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