across the living room and into the kitchen, where the breakfast dishes were still on the table. She looked down at the two bowls of hard, cold oatmeal, and then made herself three pieces of toast and poured herself a cup of cherry Kool-Aid. When she came back eating the toast Aunt Willie was still waiting.
“Didn’t the operator tell them it was an emergency, I wonder,” Aunt Willie said impatiently.
“Probably.”
“Well, if somebody told me I had an emergency call, I would run, let me tell you, to find out what that emergency was. That’s no breakfast, Sara.”
“It’s my lunch.”
“Kool-Aid and toast will not sustain you five minutes.” She broke off quickly and said in a louder voice, “Sam, is that you?” She nodded to Sara, then turned back to the telephone, bent forward in her concern. “First of all, Sammy, promise me you won’t get upset—no, promise me first.”
“He won’t get upset. Even I can promise you that,” Sara said with her mouth full of toast.
“Sam, Charlie’s missing,” Aunt Willie said abruptly.
Unable to listen to any more of the conversation, Sara took her toast and went out onto the front porch. She sat on the front steps and put her feet into the worn grooves that Charlie’s feet had made on the third step. Then she ate the last piece of toast and licked the butter off her fingers.
In the corner of the yard, beneath the elm tree, she could see the hole Charlie had dug with a spoon; all one morning he had dug that hole and now Boysie was lying in it for coolness. She walked to the tree and sat in the old rope swing and swung over Boysie. She stretched out her feet and touched Boysie, and he lifted his head and looked around to see who had poked him, then lay back in his hole.
“Boysie, here I am, look, Boysie, look.”
He was already asleep again.
“Boysie—” She looked up as Aunt Willie came out on the porch and stood for a minute drying her hands on her apron. For the occasion of Charlie’s disappearance she was wearing her best dress, a bright green bonded jersey, which was so hot her face above it was red and shiny. Around her forehead she had tied a handkerchief to absorb the sweat.
Sara swung higher. “Well,” she asked, “is he coming?” She paused to pump herself higher. “Or not?”
“He’s going to call back tonight.”
“Oh,” Sara said.
“Don’t say ‘Oh’ to me like that.”
“It’s what I figured.”
“Listen to me, Miss Know-it-all. There is no need in the world for your father to come this exact minute. If he started driving right this second he still wouldn’t get here till after dark and he couldn’t do anything then, so he just might as well wait till after work and then drive.”
“Might as well do the sensible thing.” Sara stood up and really began to swing. She had grown so much taller since she had last stood in this swing that her head came almost to the limb from which the swing hung. She caught hold of the limb with her hands, kicked her feet free, and let the swing jerk wildly on its own.
“Anyway,” Aunt Willie said, “this is no time to be playing on a swing. What will the neighbors think, with Charlie missing and you having a wonderful time on a swing?”
“I knew he wouldn’t come.”
“He is going to come,” Aunt Willie said in a louder voice. “He is just going to wait till dark, which is reasonable, since by dark Charlie will probably be home anyway.”
“It is so reasonable that it makes me sick.”
“I won’t listen to you being disrespectful to your father, I mean that,” she said. “I know what it is to lose a father, let me tell you, and so will you when all you have left of him is an envelope.”
Aunt Willie, Sara knew, was speaking of the envelope in her dresser drawer containing all the things her father had had in his pockets when he died. Sara knew them all—the watch, the twenty-seven cents in change, the folded dollar bill, the brown plaid handkerchief, the
“Didn’t the operator tell them it was an emergency, I wonder,” Aunt Willie said impatiently.
“Probably.”
“Well, if somebody told me I had an emergency call, I would run, let me tell you, to find out what that emergency was. That’s no breakfast, Sara.”
“It’s my lunch.”
“Kool-Aid and toast will not sustain you five minutes.” She broke off quickly and said in a louder voice, “Sam, is that you?” She nodded to Sara, then turned back to the telephone, bent forward in her concern. “First of all, Sammy, promise me you won’t get upset—no, promise me first.”
“He won’t get upset. Even I can promise you that,” Sara said with her mouth full of toast.
“Sam, Charlie’s missing,” Aunt Willie said abruptly.
Unable to listen to any more of the conversation, Sara took her toast and went out onto the front porch. She sat on the front steps and put her feet into the worn grooves that Charlie’s feet had made on the third step. Then she ate the last piece of toast and licked the butter off her fingers.
In the corner of the yard, beneath the elm tree, she could see the hole Charlie had dug with a spoon; all one morning he had dug that hole and now Boysie was lying in it for coolness. She walked to the tree and sat in the old rope swing and swung over Boysie. She stretched out her feet and touched Boysie, and he lifted his head and looked around to see who had poked him, then lay back in his hole.
“Boysie, here I am, look, Boysie, look.”
He was already asleep again.
“Boysie—” She looked up as Aunt Willie came out on the porch and stood for a minute drying her hands on her apron. For the occasion of Charlie’s disappearance she was wearing her best dress, a bright green bonded jersey, which was so hot her face above it was red and shiny. Around her forehead she had tied a handkerchief to absorb the sweat.
Sara swung higher. “Well,” she asked, “is he coming?” She paused to pump herself higher. “Or not?”
“He’s going to call back tonight.”
“Oh,” Sara said.
“Don’t say ‘Oh’ to me like that.”
“It’s what I figured.”
“Listen to me, Miss Know-it-all. There is no need in the world for your father to come this exact minute. If he started driving right this second he still wouldn’t get here till after dark and he couldn’t do anything then, so he just might as well wait till after work and then drive.”
“Might as well do the sensible thing.” Sara stood up and really began to swing. She had grown so much taller since she had last stood in this swing that her head came almost to the limb from which the swing hung. She caught hold of the limb with her hands, kicked her feet free, and let the swing jerk wildly on its own.
“Anyway,” Aunt Willie said, “this is no time to be playing on a swing. What will the neighbors think, with Charlie missing and you having a wonderful time on a swing?”
“I knew he wouldn’t come.”
“He is going to come,” Aunt Willie said in a louder voice. “He is just going to wait till dark, which is reasonable, since by dark Charlie will probably be home anyway.”
“It is so reasonable that it makes me sick.”
“I won’t listen to you being disrespectful to your father, I mean that,” she said. “I know what it is to lose a father, let me tell you, and so will you when all you have left of him is an envelope.”
Aunt Willie, Sara knew, was speaking of the envelope in her dresser drawer containing all the things her father had had in his pockets when he died. Sara knew them all—the watch, the twenty-seven cents in change, the folded dollar bill, the brown plaid handkerchief, the
Similar Books
