Me and Rupert Goody

by Barbara O'Connor

  Ruth started bawling and they all started yelling for her to hush up and John Elliott started throwing pretzels and I got up and left that ton-of-hell house. I could hear Vernon calling after me, but I didn’t stop.

  I stomped off down the road, kicking rocks and soda cans and even a beer bottle or two. When I got to Uncle Beau’s, I waited outside for a minute. Finally, I heard Jake’s tail thumping. Good ole Jake.

  Inside the store, it was dark and smelled like spaghetti. Uncle Beau pushed the curtain aside and came out of the back room.

  “Well, hey there, Gravel Gertie,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said. “You cooking spaghetti?”

  “Burning’s more like it. That damn hot plate’s ready for the junkyard. Guess I’ll have to settle for a loney-dog sandwich.”

  That’s what Uncle Beau calls baloney Loney dog.

  “Where you been?” he said. “I was about to send out a posse.”

  I shrugged and ran my finger along the counter. I traced the dark brown circle stains left by coffee mugs. I wondered where Rupert was.

  “You want me to stack them paper towels?” I said.

  “Naw, Rupert’s—”

  “Okay,” I said. “I was just asking.”

  In my head I said, “Where’s Rupert?” but out loud I said, “Marny’s got chicken pox. Fourteen years old with chicken pox.” I laughed. “Sits on the bed looking in the mirror and crying all day”

  “You take home some oatmeal,” Uncle Beau said. “Oatmeal bath’s good for the chicken-pox itch.”

  I flapped my hand in his direction. “Aw, let her itch.”

  Uncle Beau chuckled. That’s what I love about Uncle Beau. You say something most grownups would have a conniption fit over and Uncle Beau, he just laughs.

  I made my voice sound like I didn’t really care when I asked, “Where’s Rupert?”

  “Over to Vernelle Aikens stacking wood.”

  I sat on the stool behind the counter and watched Uncle Beau ringing up groceries for folks. It was almost closing time when he said, “What is it about Rupert that’s bothering you, Jennalee?”

  I hadn’t seen that one coming, that’s for sure. I swung my legs and kicked the stool with my heels. Thu-thunk. Thu-thunk. “I don’t know,” I said. I kept my eyes on the floor, staring at a water stain from a leak in the roof, a coupon for $.35 off diapers, ants on a doughnut crumb. I heard Uncle Beau sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rub his chin. For some reason, I wanted to say, “I love you, Uncle Beau.” But, of course, I didn’t.

  “You been weighing on me, Jennalee,” he said.

  I looked up and wished I hadn’t, cause he looked so sad.

  “What you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean I been seeing your looks and hearing your words and wondering where my Jennalee went and who’s this little girl come and took her place.”

  Wasn’t much I could say to that.

  “Jennalee, you and Rupert Goody got a lot in common. You both like sorting the produce and you’re both good at crazy eights and—”

  “Me and Rupert Goody got nothing in common!” I hadn’t meant for my voice to come out in such a holler.

  “Why you so mad at Rupert?” Uncle Beau said.

  I tried with all my might to keep my voice calm and steady “I just wonder why he took his sweet time coming to find you, is all.”

  Uncle Beau lowered hisself slowly onto the couch. His knees cracked and his breath rattled in his chest. He rubbed his knees with his gnarly hands and looked up at me.

  “There’s a lot I don’t know about that boy’s life,” he said. “May never know. Rupert ain’t too smart. I realize that. But he’s smart enough to know what family is.”

  “He wants family, he can have mine,” I said under my breath.

  “He belongs here with me, Jennalee.”

  “How come you so sure you all is family, Uncle Beau? You just going to take the word of anybody come prancing in here off the street calling theirselves a Goody? You ever ask him for proof?”

  Uncle Beau took in a long, slow breath and let it out with a sigh. “Why don’t you button the door, Gravel Gertie?” he said. “It’s quittin’ time.”

  I knew Uncle Beau was dodging an argument and I was glad. My head was all spinning around wanting to holler and fight about Rupert Goody trying to take my place. But my heart was telling me to slow down and love Uncle Beau, cause he was somebody worth loving.

