Read Me and Rupert Goody Online

Authors: Barbara O'Connor

Me and Rupert Goody (5 page)

They said the lightning went right through that metal glider and into Uncle Beau.
“Damn near fried my gizzard,” Uncle Beau said when I finally got up the nerve to go into his hospital room. I'd told myself, “Don't cry, Jennalee,” about a hundred times, but when I walked into that dark, weird-smelling room and saw that wrinkly old man in the bed, the floodgates opened and I couldn't do nothing but cry. And then Uncle Beau said that about the fried gizzard and I just cried harder.
“Aw, come on now, Gravel Gertie,” he said. “Come over here where I can see you. If I didn't know better, I'd think that was my Jennalee bawling over there.”
“It is me, Uncle Beau,” I managed to say. I hiccupped and sniffed and carried on, but I didn't care. This was some scary stuff.
“Don't cry, Jennalee,” Uncle Beau said in such a soft, sweet voice I thought I'd die.
“You gonna be all right, ain't you, Uncle Beau?” I said, inching closer to his bed.
“Course I'm gonna be all right,” he said. “Hell, that lightning just recharged my batteries, is all. Liable to make me better than I was before. Might've ruined my hairdo, though. Look at this.” He ducked his head toward me. “Gave me chicken hair.”
I wiped my eyes and looked closer. His white hair was sticking out every which way. I laughed. Chicken hair. That was a good one.
“When you coming home?” I said.
“Soon as I can find my clothes. You see my clothes anywhere around here?”
I looked around. The man in the bed next to Uncle Beau's was hooked up to about a million wires and was moaning. Gave me the willies. “No, sir, I don't,” I said. “You want me to bring you something from home?”
“Maybe Rupert can do that.”
Up until then, I'd forgotten all about Rupert. I hardly remembered calling 911. Seemed like a dream riding in the ambulance, holding Uncle Beau's curled-up hand and just daring anybody to pull me away. Rupert had flown right out of my head and disappeared—until then.
“What's the matter?” Uncle Beau said. “Something wrong with Rupert?”
“I guess I just forgot about him, is all.”
Uncle Beau dropped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. My stomach did a flip.
“You okay, Uncle Beau?”
He breathed a few times real slow before answering. “Right as rain, Gravel Gertie,” he said.
“I'll take care of the store, Uncle Beau. I can make the coffee and sort the produce and …”
“Naw, now, Jennalee,” Uncle Beau said. “That store can wait. You just get Rupert to bring me some clothes.”
“Yessir.” I turned to go, just wanting to get out of there before my heart broke right in two from looking at him so old in that bed.
“One more thing, Gravel Gertie,” he called after me. “You take care of Jake, okay?”
“Sure I will.”
“And Rupert,” he added. “You take care of Rupert, okay?”
I looked over at Uncle Beau, lying there so small and tired, his chicken hair sticking up all over his head and his bony arms limp by his side.
“Yessir,” I said, and got out of there fast.
 
