Gump & Co. (3 page)

Well, I ain’t sure exactly what I done next, but somehow I got back home an thowed some stuff in a bag an caught the bus to Mobile that afternoon. It was the longest bus drive of my life, I think. I just kept going back over all them years with Jenny an me. How she always helped me out of trouble in school – even after I accidentally tore off her dress in the movie theater – an in college when she sang with the folk music band an I screwed up by hauling the banjo player out of the car while they was makin out, an then up in Boston when she was singin with The Cracked Eggs an I went to Harvard University an got in the Shakespeare play – an even after that, when she was up in Indianapolis workin for the retread tire company an I became a rassler an she had to tell me what a fool I was makin of myself . . . It just can’t be true, I kept thinkin, over an over again, but thinkin
don’t make it so. I knew that deep down. I knew it was true.

When I got to Mrs Curran’s house, it was nearly nine o’clock at night.

‘Oh, Forrest,’ she says, an thowed her arms around me an begun to cry, an I couldn’t help it an begun cryin, too. In a little while, we went inside an she made me some milk an cookies an tried to tell me about it.

‘Nobody knows exactly what it was,’ she said. ‘They both got sick about the same time. It was very fast and they just kind of slipped away. She wasn’t in any pain or anything. In fact, she was more beautiful than ever. Just laid in the bed, like I remember her as a little girl. Her very own bed. Her hair all long and pretty, and her face was just like it always was, like an angel. And then, that morning, she . . .’

Mrs Curran had to stop for a while. She wadn’t cryin anymore. She just looked out the winder at the streetlight.

‘And when I went in to see her, she was gone. Lying there with her head on the pillow, almost like she was sleeping. Little Forrest was playing out on the porch, and, well, I wasn’t sure what to do, but I told him to come in an kiss his mama. And he did. He didn’t know. I didn’t let him stay that long. We buried her the next day. Out to the Magnolia Cemetery in the family plot, alongside her daddy and her granny. Under a sugar maple tree. Little Forrest, I don’t know how much he understands about it all. He don’t know about his daddy. He died up in Savannah, with his folks. He knows his mama’s gone, but I don’t think he really understands about it.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘What?’ Mrs Curran ast.

‘Where she was. Where she was when . . .’

‘Oh, yes, Forrest. It’s right in here. Little Forrest is sleeping in there now. I’ve only got two . . .’

‘I don’t want to wake him up,’ I says.

‘Why don’t you,’ says Mrs Curran. ‘It’ll make him feel better, maybe.’

An so I gone into Jenny’s bedroom. There was little Forrest asleep in her bed, didn’t know nothin really about what was happenin to him. Had a teddy bear he was huggin an a big blond curl across his forehead. Mrs Curran started to wake him up, but I ast her not to. I could almost see Jenny there, peaceful an asleep. Almost.

‘Maybe he ought to just rest tonight,’ I says. ‘They’ll be time in the mornin for him to see me.’

‘All right, Forrest,’ she says. Then she turned away. I touched his face an he turned over an give a little sigh.

‘Oh, Forrest,’ Mrs Curran says, ‘I don’t believe all this. So quick. And they all seemed so happy. Things sure do turn out bad sometime, don’t they?’

‘Yes’m,’ I says. ‘They shore do.’ We went on out of the room.

‘Well, Forrest, I know you’re tired. We’ve got a sofa here in the living room. I can make you a bed.’

‘You know, Mrs Curran, maybe I could sleep on that swing out on the porch. I always liked that swing, you know. Jenny an I used to sit on it an . . .’

‘Of course, Forrest. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets.’

So that’s what I did. An all that night the wind blew, an sometime afore dawn, it begun to rain. It wadn’t cold or nothin. Just a regular ole fall night for around here where I grew up. An I don’t think I slept much neither. I was thinkin about Jenny an little Forrest an about my life, which, come to think of it, hadn’t been much. I have done a lot of things, but I ain’t done many of them very well. Also, I’m always gettin into trouble just about the time things start goin good. Which, I suppose, is the penalty you pay for bein a idiot.

WELL, THE NEXT
mornin Mrs Curran come out on the porch with a cup of coffee an a doughnut. The rain had let up a little bit, but the sky was a dark pearly gray an there was thunder growlin off someplace like God was mad.

‘I guess you’ll want to go out to the cemetery,’ Mrs Curran said.

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ I tole her. I didn’t really know if I wanted to or not. I mean, somethin was tellin me I oughta, but it was the last place I really wanted to go.

