Weekly Serial Book 10 Chapter 3 – Mumblings

I tried to get away. I used to run and run, thinkin’ that if I ran fast and far enough, the lines upon lines of sentences rolling behind my eyes would stop, and suddenly, all at once, I would be empty and still. I lettered in Track, but I never could escape my awful gift.
So I coped. I had to. I couldn’t tell nobody. Who’d understand? Everybody knew I was a little weird, starin’ off into space like I was daydreamin’ all the time, but at least they didn’t treat me like a freak. Especially after they found out I could run. So I kept it to myself. I learned to pick and choose, flicking from conversation to conversation like a channel changer on a TV. After awhile, I got to where I could listen to one conversation at a time. Before that, I was sure I was going to go insane.

“How was school today, baby?”
“Sucked.”
“What you mean?”
“It sucked”
“How so? Them boys pickin’ on you again.”
“Yeah.”
“How come?”
“‘Cause of my pants.”
“Your pants?!”
“Yeah. They call me Noah.”
“Noah? Why Noah?”
“Doncha see, Mama?! These pants are too short. They’re ‘floods,’ Mama. Like I don’t want to get ‘em wet! ”
“So?”
“See?! I don’t even know why I told you! You don’t understand!”
“Son?”
“What?!”
“Don’t holler at your Mama, Son.”
(Silence)
“Son?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, Mama. It’s just . . .”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“‘Cause.”
“‘Cause why?”
“I don’t know.”
“‘Cause you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Look at me, Son.”
(Pause)
“Thank you. I know it’s just you and me now and you think you have to be the man of the house. But don’t you feel like you got to protect your Mama. I can take care of myself. Son, I want you to be happy. When you’re sad, that makes me sad too, whether you tell me or not. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now get your coat on.”
“Why?”
“Well, last time I checked your birth certificate, your name wasn’t Noah, so I guess we got to get you some new pants.”
“Oh, Ma, You . . .”
“Be quiet, boy. And come here and give your Mama some sugar.”
“I love you, Ma.”
“You a sweetie just like your Daddy was, Son. I love you too.”

The slam of a screen door ends the conversation between Widow Thomas and her boy, Henry. His Daddy died a couple years ago in a lumbering accident. Tree fell the wrong way and split him near in two. It’s been hard on them, especially Henry, but they gonna do just fine.

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~ by peacegroover on June 20, 2012.

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