You and your mother doing OK? he said. His voice had that sound where I knew he was feeling sorry for us, at the same time he just wanted to get off the phone and back to his other family, where things were easier.
We’ve got friends over, I told him. As Frank would have said, I could pass a lie detector test with that statement.
Evelyn also called. Traffic had been so bad on Route 93 it had been two o’clock when she reached the hospital. They were waiting to talk with the doctor now. She was hoping Barry could stay on till after dinnertime.
Just get here when you can, Evelyn, I heard my mother say into the receiver. He seems to be doing all right.
Evelyn must have asked about the diaper situation then. That was the part that worried her. He was a big boy now, Barry. Not the easiest thing anymore, lifting him out of the chair.
My mother didn’t say Frank was the one who’d changed him. Frank, the one who’d carried him back into the house after the baseball practice and run him a bath, filled it with ice cubes and shavingcream. From where I sat, in my room, I could hear the two of them: Barry making small, cooing noises; Frank whistling.
What kind of idiot am I? Frank said. I never got around to introducing myself, buddy. My name is Frank.
Barry made a sound then.
That’s right, Frank told him. Frank. My grandmother called me Frankie. Either one is fine by me.
He made us dinner again. My mother sat on the edge of the counter, sharing a beer with him. She had dug up an old Chinese fan, probably from some dance routine she’d done one time. Now she was fanning him.
I bet you could think up a nice dance to do for me with that one, Adele, he told her. You’d probably have some great-looking outfit to go with it. Or not.
Nobody was hungry, due to the heat, but Frank had made a cold curry soup with the last of the peaches and the last of an old container of hot sauce we had, from some take-out food we got once. After, my mother fixed root beer floats, and Barry and I sat in the backyard, beyond the sight lines of the Jervises’ aboveground pool, where we could hear the splashing of the girl with asthma and her little brother. When the bugs got bad, we came inside and turned on the television. They were showing Close Encounters of the Third Kind . Frank propped up Barry in his chair and wrapped another cool cloth around his neck. My mother made popcorn.
When we heard the sound of Evelyn’s car pulling up, Frank
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