‘I’ve got little Forrest ready,’ she says. ‘He ain’t been there since . . . Well, I think it would be a good thing for him to go along. Just to kind of get used to it.’

I looked behind her an there he was, standin behind the screen door, lookin sort of sad an puzzled.

‘Who are you?’ he ast.

‘Why, I’m Forrest. You remember when I met you a while back? Up at Savannah.’

‘You’re the one with the funny monkey?’

‘Yeah. Sue. But he’s not a monkey. He’s a purebread orangutang.’

‘Where is he now? He here?’

‘Nope. Not this time,’ I says. ‘He got bidness someplace else, I reckon.’

‘We’re gonna go see my mama now,’ the little boy says, an I like to choked up right then.

‘Yeah, I know,’ I says.

Mrs Curran, she put us in the car an we drove out to the cemetery. Whole time, I got these horrible butterflies in my stomach. Little Forrest, he just lookin out the winder with big ole sad eyes, an I am wonderin what in hell is gonna happen to us all.

It was a really pretty cemetery, as them things go. Big ole magnolia an oak trees, an we wound around an wound around till we got to a big tree an Mrs Curran stopped the car. It was a Sunday mornin, an someplace church bells were chimin away. When we got out, little Forrest come up beside me an looked up, an so I took him by the hand an we walked to Jenny’s grave. The ground was still wet from the rain, an a lot of leaves had blown down, pretty red an gold ones, shaped just like stars.

‘Is that where Mama is?’ little Forrest ast.

‘Yes it is, darlin,’ Mrs Curran says.

‘Can I see her?’

‘No, but she’s there,’ says Jenny’s mama. He was a brave little boy, he was, an didn’t cry or nothin, like I would of if I’d been him. An after a few minutes he found himsef a stick to play with an walked off a ways by himsef.

‘I just can’t believe it,’ Mrs Curran said.

‘I can’t neither,’ I says. ‘It ain’t right.’

‘I’ll go back to the car now, Forrest. You probably want to be alone for a while.’

I just stood there, kind of numb, twistin my hands. Everbody I really cared for seemed to have died or somethin. Bubba an Mama, an now poor Jenny. It had begun to drizzle a little bit now, an Mrs Curran went an got little Forrest an put him in the car. I started to walk away myself when I heard a voice say, ‘Forrest, it’s okay.’

I turned aroun, but ain’t nobody there.

‘I said it’s okay, Forrest,’ the voice says again. It was . . . It couldn’t be . . . It was Jenny!

Cept there still ain’t nobody there.

‘Jenny!’ I says.

‘Yes, Forrest. I just wanted you to know everything’s gonna be all right.’

I must be goin crazy, I figgered! But then alls of a sudden I kind of seen her, just in my mind, I guess, but there she was, as beautiful as always.

‘You’re gonna have to take little Forrest now,’ she says, ‘an raise him up to be strong and smart and good. I know you can do it, Forrest. You’ve got a very big heart.’

‘But how?’ I ast. ‘I’m a idiot.’

‘No you’re not!’ Jenny says. ‘You might not be the smartest feller in town, but you’ve got more sense than most people. You’ve got a long life ahead of you, Forrest, so make the best you can of it. I’ve told you that for years.’

‘I know, but . . .’

‘Anytime you really get stumped, I’ll be there for you. Do you understand that?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I will. So go on back and get busy and try to figure out what you’re gonna do next.’

‘But, Jenny, I just can’t believe it’s you.’

‘Well, it’s me all right. Go on, now, Forrest,’ she says. ‘Sometimes you act like you ain’t got sense enough to get in out of the rain.’

So I gone on back to the car, soakin wet.

‘Was you talkin to somebody out there?’ Mrs Curran ast.

‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I guess I was talkin to mysef.’

That afternoon, me an little Forrest sat in Jenny’s mama’s livin room an watched the New Orleans Saints play the Dallas Cowboys – or whatever it was they did with them. The Cowboys done scored four touchdowns the first quarter, an we ain’t scored none. I had tried to call the stadium to explain where I was, but ain’t
nobody answered the phone in the locker room. I guess by the time I got around to callin, they had all done gone out on the field.

Second quarter it was worse, an by half-time the score was forty-two to nothin, an the sportscasters were all talkin about how I wadn’t there an nobody knew where I was. I finally got through to the locker room, an all of a sudden Coach Hurley got on the phone.

‘Gump, you idiot!’ he hollered. ‘Where in hell are you!’

