The Sight--Chapter 3 (standard:mystery, 2493 words) [3/4] show all parts
Author: SoLikeCandy	Added: Mar 20 2001	Views/Reads: 2909/1937	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Ruth tries to dig into the roots of her family tree, and the old man thinks of his past and his lost family. Keep those comments coming!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

over the count of a game that had just ended. 

“I had five books, Kathy had four, and that makes nine,” Marie said
between giggles.  “You just upset cuz you lost; ain’t my fault your 
stankin ass can’t play spades worth shit!” 

The room erupted in cackles, and Ann stood up making her way across the
table to where Marie sat.  She grabbed her older sister and feigned 
strangling her, then softened and kissed Marie on the forehead. 

“Alright, Miss Marie,” she said, “you and Kathy owe me and Lulu a
rematch.” 

“Hey Beanie!”  Kathy called to Ruth.  “Get on in here, baby, you wanna
play?” 

“No, Auntie Kathy,” Ruth said.  “Just watching.” 

Watching her family during gatherings was like some twisted nature film.
 There was enough dysfunction to provide a psychologist with years of 
research material.  But all in all, Ruth loved her rowdy clan.  There 
was a palpable energy when the family got together, a strange harmony 
in all the babies crying and cooing, and the older kids screeching 
outside and pelting passing cars with snowballs, and her father and 
uncles and grandfather screaming at the television screen as if the 
football players could hear them.  She and her cousins close to her in 
age would sit on the porch and tend to the little kids or lounge in the 
parlor with the women and watch the babies.  The chaos was somehow 
comforting to Ruth.  All the sounds and smells and sensations embraced 
her, and she sank into the surroundings of this huge family that, 
beneath all the shouts and cursing, truly loved one another. 

“Well, I’m fixin to help Mama in the kitchen, Beanie,” Kathy said,
rising from her chair and stubbing out her cigarette.  “Come on here 
with me, baby.” 

They made their way through the living room toward the kitchen, with
Kathy resting a hand on her niece’s shoulder. 

“Damn, girl,” she said, “are you eatin in Greenmeadow?  I damn near cut
myself on your bony ass shoulder.” 

Ruth laughed and shook her head.  “No, ma’am, I stick to bread and
water.  Of course I eat, Auntie.  I’m just thin.” 

“Well, ain’t nothin wrong with that, Bean, I wished I was your size
sometimes,” Kathy said.  “But a man likes a little meat on the bones, 
you know.” 

The women in Ruth’s family were rather rubenesque, with fleshy arms,
wide hips and generous bosoms.  Ruth had grown into a tall, willowy 
stalk of a girl, which lead to the family calling her “Beanstalk,” or 
“Beanie” for short. 

“I get no complaints, Auntie,” Ruth retorted with a smile. 

Kathy howled with laughter.  “Watch out now, girl!” she said.  “You got
some boy on your arm up there in Greenmeadow?” 

Ruth smiled, shrugging.  “I’ve been seeing someone for about a month or
so, now.” 

“What’s he look like?  Is he fine?” 

“I certainly think so,” Ruth replied.  “He’s about 6’7”, blonde hair,
blue eyes...” 

Kathy stopped and looked at Ruth, eyebrows raised.  “Blonde?  Blue? 
When are you planning on telling your father you datin a White man?” 

“Some time after the second child is born,” Ruth said, and her aunt
Kathy giggled. 

The kitchen was positively full of food.  Every counter was covered in
pies, casseroles and main dishes.  On the kitchen table was a ham, a 
turkey, and a strange looking roasted leg of an animal. 

Ruth let herself be seduced by the scents of the room for a moment
before her eyes rested on the odd sight. 

“What the hell is that?” she asked. 

“Goat,” Kathy replied definitively.  “Dad asked for goat this year.” 

Ruth was blank for a moment.  “So...where does one go about finding a
goat to eat?” 

Kathy laughed.  “Baby, everybody got goat.  That’s good meat, girl—back
on the farm we had goat, raccoon, rabbit, squirrel...” 

Ruth wrinkled her nose and made a gesture of dismissal.  “That’s enough
imagery,” she said, shaking her head.  “I’ll stick to the turkey this 
year.” 

She and Kathy were the only ones in the kitchen, and they both sat at
the table. 

“Auntie Kathy, what do you know about Earl?” Ruth asked. 

“My brother?  Your father?” Kathy asked.  “He’s a sore loser, and hasn’t
played spades with me for the past four years cuz I whipped his ass so 
bad the last time!” 

“No, your father, Earl.” 

Kathy’s smile faded a bit.  “Well, not much.”  She sighed before
continuing.  “Nobody does.  We were all born so close together ‘cept 
for your daddy, and we don’t really remember him and Mama never said 
much about him.” 

“So who knows him?  I mean, is he even still alive?” 

“Yes, he is.  Only reason I know that is because he sends us all money
on our birthdays.” 

“Even Daddy?”  Ruth asked, incredulous. 