Back at the store, Curtis Rathman and Rob Sanders were waiting on customers. That kind of got my goat, but I guess they was just trying to help. I told them how Uncle Beau was and then asked about Rupert.
“He's locked hisself in that old shed back yonder and won't come out for nothing,” Curtis said. “You better go check on him, Jennalee. He'll listen to you.”
Just then my brother Vernon came busting in. “Jennalee, where you been?” he snapped, real bossy-like.
“Uncle Beau got struck by lightning,” I said.
Vernon's face softened and he moved closer to me. For a minute I thought he was going to hug me, but then he looked down at my feet and said, “Damn.”
“Like you care!” I hollered. Everything went all blurry through my tears and I blinked real hard.
Vernon ruffled my hair and jiggled my shoulder. “Aw, come on, Jennalee.”
I slapped his hand away. “You don't know nothing about Uncle Beau,” I said, throwing my arms out at Vernon. “For your information, he ain't hot to trot!”
I glared at him. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile, and I balled my fists up just in case he did. But he set a serious look on his face.
“You got to go on home,” he said. “Mama's been looking for you all day.”
“I can't,” I said. “I got to look after the store.”
“Me and Rob can take care of things here, Jennalee,” Curtis said. “Besides, it's closing time anyhow.”
“I got to bring in the bargain table and give Jake a doughnut and button the door.” I knew my voice was sounding a bit riled up. I tried to tone things down a bit. “Uncle Beau said he don't want nobody but me to mind the store.” There. Nothing like a bold-faced lie to tone things down.
Curtis looked at Rob, who looked at Vernon, who looked at Curtis.
“You can't run the store by yourself, Jennalee,” Vernon said.
“I can, too!” They didn't know nothing about the store. I was the one who did the pricing and emptied the bottle caps and dusted off the Indian souvenirs.
Vernon took my arm, but I jerked away. “Get on out of here!” I hollered.
Jake jumped up and trotted over, wagging his tail. He cocked his head and looked at me like I'd gone loco. Seeing his sad eyes made me remember Uncle Beau laying there in a hospital bed with chicken hair and I couldn't stop the tears from coming.
I sat on the couch and cried till I was plumb cried out. When I could finally look up and take stock of things around me, Curtis and Rob were gone and Vernon was trying to pull the bargain table through the door.
“Not like that!” I jumped up and showed him how to do it. “Vernon, I know how to do all this,” I said. “Y'all just messing things up being here.”
“You ain't running this store by yourself, Jennalee,” Vernon said. “So you can help me do it or you can get your skinny butt on home.”
I looked at Vernon and tried to read his face. I'd lived with him all my life, but half the time I never knew which way he was going to go. Like one of them eight balls you shake up and turn over. One shake might tell you, “Outlook good,” but the very next one might say, “Don't count on it.”
“Thanks, Vernon,” I said.
He bustled around the store, slamming things and locking things and not looking my way. After we got the coffee urn washed out and set the squishy produce out on the porch, I said, “I got to get some things for Uncle Beau before I button the door. Then I'll be home.”
I considered it a miracle when Vernon nodded and left. I looked around me in the silence. It felt kind of spooky. I was glad ole Jake was there, looking at me as if to say, “What now, Jennalee?”
I pushed aside the curtain and went into Uncle Beau's little room in back of the store. First thing, I got a whiff of Old Spice and felt the tears coming up again. I sat on Uncle Beau's bed and laid my head on his pillow. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged that pillow so tight it's a wonder the stuffing didn't come flying out. Then I had myself another good cry. One of those hiccupping kind of cries that didn't stop till I didn't have a tear left in me. What if Uncle Beau just up and died? What if I didn't have nowhere to be every day but my ton-of-hell house? What if I didn't have nobody to call me Gravel Gertie and give me PayDays and be my friend? I reckon I knew I was crying for me as much as I was crying for Uncle Beau, but I didn't care.
I turned over on my back, put my hands behind my head, and looked around Uncle Beau's room, my heart aching every time my eyes caught some piece of him. An army medal from World War II. His flannel nightshirt. A half eaten piece of beef jerky. And then I saw her. Stuck in the
frame of his dusty old mirror. Hattie Baker, sitting under that tree, holding them flowers. I got up and took down the picture. I stared at her, tracing her outline with my finger.
“I wish you could come on out of there and tell me the truth about Rupert,” I said to Hattie.
But she just sat there laughing out at me.
I turned to Jake. He thumped his tail on the floor.
“Well, Jake,” I said. “Let's you and me go find Rupert.”
 