  Eight

  I’ve never in my life heard of a grown man that can’t ride a bicycle. As far as I was concerned, that was just one more item on my list of why Rupert Goody was crazy. When Sam Myers brought a rusty old bike over to the store and give it to Rupert, you’d’ve thought there was a carnival going on, the way everybody came by to watch. They all stood around the parking lot hooting and hollering while Rupert wobbled around trying to ride that bike.

  “Keep pedaling! Keep pedaling!” they’d yell. Or: “That’s it, Rupert! You got it now!”

  But Rupert didn’t have it. He’d squeeze his eyebrows together and stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and pedal so slow that bike would finally just tip right over and Rupert would lay there on the ground looking surprised. Then everybody’d be falling all over each other to get out there and help him up and dust him off.

  One day Uncle Beau said, “Watch Jennalee do it, Rupert.” He gave me a little push. “Go on and show him how, Jennalee.”

  Everybody chimed in, “Yeah, go on, Jennalee.”

  I took the bike from Rupert.

  “Now watch, Rupert,” Uncle Beau said. “Watch how Jennalee keeps pedaling.”

  Rupert nodded. “Okay, Uncle Beau.”

  I pedaled down the road a ways and then came back.

  “See?” I said. “You got to keep pedaling or else you fall over, okay?”

  “Okay, Jennalee.”

  “Now you try it.” I handed over the bike.

  Rupert climbed on. He looked like one of them circus bears, all hunched over on a little tiny bike. He started pedaling and wobbling and then he just fell right over in the gravel.

  “Let’s go on in and get us a Dr Pepper,” Uncle Beau said.

  Folks hung around for a while, drinking soda and talking. Before long, the store was empty and Uncle Beau went to the window and peered out at the darkening sky.

  “Looks like we’re gonna get a gully-washer,” he said.

  There was a low rumble of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning that lit up the sky. Uncle Beau and I went out on the porch to watch. We love a good storm.

  Uncle Beau sat on the glider. It squeaked as he pushed it back and forth.

  “Come on out here, Rupert,” Uncle Beau called through the screen door.

  The sky turned so dark it seemed like night.

  “What’s Rupert doing in there?” Uncle Beau asked me.

  I looked through the door, but it was dark inside. “I don’t know.”

  “Go on in there and see.”

  Inside, I squinted into the darkness, searching for Rupert. When I finally saw him, he was a sorry sight, standing in the corner with his arms all wrapped around hisself, staring at the wall and shaking to beat the band.

  “What you doing, Rupert?” I said.

  He didn’t answer. Just kept his face to the wall.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Still no answer.

  Just then came a clap of thunder so loud it felt like the store was going to fall in on us. I thought Rupert was going to climb that wall. I could hear Uncle Beau out on the porch going “Hooo-eeee!”

  “You scared of thunder?” I said to Rupert, moving a little closer.

  He covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Aw, Rupert,” I said. “Ain’t nothing to be scared of. Just noise, that’s all.”

  Rupert wouldn’t look at me. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Don’t be a baby, Rupert,” I s
aid. “Look at Jake. He ain’t even scared.” But I wasn’t too sure about that, seeing as how Jake was shaking pretty good, too.

  Suddenly the rain started in one big swoop of a downpour. Rupert jerked around and looked toward the door all wild-eyed.

  “My bike!” he hollered. “My bike!”

  I followed his look and saw that beat-up old bike lying in the parking lot. The rain clattered down on it, making one wheel start to spin.

  “Shoot, Rupert,” I said. “That ole thing’s seen more than a rainstorm, I can tell you that. Ain’t no more places to rust on that piece of junk.”

  I turned back to look at Rupert and got a shock. He was crying. Tears rolling down his face. His chin all quivering. “My bike,” he said again.

  I looked at the bike, then back at Rupert, then back at the bike. I ran out into the parking lot, ducking my head as I splashed through the muddy puddles toward the bike. Just as I picked up the bike and started back toward the store, there was another clap of thunder, followed by a jagged bolt of lightning.

  “Jennalee!” Rupert hollered real loud and awful-sounding.

