Jimmy

by Robert Whitlow

  “Like a bicycle,” Jimmy interrupted. “Did you hear me, Mama? I rode all the way to the tree in the middle of Mr. Anderson’s field and back to Grandpa without falling over. Next week, Grandpa is going to teach me to change gears.”

  “I heard you,” Mama managed. “Now go to your room and change clothes. Even if you didn’t fall off, you still managed to get dirty.”

  Jimmy turned to leave.

  “No, stay here,” Daddy commanded. “You need to understand what is going on. We’ve protected you from the correspondence and phone calls, but with the filing of suit, you’ll have to understand what’s at stake when you testify.”

  “Does he have to testify?” Mama asked in alarm. “Can’t we rely on Dr. Meyer’s recommendations?”

  “That’s only part of our proof.”

  “But she will be there!” Mama replied. “Vera has no right to see him, talk to him, touch him—”

  “Please, Ellen,” Daddy interrupted. “Let me work with Jimmy for a minute. Son, sit beside your mama.”

  Jimmy slid into the chair next to Mama. She gently stroked his back.

  “I need to explain what is going on,” Daddy began. “No, I want to hear from you. How much of this do you understand? What does your birth mother want to do?”

  Jimmy pressed his lips together before he spoke. “Her name is Vera. She bathed me when I was a baby, and that’s why I’m afraid of water. She left our house a long time ago and moved away after she found out that I was”—he paused—“retarded.”

  “You’re not retarded,” Mama said sharply.

  “Who told you she left for that reason?” Daddy asked.

  “Walt.”

  Daddy muttered for second. “Go ahead. Do you understand what is going on now?”

  Jimmy took a deep breath. “I know Mama has been sad and worried, because I can see it in her eyes. After she tucks me in at night and kisses me on the head, I get out of bed and pray that she will smile again. I also pray for Grandpa that his heart will be okay and that he will go back to church and get saved. Usually, I pray in a soft voice so I won’t bother you, but I know that God hears my prayers even if I say them inside my head. I’ve tried to be extra good to make Mama happy, but I know that my room isn’t as clean as it should be because I’ve been with Grandpa learning how to ride my bicycle. I promise to clean it this afternoon.”

  Jimmy paused and glanced back at Mama for affirmation.

  “That’s very sweet, Jimmy,” she said. “But remember that none of this is your fault. You’re a wonderful son.”

  Daddy cleared his throat. “Here’s what is going on. Vera wants you to come to her house and visit. Mama and I want you to stay here with us.”

  Jimmy knit his brow. “If you and Mama don’t want me to go, then I won’t go. You’re my parents. I’m your responsibility.”

  “I wish Judge Robinson would make it that simple,” Mama said with a sigh.

  “Robinson won’t be allowed to hear the case,” Daddy said. “Because I’m personally involved in the case as Jimmy’s father, Vera’s lawyer will ask Judge Robinson to recuse himself, and a superior court judge from a neighboring circuit will come in for a specially set hearing.”

  “Will Judge Robinson allow that to happen?”

  “Yes. But I will seek to delay any hearing until after Jimmy’s birthday.”

  “Does she want him to visit her on his birthday?” Mama asked in dismay.

  “No, that’s not in the pleadings, but his birthday has legal significance. Once a child turns fourteen, the judge has to consider the child’s wishes when determining visitation. Jimmy’s testimony will be one of the most important aspects of the case. If he doesn’t want to visit Vera, the judge will have to give a lot of weight to his preference.”

  Mama tapped Jimmy on the back.

  “Do you want to see your birth mother and spend the night at her house?”

  “Spend the night with someone I don’t know?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, ma’am. It’s fun going over to Max’s house, but I like sleeping in my own bed.”

  “I don’t think Jimmy’s testimony will be a problem,” Daddy said. “When you add that to Dr. Meyer’s opinion, our family life, and Vera’s complete abandonment for the past eleven years, I don’t think it will be much of a contest.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Mama sighed. “Who will be our lawyer?”

  “Dean Stanley is a possibility.”

