steering wheel. For a long time he stared unseeingly at the fuzzy dice dangling from the rear view mirror. When the blare of a nearby horn brought him out of his self-imposed catatonia, he swiped at the moisture running down his face, then wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he knew anyone passing by would do a double take; his normally pleasant features were distorted with anger.
* * * *
The park was quiet, the shade of the stately oaks cool as Sean entered. He pedaled to one of the picnic tables, dismounted, and rested his bike against a nearby pine. Going to the table, he sat, pulled Bronnie's note from his pocket, and bent over to read.
* * * *
I am sorry Daddy threatened you, Sean. Mama threatened me, too. I wasn't surprised he came to see you and not surprised at all that he tried to bribe you. I heard him and Mama talking last night. He called your father a beggar because he heard that radio spot Mr. Cullen did last week. My Dad thinks anyone who advertises on the radio and TV has to beg to make a living. He said people like that would do anything for money. I am so proud of you for not taking that check even if you did want to tear it up in front of him. I don't know what makes them so mean, but it doesn't matter.
Although my heart is breaking, I will do as you suggest. It will be the hardest thing in the world to pass you in the halls and not speak. It will be torture not to be able to pick up the phone and call you. I will be miserable not being able to talk with you at the park or meet you at Burdette's for a Cherry Coke.
* * * *
Sean paused, staring at the clean, elegant sweep of Bronwyn's handwriting. He lovingly touched one of the little circles she used to dot her “Is,” then turned the sheet over to read the last page.
* * * *
I will keep the letter you wrote me in a safe place, but the poem you wrote I folded and placed in the locket you gave me for Christmas. I will wear it with the Claddagh for as long as I live, my love.
Next year, as soon as graduation is over, I will be ready to leave with you. No one will know I've left until it is too late to do anything about it. We'll go up to South Carolina and get married. Until then, know I love you.
Bronnie
* * * *
He read the note twice more, then slowly folded the sheets and put them back in his pocket. With his hands clasped on the tabletop, he stared across the park at the caged animals.
McGregor's threats made him feel as though he were one of those helpless creatures, no longer in control of his life. He had not planned on leaving Albany until he could take Bronnie with him, but now he had no choice. As soon as he graduated in June, he would enlist in the service and hope, if they sent him overseas, he'd live to come back for the woman he loved.
When Sean arrived home that evening, his father was sitting on the front porch steps, a bottle of beer clutched in his meaty hand. The older man was clad in a pair of worn shorts and a sleeveless undershirt stained heavily under the arms. “You're late,” he accused.
“I had two details to do.”
Cullen grunted, then reached into the back pocket of his shorts. “This came for you today.” He threw an envelope at Sean's feet.
Sean laid his bike on the ground and bent to pick up the envelope. He frowned when he saw it had been opened.
“I asked myself why do you reckon that fancy doc with his expensive foreign car would be writing a letter to my addle-brained son,” Cullen commented. “Couldn't be nothing good, I answered.”
Sean spread the flap of the envelope and glanced at the check inside, which he had expected to find.
“Then I asked myself why under God's blue sky this fancy doc would be giving my son five thousand dollars.” Cullen took a long swig of beer. Wiping the back of his hand across his lips, he pointed the bottle at Sean. “Know what I answered myself that time, Seannie, me boy? I says to myself—that fancy doc don't
* * * *
The park was quiet, the shade of the stately oaks cool as Sean entered. He pedaled to one of the picnic tables, dismounted, and rested his bike against a nearby pine. Going to the table, he sat, pulled Bronnie's note from his pocket, and bent over to read.
* * * *
I am sorry Daddy threatened you, Sean. Mama threatened me, too. I wasn't surprised he came to see you and not surprised at all that he tried to bribe you. I heard him and Mama talking last night. He called your father a beggar because he heard that radio spot Mr. Cullen did last week. My Dad thinks anyone who advertises on the radio and TV has to beg to make a living. He said people like that would do anything for money. I am so proud of you for not taking that check even if you did want to tear it up in front of him. I don't know what makes them so mean, but it doesn't matter.
Although my heart is breaking, I will do as you suggest. It will be the hardest thing in the world to pass you in the halls and not speak. It will be torture not to be able to pick up the phone and call you. I will be miserable not being able to talk with you at the park or meet you at Burdette's for a Cherry Coke.
* * * *
Sean paused, staring at the clean, elegant sweep of Bronwyn's handwriting. He lovingly touched one of the little circles she used to dot her “Is,” then turned the sheet over to read the last page.
* * * *
I will keep the letter you wrote me in a safe place, but the poem you wrote I folded and placed in the locket you gave me for Christmas. I will wear it with the Claddagh for as long as I live, my love.
Next year, as soon as graduation is over, I will be ready to leave with you. No one will know I've left until it is too late to do anything about it. We'll go up to South Carolina and get married. Until then, know I love you.
Bronnie
* * * *
He read the note twice more, then slowly folded the sheets and put them back in his pocket. With his hands clasped on the tabletop, he stared across the park at the caged animals.
McGregor's threats made him feel as though he were one of those helpless creatures, no longer in control of his life. He had not planned on leaving Albany until he could take Bronnie with him, but now he had no choice. As soon as he graduated in June, he would enlist in the service and hope, if they sent him overseas, he'd live to come back for the woman he loved.
When Sean arrived home that evening, his father was sitting on the front porch steps, a bottle of beer clutched in his meaty hand. The older man was clad in a pair of worn shorts and a sleeveless undershirt stained heavily under the arms. “You're late,” he accused.
“I had two details to do.”
Cullen grunted, then reached into the back pocket of his shorts. “This came for you today.” He threw an envelope at Sean's feet.
Sean laid his bike on the ground and bent to pick up the envelope. He frowned when he saw it had been opened.
“I asked myself why do you reckon that fancy doc with his expensive foreign car would be writing a letter to my addle-brained son,” Cullen commented. “Couldn't be nothing good, I answered.”
Sean spread the flap of the envelope and glanced at the check inside, which he had expected to find.
“Then I asked myself why under God's blue sky this fancy doc would be giving my son five thousand dollars.” Cullen took a long swig of beer. Wiping the back of his hand across his lips, he pointed the bottle at Sean. “Know what I answered myself that time, Seannie, me boy? I says to myself—that fancy doc don't
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