“Rupert,” I called through the crack in the shed door.
No answer.
“Rupert,” I called again.
Still no answer.
I pushed the door with my finger. It creaked open. I peered into the darkness.
“You in here, Rupert?” I stuck my head in and looked behind the door.
Rupert was standing in the corner, rocking back and forth, back and forth.
I stepped inside. “What you doing?”
If he heard me, he didn't let on.
I touched his shoulder. “Why you staying in here like this?” I said.
Still nothing. I pulled on his arm, trying to turn him around to face me, but it was like trying to move a cement post.
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Stay in here, then. I'll just have to tell Uncle Beau you really are crazy.” I started for the door.
He stopped rocking. “Uncle Beau,” he said.
“You gonna come on out of this shed, or you staying in here for good?” I said.
“Uncle Beau's sick?” Rupert said. He turned and looked at me with his arms hanging down by his side and his shoulders drooping.
“Yeah,” I said. “Uncle Beau's real sick.”
“I made Uncle Beau sick?” Rupert whispered.
“Yeah, Rupert, you made Uncle Beau sick.” I swear I couldn't stop those words from coming out of my mouth.
Rupert wailed the most mournful sound I ever heard. Then he started carrying on like I never seen in my life. He paced back and forth in that tiny shed. One side, then the other side. Arms flailing and head shaking. He rubbed his hands over his face and up and down his arms like he'd just walked through a spiderweb or something.
By then Jake was wondering what was up, so he came in and started acting kind of perky, like maybe this was some new kind of game we were playing. He even grabbed the leg of Rupert's pants, but Rupert didn't pay no mind. Just kept pacing and carrying on.
“I made Uncle Beau sick,” he kept saying. “I made Uncle Beau sick.”
Then, true to Rupert's unpredictable nature, he rushed out the door and took off running.
“Where you going?” I called after him. Jake started barking and I just stood there dumbfounded, watching Rupert disappear into the woods.
I laid on the daybed back of the kitchen and listened. The clock over the stove ticked. Low, garbled voices came from the TV in the living room. I heard my daddy come in the kitchen and open the refrigerator. He cussed when he hit his toe on a chair leg.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to make myself go to sleep instead of laying there listening—and thinking. Rupert was just crazy, that was all. It wasn't my fault he didn't have good sense. I wasn't the one made him act like a dang fool, was I? He was the one thought he made Uncle Beau sick, not me.
Gravel crunched in the driveway and headlights lit up the kitchen. Marny giggled out on the porch. She came in and shut the door real soft. I felt her looking over at me and I smiled to myself in the dark cause I knew she wanted my bed.
After a while everything got quiet except my daddy snoring in front of the bluish glow of the TV When the rain started, my first thought was of Rupert in the woods. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about that. The rain got harder, pelting down on the tin roof of the back porch. I tiptoed to the window and peered into the darkness outside.
Maybe Rupert wasn't in the woods anymore. Maybe a miracle happened and he got sense enough to go on back to the shed. I watched the rain in the light of the streetlamp by the road. Suddenly heat lightning lit up the sky like daylight. My stomach squeezed up and I closed my eyes and prayed, “Please don't let there be thunder. Please don't let there be thunder.”
Then came the low, soft rumble of thunder, as if the Good Lord was saying, “Jennalee, you done a bad thing. Now suffer unto you the guilt.” In my mind, clear as anything, I could see Rupert covering his ears and shaking like a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.
I opened the back door and stepped onto the porch. The wind blew the rain, soaking my pajamas, but I didn't care. I squinted into the darkness, thinking maybe if I wished hard enough Rupert would be snoring away in his sleeping bag in the shed, dry and happy, instead of in the woods, wet and scared of thunder.
 
I didn't wait for the sun to come up. I hurried over to the store and ran around back to the shed. I could hear Jake
barking inside the store and knew he was probably itching to get out, but I couldn't wait another minute to see if Rupert was in the shed.
He wasn't. It sounds funny to tell it now, but I actually went over and felt around on the sleeping bag just to make sure it was really empty. It was.
While I unlocked the door to the store, I could hear Jake whining on the other side.
“Hey, Jake,” I said, patting his side. “It's me, Gravel Gertie.” I tried to make my voice sound light and joking-like, but my insides were so heavy it's a wonder I could stay on my feet.
I knew Vernon would be mad at me for opening the store without him, but he was too slow for me. I'd already turned the sign, made the coffee, put out the doughnuts, and got the produce from Howard Harvey by the time Vernon got there.
“I told you to wait for me, Jennalee,” he said.
I wanted to say something mean and nasty, but I knew it was because of Vernon that I was getting to run the store. I ain't no genius, but I know when to turn on the nasty and when to turn on the nice.
“I know it, Vernon,” I said. “I just thought I'd get a jump on this stuff so you could relax a little before things get busy”
He gave me the eye but he didn't say nothing. Just poured hisself a cup of coffee.
“Where's Rupert?” he said, looking around.
I got the feather duster and started dusting the moccasins and stuff. Maybe he wouldn't ask again.
“Where's Rupert?” he asked again.
“I'm not sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean he ain't in the shed.”
“Well, where is he?”
“I said I'm not sure.” My tone was getting an edge of nasty to it. I cleared my throat and kept swishing the feather duster around on the tepee salt-and-pepper shakers.
“Where you think he went?” he asked me.
I shrugged, watching Jake sniffing at the doughnut plate. I felt my face burning hot and red, and I knew if I looked at Vernon, he'd see “I'm lying” written all over it. With that in mind, I didn't look at Vernon.
 