  “No,” Mama replied sharply. “I’ve heard you talk about his shaky ethics too many times to trust him myself, and I didn’t like him when I dealt with him at the clerk’s office.”

  “He only bends the rules to try to help his clients, and he’s one of the most aggressive litigators in the area. He’ll go for the jugular and not let go.”

  “No,” Mama repeated.

  Daddy rubbed his left cheek with his hand. “Well, there’s Bruce Long. He’s young, but he’s smart and quick on his feet in the courtroom. Hiring him would also give me a close look at him as a future law partner.”

  “Talk to him. I’ve met his wife and liked her. They go to Deep Springs, and I’d rather have someone like him than a shyster with a long list of courtroom victories. Besides, you’ll be telling anyone who helps us what to do. They’ll just be your mouthpiece for the day.”

  “Yeah. I’ll call Bruce first thing Monday morning. I’m also going to file a counterclaim to Vera’s petition.”

  “A counterclaim? What do we want from her?”

  “I’m going to ask the judge to terminate her parental rights. That will end any possibility that she will cause us trouble in the future. The judge can end parental rights if there hasn’t been any personal contact or financial support for a twelvemonth period. I think we’ll have a strong case.”

  “Good,” Mama replied. “Once this is over and I know Jimmy is safe, I’ll be okay.”

  “And be able to smile?” Jimmy asked.

  Mama forced a wan smile. “If you clean your room, I’ll promise you a big smile.”

  — Seventeen —

  Delores asked Jimmy to sort a thick stack of documents, and he laid them out in neat rows on the conference table. While Jimmy was working, a stocky, blond-haired man came into the room with Daddy.

  “Jimmy, this is Mr. Long.”

  Mr. Long extended his hand to Jimmy, who shook it.

  “What are you doing in here today?” Long asked.

  Jimmy explained how he sorted the sheets of paper by day, month, and year. Long listened closely.

  “He files, makes copies, and does other routine, repetitive tasks,” Daddy added when Jimmy finished. “He enjoys jobs considered tedious by most people. He keeps focused and does excellent work.”

  “Could you do that at my office?” Mr. Long asked. “I’d be glad to pay you to help me organize some of my files.”

  Jimmy looked at Daddy.

  “We can discuss it later. He’s in the inclusion program at the middle school and occasionally has modified homework assignments, so I don’t want to interfere with his schoolwork. That’s one reason why he only works here a couple of afternoons a week. But it might be good for him to spend time with you so he will be comfortable with you in the courtroom.”

  Mr. Long spoke. “Before going to law school, I taught theater for three years in high school but never worked with a student like Jimmy. I think getting to know each other would be helpful.”

  “If you’re able to delay the hearing until after his birthday, we should have plenty of time.”

  WINTER GAVE WAY TO AN EARLY SPRING THAT SPLASHED THE west Georgia landscape with cherry blossoms. Close on the heels of the cherry trees, the pear trees burst forth like huge white ice-cream cones. Winter coats were returned to closets, and windows were raised to allow in fresh air before air-conditioning became necessary.

  Jimmy continued riding his bike. Daddy came along on several trips to Grandpa’s house until Mama agreed that Jimmy could ride alone from home t
o Grandpa’s house but nowhere else.

  The sound of the oversized horn on Jimmy’s handlebars became his calling card. At every intersection and stop sign, even if no cars or pedestrians were present, he sounded the horn before crossing the street. He also used the horn to say hello and good-bye. When the windows of the house were open, Grandpa could hear Jimmy’s horn as he pedaled down Ridgeview Drive and would come to the door before Jimmy rang the doorbell.

  Mama and Daddy made reservations for a weekend getaway to Callaway Gardens, a resort about an hour from Piney Grove. Mama began to cry when Daddy told her about the trip, and Daddy had to quickly assure Jimmy that her tears were happy ones.

  Jimmy wanted to spend the weekend his parents would be gone with Max, but the Cochran family was hosting relatives from out of town and wouldn’t have room for an extra houseguest. Grandpa and Grandma were going to visit Grandma’s sister in Jacksonville. Their trip had been planned for months and couldn’t be changed. So Jimmy would have to stay with Uncle Bart and Aunt Jill. On Friday afternoon, Mama helped Jimmy pack a suitcase and drove him to their house.

