The Color of the Sky, The Conclusion

And now the conclusion...

When I got home, I dropped the blanket on my bed and headed to the hay loft.  I had to think.  I had discovered how to... well... "take" matters into my own hand, but didn't know any more than that.

It wasn't long before Sissy... I mean, Rusty came up.  He sat next to me.  I was still perplexed.

"You alright?  You looked like you seen something weird."

I shook my head. "I'm fine. I just heard about something."

"What was it?"

I told him.  He didn't seemed surprised, then I found out why.

"My older brother Luke made me do that one time.  He was drunk and he told me if I didn't do it he was going to tell Daddy and he would get mad and tell me to do it."

I was shocked.

Rusty slid closer to me and nuzzled his nose nuzzle against me jaw.  Before I knew it, I was kissing him.  I felt his hand slide down my shirt to my trousers.  Ten minutes later, I experienced what I had just learned that day.  I squirmed and bite hard on my shirt collar to keep from crying out.

Late in the day, I saw it.  The begonia and all the other flowers were in full color.  I noticed the leaves on the trees, the dark green paint on the house, and the pinks, blues, and purples of Gra'ma dresses.  The green fields and the grass.  The barn and its faded red paint.

*****

A week later, Rusty and I were sleeping in my full-sized bed.  He wore his old nightshirt and I wore my undershirt and underwear. 

Laying on my back, I saw him laying on his side facing me.  A thunderstorm rolled in and ever so often lighting would strike.  The air felt good.  It was cool and damp after hot and dry for weeks. The garden would grow like mad now.

Rusty shifted towards me.  He was scared of the storm.  I got up and pushed the window down so it was open just enough for the strong breeze to come in, but kept the rain out.  I crawled back into bed and clasped my hands behind my head.  Rusty snuggled against me.  I wrapped my arm around him, wanting to keep him safe. I could feel his arm across my chest and his nose into my neck.

I slept good.  Sometime in the morning, I woke and could hear the rain still hitting the window.  I also heard the creak of the door as it closed.  I saw Gra'ma's back as she left.  Rusty and I were still snuggled together.

The next morning, the rain was gone. I dressed and left Rusty sleeping.  Out in the kitchen, Gra'ma stared at something in her hand and sipped her coffee.  I looked out the window and saw a mechanic working on our Ford sedan.

"He's putting on the part it needed."  Gra'ma said as she went out and talked to the mechanic.  I could hear it start and run.  He drove off and Gra'ma came back in.  "He's going to put gas in it for me.  Also put on new tires.  He's such a nice man."

I saw that the wall of the kitchen were yellow.  The curtains in the window were polka-dotted in blues.  And Gra'ma's hair had streaks of silver among the dark.

She pulled what she had been looking at from her apron pocket and laid it on the table.  It was a photograph.  I could see it was a couple of men.  I thought maybe it was Uncle Will and Granddad.

"Who are they?" I said.

"That's my brother Horace. He's fifteen years younger than me. He lives in Los Angeles and works in the motion pictures.  He helps with the sets and stuff like that.  Not really sure what."

I had never seen Uncle Horace before and only heard stories.  "Whose that with him?  A movie star?"

Gra'ma grinned.  "That's his lover."  Not saying any more, she poured more coffee and got some eggs out of the basket on the counter.  "They have a house with a guest house behind it.  He's got money. Not that we're bad off.  I've got the money from your parent's and Granddad's insurance policies. Money put back for your education. Not sure just yet what to do about Rusty.

I knew then that Gra'ma knew about Rusty and me.  I was sure that seeing us snuggled together in bed had helped solve the mystery, if there was a mystery to solve.

She broke and mixed the eggs in a bowl then poured them in the hot cast iron skillet.   She cut sausage and put it another skillet.

"I've been thinking about Rusty. Maybe he should..."  She turned and looked at me.

It was one of the few other times that I was scared of what was about to be said.  I worried that she was going to say that Rusty needed to go back home.  That she didn't want him here.  That he was a bad influence on me and I needed to find a nice girl to date.

"I think it's time we leave here.  We need a change."

I stood up.  I started crying. "You can't send him away. Not back over there.  His daddy will just beat him again.  He's happy here."   Up until then, I had never raised my voice, especially to Gra'ma.

With her mouth hung open, Gra'ma put her hands out to me.  "No.  No.  We're not sending him back over there.  I was thinking he could come with us.  To California.  I've had a letter from Horace. He says we can come live with him."

I fell into her arms and sobbed hard.

*****

We left November third.  It was a Monday. Granddad's Ford ran smoothly.  The mechanic said it should make it all the way to China if we needed.  Not that we'd want to go there.

