Child of the Mountains

12





It’s about solitaire and solitary.




TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1953

Uncle William sat at the table playing solitaire tonight. I figure playing solitaire meant he wanted to be all by hisself for a while. Aunt Ethel Mae didn’t see it that way at all. Uncle William had just finished one game and was setting hisself up another one. He laid out seven cards, then six on the next layer. Aunt Ethel Mae got herself another deck of cards out of the bureau drawer and plopped herself down in the chair across from him.

I sat on the couch reading Gone with the Wind, this big thick book Mr. Hinkle challenged me to write my book report on. But I could see my aunt and uncle out of the corner of my eye. I decided to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water so’s I could find out what Aunt Ethel Mae was up to. I drunk the water real slow afore washing the glass out and setting it in the drain.

Uncle William didn’t say nothing. He just gived Aunt Ethel Mae a quick hairy eyeball and laid down five cards on the next layer. She real quick started laying down her cards until she caught up with him. When they both had their cards all laid out, she picked up a jack of hearts from the top of her stack of three cards she had counted out. Then she laid it on a queen of spades on his cards.

“Since we both be playing, we might as well play double solitaire,” she said without looking at him. She placed another three of spades on his four of diamonds. Uncle William rolled his eyes, but he picked up a seven of clubs and placed it on her eight of diamonds.

I ain’t never heard of triple solitaire, so I knowed I wasn’t going to be asked to join them. “I’m headed on to bed,” I told them.

“Good night,” Aunt Ethel Mae said without looking up from her cards. Uncle William grunted and kept on playing.

I learned solitary as a vocabulary word last month. Mr. Hinkle helped us rememorize the meaning by telling us we could think about how we play solitaire alone. Solitaire must be one of them fancy foreign words. Solitaire sounds all warm and cozy, like reading a book and drinking a cup of hot tea in front of a snapping red and yellow fire when it’s snowing outside.

But solitary sounds as empty as my heart sometimes. Solitary is all alone when you wish more than anything to have someone you love hug you and tell you everthing’s going to be okay. It ain’t easy being solitary. And I know all about being solitary.

After BJ left us, Mama put him in bed and spread out the sunshine quilt on top of him. Then she kissed him on the forehead and smoothed his hair, just like she was a-tucking him in for a good night’s sleep.

I was wailing by that time. Mama sat down on the sofa and told me to come to her. I laid down with my head on her lap. She pulled a hankie out from the pocket of her skirt, dabbed her own eyes, and then she handed it to me.

“He’s with God and Gran now,” Mama said, “and they’s all watching over us.”

“I don’t want him up there with God,” I told Mama. “I want him back down here with us.”

“I know, baby. I know,” she said as she wiped my hair back from my face.

“Iffen God loves us so much, why did He take BJ away? He was just a kid, Mama.”

“That’s one of them big questions,” Mama said. “Lydia, lots of people will tell you things to try to make you feel better. They might say that God just needed another angel. They’s going to tell you that it was BJ’s time, or that he had already done all he was meant to on this earth.”

“That’s not true, Mama. BJ was so smart. I just knowed he could have growed up to be the best president these here United States ever had.”

“He probably would have,” Mama said, nodding. Then she looked out the window like she was a-trying to see BJ in Heaven. “He was a mighty fine boy. I think BJ sensed he was going to die soon, Lydia. A couple of months ago when I was tucking him in for the night, he told me that he thought about folks living and dying. I kissed him on the cheek and told him I hoped he felt better real soon. He looked long into my eyes, and then he says to me,

“ ‘Mama, last summer I saw a string of ants, and I put a piece of bread from my sandwich on the ground for them. I plopped down on the ground to watch. They marched back and forth, back and forth, trying to carry that hunk of bread down a hole, tiny piece by tiny piece.

“ ‘Most people is like them ants. They live their whole entire lives dragging bread back and forth. Ain’t no one got a lot of time on this earth. Not even them folks that we think of as real, real old. Life’s not supposed to be about what we do and how long we live to do it. Life is about who we be. We take what we learn here about being, right up to Heaven. We ain’t taking no bread, though.’

“Then he winked at me, Lydia. I told him that must be about the wisest story I ever did hear. BJ told me to be sure and tell you about them ants someday. He hugged me real hard and turned over and went to sleep. I sat there on the side of his bed for a long time, watching him sleep and thinking about what he said.”

“Why didn’t he tell me about them ants hisself, Mama?”

“I think he knowed you wasn’t ready to let go of him.”

Tears started up falling faster down my face. “Mama, how come you was ready to let go?”

“Because iffen you love someone and know they’s not going to get better—only suffer more and more—they’s a point you have to love them enough to tell them it’s okay to go. You gived that gift to your brother, Lydia, when you told me to bring him home.”

Mama smiled at me. Then her face got real serious. “Lydia, I wish we didn’t have to talk about this right now,” she said, “but there’s some things you need to know.”

I sat up and looked at her. My heart beat real fast. Something told me these things was very, very bad. “What is it, Mama?”

“Them doctors will be real angry that I took BJ. I hope they’ll think about why I done it and understand. They ain’t been much for understanding up to now, though.”

“Mama, they’ll be real angry at me, too,” I said. I felt cold all at once and covered myself with the afghan on the back of the couch. “I told you to go get him.”

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. Mama put her hands on my shoulders. “Lydia, promise me. No matter what happens, never, ever forget who you be.” She went to answer it.

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I nodded. Then she went to answer the door. That’s when I started knowing about solitary.