  “We’ll be back in time Sunday morning to take you to church,” Mama said as they pulled into the driveway.

  “Where will I sleep?” Jimmy asked.

  “Either in Walt’s room or the guest room.”

  Jimmy ground his teeth together.

  “Guest room, please,” he managed.

  Mama glanced sideways at the tone in his voice.

  “Of course. I’ll tell Aunt Jill. If Walt bothers you, let her know so she can take care of it. Now that he’s older and more mature, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Jimmy wasn’t so sure about that. Aunt Jill greeted them at the door.

  “Where’s Walt?” Mama asked after they’d deposited Jimmy’s things in the guest bedroom.

  “He’s running around in the new car we bought him Monday night. He’s already burned over a tank of gas without leaving the county.”

  Mama and Aunt Jill walked into the kitchen. Jimmy joined them.

  “I’m staying home all weekend,” Aunt Jill said. “Bart won’t be around much except to eat and sleep. He has to prepare for an important presentation when the CFO of the company arrives next week. Walt will probably be showing off his car to anyone who will take a look.”

  “Jimmy is able to entertain himself. Will you have time to take him by the house to feed and water Buster?”

  “Sure.”

  Mama gave Jimmy a tight hug and a big kiss on the cheek.

  “This kiss and hug will last until I see you on Sunday,” Mama said. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

  Jimmy gave her a game smile. “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” Mama replied.

  AFTER MAMA LEFT, AUNT JILL TURNED ON A SMALL TV ON the kitchen counter and began watching a soap opera. Jimmy wandered upstairs to Walt’s room and looked at the cases of his cousin’s video games. Jimmy had never been interested in computers. He liked the world in which his family and Buster lived. On Walt’s bed was a rolled-up poster. Jimmy straightened it out and saw members of a music group with a strange name. Aunt Jill’s voice at the bedroom door interrupted him.

  “Would you like to watch a movie?” she asked.

  Jimmy didn’t watch much TV, but he didn’t want to be rude to his aunt.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What do you want to see?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Aunt Jill smiled. “Stay here. I’ll find something.”

  In a minute, she returned with a movie called Old Yeller and put it in the player. Jimmy sat on the floor of the room.

  “It’s a story about a dog. I think you’ll like it,” she said.

  “What if Walt comes home?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell him to let you finish the movie.”

  At first, Jimmy liked the movie. The dog didn’t look anything like Buster, but Jimmy could easily understand how the boy could love the dog. But then all sorts of bad things started to happen. Jimmy became upset and fidgety. He got up to leave the room but didn’t want Aunt Jill to get mad at him for not watching the entire movie, so he sat back down. The story got worse and worse until the dog died. As he watched tears stream down the boy’s face, Jimmy imagined how sad he would be if Buster died. He wished he could meet the boy and tell him how sorry he was about his dog.

  “Old Yeller! Please come home!” a voice called out, causing Jimmy to jump.

  It was Walt.

  “That’s a sappy story, isn’t it?” he asked as he clicked off the movie. “I’ll tell you what happens so you don’t have to watch it. The boy gets another dog.”

  Jimmy asked the question that remained on his mind.

  “Do you know where the boy lives?”

  “Just over the line in Alabama. The sad thing is that his new dog died too. A neighbor killed it. Shot it in the head while the boy was watching. Blood and brains went everywhere.”

  Jimmy started for the door. He’d heard enough. He’d rather sit in the kitchen and watch Aunt Jill cook supper. The thought of the boy losing two dogs was more than he could bear. Walt put his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and stopped him.

  “Don’t run off. I’m kidding. The boy got another dog that looked exactly like Old Yeller, and they lived happily ever after.”

  Jimmy tried to squirm free, but his cousin tightened his grip.

  “Do you want to wrestle?” Walt asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. He didn’t know what Walt meant, but it didn’t sound like fun. Walt didn’t release him.

