who lived under the bridge. I found this ironic because she
never cared where I went or when I came home. I think she just said
it to make herself feel like she wasn’t a horrible
mother.
Finally, I found someone who did answer, a
miserable old man named Rudd who was homeless like Jim. Jim didn’t
like Rudd at all. When he would fish at one of our spots, we would
move to the other side of the canal to avoid him. Rudd was a big
guy with a chubby round face that looked like he was always
blushing.
When I asked him about Jim, he removed a pint
of whiskey from his back pocket and took a giant pull.
“ Jim killed hisself. He jumped off
the dam and drowned right here where I cast my line. They have been
searching for his body for weeks. With all the rain we’ve been
having and the current being so strong, who knows if they will ever
find him,” Rudd explained.
“ You’re lying!” I screamed. “Jim
would never do that!”
“ Believe what you want! Now get
away from me!” Rudd shouted.
I hate to admit it all these years later, but
tears ran down my face that day. I yelled, calling him things I had
heard my mother say, not even knowing what they meant.
About that same time, I heard someone behind
me. It was Mr. Swindle. I ran up to him, pointing back at
Rudd.
“ He said Jim drowned! That Jim
killed himself! Is that true?” I yelled.
Mr. Swindle looked at me with broken eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I am sorry you found out this way. Jim was sick.
He just couldn’t take Vietnam sneaking up on him in the night
anymore.”
I knew Mr. Swindle wouldn’t lie. He liked Jim,
and he knew how much I liked Jim as well. Mr. Swindle used to give
Jim food and money when he needed it. I knew his puffy red eyes
held the truth. I didn’t even thank him for telling me what really
happened; I just tore off for home. When I was halfway there I got
such a stitch in my side that I had to stop running. I couldn’t
catch my breath. I kicked rocks, throwing them at the tall maple
trees that lined the railroad tracks.
Why would Jim kill himself? To a 7 year old
kid it made no sense. I was angry with God for taking Jim away from
me. Angry that I had a mother that didn't want me, angry that I
didn't know who my father was. I felt like an old toy that was no
longer desirable, left in the toy box and forgotten
about.
Losing Jim made me feeling a deep loneliness I
had never experienced before. I swore never to go back to the
canal, ever. There was no reason to return, Jim wouldn’t be there.
I went to my tree house. I started drawing a picture to capture the
scene of Jim and I on the canal. I thought maybe if I put us
together on paper, then he wouldn’t really be gone.
Cindy
CHAPTER SIX
“Many a man in love with a dimple
makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.”
~Brooken Leacock
Cindy Napier’s Diary
July 26, 1978
Two weeks ago, Sam and I tied the knot. It
wasn't the fairytale wedding I’ve always dreamed of, but it was
nice. Everyone seemed to have a great time. Over three hundred
people attended the wedding, which was held at Christ the King
Catholic Church. It was a quaint little church where Sam and his
family were parishioners. They attended service every
Sunday.
All seven of Sam's brothers and sisters had
been baptized there. So, Sam's parents were adamant about us
getting married there. To them, this was non-negotiable. They were
becoming a little too controlling for my taste.
Sam’s family filled the pews on the right side
of the church. The left side was for mine, which numbered far less
than his. The church was a sea of blue. Police blue ran in the
veins of the O’Malley family. Sam will be the fourth generation
O’Malley to serve on the Indianapolis Police Department.
When I was walking down the aisle of lopsided
wedding attendees, I felt a little annoyed that more of my family
didn't attend. It was embarrassing to see the inequity of people
representing my side of the aisle. Focusing on the moment I
never cared where I went or when I came home. I think she just said
it to make herself feel like she wasn’t a horrible
mother.
Finally, I found someone who did answer, a
miserable old man named Rudd who was homeless like Jim. Jim didn’t
like Rudd at all. When he would fish at one of our spots, we would
move to the other side of the canal to avoid him. Rudd was a big
guy with a chubby round face that looked like he was always
blushing.
When I asked him about Jim, he removed a pint
of whiskey from his back pocket and took a giant pull.
“ Jim killed hisself. He jumped off
the dam and drowned right here where I cast my line. They have been
searching for his body for weeks. With all the rain we’ve been
having and the current being so strong, who knows if they will ever
find him,” Rudd explained.
“ You’re lying!” I screamed. “Jim
would never do that!”
“ Believe what you want! Now get
away from me!” Rudd shouted.
I hate to admit it all these years later, but
tears ran down my face that day. I yelled, calling him things I had
heard my mother say, not even knowing what they meant.
About that same time, I heard someone behind
me. It was Mr. Swindle. I ran up to him, pointing back at
Rudd.
“ He said Jim drowned! That Jim
killed himself! Is that true?” I yelled.
Mr. Swindle looked at me with broken eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I am sorry you found out this way. Jim was sick.
He just couldn’t take Vietnam sneaking up on him in the night
anymore.”
I knew Mr. Swindle wouldn’t lie. He liked Jim,
and he knew how much I liked Jim as well. Mr. Swindle used to give
Jim food and money when he needed it. I knew his puffy red eyes
held the truth. I didn’t even thank him for telling me what really
happened; I just tore off for home. When I was halfway there I got
such a stitch in my side that I had to stop running. I couldn’t
catch my breath. I kicked rocks, throwing them at the tall maple
trees that lined the railroad tracks.
Why would Jim kill himself? To a 7 year old
kid it made no sense. I was angry with God for taking Jim away from
me. Angry that I had a mother that didn't want me, angry that I
didn't know who my father was. I felt like an old toy that was no
longer desirable, left in the toy box and forgotten
about.
Losing Jim made me feeling a deep loneliness I
had never experienced before. I swore never to go back to the
canal, ever. There was no reason to return, Jim wouldn’t be there.
I went to my tree house. I started drawing a picture to capture the
scene of Jim and I on the canal. I thought maybe if I put us
together on paper, then he wouldn’t really be gone.
Cindy
CHAPTER SIX
“Many a man in love with a dimple
makes the mistake of marrying the whole girl.”
~Brooken Leacock
Cindy Napier’s Diary
July 26, 1978
Two weeks ago, Sam and I tied the knot. It
wasn't the fairytale wedding I’ve always dreamed of, but it was
nice. Everyone seemed to have a great time. Over three hundred
people attended the wedding, which was held at Christ the King
Catholic Church. It was a quaint little church where Sam and his
family were parishioners. They attended service every
Sunday.
All seven of Sam's brothers and sisters had
been baptized there. So, Sam's parents were adamant about us
getting married there. To them, this was non-negotiable. They were
becoming a little too controlling for my taste.
Sam’s family filled the pews on the right side
of the church. The left side was for mine, which numbered far less
than his. The church was a sea of blue. Police blue ran in the
veins of the O’Malley family. Sam will be the fourth generation
O’Malley to serve on the Indianapolis Police Department.
When I was walking down the aisle of lopsided
wedding attendees, I felt a little annoyed that more of my family
didn't attend. It was embarrassing to see the inequity of people
representing my side of the aisle. Focusing on the moment I
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