Read Online A Bird On Water Street by Elizabeth O. Dulemba - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth O. Dulemba
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groups—small, medium, and large.
Mom put her hand on my back and steered me toward the smaller pumpkins. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Grace, as long as I’ve got a job, he can have any damned pumpkin he wants,” Dad said. Quick as that, the tension was back, turning my stomach to knots.
I chose a pumpkin from the middle section—a medium-sized one. From a distance, it looked almost perfectly round, with a curly stem on top. Up close, one side of it was kind of flat, but if I turned that part to the back, no one would notice. It would do.
Dad said, “I saw you eyein’ that big one over there, Jack. Let’s get that one.”
I glanced at Mom.
“You picked out a fine pumpkin, Jack,” she said and glared at Dad. “And I bet it will still be the biggest pumpkin in Coppertown this Halloween.”
I tried to ignore the look that passed between them, but Dad’s red face was hard to un-see. He carried the medium pumpkin to the car, which took longer than it should have. When he came back, he was back to his normal color but his eyes were shiny. His moods flipped like pancakes these days.
How many fewer pumpkins would there be in Coppertown this Halloween? I wondered. Since so many folks probably couldn’t afford ’em.
Mom got some fresh squash and greens from the produce stand. Dad bought a Styrofoam cup full of boiled peanuts. We sat on the car hood slurping and munching the hot nuts. Salty juice dripped down my sleeves as I sucked the meat from the shells and tossed them to the ground. The salt made my fingers tingle as they went from the warm peanuts to the cold crisp air over and over again. We went through the entire cup in no time, but I didn’t ask for more.
The ride home was quieter than the ride over. Mom and Dad didn’t hold hands and she didn’t sing along with the radio. They looked straight ahead while I watched the trees thin out as we got closer to home, back to our Red Hills.
Out of the gorge and about thirty minutes west of Coppertown we saw Eli Munroe in his shiny new Jeep cutting up a side road.
“I wonder where he’s going to?” Dad said.
“Maybe he’s getting a pumpkin too,” I replied, though that didn’t seem like something Eli would ever care about.
I watched Dad’s brow furrow in the rearview mirror. “Ain’t no pumpkins that way.”
After dinner, Dad and I cut off the top of the pumpkin and cleaned out the guts with big spoons. We squished the goo between our fingers to pull out the seeds, which Mom roasted in the oven. I carved a scary face into the pumpkin’s good side and laughed as Dad tried to imitate its lopsided expression. The good mood from earlier that day seeped back in as Mom put a small candle inside and set the pumpkin on the front stoop.
“That’s a fine jack-o’-lantern,” Dad said and put his hand on my shoulder.
“You did a good job on the design, honey.” Mom nodded at Dad as if to say, See?
I smiled and crunched on the hot pumpkin seeds until my gums went raw from the salt.
O
Piran and I were too old to wear goofy costumes for Halloween anymore—we had to be cool. So we dressed like fighter pilots from the movie Top Gun . I borrowed Grandpa’s World War II leather bomber jacket. Piran wore coveralls. We put on sunglasses and strutted around like bulls.
Everybody did their trick-or-treating downtown, since the county was so spread out. Business owners set up tables in front of their stores and gave out candy by the bucket load. Kids came from all over. Sheriff Elder led the parade down Water Street in his police cruiser with his lights flashin’ and him shouting “Happy Halloween” over his intercom. The fire department was right behind him in their big red fire truck. Piran and I walked with the crowd of goblins, witches, and superheroes following behind that. There were so many folks in the parade, there weren’t many left to line the streets.
Piran and I entered the costume contest, but the prize for our age group went to Bill
Mom put her hand on my back and steered me toward the smaller pumpkins. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Grace, as long as I’ve got a job, he can have any damned pumpkin he wants,” Dad said. Quick as that, the tension was back, turning my stomach to knots.
I chose a pumpkin from the middle section—a medium-sized one. From a distance, it looked almost perfectly round, with a curly stem on top. Up close, one side of it was kind of flat, but if I turned that part to the back, no one would notice. It would do.
Dad said, “I saw you eyein’ that big one over there, Jack. Let’s get that one.”
I glanced at Mom.
“You picked out a fine pumpkin, Jack,” she said and glared at Dad. “And I bet it will still be the biggest pumpkin in Coppertown this Halloween.”
I tried to ignore the look that passed between them, but Dad’s red face was hard to un-see. He carried the medium pumpkin to the car, which took longer than it should have. When he came back, he was back to his normal color but his eyes were shiny. His moods flipped like pancakes these days.
How many fewer pumpkins would there be in Coppertown this Halloween? I wondered. Since so many folks probably couldn’t afford ’em.
Mom got some fresh squash and greens from the produce stand. Dad bought a Styrofoam cup full of boiled peanuts. We sat on the car hood slurping and munching the hot nuts. Salty juice dripped down my sleeves as I sucked the meat from the shells and tossed them to the ground. The salt made my fingers tingle as they went from the warm peanuts to the cold crisp air over and over again. We went through the entire cup in no time, but I didn’t ask for more.
The ride home was quieter than the ride over. Mom and Dad didn’t hold hands and she didn’t sing along with the radio. They looked straight ahead while I watched the trees thin out as we got closer to home, back to our Red Hills.
Out of the gorge and about thirty minutes west of Coppertown we saw Eli Munroe in his shiny new Jeep cutting up a side road.
“I wonder where he’s going to?” Dad said.
“Maybe he’s getting a pumpkin too,” I replied, though that didn’t seem like something Eli would ever care about.
I watched Dad’s brow furrow in the rearview mirror. “Ain’t no pumpkins that way.”
After dinner, Dad and I cut off the top of the pumpkin and cleaned out the guts with big spoons. We squished the goo between our fingers to pull out the seeds, which Mom roasted in the oven. I carved a scary face into the pumpkin’s good side and laughed as Dad tried to imitate its lopsided expression. The good mood from earlier that day seeped back in as Mom put a small candle inside and set the pumpkin on the front stoop.
“That’s a fine jack-o’-lantern,” Dad said and put his hand on my shoulder.
“You did a good job on the design, honey.” Mom nodded at Dad as if to say, See?
I smiled and crunched on the hot pumpkin seeds until my gums went raw from the salt.
O
Piran and I were too old to wear goofy costumes for Halloween anymore—we had to be cool. So we dressed like fighter pilots from the movie Top Gun . I borrowed Grandpa’s World War II leather bomber jacket. Piran wore coveralls. We put on sunglasses and strutted around like bulls.
Everybody did their trick-or-treating downtown, since the county was so spread out. Business owners set up tables in front of their stores and gave out candy by the bucket load. Kids came from all over. Sheriff Elder led the parade down Water Street in his police cruiser with his lights flashin’ and him shouting “Happy Halloween” over his intercom. The fire department was right behind him in their big red fire truck. Piran and I walked with the crowd of goblins, witches, and superheroes following behind that. There were so many folks in the parade, there weren’t many left to line the streets.
Piran and I entered the costume contest, but the prize for our age group went to Bill
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