  “This is how it works. I’ll hold you down on the floor and you try to get up. Or, you can hold me down, and I’ll try to get up. Which one do you want to do? You pick.”

  “No,” Jimmy answered.

  Walt leaned over close to Jimmy’s face.

  “Then go to the kitchen and peel potatoes, but be careful not to cut your finger.”

  Walt released him, and Jimmy fled to the guest bedroom. He sat on the bed and stared at the wall, waiting for his heart to slow down. He heard footsteps in the hall. He’d forgotten to close and lock the door. He looked up in alarm. A head appeared in the doorway.

  It was Uncle Bart.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” he said. “We’re glad you can stay with us. It’s almost time for supper. Wash your hands and come to the kitchen.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When Jimmy went downstairs, Walt was getting a soft drink from the refrigerator. Uncle Bart was filling four glasses with tea.

  “Did you finish the movie?” Aunt Jill asked Jimmy.

  “No, ma’am.”

  Aunt Jill set a bowl of peas on the table. She’d fixed fried chicken. The sight of the chicken lifted Jimmy’s spirits. Aunt Jill made very good fried chicken— crisp and slightly spicy on the outside and hot and juicy on the inside. They all sat down, and Bart prayed the blessing.

  “Tell us what you’ve been up to,” Uncle Bart said as Jimmy selected a golden drumstick. “Are you still learning to ride your bike?”

  Jimmy took a bite from his chicken leg. It was delicious.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  Jimmy wanted to focus on the chicken leg but knew Uncle Bart’s question had to be answered first. He gave a brief report of his progress with special emphasis on bike safety. Jimmy had learned that no matter what he did, adults were always interested in safety.

  “Have you seen Walt’s car?” Uncle Bart asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “I hope he thinks as much about safety as you do.”

  Jimmy saw Walt roll his eyes. The conversation shifted to Walt, leaving Jimmy free to remove every speck of meat from the chicken leg. When he finished, Aunt Jill gave him another one before he could ask for seconds.

  THE REST OF THE EVENING PASSED WITHOUT INCIDENT. UNCLE Bart returned to the office, Walt mercifully disappeared into his room, and Jimmy stayed close to Aunt Jill. In a small storage
room adjacent to the kitchen, she’d set up a craft room, where she spent many hours making wreaths and Christmas tree ornaments.

  Aunt Jill’s wreaths weren’t simple circles decorated with a few plastic berries. She placed hand-painted figurines into the greenery and made every wreath different. Jimmy was amazed at her ability to paint with the tiny brushes neatly lined up in a wooden rack on her worktable.

  Aunt Jill brought an even greater eye for detail to her Christmas tree ornaments. For several years, she’d given Mama a new ornament on which she’d painted a member of the nativity scene. This past Christmas, a whole section of the tree in the Mitchell living room was occupied by shepherds, angels, animals, and members of the holy family. Most recently Aunt Jill had painted the wise men riding camels, one each on three ornaments. Mama placed them in a row moving up toward the star at the top of the tree.

  “Let me show what I’m working on for your mother,” Aunt Jill said to Jimmy.

  She opened a drawer and took out a gold-colored ornament with a delicate winged figure on it.

  “What do you think of my angel?” she asked.

  Jimmy leaned closer but remembered not to touch. He could see fluffy detail in the creature’s wings. It reminded him of the pictures in the angel book.

  “It’s very pretty,” he said.

  “Would you like to help me?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not a good painter.”

  “I’m not talking about this type of work. There is something I’m sure you could do very well. Will you give it a try?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy answered reluctantly.

  Aunt Jill taught him how to paint small Styrofoam balls. The first three turned out messy, but Jimmy thought his fourth wasn’t so bad.

  “I paint a spot on the pole I climb in Grandpa’s backyard,” Jimmy said, liking his work. “But I don’t have to be so careful because nobody sees it up close.”

  Wearing half-frame magnifying glasses, Aunt Jill carefully finished the dark eyes and nose for a miniature sheep.

  “How far have you climbed?”

  “I’m not sure, but Grandpa says it’s a lot higher than Goliath’s head.”