Life Among the Savages (6 page)

“Laurie,” I said sternly, “did you throw a rock at David?”

Laurie pondered, frowning, his head on one side and one finger thoughtfully tapping his cheek. “I forget,” he said at last.

“Try to remember,” I said threateningly. Laurie shook his head in despair. “I just forget,” he said.

I went to the study door. “Did you call David a little sneak?” I demanded.

My husband looked up from his article on extinct fishes. “A little what?” he said.

“A little sneak.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” my husband said. “Why would I call what's-his-name a little sneak?” He turned back to his article. “Are you still worrying about
that?”
he asked.

The phone rang. I strode over and slammed it out of the receiver. “Well?” I said.

“If you think you can just hang up on people just because your son is a little bully and goes around throwing rocks and—”

“If you think you and your half-witted David can get away with picking on every child in the neighborhood just because he's overgrown and stupid—”

“If you would care to—”

“Perhaps
you
would like to—”

We hung up simultaneously. My husband opened the study door and looked out. “Who were you talking to?” he asked.

“Look,” I said, “if you'd just take care of your own affairs and let Laurie fight his own battles and not come to me to—”

“I'm good, aren't I?” Jannie said. She came over and pulled at my hand. “I'm
good,
aren't I?”

My husband said loudly, “Let's box for a while, son. Get the gloves.” Without looking at me he added, “We'll box out in the woodshed. Then,” he said thoughtfully, “the noise won't bother Mother when she's on the phone.”

“Aren't I?” said Jannie urgently.
“Aren't
I?”

I reached for the phone, and then hesitated. It was time to start the potatoes for dinner; I had a quick picture of Mrs. Howell peeling potatoes with one hand while she held a phone with the other, and I heard Laurie yelp as he walked into what was almost certainly a right cross.

“Want to help Mommy make dinner?” I asked Jannie.

Mrs. Howell and I met at the meat counter in the grocery the next morning; she smiled and I smiled and then she said, “How is Laurie today?”

“He seems much better, thanks,” I said solemnly. “And David?”

“Fairly well,” she said without turning a hair.

“Horrible little beasts,” I said.

“Liars, all of them,” she said. “
I
never believe a word they say.”

We both laughed and turned to regard the meat. “They certainly do eat, though,” she said mournfully. “I suppose it's hamburger again today.”

“I was thinking about liver,” I said.

“Will Laurie eat liver?” she asked with interest. “David won't touch it; do you cook it any special way?”

 

 

 

I REMEMBER THAT during that fall and winter Laurie was still wearing, when I forced him, a pair of red overalls onto which I had embroidered—during a time when I was somewhat more free and had a good deal more time to spend on the pretty little delicacies of life—a “Laurie” in green silk. He wore it to school only once, as I remember, and after that we made a bargain about how if I didn't make him wear it in public he would try to bring himself to it on strictly private occasions. When it began to grow noticeably short on him, without being noticeably worn, I whimsically crossed out the “Laurie” with a green embroidered line, and embroidered “Joanne” underneath, and shortened it along with half a dozen other pair of overalls for Jannie. She wore it during the late spring and early summer, when Laurie first started going to the barber to get his hair cut; she was now wearing the green corduroy jacket Laurie had worn the day we moved. This was when my personal schedule resolved itself into a round of hemlines and chocolate pudding. When I was not shortening or lengthening the one I was stirring the other. The summer saw Jannie inherit a number of pullover shirts, which are fortunately without gender, and thousands of bachelor socks, in preparation for nursery school in the fall. Laurie had a new jacket for school, which we were taught to call a windbreaker rather than a jacket, and his shoes were so huge that I was uncomfortably made aware that he had passed from the lower-priced size into the higher-priced size.

