big mouth.”
“I’m just hungry, is all,” Sumter’s voice was smaller, thinner.
“He’s a growing boy, Ralph.”
My mother stood up so quickly, pushing her chair back, that even Grammy Weenie looked up from her plate. “I don’t know why you men are so inconsiderate to the people around you. It’s not like anyone needs you for anything.”
Missy stopped kicking me under the table. Nonie began scratching her neck; she always did that when she was nervous. She rolled her eyes and whispered, “Here we go.”
Grammy Weenie waved her fork around in the air. “All I ever ask for is peace and quiet at the table, and this is what I get. Well, thank you very much for this scene, Evelyn, and may you burn this quotation into that mind of yours: ‘Behave like a nut and you will soon become one.’”
Mother squinted her eyes and leaned forward, her palms slapping down on the table. “And I have one for you, too, Mama, and it goes, ‘The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.’”
Grammy smiled and took my hand up in hers. “Your mother, dear, was always a high-strung child. I thought I was raising daughters, but I have since discovered I was raising demons.” The ring on her thumb scratched against the back of my hand.
7
After we’d finished eating, I found my father smoking a cigarette out on the front porch.
“I wasn’t hungry,” he said when he saw me.
“It wasn’t very good. Mystery loaf.”
“Want to sit?” He made room on the porch swing next to him.
I shook my head. “I just didn’t know where you went.”
“I was here. I’m your daddy, Snug. I’ll always be here, don’t you worry about that.”
“I wasn’t. And I’m too old for Snug. And I wasn’t worried.”
“If you ever think you might be, you’ll see. I’ll be somewhere nearby.”
Mosquitoes pecked at my neck and ears, and the sky was murky with oncoming night. The sound of the ocean was like trucks out on the highway near where we lived in Richmond. I could see no stars, not because there weren’t any, but because I had closed my eyes and was wishing that we were back there in our small house with our dog Buster. And if I opened my eyes after I counted to ten, I would be there, in my room, and the stars and the dark would be different than what hung over Gull Island, because this night was a wall that I would not be able to see over.
I AWOKE in the middle of the night with someone standing over my bed.
“Beau? You awake?” It was Sumter, although I could not see his face because of the dark.
“I am now.”
“I can’t sleep. Everybody’s snoring except you.”
“You can’t sleep here. Not enough room. And I’m mad at you. You lied about the crab.”
“I’m mad at you, too.”
“Oh.”
“I lied ’cause if I didn’t lie they’d tear Neverland down.”
“Oh,” I said.
“It didn’t hurt you, anyway. And you squealed.”
“I did not . . . well, nobody believed me.”
After a moment he said, “I could sleep on the floor.”
“I guess.”
“Beau?”
“Huh?”
“‘Member Grampa Lee? When he was alive?”
“Only way I do remember him.”
“He seems like a shadow to me. I can’t even remember his face. ’Member his stories? About W. W. Two?”
“About the Pacific?”
“Uh-huh. And the beautiful bomb. How people just disintegrated and it went down whoosh and then went up again like a giant mushroom up above Japan. He said it was a good bomb ’cause it stopped worse things. You think that’s true? Things being good just ’cause they stop worse things?”
“I am so sleepy I can’t even think straight. Go to sleep.”
“Grampa Lee said it was ‘Lights out for the Rising Sun.’”
I was just falling asleep when I realized he was still talking, droning on. “That’s what I feel like, sometimes. Like I just want it to be Lights out. Lights out and no sun to come up, no sun ’t’all. You think if there’s a god
of light, there’s one for the dark, too? I mean, you
“I’m just hungry, is all,” Sumter’s voice was smaller, thinner.
“He’s a growing boy, Ralph.”
My mother stood up so quickly, pushing her chair back, that even Grammy Weenie looked up from her plate. “I don’t know why you men are so inconsiderate to the people around you. It’s not like anyone needs you for anything.”
Missy stopped kicking me under the table. Nonie began scratching her neck; she always did that when she was nervous. She rolled her eyes and whispered, “Here we go.”
Grammy Weenie waved her fork around in the air. “All I ever ask for is peace and quiet at the table, and this is what I get. Well, thank you very much for this scene, Evelyn, and may you burn this quotation into that mind of yours: ‘Behave like a nut and you will soon become one.’”
Mother squinted her eyes and leaned forward, her palms slapping down on the table. “And I have one for you, too, Mama, and it goes, ‘The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.’”
Grammy smiled and took my hand up in hers. “Your mother, dear, was always a high-strung child. I thought I was raising daughters, but I have since discovered I was raising demons.” The ring on her thumb scratched against the back of my hand.
7
After we’d finished eating, I found my father smoking a cigarette out on the front porch.
“I wasn’t hungry,” he said when he saw me.
“It wasn’t very good. Mystery loaf.”
“Want to sit?” He made room on the porch swing next to him.
I shook my head. “I just didn’t know where you went.”
“I was here. I’m your daddy, Snug. I’ll always be here, don’t you worry about that.”
“I wasn’t. And I’m too old for Snug. And I wasn’t worried.”
“If you ever think you might be, you’ll see. I’ll be somewhere nearby.”
Mosquitoes pecked at my neck and ears, and the sky was murky with oncoming night. The sound of the ocean was like trucks out on the highway near where we lived in Richmond. I could see no stars, not because there weren’t any, but because I had closed my eyes and was wishing that we were back there in our small house with our dog Buster. And if I opened my eyes after I counted to ten, I would be there, in my room, and the stars and the dark would be different than what hung over Gull Island, because this night was a wall that I would not be able to see over.
I AWOKE in the middle of the night with someone standing over my bed.
“Beau? You awake?” It was Sumter, although I could not see his face because of the dark.
“I am now.”
“I can’t sleep. Everybody’s snoring except you.”
“You can’t sleep here. Not enough room. And I’m mad at you. You lied about the crab.”
“I’m mad at you, too.”
“Oh.”
“I lied ’cause if I didn’t lie they’d tear Neverland down.”
“Oh,” I said.
“It didn’t hurt you, anyway. And you squealed.”
“I did not . . . well, nobody believed me.”
After a moment he said, “I could sleep on the floor.”
“I guess.”
“Beau?”
“Huh?”
“‘Member Grampa Lee? When he was alive?”
“Only way I do remember him.”
“He seems like a shadow to me. I can’t even remember his face. ’Member his stories? About W. W. Two?”
“About the Pacific?”
“Uh-huh. And the beautiful bomb. How people just disintegrated and it went down whoosh and then went up again like a giant mushroom up above Japan. He said it was a good bomb ’cause it stopped worse things. You think that’s true? Things being good just ’cause they stop worse things?”
“I am so sleepy I can’t even think straight. Go to sleep.”
“Grampa Lee said it was ‘Lights out for the Rising Sun.’”
I was just falling asleep when I realized he was still talking, droning on. “That’s what I feel like, sometimes. Like I just want it to be Lights out. Lights out and no sun to come up, no sun ’t’all. You think if there’s a god
of light, there’s one for the dark, too? I mean, you
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