  Through the curtain of rain I could see Rupert on the porch.

  “Jennalee!” he hollered again. Then he ran out into the rain with his arms stretched out in front. I figured he was gonna grab his bike, but he grabbed me in his skinny arms and like to squeezed the life out of me.

  “Jennalee,” he said.

  I tried to pull away, but he had my arms pinned down to my sides.

  “You gone crazy or something, Rupert?” I hollered.

  When he finally let me go, I stepped away from him.

  “Jeekers, Rupert,” I said. “You trying to kill me or something?”

  I turned to see what Uncle Beau thought of all this and my heart fell right to my feet. Uncle Beau was slumped over on the glider like he’d just up and gone to sleep. His whomper-jawed fingers were all curled up and his face was white and his lips were blue and it was for darn sure he wasn’t sleeping. I’m here to tell you, that’s a sight I’ll never forget—but I wish like anything I could.

  Nine

  They said the lightning went right through that metal glider and into Uncle Beau.

  “Damn near fried my gizzard,” Uncle Beau said when I finally got up the nerve to go into his hospital room. I’d told myself, “Don’t cry, Jennalee,” about a hundred times, but when I walked into that dark, weird-smelling room and saw that wrinkly old man in the bed, the floodgates opened and I couldn’t do nothing but cry. And then Uncle Beau said that about the fried gizzard and I just cried harder.

  “Aw, come on now, Gravel Gertie,” he said. “Come over here where I can see you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was my Jennalee bawling over there.”

  “It is me, Uncle Beau,” I managed to say. I hiccupped and sniffed and carried on, but I didn’t care. This was some scary stuff.

  “Don’t cry, Jennalee,” Uncle Beau said in such a soft, sweet voice I thought I’d die.

  “You gonna be all right, ain’t you, Uncle Beau?” I said, inching closer to his bed.

  “Course I’m gonna be all right,” he said. “Hell, that lightning just recharged my batteries, is all. Liable to make me better than I was before. Might’ve ruined my hairdo, though. Look at this.” He ducked his head toward me. “Gave me chicken hair.”

  I wiped my eyes and looked closer. His white hair was sticking out every which way. I laughed. Chicken hair. That was a good one.

  “When you coming home?” I said.

  “Soon as I can find my clothes. You see my clothes anywhere around here?”

  I looked around. The man in the bed next to Uncle Beau’s was hooked up to about a million wires and was moaning. Gave me the willies. “No, sir, I don’t,” I said. “You want me to bring you something from home?”

  “Maybe Rupert can do that.”

  Up until then, I’d forgotten all about Rupert. I hardly remembered calling 911. Seemed like a dream riding in the ambulance, holding Uncle Beau’s curled-up hand and just daring anybody to pull me away. Rupert had flown right out of my head and disappeared—until then.

  “What’s the matter?” Uncle Beau said. “Something wrong with Rupert?”

  “I guess I just forgot about him, is all.”

  Uncle Beau dropped his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. My stomach did a flip.

  “You okay, Uncle Beau?”

  He breathed a few times real slow before answering. “Right as rain, Gravel Gertie,” he said.

  “I’ll take care of the store, Uncle Beau. I can make the coffee and sort the produce and …”

  “Naw, now, Jennalee,” Uncle Beau said. “That store can wait. You just get Rupert to bring me some clothes.”

  “Yessir.” I turned to go, just wanting to get out of there before my heart broke right in two from looking at him so old in that bed.

  “One more thing, Gravel Gertie,” he called after me. “You take care of Jake, okay?”

  “Sure I will.”

  “And Rupert,” he added. “You take care of Rupert, okay?”

  I looked over at Uncle Beau, lying there so small and tired, his chicken hair sticking up all over his head and his bony arms limp by his side.

  “Yessir,” I said, and got out of there fast.

  Back at the store, Curtis Rathman and Rob Sanders were waiting on customers. That kind of got my goat, but I guess they was just trying to help. I told them how Uncle Beau was and then asked about Rupert.

  “He’s locked hisself in that old shed back yonder and won’t come out for nothing,” Curtis said. “You better go check on him, Jennalee. He’ll listen to you.”