We'd packed the trunk and backseat with what we actually owned from the rented house. Gra'ma taught me to drive so I could help on the long trip. Gra'ma drove first and Rusty sat in the middle, leaning towards me.

"Horace says we're going to love Los Angeles.  They have orange trees all over and there's movie stars and plenty of work."  Gra'ma's excitement wore off on us.

We drove through town.  I waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Milton.  They smiled and waved back.  The Write tipped his hat.  I stuck my tongue out at Neil.  He just stood there. My once sepia-toned world was gone.  I saw everything in full color now.  The world was beautiful.

*****

Now that I am older, I can tell this story.  I'm sitting at my typewriter in our house in Los Angeles.  Rusty is out in the backyard, reading something.  I think it might be my new manuscript.  We lived with Uncle Horace right up through college.  Gra'ma paid for my education. I studied English.  Rusty went to work for Uncle Horace helping build sets.  Gra'ma lived to be one hundred and one.  We never went back to Whitcomb, that town south of Terre Haute, Indiana, but we kept in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Milton until they passed away.  They did tell us that Mr. Fray died while drunk.  He got hit by a train when he staggered out onto the tracks after a visit to Ms. Watkins.

The world is changing again around us again.  We could fly back now to Whitcomb, but we won't.  My world hasn't changed the way that it did back in 1942 when I first noticed that the color of the sky was bright blue.


CSM

The Color of the Sky, Part Five

And now Part Five...

I ran home.  I wasn't sure exactly what was happening.   All the browns and grays and shades of white were dripping like wet paint.

When I got to the end of the lane, I could see Gra'ma standing on the front porch.  She had her big blue enameled stirring spoon in her hand.  I could see it was blue.  Her dress was red with pink flowers.  Sepia-toned Mr. Fray was standing at the bottom of the steps.

As I neared, I could hear her.  She was in state of anger that I rarely saw.

"You just think you're takin' that youngin' home, you old coot."

"Now see here, Mrs. Jeffries, he's my son and I'll do what I damn well please."

"Like hell you will.  You can just go back over to your own side of the road and stay there."

Mr. Fray took a step forward and Gra'ma whacked him hard on the head with her spoon.  Dazed, he stepped back.  She then hauled off and whacked him again, only this time on the side of his head.  Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  Three more times she hit him.

"Damn you old woman!"

"You see here, you old child beater!  You can just go to Hell.  You ain't gettin' that child back."

Mr. Fray shook his fist and walked away.  "I'll call the Sheriff."

An hour later, Sheriff Adams showed up.  I stood at the screen door and watched Gra'ma show him the bruises and scrapes on Sissy Boy.  The Sheriff wandered over to Mr. Fray.  Not too long after, he came back, carrying a suitcase that he handed to Gra'ma.  Sheriff Adams said "You can keep Sissy Boy.  Mr. Fray doesn't want him back."

"Fine.  Rusty is very welcomed here and you can rest assured that he won't get beaten."

That was the first time that I had heard him called Rusty.  From that point on, Gra'ma insisted we call him by his real name.  That was the first time I saw that he had red hair.  His name fit.

That was that.

*****

Later that day, Gra'ma sent me into town to buy an extra blanket, but I ran into Neil before I could get in Milton's back door.

"I hear ya got a girlfriend livin' whitch ya now," he barked.  "Has she gotten ya off yet? Or you got a muff down there?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Well then why don't ya go over to Ms. Watkins' and ask one of her girls to tell ya. I dare ya."

"I will."  I marched off towards Ms. Watkins' place.  I hoped nobody would see me.

Ms. Watkins kept a whore house near the railroad tracks, not far from the depot. They liked to entertain the gentlemen.  I wasn't sure exactly what they did there.  I could only guess that she had ice cream socials since one time I heard Neil talking about how the women that lived there liked licking things.

It was one of those big old houses that they didn't build anymore.  Mrs. Watkins kept it looking nice. The white picket fence looked like it had just been whitewashed.  I strolled along the sidewalk and tried to look nonchalant about it all. 

I'm not sure about this.  I'm not sure I can do this.  I thought, but then said out loud.  "But who else you gonna ask."  I hemmed and I hawed along the sidewalk and kept looking around to see if anyone was looking.  I had to keep the dare. I was tired of Neil and his bullying and I wanted to show him up.

Around the side, the gate was ajar. After, I looked around and didn't see anyone, I squeezed through.  There was a rosebush trellis and a framed swing with a canvas in the side yard.

"What are you looking for, young man?"