I tole him Jenny had died, but he didn’t seem to understand.

‘Who in hell is Jenny?’ he screamed.

It wadn’t too easy to explain all this, so I just tole him she was a friend of mine. Then the owner got on the phone.

‘Gump, I tole you that if you don’t show up for a game, I’m gonna fire your ass myself! And that’s what I’m doin. Your ass is fired!’

‘But see,’ I tole him, ‘it was Jenny. I just found out yesterday . . .’

‘Don’t hand me that bullshit, Gump! I know all about you and your so-called agent, Mr Butterbutt, or whatever his name is. This is just another cheap trick to get more money. An you ain’t gonna do it. Don’t
never
come around my football team again. You hear – never!’

‘Did you explain it to them,’ Mrs Curran ast, when she came back into the room.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Sort of.’

An so that ended my professional football playin days.

Now I had to find some kind of job to help support little Forrest. Jenny had put most of the money I’d sent her into a bank account, an with the other thirty thousan dollars Jenny’s mama had sent back to me, there was enough to earn a little interest. But
it weren’t gonna be enough for everthin, so I knew I had to find me some work.

Next mornin, I looked through the papers at the job ads. Wadn’t much goin on. Mostly they wanted secretaries an used car salesmen an such, an I figgered I needed somethin, well, more dignified.

Then I spotted a ad in the column marked ‘Other.’

‘Promotional Representatives,’ it says. ‘No experience necessary! Huge profits for hard workers!’ An it give an address for a local motel. ‘Interviews at 10 a.m. sharp.’ ‘Must be able to deal with people,’ was the final line.

‘Mrs Curran,’ I says, ‘what is a “promotional representative”?’

‘I’m not sure, Forrest. I think it’s . . . Well, you know the guy who dresses up like that big peanut outside the peanut store downtown and hands out little samples of nuts to folks? I think it’s something like that.’

‘Oh,’ I says. Frankly, I was expectin somethin a little higher up on the ladder. But I am thinkin about them ‘huge profits’ the ad talked about. An besides, if it
was
bein a peanut man or somethin, as least people wouldn’t know it was me inside the costume.

As it turned out. It was not the peanut man. It was somethin very different.

‘Knowledge!’ says the feller. ‘Everthin in the world depends on
knowledge
!’

They was about eight or ten of us done answered the ad for ‘Promotional Representative.’ We had arrived at this dinky little motel an was sent into a room that had a bunch of foldin chairs set up an a phone settin on the floor. After about twenty minutes, the door suddenly bust open an in comes this tall, thin, suntanned guy wearin a white suit an white buck shoes. He don’t say his name or nothin, just comes marchin into the room an gets in front of us an begun
to give us a lecture. His hair is slicked back an greasy, an he has a little pencil mustache.

‘Knowledge!’ he shouts again. ‘And here it is!’

He unfolded a big color-poster-size sheet of paper an begun pointin out the various forms of knowledge, which are printed on it. They is pictures of dinosaurs an ships an farm crops an big cities. They is even pictures of outer space an rocket ships, of TVs an radios an cars, an I don’t know what all else.

‘This is the opportunity of a lifetime!’ he hollers. ‘To bring all this knowledge into people’s homes!’

‘Wait a minute,’ somebody ast. ‘Does this have anything to do with selling encyclopedias?’

‘Certainly not,’ the man answers, sort of hurt like.

‘Well, it looks like it does to me,’ the feller says. ‘If it’s not selling encyclopedias, what the hell is it?’

‘We do not
sell
encyclopedias!’ the man replies. ‘We
place
encyclopedias in people’s homes.’

‘Then it
is
about selling encyclopedias!’ the first man shouts.

‘With an attitude like that, I don’t think you should be here,’ said the feller. ‘Leave us now, so the others can be informed.’

‘Damn right I’ll leave,’ says the first man, walkin out. ‘I got roped into sellin encyclopedias one time before, an it’s a total bunch of bullshit.’

‘Nevertheless!’ hollers the feller in the white suit, ‘you will be sorry when all these other guys are rich and famous.’ An he slammed the door so hard the room shook an I was afraid the doorknob might of hit the first man in the asshole.

It took us about a week to go through our ‘trainin’ period. This consisted of havin to learn a long speech, word for word, about how good the encyclopedias we was sellin was.
Book of Worldwide Information
was what they was called. Our instructor was the feller in
the white suit, who was also the regional sales manager for the encyclopedia company. Mister Trusswell was his name, but he told us to just call him Slim.