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Mary takes the boy to town.
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Mary takes the boy to town. |
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
The sun was setting in ClarksTown when Mary Higgens and her grandson Trevor were finishing dinner and setting dishes in the sink to wash. “I'm taking your downtown tonight so that you can see what it's like there. It's not like in the daytime when decent people are out shopping. It's a whole different crowd at night. Not the wholesome ones you see during the day,” said Mary, who always thought she had been given a special significance since her name was the same as the mother of the Christ child. She had a special duty for our Lord to instruct the youth on the errors of their ways. “I've been downtown before,” replied Trevor. “But that was when you were two years old and asleep in the backseat of the car, I hardly counts since you couldn't see anything or hear anything.” “I don't think there's anything to see at night that wouldn't be there in the day too.” “Never you mind about that. I'll show you some things you haven't seen before.” Mary began to fill the sink with soapy water. “My mom took me when I was young so I could see what it was. I saw it and I've never been back. Once was enough for me, I can tell you that. It was a different place altogether. I saw it and now I know what it is, and I never went back,” said Mary. “You'll do the same, I guess.” Trevor was playing with his fork over the cherry pie he was having for desert. “But what if I decide I like the town at night?” I doubt that that will happen, young man. Now you just eat your pie and stop yakking. You are a whole prettier with your mouth shut.” Trevor sat at the table moving his fork around in the air like it was an airplane and making sounds with his mouth like a motor running. Trevor looked up at Mary with a smirk on his face, “Do you think a monster will be downtown tonight that will eat us up, is that what you think?” Trevor's face had twisted into a sneer and was tilted up at Mary's. “Just eat your pie, mister, knows it all, hotshot.” The pie finished and the dishes done, Mary and Trevor climbed into the 1991 Buick she still drove. This was the car her husband had bought long ago. “Grandma when you going to trade this car in for a new one this one's about to fall apart.” “This car still runs well and is quite serviceable. I use what I have until it is worn out. More people should be like me and then there would be less pollution around, that's what I say. I suppose you would like me to buy a new red sports car that you could drive around when you are old enough, I suppose that.” “Ya, Gramma, buy a red or blue sports car. I like red or blue. How about that Gramma a new red or blue sports car.” “You are only fourteen years old. Now your father died young, bless his soul. And your mother has to work as a waitress to make ends meet now. So it is my job to help bring you up. You do not need a sports car, which will just get you in trouble. You would just get a girl in trouble or end up in the city jail, a disgrace to you mother and me. All would know that we didn't bring you up right. Think, think about that young man, the disgrace you would bring us. Why a blue or red sports can, why you would end up in the state prison. Do you want that for your mother and me. Do you.” “No gramma, I would never go to the state prison.” Trevor was wondering what he could do to get a girl in trouble. Maybe, he could get her to tell lies. “Well they wouldn't ask you if you wanted to, you would have to go if you are a bad boy. And don't ask your mother and me to bring you things, because we wouldn't if you disgrace us, we wouldn't at all, or even have anything to do with you. As a boy without a father, they'll be watching you. Don't cause trouble or you will pay the piper, you know that don't you mister fancy young man.” “Yes gramma I know that, all right. Trevor was looking out the window and smirking again. He had heard the lecture many times, “Stay out of trouble. Stay out of trouble. Stay out of trouble.” “Well, grandma, if the downtown is so bad at night, how come people want to go there, anyway.” “Because they are sinful, that's why. They live lives in sin and they don't think about the consequences. They end up in jail. That's where you will go if you don't behave, and you will have nothing to say about it. I wish your dad had lived, that's all that I can say. To be brought up right a boy needs his father. I don't know why the Lord took him, and left us with bringing you up. It's a big bother, and don't you forget it.” “I won't forget, gamma. I am just a big bother.” “Yes, sir, mister hot shot. I was born a descendant of the great kings and queens of Europe. I have pluck in my spine. Pluck is what the world needs. Not enough pluck is what causes all the problems in this sinful world, and don't you forget it, ever.” “I won't forget it, ever. Not enough pluck. That's my new thing. Not enough pluck.” Entering the downtown area they saw a long line of flashy cars parked on a side street. Mary pulled the car over to the curb behind a shiny red Cadillac. People were walking up and down the street yelling and talking to each other in loud guffaws. “Now see there, young man. See all those wild colored clothes, with their painted faces looking like hochi cochi dancers, throwing themselves around like demented chickens. That's just what I'm a telling you. A sinful bunch rude, obnoxious boneheads as ever graced a Singapore brothel. To think a woman like me descended from the kings and queens of Europe should ever have to see such. Why it defies logic.” Gramma, what's a brothel?” “Why, it's a place no one like you should ever know about. They go into a motel room, dirty as sin I suppose, and perform all sorts of unnatural acts, like barnyard animals. Say, don't they give you sex education in that school you go to?” “I can't stay awake in that class.” “You should stay awake in that class. Then you could learn something besides throwing spit wads at your classmates. I don't know why you can't stay awake, all the tax money we spend on schools you think they could make you stay awake. Now get out of the car and follow me. Don't say a word, I'll do all the talking. You just try and learn something, mister falls asleep in class.” Mary with Trevor following reluctantly approach the driver's side of the flashy car. The drivers window is rolled down and a fat white man is sitting behind the steering wheel. The man is busy giving some small white pills to a woman seated on the passenger side. She has wild red and blond hair, a tight red blouse and tight leather skirt. He is laughing so hard his belly shakes.” “Mister,” Mary says loudly, “Are you a business man or do you just like to hang out on the streets. I talking to you mister.” She has his attention now. He looks lazily over at her and laughs loudly. “Now lookie here. What we got here.” He looks over at the girl in the passenger seat. “Say, we got the old folks special night, tonight, Ginny.” He looks back to Mary and Trevor. “Okay, so what do you want anyway, granny?” “How much for your pretty little painted tart. What do you charge for a half hour.” “Well, who is she for: you, him or do you want a menage a trois?” The woman leans over the fat mans belly and looks up at Mary, “Who are you callin' a pretty little painted tart. That wouldn't be me, would it, granny.” “You is exactly who I mean, did you think I was talking about those other little painted tarts on the sidewalk, over there?” The fat man looked angry now, “You don't have to be so sassy old broad. Ginny gets a hundred for an hour. And the hotel gets fifty for an hour. “Why that's robbery, buster. I wouldn't pay that for the queen of Spain.” “Suit yourself, lady. That's the price. If you don't like it, take your business elsewhere.” “That, good sir, is exactly what I will do.” My favorite author in college so many years ago was Flannery O'Conner. Her biting sarcasm, incisive wit, and bitten depiction of human nature kept me laughing for years. Too bad she died so young! [This message has been edited by GBride (11-01-2009 03:54 PM).] |
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AncientHippie Member
since 2009-10-15
Posts 411Surfing the Cosmic Flow |
Sorry, GBride. I thought I had previously commented on this excellent piece. I made my feelings known in part two, and look forward to more along the O'Connor line. Very well done. Jim "We are stardust: we are golden: and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden." --Joni Mitchell "Woodstock" |
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