Read Online John Fitzgerald by Me, My Little Brain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Me, My Little Brain
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that hurt my ears," he continued, his face becoming very pale. "I
stopped and turned around. Papa and Willie were unhitching the team and Mamma
was waiting for them. Then the mountain fell down and they were all gone."
Tears came into his eyes. "They are all deaded ,"
he said softly.
I wasn't aware I was crying until Frankie
reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingers and I felt a
wetness there.
"Why are you crying, John?" he
asked. "It is my Mamma and Papa and brother who are deaded and not yours."
"I just feel
like crying," I said.
Papa said, "There is no doubt there
were two slides, one below where they were and the bigger one right over
them."
Dr. LeRoy cleared
his throat. "I didn't want to alarm your father or mother, John," he
said, "but it is fortunate Frankie is very young. An older person seeing
such a terrible thing happen to their family might not ever have
recovered." I stood up. "I've got to go do my chores now," I
said. "Can I help?" Frankie asked.
I remembered Papa
had often said that faith in the Lord, time, and keeping busy were the best
medicine for grief. "You bet you can," I said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frankie Takes Over
I THOUGHT MY
TROUBLES with Frankie were over now that he was over his mental block. I was as
mistaken as a farmer trying to milk a bull. Now that Frankie was normal, he
turned out to be a real takeover kid. I started teaching him how to play
checkers after supper. At eight o'clock Mamma announced it was time for us to
take our baths and go to bed. It has always been a tradition in our house that
the youngest has to take his Saturday night bath first.
"Time for
your bath, Frankie," Mamma said.
He was sitting on the Oriental rug next to
the fireplace with me. He folded his arms on his chest with a stubborn look on
his face. "Make John go first," he said. "You are the
youngest," I said. "That means you go first."
"I ain't going to take a bath until you do," he said.
"Please humor him," Mamma said.
"Maybe he just wants to make sure you have to take a bath, too. Little
boys are funny that way."
"There isn't anything funny about
making a nine year-old take a bath before a four-year-old," I said.
Papa got into the argument. "Do as
your mother says, J.D.," he said. "Just for
tonight."
What could I do? It was an order. I was in
the tub taking my bath when I heard a knock on the door.
"What
now?" I hollered.
"Frankie wants to see you taking your
bath," Mamma called through the door.
"Send him in," I shouted.
"But tell him not to get too near the tub or I'll drown him." I
didn't mean it, of course, but I was still smarting because I had to take my
bath before a four-year-old.
Mamma opened the
door. "Now stop making such a big fuss over this," she reprimanded
me.
Frankie walked over and looked at me in the
tub. He nodded his head and smiled.
"Are you
satisfied I'm taking a bath and not just sailing a boat in here?" I asked.
"If I have to take a bath," he
said, "I'm going to make sure you have to take a bath too."
Boy, oh, boy, here was a kid who hated to
take a bath even more than I did. He left the bathroom with Mamma. I finished
bathing and washed out the tub. I put on a clean nightgown and robe. Then I
went into the parlor to say good night. I started to leave the room as Mamma
took Frankie by the hand and led him out of the parlor.
"Just a minute, J.D.," Papa said.
"Frankie has been through a terrible experience. I want you to humor him
and give in to him for as long as he is in this house. Is that
understood?"
"Yes,
Papa," I said.
I usually fell asleep right away after
taking a bath. But I didn't that night. I heard somebody coming up the stairs.
Then Mamma came into the bedroom holding Frankie in her arms. She pulled the
beaded chain that turned on the ceiling light.
"Frankie wants to sleep with you
instead of me," she said. "He has
that hurt my ears," he continued, his face becoming very pale. "I
stopped and turned around. Papa and Willie were unhitching the team and Mamma
was waiting for them. Then the mountain fell down and they were all gone."
Tears came into his eyes. "They are all deaded ,"
he said softly.
I wasn't aware I was crying until Frankie
reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingers and I felt a
wetness there.
"Why are you crying, John?" he
asked. "It is my Mamma and Papa and brother who are deaded and not yours."
"I just feel
like crying," I said.
Papa said, "There is no doubt there
were two slides, one below where they were and the bigger one right over
them."
Dr. LeRoy cleared
his throat. "I didn't want to alarm your father or mother, John," he
said, "but it is fortunate Frankie is very young. An older person seeing
such a terrible thing happen to their family might not ever have
recovered." I stood up. "I've got to go do my chores now," I
said. "Can I help?" Frankie asked.
I remembered Papa
had often said that faith in the Lord, time, and keeping busy were the best
medicine for grief. "You bet you can," I said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frankie Takes Over
I THOUGHT MY
TROUBLES with Frankie were over now that he was over his mental block. I was as
mistaken as a farmer trying to milk a bull. Now that Frankie was normal, he
turned out to be a real takeover kid. I started teaching him how to play
checkers after supper. At eight o'clock Mamma announced it was time for us to
take our baths and go to bed. It has always been a tradition in our house that
the youngest has to take his Saturday night bath first.
"Time for
your bath, Frankie," Mamma said.
He was sitting on the Oriental rug next to
the fireplace with me. He folded his arms on his chest with a stubborn look on
his face. "Make John go first," he said. "You are the
youngest," I said. "That means you go first."
"I ain't going to take a bath until you do," he said.
"Please humor him," Mamma said.
"Maybe he just wants to make sure you have to take a bath, too. Little
boys are funny that way."
"There isn't anything funny about
making a nine year-old take a bath before a four-year-old," I said.
Papa got into the argument. "Do as
your mother says, J.D.," he said. "Just for
tonight."
What could I do? It was an order. I was in
the tub taking my bath when I heard a knock on the door.
"What
now?" I hollered.
"Frankie wants to see you taking your
bath," Mamma called through the door.
"Send him in," I shouted.
"But tell him not to get too near the tub or I'll drown him." I
didn't mean it, of course, but I was still smarting because I had to take my
bath before a four-year-old.
Mamma opened the
door. "Now stop making such a big fuss over this," she reprimanded
me.
Frankie walked over and looked at me in the
tub. He nodded his head and smiled.
"Are you
satisfied I'm taking a bath and not just sailing a boat in here?" I asked.
"If I have to take a bath," he
said, "I'm going to make sure you have to take a bath too."
Boy, oh, boy, here was a kid who hated to
take a bath even more than I did. He left the bathroom with Mamma. I finished
bathing and washed out the tub. I put on a clean nightgown and robe. Then I
went into the parlor to say good night. I started to leave the room as Mamma
took Frankie by the hand and led him out of the parlor.
"Just a minute, J.D.," Papa said.
"Frankie has been through a terrible experience. I want you to humor him
and give in to him for as long as he is in this house. Is that
understood?"
"Yes,
Papa," I said.
I usually fell asleep right away after
taking a bath. But I didn't that night. I heard somebody coming up the stairs.
Then Mamma came into the bedroom holding Frankie in her arms. She pulled the
beaded chain that turned on the ceiling light.
"Frankie wants to sleep with you
instead of me," she said. "He has
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