into the tool shed behind the house. So the kids wouldn’t see their Uncle Laird come home drunk. And they wouldn’t hear him and their grandma fight. There was a woodstove in the shed, so I was able to make it warm, and once I got it cleaned up and put our beds out there, it was fine. It was kind of like playin house. Me and the kids, we’d take our baths in Mama’s tub, and then go out to the shed and pile into bed together.
But it wasn’t a “nice little apartment” like Raymond said. It was a shed. A place to store things. It was full of old Masonite boards and it smelled like turpentine. It was where Laird had always went to paint. He had talent, Laird did. He painted pictures of mountains, lakes, and rivers, with deer and wolves. All so lifelike. He could of made somethin of himself if it weren’t for his drinkin. Instead, he just gave his pictures away. Traded em for booze. People said half the bars in Grants Pass had Laird’s paintins on the walls.
When Laird was sober he was great to have around. The kids loved him. He built em kites. Rough-housed with em. Chased em around the yard with a pair of tin snips, sayin he was goin to cut off their ears. They ran and screamed and hid from him, and when he stopped, they begged him to do it again.
Raymond was always writin me letters. Sayin how much he missed his children. Sayin he wished he could visit more often. But he was broke, he said, and couldn’t afford bus fare. Then he’d mention havin gone to camp meetin up in Washington State or some other place. It made me mad. I knew what that cost, and it was a lot more than bus fare to Grants Pass. I wondered, though, if the kids weren’t better off without him. The longer he was away the less they seemed to miss him. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have any men around. They had Uncle Laird and Uncle Gabe and Uncle Walt, who all went out of their way to spend time with em.
Walt was my sister Zelda’s husband. He was a big, even-tempered, teddy bear of a man. Nothin rattled him. He would take Bubby home with him, keep him overnight. Bubby loved tools and machines and takin things apart, and Uncle Walt would let him putter around in his workshop. But Uncle Gabe preferred the girls. He let them come over anytime they wanted, but he wasn’t as patient with Bubby. Bubby got on his nerves. One time Gabe brought Bubby home, pullin him so hard by one ear, the poor kid was clear up on his tiptoes. “Keep this one away from my shop,” he said. “He takes things apart and I can’t find all the pieces.”
.
23
I WAS EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT with Sam when I met Ed Landres. It was after my accident and before I’d made up my mind about leavin Raymond. Ed didn’t have anythin to do with my decision, but he did make an impression.
I’d just got out of the hospital and was stayin at Mama’s house. Mama was takin care of my three kids and I barely left the davenport.
My brother Laird’s drinkin had got him kicked out of his place, so he was stayin there too, and that’s how I met Ed. He’d come by the house to check up on Laird, and Mama tore into him somethin awful. Far as she was concerned, any friend of Laird’s was a no-good drunk, and ever bit as much to blame for Laird’s drinkin as he was.
Ed kept comin around, though, even after that tongue-lashin, and I liked how he didn’t seem to let Mama git under his skin. He’d set and talk with Laird, and the two of em together put on quite a show, cuttin up the way they did. I got a kick out of watchin him and Laird play with my kids, who loved the attention. And just seein how much they loved it drove home to me that it wasn’t just my life that was dismal, it was their lives too.
It was later, after Sam was born and I was divorced, that I started goin out with Ed. I was workin at the box factory then, and me and the kids had moved into the little shed behind Mama’s house, so there was no way to keep her from knowin. She had a conniption fit. Said his
But it wasn’t a “nice little apartment” like Raymond said. It was a shed. A place to store things. It was full of old Masonite boards and it smelled like turpentine. It was where Laird had always went to paint. He had talent, Laird did. He painted pictures of mountains, lakes, and rivers, with deer and wolves. All so lifelike. He could of made somethin of himself if it weren’t for his drinkin. Instead, he just gave his pictures away. Traded em for booze. People said half the bars in Grants Pass had Laird’s paintins on the walls.
When Laird was sober he was great to have around. The kids loved him. He built em kites. Rough-housed with em. Chased em around the yard with a pair of tin snips, sayin he was goin to cut off their ears. They ran and screamed and hid from him, and when he stopped, they begged him to do it again.
Raymond was always writin me letters. Sayin how much he missed his children. Sayin he wished he could visit more often. But he was broke, he said, and couldn’t afford bus fare. Then he’d mention havin gone to camp meetin up in Washington State or some other place. It made me mad. I knew what that cost, and it was a lot more than bus fare to Grants Pass. I wondered, though, if the kids weren’t better off without him. The longer he was away the less they seemed to miss him. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have any men around. They had Uncle Laird and Uncle Gabe and Uncle Walt, who all went out of their way to spend time with em.
Walt was my sister Zelda’s husband. He was a big, even-tempered, teddy bear of a man. Nothin rattled him. He would take Bubby home with him, keep him overnight. Bubby loved tools and machines and takin things apart, and Uncle Walt would let him putter around in his workshop. But Uncle Gabe preferred the girls. He let them come over anytime they wanted, but he wasn’t as patient with Bubby. Bubby got on his nerves. One time Gabe brought Bubby home, pullin him so hard by one ear, the poor kid was clear up on his tiptoes. “Keep this one away from my shop,” he said. “He takes things apart and I can’t find all the pieces.”
.
23
I WAS EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT with Sam when I met Ed Landres. It was after my accident and before I’d made up my mind about leavin Raymond. Ed didn’t have anythin to do with my decision, but he did make an impression.
I’d just got out of the hospital and was stayin at Mama’s house. Mama was takin care of my three kids and I barely left the davenport.
My brother Laird’s drinkin had got him kicked out of his place, so he was stayin there too, and that’s how I met Ed. He’d come by the house to check up on Laird, and Mama tore into him somethin awful. Far as she was concerned, any friend of Laird’s was a no-good drunk, and ever bit as much to blame for Laird’s drinkin as he was.
Ed kept comin around, though, even after that tongue-lashin, and I liked how he didn’t seem to let Mama git under his skin. He’d set and talk with Laird, and the two of em together put on quite a show, cuttin up the way they did. I got a kick out of watchin him and Laird play with my kids, who loved the attention. And just seein how much they loved it drove home to me that it wasn’t just my life that was dismal, it was their lives too.
It was later, after Sam was born and I was divorced, that I started goin out with Ed. I was workin at the box factory then, and me and the kids had moved into the little shed behind Mama’s house, so there was no way to keep her from knowin. She had a conniption fit. Said his
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