At first, I only heard the voice, then a young woman rolled out of a hammock tied between two trees.

"I... I... I..."

"Come now, you can tell me. Are you here for a little fun?"  Her dark hair was tied up with a scarf with the bow on her forehead.  She wore a frilly robe that came down just below her knees.  Her lips were bright ruby red against the sepia tones.

I spoke fast.  "I have a question. What does it mean to get off?  And what does a muff have to do with it?"

She threw her head back and laughed.  "Well now.  Let me see.  You've got a girlfriend, don't you, and want her to know how to do things?"  She leaned forward and whispered in my ear what it was all about.

I didn't know what to say.  I didn't have a father to tell me about such stuff and now I had found out from one of Ms. Watkins' girls.

"What's he want?"  Ms. Watkins had come out on the porch.

I ran away and squeezed back through the gate and headed back to Milton's for that blanket.

CSM

The Color of the Sky, Part Four

And right onto part four...

The next morning is when it happened.  The day that Sissy Boy ran down our lane in that striped dress of his mama's.  His dad had gotten drunk and slapped him around.  He had caught Sissy Boy looking in the closet where his mama's dresses still hung.  Apparently, he was hugging on one of them and thinking about his mama.  His drunken dad didn't understand and made him put it on calling him "the woman of the house."

Gra'ma cried. Sissy Boy cried.  I simply said that I had to go to Milton's because it was my work day.

****

I was sweeping when Sissy Boy came in with a list from Gra'ma.  He was to buy a new shirt and a pair of trousers and a few other things.  I saw that he had on my clothes.  Mrs. Milton helped him.

In the back room, the delivery man had left cartons of merchandise.  Mr. Milton finished inventorying bottles of liniment oil and I was to unpack them.

Mrs. Milton let Sissy Boy try on his new clothes in the small bathroom in the back.

"How do they fit?" I heard her say. "I've left the bag here on the stool next to the door.  It's got the thread Mrs. Jeffries wanted. I put a copy of the receipt in the bag if she needs it.

"They fit fine, ma'am," said Sissy Boy through the shut door.  "And thank you." 

Mrs. Milton left and the bathroom door opened.  Sissy Boy looked nice.  He had folded my clothes perfectly and held them like they were fine linens. 

I couldn't help but grin. "Look at you in your new clothes."

"These are the first new clothes I've had in a long time.  I usually get hand-me-downs."

Without any warning, Sissy Boy kissed me on the lips and headed out the back door.

I turned just in time to see the back of Mrs. Milton walking away.

But there was something strange about her.  Her dress and only her dress was light blue and stood out against the shades of brown and gray.

*****

For the first time, I was scared.  I didn't know what Mrs. Milton would say to Mr. Milton and then what they would say to Gra'ma.

I carried the box of liniment oil bottles to the front of the store.  I spotted Mrs. Milton whispering to Mr. Milton. 

Sitting in his usual spot by the front window was the one everyone called "The Writer."

"How are you today?" he said.

"Good, sir." I glanced over at Mrs. Milton.  She had finished talking to Mr. Milton and headed to the back room.

"Ever read any Dickens?"  He held up his book.

"No, sir." 

Mr. Milton put the last of his stock of pencils and notebooks on the shelf.  He plopped the empty box in the back corner and walked my way.

I inhaled, feeling like I was going to pull all of the air out the room.  Mr. Milton checked my work.

"Very good, Daniel.  You do a good job in keeping the store clean and the shelves neat and tidy."

I was nervous. "Thank you, Mr. Milton."  I thought for sure that this was it.  I was going to be told to leave and never come back.  I was scared and thought I had overused my acceptance of the way things were.

"I may give you a few extra chores.  Of course, I would pay you more."

I was stunned and didn't know what to say.

"Have I ever told you about my sister?  She lives in Chicago with a... well... very special friend that she loves greatly."  He patted me on my shoulder and smiled. "Mrs. Milton and I visit her at least twice a year. We always enjoy our time with them."  His eyes said it all.  You are safe here.  He went to help a customer.

"See, son," said The Writer.  "Just like in Dickens.  All will be well."  He winked.

I let out a long breath of air and finished stocking the bottles.

When I turned around, I froze. I felt like I was frozen in place.

"You alright, son?" asked The Writer.  "Looks like you're looking at the center of the sun."

The jars of red, orange, and green hard candies.  The bright green gum balls.  The orange wrappers of the O'Henrys.  The red letters of the Sky Bars.  The yellow and blue letters of the Butterfingers.  All the candy wrappers were so bright. I squinted my eyes.

*****

CSM