Summers go by so quickly, with a minimum of washing and a maximum of daylight, that we none of us have ever been able to perceive that infinitely cruel moment when the year turns and the days draw in; one morning the children were drinking lemonade in the back yard and talking largely of what they planned to build during the summer, and the next afternoon they were raking leaves and Jannie had lost a sandal in the leaf pile, to be hidden until perhaps next spring. Mothers have their own seasonal occupations; one afternoon I was sitting quietly in the living room, lengthening and shortening overalls in a sort of unworldly account; I had done three pair—one short and two long—when Laurie wandered in and stood in the center of the room, regarding me bleakly. Behind him trailed his dear friends Stuart and Robert, and after a few minutes, about as long as it takes short fat legs to catch up, Jannie plodded in. Our big dog Toby followed her. They lined themselves up in the center of the carpet and stood looking at me silently.

I looked up, forcing an expression of bright cheer onto my face. Unasked I said, “You may each have a piece of candy from the dish on the table.”

“No, thank you,” said Laurie gloomily.

“No, thank you,” said Robert.

“No, thank you,” said Stuart.

They stood sadly, watching me as I pushed the needle in and out of the cloth.

“No, thanks,” said Jannie.

Laurie sighed deeply; so did Stuart and then Robert. I smiled falsely and said, “Would you each like an apple then?”

Laurie shook his head, so did Stuart and Robert and then, finally, Jannie.

“Nothing at all,” said Laurie tragically. He paced over and sat down on the couch, and Robert and Stuart followed him. The three of them watched me sewing, and I tried with some embarrassment to hide what I was doing.

Toby still sat in the middle of the floor, looking with perplexed eyes first at me and then at the boys.

“Would you like to run down to the store and get some ice cream for all of us?” The boys shook their heads, as one man.

Jannie sat down solidly on the floor next to Toby and asked me, “Are you fixing Laurie's overalls?”

“Why, I certainly am,” I said gaily.

“For school tomorrow?” Jannie asked.

There was a long silence. Then Laurie said, “Aaaaaah,
keep
quiet,” to Jannie.

“What you talking about it for?” Stuart demanded.

“Old big-mouth Jannie,” Robert said.

“Never mind, boys,” I said. “You've had a fine summer.”

“But
school,”
Laurie said, as one to whom a vast injustice has been done.

“I know,” I said. “Would you each like a cookie?”

“Naw,” Laurie said.

“Why'n earth they want us to go to school
any
way?” Stuart demanded.

“Old first grade,” Robert said.

“Why,” I said treacherously, “first thing you know you'll be having a wonderful time in school. You've just forgotten what school is
like.”

“No, we haven't,” Robert said.

“I
used to
love
school,” I said.

This was a falsehood so patent that none of them felt it necessary to answer me, even in courtesy. They sat and stared at me instead.

“Why don't you do something—play, or something?” I asked. “Then you'd forget all about it.”

“We could play school,” Jannie suggested. “Why don't we play school?”

She was silent as the three faces turned evilly towards her.

“We could ride our bikes,” Robert said unenthusiastically.

“Why
don't you?” I said, with great animation. “That would be
fun.”

“We could have a war,” Stuart said.

“We could play store,” Laurie said.

“We could play school,” Jannie said.

“Listen,” Stuart said, “we could be Indians and Jannie could be our prisoner . . .”

“We could tie her up,” Laurie said, looking at his sister speculatively.

“I will be your prisoner,” Jannie said cheerfull, “and you must all tie me up and be Indians.”

“No,
listen,”
Robert said. Activity came to all three of them at once. Robert rolled off the couch and ran into the hall, and the other two followed. After a minute Jannie hoisted herself off the floor and went along too. Toby, opening one eye, sighed deeply and got up; he had just started across the floor. when the three boys and Jannie came hurrying back.

“Listen,” Laurie said to me excitedly, “we're going to make a show. You're going to be the audience, and you got to go out in the kitchen while we get ready.”

It was the last day of vacation; I put my needle carefully through the hem I was sewing and folded all the overalls and set them aside. Laurie and Robert pushed me out into the kitchen, where I took a handful of cookies and sat down, munching, to wait.