“Yep, even Earl.  But he gives the money to Mama.  Says he doesn’t want
that man’s money.”  Kathy looked over her shoulder, then lowered her 
voice.  “Now, listen, don’t you tell a soul in this family I told you 
this.  Mama doesn’t like talking about him, but your daddy hates it 
even more.  Lord knows my brother doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, 
but he hates his father somethin fierce.” 

Ruth sat silent for a moment.  There was a man somewhere, a man that her
father was said to strongly resemble, a man that was her flesh and 
blood grandfather.  The thought taunted her a bit. 

“Does anyone...” she began, “know where he’s living?” 

Kathy shook her head.  “I think Mama knows, but she can’t even bear to
keep that man’s name in her mouth, let alone talk about him at any 
length.  His envelopes never have any return address on them, but he 
always knows where we are, even when we move.  That’s the strange part. 
 He writes us little letters, and knows our kids’ names and things like 
that.  He even knows about the baby boy my oldest daughter had last 
year.”  Kathy’s voice trailed off, and she sat silent for a beat, then 
she turned away from Ruth.  “You know, sometimes I wonder if he still 
talks to Mama,” she said to herself.  “Or if he even has to.” 

“What?”  Ruth said. 

“Nothing, baby.”  Kathy made an effort to brighten; the wrinkles of
worry melted from her face.  “Why you askin about him, Beanie?”  There 
was no malice in the question, but there was a barely perceptible note 
of concern. 

“Just curious,” Ruth replied.  “I’ve never heard a lot about him.” 

“Well, baby, ain’t no need to.  He never gave us nothin, really,” Kathy
said, shrugging.  “I thank the good Lord for every day I’m alive, and 
my father gave me life, but he didn’t give me much else.  Jack is the 
only father any of us have ever really known, and he’s a wonderful 
man...leave Earl alone, sweetheart.  He certainly left us alone.” 

No one is above suffering.  No one is above loneliness.  Regardless of
what choices one makes, it’s the result of that choice which the person 
endures for the rest of his life.  A decision made in a split second 
can change a person’s life forever. 

The old man thought about this as he sat in his tattered recliner and
sipped a glass of wine on Thanksgiving Day.  All the choices he’d made 
in the past brought him to this moment, this dragging and solitary 
existence.  The local retirement community was full of graying relics, 
stooped and shaking men and women who were just as alone as he was.  
But the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one to suffer this forced 
seclusion was no solace to him.   He hated seeing the raggedy old woman 
who was his neighbor struggle up the stairs to her residence, or his 
other neighbor, a little Korean man with skin speckled with liver 
spots, bend to retrieve his newspaper from the ground and groan in 
pain. 

That was one of the reasons he enjoyed strolling the campus so much. 
Young men and women walked briskly to and from classes, shuffled lazily 
to the café, or sat on benches in the commons and chatted.  They all 
had a sense of purpose, a sense of reaching for something.  The 
students all had paths they were destined to walk.  The old man’s path 
was close to ending, and watching the young people made him, for a 
moment or two, feel younger. 

But then he would come home to his dreary, cramped apartment, and he was
alone again.  The old man had a phone but rarely used it—there was no 
one for him to call.  His television and his stereo kept him company, 
and he would watch the news or listen to the old blues records he had, 
nodding and tapping in time with the rhythm, sometimes lending his 
mournful voice to the music issuing from the speakers. 

He often wondered what would have happened had he stayed in Mississippi
with his wife and family instead of moving north to find work.  Of 
course, he moved north to get away from his wife and children, and to 
get out of the then oppressive South.  He’d wanted to free himself from 
the pressure of fatherhood and free his wife from the strain of such a 
strange marriage.  Looking back on it all, he realized he was selfish, 
perhaps even cruel, leaving his girl of a bride to raise 6 children 
alone.  But he also thought he’d robbed himself of a future.  Now, his 
children were strangers to him, and his ex wife wouldn’t return phone 
calls.  Letters to her had been left in his mailbox, return to sender.  
Years ago he’d stopped trying.  She’d found a new man, a new life, had 
tons of grandchildren.  No need to disturb her. 

And so, the old man lived his life in blues songs, and in crazy morning
talk shows, and in the young people on the campus.  And in Ruth. 

For years, he’d followed her.  He’d even sent her a present on her 21st
birthday, a carton of the cigarettes she smoked.    She was a sweet 
girl, a beautiful young woman, who had brought him out of his 
depression. When she moved to Greenmeadow for college, he began to 
watch her more closely.  Finally, he had a reason to get up in the 
morning.  Finally, his life had a purpose. 

The old man knew the girl didn’t need much protecting, and in his
advanced age; besides, there wasn’t much he could do in the way of 
anything physical.  But he took pride in knowing that he could watch 
over her and see that she was always safe. 

But he knew there would come a time when he couldn’t protect her from
danger.  The old man knew the time was coming soon when she would come 
to know him, and that when she found out about him, neither of their 
lives would ever be the same again. 


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