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The Viewer Viewpoint
The boy sat on the bottom porch step and aimlessly drew patterns in the red clay with a stick. The sound of children splashing in a pool, whooping and squealing, floated over from the next street and he looked up occasionally in that direction. He concentrated on encouraging some fire ants to climb the stick, pretending they were flesh-devouring army ants, and then he gave up and threw the stick into the yard. He stretched his legs out and kicked the built-up sole of his left shoe with his "good foot" in disgust. Mae watched her grandson from behind the curtains of the living room window and she wore a look of consternation. Something had to be done about the boy, that much was clear, but she didn't know what. She turned quietly and walked into the kitchen with a sigh. "What's eatin' you, Mama?" Carrie said as she looked up from shaking chicken in a bag. "Joey," Mae said firmly. "It ain't right, it just ain't right. All the other kids are out enjoying this weather and he sits there the live-long day doing nothin', or he's up in his room playing on that computer." "Mama, don't start in on me about Joey. I'm doing the best I can by him. I work long hours to keep a roof over our heads and I've tried - tried hard - to find something that would interest him." "I know you have child," Mae said. "I'm not criticizing you. Maybe if he had a man in his life...I sure wish your daddy was alive, he'd know what to do. Never knew a man to be able to get right to the heart of the matter the way that man could...not like that lying ex-husband of yours." "Don't go there, Mama," Carrie said and slapped the tray of chicken down on the counter. "He's out of our lives and that's just fine by me." "Honey, I don't mean to upset you, I'm just worried. Joey needs exercise, he needs some kids his own age to play with. He needs to stop moping around the house and get out in the world. Lord knows, it's hard enough for our people to make it and he's handicapped." "Joey is not handicapped!" Carrie said. "I've spent nine years trying to teach that boy that he can be anything he wants to and that he's just as good as anybody else...don't you dare even use that word in this house, Mama!" "Now, Carrie, I didn't mean it the way it sounded...I just mean we have to face facts. What we want Joey to be, how we see Joey...I'm not sure that's the way Joey sees himself. He's withdrawn, child - like he's hiding and puttin' up a wall around him. I'll bet the other kids make fun of him - you know how cruel children can be." Carrie put her hands over her face and started to cry. Mae stood there shaking her head before walking over and engulfing her into a hug. Carrie just sobbed deeper. "Don't you carry on now," Mae said. "Me and my big mouth - I never know when to shut up. Remember all the times your daddy lost his hearing aids? Well, I know he did it on purpose just so he didn't have to listen to me flappin' my gums!" With that Carrie snorted and they both started laughing. "Mama, I've tried so hard - you know that. I asked the school guidance counselor to talk to Joey last January, and the boy didn't speak to me for two weeks afterwards. I've asked him if the other kids were pickin' on him, and he just changes the subject. What am I supposed to do, Mama?" "I don't know, girl, but we're going to figure out somethin'," Mae promised. "The Lord don't give us nothin' we can't handle. Now if you want somethin' to go with that chicken, I'd better get to the store." *** Mae backed the car out of the driveway, intending to ask the boy if he wanted to ride along, but the slap of the front screen door told her he'd gone back inside. She fretted her way down the street, through the subdivision, past groups of kids running around lawn sprinklers, laughing, and others whizzing by on scooters or skates. "Lord," she said to herself, "I know you have a plan. I just wish you'd let me in on it every once in awhile." She knew she could figure this out if she put her mind to it. She'd raised six children, worked two jobs, and put all of them through college. She and Fred had scrimped and saved, built a nice house and even saved a little nest egg that would help the grandchildren go to college. She wasn't about to let life hold back any grandson of hers. She pounded her fist on the steering wheel to punctuate that thought and nearly ran into the back end of an animal control truck that was stopped dead in the middle of the street. The animal control officer looked up from trying to load an uncooperative dog into the back of the truck and shook his finger at her. Mae mouthed an "I'm sorry!" and waited patiently for him to continue. "Poor little dog," she thought. "Your days of running the streets is over - better to be free than to be dragged off to prison." Copyright Jim Willis 2001 - Used With Permission Click here for other works by Jim Willis featured on this site Back to Viewer Viewpoint Table of Contents Do
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