After about five minutes and much loud consultation they called me back and sat me down on the couch. Then Stuart sat in the chair I had vacated and took up the newspaper.

“I'm supposed to be reading the paper,” he told me condescendingly.

Laurie and Robert and Jannie and Toby were in the dining room; I could hear them arguing. Finally there was a knock on the dining room door and Stuart put down his paper and said, “Come in.” Laurie entered, wearing his cowboy hat, his spurs, his gun, his cowboy vest, his neckerchief, his lasso, and his boots. “Hi, pardner,” he said.

“Hi, pardner,” Stuart said.

Laurie sat down in the chair across from Stuart, and he and Stuart regarded one another intently.

“How are you, pardner?” Laurie enquired at last.

“Oh, I'm fine, pardner,” Stuart said. They giggled slightly and then Stuart, with a large expansive gesture, said, “Have some candy, pardner.”

“Thanks, pardner, don't mind if I do,” Laurie said. He swaggered over to the table, helped himself to a piece of candy, and went back to his chair. He finished the candy, licked his fingers and then, with a loud and dramatic groan, grasped his stomach and rolled off the chair onto the floor, where he lay still groaning. “See,” he said, raising his head to look at me, “the candy was poisoned.”

“I see,” I said. “Very effective.”

Laurie subsided, and there was a long pause, during which Stuart began to fidget, looking at the candy dish. Then finally he said, “Robert, come
on
,” and Robert said from the dining room, “Okay, I'm
coming.
I got to get my
gun
on, don't I?”

Then there was another knock on the dining room door, and Stuart said “Come in.”

Robert came in, said “Hi, pardner,” and sat down.

“Hi, pardner,” Stuart said. “Have a piece of candy.”

“Don't care if I do,” said Robert. He took his candy, swallowed it whole, and then fell groaning on top of Laurie.

“Now me,” Jannie howled from the dining room, and she hurried in, said “Hi, pardner,” over her shoulder to Stuart, and took a piece of candy. “Can I have two?” she asked me, and I shook my head no. She ate her candy, groaned shrilly, and sat on Robert.

“Guess I'll have a piece of candy too,” Stuart said. He fell groaning onto the heap on the floor.

I began to applaud, and Laurie put his head up and said,
“That's
not the end.”

“Sorry,” I said. I started to take a piece of candy, remembered in time that it was poisoned, and drew back my hand.

Laurie disengaged himself from the pile on the floor. “Now the stagecoach,” he said.

The others got up and dusted themselves off. Everybody retired to the dining room, and I waited.

Finally Laurie reappeared, leading Toby by the collar. “I'm the good cowboy,” he explained to me. “I'm Hopalong Cassidy and I—”

“I'm
Hopalong Cassidy,” Robert's voice rose protestingly from the other room.

“I'm Roy Rogers,” Laurie continued smoothly, “and this is the stagecoach and I'm riding along with it.”

“What's the stagecoach?” I asked, confused.

“Toby is,” Laurie said. Toby glanced at me in mild apology. “See,” Laurie said, “the gold is in the stagecoach and the bad guys are going to try and get it, but me and my gang, we're riding close along . . .” He began to hurry Toby across the room, making galloping cowboy noises, while Toby stumbled reluctantly along behind him.

“Good dog,” I said reassuringly, and Toby put his head down and galloped resolutely. “Good dog,” I said.

As they passed the dining room door for the second time the horde of bandits fell upon them. Stuart and Robert brandished their guns, shouting fearfully and making simultaneous sounds of horse hooves and gunfire. Jannie, a small stout cowboy in a flapping hat, carrying a water pistol, followed fiercely, saying “Bang,” with outlaw abandon.

“We got ya covered,” Hopalong Cassidy remarked. Roy Rogers, undaunted, took cover behind a chair, while the stagecoach trotted hastily over to the couch and tried to get into my lap.

Stuart and Robert had now taken cover also, one in the dining room doorway, the other in the angle of the fireplace. They were shooting across the room, taking careful aim and exposing themselves rashly before leaping back into hiding.