That afternoon, Curtis Rathman came by to mind the store and I went to the hospital to see Uncle Beau. His room was dark. I wanted to open the blinds and let the sun in, but I didn't. Uncle Beau was sleeping, breathing in and out real slow and raspy. I pulled up a chair and sat for a while, watching his whiskery face. He looked about a million years old. Every now and then, his mouth would twitch or his eyelids would flutter, but mostly he was still. I thought about him being dead. That was a terrible thought, I know, but I couldn't help it. I pictured him in a coffin, his chicken hair all slicked down and
his whomper-jawed hands crossed over his chest. I imagined myself kissing his cold cheek. While I was thinking that terrible thought, my heart ached so bad and I felt so scared that I wiggled Uncle Beau's arm to wake him up.
His eyes popped open and he looked confused for a minute. Then he smiled. “Well, hey there, Gravel Gertie.” He lifted his hand in a feeble wave.
“Hey,” I said, worried that he might know I'd been imagining him dead.
“I hope you brung me some ham biscuits.”
“Shoot.” I stamped my foot. “I didn't think of it. You want me to go get you some?”
“Naw.” He took a sip of water. His arm was all bruised, the skin hanging loose and wrinkled. I looked away.
“When you coming home?” I asked.
“Soon as that baby-faced doctor gets his butt in here maybe I can find out. I'd sure like to know what in the hell these damn doctors get paid for.” He took another sip of water and dropped his head back on the pillow. “Did you tell Rupert to bring my clothes?”
There. I knew it was coming sooner or later.
“No, sir.” I held up a paper bag. “I brought em.”
“That's good.” He took the paper bag and set it on the nightstand. “Is Rupert coming by?”
“I don't know.” Well, I didn't know.
“He helping with the store?”
“No, sir.”
Uncle Beau's eyebrows came together. “How come?”
The man in the other bed stirred a bit under the covers. “Shhh.” I held my finger to my lips. “We better quiet down.”
Uncle Beau flapped his hand at the other bed. “How come Rupert ain't helping with the store?”
“He's doing something else.” Why couldn't I just make up a lie?
Uncle Beau squinted at me. “Like what?”
Then for once in my life the Good Lord was on my side. He sent in a nurse to rescue me.
“G-o-o-o-d afternoon,” she sang, bustling around the room, opening blinds and plumping pillows. “How are we today, Mr. Goody?” She stuck a thermometer in Uncle Beau's mouth before he knew what hit him. I took that as a sign to get the heck out of there.
“I got to go help Vernon close the store,” I said, making a beeline for the door. I hurried down the hall without looking back. Only one thing on my mind now. I had to find Rupert Goody.
 
Back at the store, Vernon let me close up by myself again. I did everything from turning the sign to buttoning the door. While Jake ate his doughnut, I made a cheese sandwich and put it in a plastic bag, then poured apple juice into a jar. I went around back to the edge of the woods and put the sandwich and the juice under a tree.
I stood for a minute looking into the woods, searching for a sign, listening for a sound. Then I turned and went home, dreading the thought of going to bed cause I had a strong feeling I wasn't going to sleep too good again that night.

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