  Just then my brother Vernon came busting in. “Jennalee, where you been?” he snapped, real bossy-like.

  “Uncle Beau got struck by lightning,” I said.

  Vernon’s face softened and he moved closer to me. For a minute I thought he was going to hug me, but then he looked down at my feet and said, “Damn.”

  “Like you care!” I hollered. Everything went all blurry through my tears and I blinked real hard.

  Vernon ruffled my hair and jiggled my shoulder. “Aw, come on, Jennalee.”

  I slapped his hand away. “You don’t know nothing about Uncle Beau,” I said, throwing my arms out at Vernon. “For your information, he ain’t hot to trot!”

  I glared at him. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile, and I balled my fists up just in case he did. But he set a serious look on his face.

  “You got to go on home,” he said. “Mama’s been looking for you all day.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I got to look after the store.”

  “Me and Rob can take care of things here, Jennalee,” Curtis said. “Besides, it’s closing time anyhow.”

  “I got to bring in the bargain table and give Jake a doughnut and button the door.” I knew my voice was sounding a bit riled up. I tried to tone things down a bit. “Uncle Beau said he don’t want nobody but me to mind the store.” There. Nothing like a bold-faced lie to tone things down.

  Curtis looked at Rob, who looked at Vernon, who looked at Curtis.

  “You can’t run the store by yourself, Jennalee,” Vernon said.

  “I can, too!” They didn’t know nothing about the store. I was the one who did the pricing and emptied the bottle caps and dusted off the Indian souvenirs.

  Vernon took my arm, but I jerked away. “Get on out of here!” I hollered.

  Jake jumped up and trotted over, wagging his tail. He cocked his head and looked at me like I’d gone loco. Seeing his sad eyes made me remember Uncle Beau laying there in a hospital bed with chicken hair and I couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

  I sat on the couch and cried till I was plumb cried out. When I could finally look up and take stock of things around me, Curtis and Rob were gone and Vernon was trying to pull the bargain table through the door.

  “Not like that!” I jumped up and showed him how to do it. “Vern
on, I know how to do all this,” I said. “Y’all just messing things up being here.”

  “You ain’t running this store by yourself, Jennalee,” Vernon said. “So you can help me do it or you can get your skinny butt on home.”

  I looked at Vernon and tried to read his face. I’d lived with him all my life, but half the time I never knew which way he was going to go. Like one of them eight balls you shake up and turn over. One shake might tell you, “Outlook good,” but the very next one might say, “Don’t count on it.”

  “Thanks, Vernon,” I said.

  He bustled around the store, slamming things and locking things and not looking my way. After we got the coffee urn washed out and set the squishy produce out on the porch, I said, “I got to get some things for Uncle Beau before I button the door. Then I’ll be home.”

  I considered it a miracle when Vernon nodded and left. I looked around me in the silence. It felt kind of spooky. I was glad ole Jake was there, looking at me as if to say, “What now, Jennalee?”

  I pushed aside the curtain and went into Uncle Beau’s little room in back of the store. First thing, I got a whiff of Old Spice and felt the tears coming up again. I sat on Uncle Beau’s bed and laid my head on his pillow. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged that pillow so tight it’s a wonder the stuffing didn’t come flying out. Then I had myself another good cry. One of those hiccupping kind of cries that didn’t stop till I didn’t have a tear left in me. What if Uncle Beau just up and died? What if I didn’t have nowhere to be every day but my ton-of-hell house? What if I didn’t have nobody to call me Gravel Gertie and give me PayDays and be my friend? I reckon I knew I was crying for me as much as I was crying for Uncle Beau, but I didn’t care.

  I turned over on my back, put my hands behind my head, and looked around Uncle Beau’s room, my heart aching every time my eyes caught some piece of him. An army medal from World War II. His flannel nightshirt. A half eaten piece of beef jerky. And then I saw her. Stuck in the frame of his dusty old mirror. Hattie Baker, sitting under that tree, holding them flowers. I got up and took down the picture. I stared at her, tracing her outline with my finger.