In Chapter II we see that Che is not quite as rudderless as he seems. He wants to be proud of his mother, but she is completely wrapped up in alcohol and poverty entwined. He has a grandmother, who represents hope for his younger brothers, but the only way he knows to engage with people is by fighting them or overpowering them, like Heather.
Now we wanted a chapter that showed how important a father could be and what having to travel to work can do to a family. This father seems determined to get the family onto a good financial footing and he really cares about his daughter who especially needs him at this age when most girls are trying to separate from their mothers. Anyway, Heather’s mother is as paralyzed by grief as Che’s mother is by drinking. Recovery from loss, especially deaths, is a huge problem among a population where there are constantly auto accidents, violence and diseases.
I had invited several professional counsellors to read about our characters and visit the classroom to explain what advice they would give them. We were surprised that the counselors didn’t really have much concrete advice! Fifteen years have passed since then, and today I think it would be different.
Chapter III
A DAY OFF
Before Heather quite woke up she dreamt that her father had come home. She could hear his voice mingling with her mother's voice in the kitchen. The smell of coffee mixed with the smell of waffles and syrup. "It must be Saturday already," she thought blurrily. But she knew it was only Friday and her father wouldn't get home until late that night. Still, it DID sound like her father. Except that there was no laughing. Usually when her dad got home there was a lot of laughing. And why did she have such a terrible taste in her mouth? And why was she still wearing her clothes? Who put her under the covers?
Finally she couldn't stand it any longer and staggered out to the front of the trailer. It WAS her father!
"DAD!" she yelped and launched herself into his lap, almost sloshing his coffee. Her mom looked at her funny, but she buried her face under her dad's ear and hung on around his neck. Usually he laughed and teased her. This time he held her tight and didn't say anything.
In a minute her mom said, in her voice that meant I-haven't-made-up-my-mind-yet, "Heather, go take a shower and put on some clean clothes."
Heather automatically looked at the clock to see if there was time before school. "Omigosh! I'm gonna be late! You'll have to write me a note! But how come Dad is home?"
"Your mom called me last night. She was worried and she said you needed me, so I drove back."
"But you must have driven half the night! Have you slept at all?" Heather stood up, feeling awkward. This kind of thing had never happened before.
"We'll talk about it later. And don't put on school clothes. We'll just take the day off to straighten some things out." Her father and mother exchanged one of those private glances, just between the two of them, that meant Heather had better do what she was told without asking a lot of questions. Something had been agreed upon while she was asleep. She went obediently off to the shower, hoping it would make her feel more normal. Gee, she must really be in outer space now-- but her parents seemed more sad than mad.
When she came back, her mother had left. "Did Mom go to the bingo?" she asked.
"Yup."
"She goes there too darn much," declared Heather. Now that she'd had her shower she felt feisty and defensive. "And you're never home, Dad. It's not fair."
"Is that why you invited that boy in here last night? To punish us? Even the score?" Her father still didn't seem angry. He looked into his coffee cup as though he could see something there.
Heather didn't know what to say. She didn't remember herself as inviting Che or wanting to punish anyone. It just kind of happened without her doing anything at all. "Dad, I didn't invite him. He just sort of arrived."
"What about the beer?"
How could she explain how dazzled she was that Che had even knocked on the door? She didn't even understand herself how he had been able to just come right into her bedroom and... But thinking about that in front of her father made her blush right down her neck. "Dad, he's just so good-looking! I mean, I just think he's so grownup and so cool."
"Cool to come here when you were alone and drink beer and..." he looked up and into her eyes, watching to see her reaction, "And to go into your bedroom and roll around with you on your bed? That's cool these days?"
Heather blushed even more. Tears came into her eyes.
"How far did you go, Heather? Did you go all the way?"
Her voice was very small. SHE felt very small. "I don't know what you mean?"
"Did you make love? Not that there could have been much love involved!"
"Well, " Heather began to really hurt now. "Oh, Dad! Don't say things like that! I think maybe I really love Che! I mean..." She couldn't explain to her father about the muscles in Che's back and how they made her feel.
"Heather, I'm going to be really blunt. Was there more than just kissing?"
She searched her memory, which was very fuzzy. In a meek voice she admitted, "No, I don't think so."
"What does that mean? Did he take his pants down?"
"GOD, NO!" Until that very moment it had never occured to Heather that Che might have done any such thing. TAKE HIS PANTS DOWN? God, what would she have done?
"And did you keep all your clothes on?"
"Well, of course!" She didn't tell him about that top button of her blouse coming unbuttoned.
Her father looked very relieved. "Well, then... You'd better have some breakfast. And then let's make some plans. Maybe your mother and I haven't really explained to you why we need to make extra money now and why we need for you to do your part. Things can get a lot better for all of us, but if something bad happened-- like you getting pregnant-- I don't know what we'd do."
"Is that all you're worried about? Ruining your plans?" She couldn't help sounding a little bitter, but more than that she needed to make sure she was included and wanted.
"No, Chipmunk." Her father's voice was quiet. "But it's time for you to grow up. We can't protect you all the time, as you just found out. You're still our girl, but you've got to start belonging to yourself, too. You've got to do your part."
If her father called her Chipmunk, then everything was all right. He only called her that when he was happy with her. She began to relax and looked around for the bowl of batter so she could make herself some waffles. She heard her father flip on the radio and knew it was going to be a good day after all when he began to whistle along with the songs.
a
Che had sat on the cement chunk across from the trailer for what felt like hours, but it must have been less than that. In the end, a pickup pulled up, a man got out, and went into the trailer. Oh,oh. That must be Heather's father. Che wondered if the man would come looking for him in a while.
But nothing really happened. What if Heather told her father that Che had taken advantage of her? For a moment he felt proud that anyone would think he'd done such a studly thing, but then he was ashamed, because she really was a nice girl and he didn't want to get her into trouble. Next he slipped into his familiar defiant anger-- it was all her fault. It was her folks' fault for leaving her there alone. It was the fault of-- anybody, not him. How could anyone as powerless as he felt ever do anything to anyone?
Still, maybe he'd better lay low for a while. He could go to his aunt's. It was too damn cold out here. He was about to freeze his butt off. And he'd had no sleep so there was no point in going to school. They'd just yell at him for sleeping at his desk and he wouldn't be able to keep from doing it.
His aunt's house had been pretty nice once, but now it was a little run-down. A lot of cars were parked around outside. The side door was unlocked and he slid in just as the sky began to lighten. He went into the basement where the boys all had their rooms. One of the smaller boys had a double bed. Che stripped to his underwear and crawled under the covers next to the warm little fellow curled up to one side. The little guy wet the bed sometimes, but it was dry this time, thank goodness. The smell from past accidents wasn't too bad. He'd explain everything to his aunt. She was a pretty good listener, actually. Not like his mom, her sister.
No comments:
Post a Comment