‘Always turnin up. Out of the blue. A regular bad penny is what you are. Shit!’
That’s my ma soundin off, like she ain’t so pleased to see me, only I knows she is.
‘You don’t call none and you don’t write and I worries where you are and who you’s with and what’s you a doin. And then you just turns up like you only been to the end of the road and back and everythin’s fine.’
I tells her I’s sorry and I holds her and kisses her hair and I tells her again.
She’s cryin by this time, and she’s callin pa in from the garden where he’s been tendin the pumpkins, and the dog is barkin and jumpin cos he knows somethin is up.
‘And I ain’t got nothin in the fridge for eatin and I reckon as you’ll be stayin for supper and if only you’d let me know you was comin. We coulda asked your sister and her man over, and Bob. If you’d only picked up the goddam phone.’
She pretends like she’s cross but she’s fussin and settin me in a chair and fetchin me a beer from the fridge so I knows she’s pleased to see me. She calls pa again cos he probably didn’t hear and she tells the dog to hush up and she’s still cryin only there’s smiles in them tears and she slowly sinks to the chair beside me.
‘You ain’t in trouble?’ she says then, like she’s just thought of somethin and her voice sunk to whisper. ‘Like before and before. You ain’t come here to hide from somethin you done and men trailin you to my door?’
I tell her she don’t need to worry none. I tell her everythin’s straight and I got a job and a girl and everythin’s just right.’
She wants to know about the girl then and the job and she calls for pa to get his goddam ass in here now.
‘A regular job? With good money and prospects? Cos you ain’t some dumb schmuck, you know. You got brains, if only you’d realize. And the girl. What’s her folks do? And is she pretty? And what’s wrong with her that she’s with you?’
I tell her then, cos if I’s honest, I’m a bit excited about the news and it’s the whole rhyme and reason I came. I tell her even before pa comes in, though I wanted to tell ‘em both together. In my head it was that way and I’d rehearsed the words, but they came out different.
‘I’m gonna be a dad.’
‘Shit!’ she says and she looks at me, looks through the smilin and the shy that I suddenly am, and she sees right to the heart of it all and she knows I done wrong and not good. ‘Shit!’ she says again, and she gets to her feet and calls pa in for the fourth time and her voice is all thrown stone and hard. ‘Shit!’
“all thrown stone and hard.” So lovely. This reads like poetry, the rhythms of the language, the building up of one sentence on another, the repetition of calling for the father. Love it. Love it. Perhaps some might be concerned with the dialect, but to me, that adds to the piece. It adds a certain musicality and authenticity of the voice. Thanks so much, Lindsay.
Nice job. I like the way this piece builds suspense (what has he done that he finally shows up to tell his parents?), and I like the detail (deaf father, suspicious mother, etc.). My only suggestion is that there’s a little too much dialect and it’s hard to read through it to what’s happening in the story. Something as simple as adding back the full -ing word endings might make it less distracting without losing the effect.
Thanks for readin and commentin. I kinda like the dialec, Judith. It helps me reach into somethin poetic for the piece; but that’s ok if you think it may be a bit too much… these is just scribblins and having fun and experimentin. Thanks, Patricia… yes’n it’s ok to love it too, cos I love comin here and playin.
April 20, 2013: The black sheep.
‘Always turnin up. Out of the blue. A regular bad penny is what you are. Shit!’
That’s my ma soundin off, like she ain’t so pleased to see me, only I knows she is.
‘You don’t call none and you don’t write and I worries where you are and who you’s with and what’s you a doin. And then you just turns up like you only been to the end of the road and back and everythin’s fine.’
I tells her I’s sorry and I holds her and kisses her hair and I tells her again.
She’s cryin by this time, and she’s callin pa in from the garden where he’s been tendin the pumpkins, and the dog is barkin and jumpin cos he knows somethin is up.
‘And I ain’t got nothin in the fridge for eatin and I reckon as you’ll be stayin for supper and if only you’d let me know you was comin. We coulda asked your sister and her man over, and Bob. If you’d only picked up the goddam phone.’
She pretends like she’s cross but she’s fussin and settin me in a chair and fetchin me a beer from the fridge so I knows she’s pleased to see me. She calls pa again cos he probably didn’t hear and she tells the dog to hush up and she’s still cryin only there’s smiles in them tears and she slowly sinks to the chair beside me.
‘You ain’t in trouble?’ she says then, like she’s just thought of somethin and her voice sunk to whisper. ‘Like before and before. You ain’t come here to hide from somethin you done and men trailin you to my door?’
I tell her she don’t need to worry none. I tell her everythin’s straight and I got a job and a girl and everythin’s just right.’
She wants to know about the girl then and the job and she calls for pa to get his goddam ass in here now.
‘A regular job? With good money and prospects? Cos you ain’t some dumb schmuck, you know. You got brains, if only you’d realize. And the girl. What’s her folks do? And is she pretty? And what’s wrong with her that she’s with you?’
I tell her then, cos if I’s honest, I’m a bit excited about the news and it’s the whole rhyme and reason I came. I tell her even before pa comes in, though I wanted to tell ‘em both together. In my head it was that way and I’d rehearsed the words, but they came out different.
‘I’m gonna be a dad.’
‘Shit!’ she says and she looks at me, looks through the smilin and the shy that I suddenly am, and she sees right to the heart of it all and she knows I done wrong and not good. ‘Shit!’ she says again, and she gets to her feet and calls pa in for the fourth time and her voice is all thrown stone and hard. ‘Shit!’
“all thrown stone and hard.” So lovely. This reads like poetry, the rhythms of the language, the building up of one sentence on another, the repetition of calling for the father. Love it. Love it. Perhaps some might be concerned with the dialect, but to me, that adds to the piece. It adds a certain musicality and authenticity of the voice. Thanks so much, Lindsay.
Nice job. I like the way this piece builds suspense (what has he done that he finally shows up to tell his parents?), and I like the detail (deaf father, suspicious mother, etc.). My only suggestion is that there’s a little too much dialect and it’s hard to read through it to what’s happening in the story. Something as simple as adding back the full -ing word endings might make it less distracting without losing the effect.
Thanks for readin and commentin. I kinda like the dialec, Judith. It helps me reach into somethin poetic for the piece; but that’s ok if you think it may be a bit too much… these is just scribblins and having fun and experimentin. Thanks, Patricia… yes’n it’s ok to love it too, cos I love comin here and playin.
🙂