Memories Of Another Day Part 2

I felt sorry for them. They were on their own now. My father wasn't around to tell them what to do.

"I'll get out of your way." I looked down at my brother. "Don't worry," I said. "It will come out all right."

He didn't answer.

I held out my hand. "Good luck."

He looked at my hand, then up at me. His voice was husky as he took it, and there was something very close to tears behind his eyes. "Thank you, Jonathan." He blinked rapidly. "Thank you."

"You'll do okay."

"I hope so," he said. "But it won't be easy. Things won't be the same."

"They never are," I said, and left the room. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment. The voices began again. I closed my eyes, searching for my father's voice. But it wasn't there.

D.J. had loved him. I hadn't. Why? Why was it different for the two of us? We were both his sons. What had D.J. seen in him that I hadn't?

I went through the hall to the kitchen. Mamie was in there fussing with her pots and pans, muttering to herself. "What time is dinner?" I asked.

"I doan know," she answered. "I doan know nothin' 'bout this house no more. Ever'thing's topsyturvy. Your brother doan want dinner an' your mother upstairs cry in' her eyes out."

"I thought the doctor gave her a pill to sleep."

"Maybe he did. But it ain't workin', that's all I know." She dipped a ladle into a pot and held it steaming in front of me. "Taste it," she commanded. "But blow on it fust. It's hot."

I blew and tasted. Good beef stew. "Needs more salt."

She laughed and took the ladle away. "I might've expected it. Just like your pappy. That's what he always used to say."

I stared at her. "Did you Uke my father?"

She put the ladle down on the sink and turned to me. "That's the stupidest question I ever heard, Jon- athan. I adored your pappy. He was the greatest man who ever lived."

''Why do you say that?"

''Because that's the truth, that's why. You ask anyone back home. They all tell you the same thing. He treated n.i.g.g.e.rs like people before they became blacks." She went back to the stove and took the cover off the pot and looked inside. "More salt, you say?"

"Yes," I said, and went out the door. I went upstairs and stood outside my mother's door.

Mamie was wrong.

There was not a sound.

Jack Haney came into the kitchen, where I was having dinner alone. "I'll join you for a cup of coffee," he said, pulling up a chair.

"Have some stew," I said. "There's enough here to feed an army."

"No, thanks," he answered as Mamie put the coffee in front of him. "We're grabbing a bite on the plane."

I watched him raise the coffee cup to his mouth. "You're going down to Washington?"

He nodded. "Dan wants me with him at the executive meeting tomorrow. There could be some legal questions."

Suddenly it was no longer D.J., not even Daniel, Junior-it was Dan.

"Any problems?"

"I don't thmk so," he said. "Your father had it all pretty well worked out."

"Then what's D.J. worried about?"

"There's a lot of old-timers around who might resent having a young man like him take over."

"Why should they? They knew about it all the time."

"True enough. But while your father was alive they wouldn't stand up to him. Now it's another story. What they don't understand is that for the first time they're getting someone who is trained for the job and doesn't have to learn it as he goes along and that it doesn't really matter whether he ever worked in the field or organized or walked a picket line. Running a union is much like running a big business. It needs trained men. That's why the corporations compete for the top men in colleges and universities. Your father always thought that was what we should do. That's why he pushed Dan through all those schools."

I knew what he meant. He had been after me to do the same thing. First Harvard Law, then the Business School. He had had it all figured out. Everything except that I wasn't about to be pushed. I wiped up the last bit of gravy on my plate with a piece of bread.

Mamie stood over my empty plate. "'More?"

I shook my head.

She picked up the plate. '' 'Nough salt?"

^'Perfect."

She laughed and put the coffee down in front of me. *'Jus' like your pappy. Fust complainin' there's not enough salt, then lovin' it 'thout my having to add any."

I looked at Jack. "Exactly what's happening tomorrow?"

*The executive committee is supposed to appomt Dan acting president until the next general election. That's nine months away, next spring. By then we expect to have everything under control."

I nodded. If my father had planned it, it would woric. Father's plans always worked.

Jack finished his coffee and got to his feet. *'Would you explain to your mother why I left and tell her that I'll call her in the morning?"

I looked up at him. *'Okay."

* Thanks," he said, startmg for the door. A few minutes later I heard a car door slam out in the driveway. I went over to the window and looked out. The big black Cadillac limousine was just moving off. I watched until its red lights turned into the street. Then I went upstairs and stood outside my mother's door. There was still nothing but silence.

I turned the doork.n.o.b softly and looked into the room. In the fading light of the day, I could make out her outline on the bed. Quietly I walked into the room and looked down at her.

There was something pale and helpless about her asleep that I had never seen in her awake. Gently I straightened the sheet around her. She didn't move.

I tiptoed out of the room and went down the hall. I pulled my knapsack out of the closet and began to pack. I was finished in ten minutes. There wasnH very much I had to take.

I awoke one minute before the alarm went off. I reached out and turned it off. No point in waking the whole house. I dressed quickly and went downstairs.

The halls were dark, but the kitchen, facing east, caught the first morning light. I turned the switch on the percolator. As usual, Mamie had everything ready.

My father had been an early riser. He would come downstairs alone in the morning and sit and drink coffee until the rest of the house was awake. Those were his thinking hours, he used to say. The alone time. And whatever his problem was, big or little, by the time the rest of the house was awake he had thought it through until it was no longer a problem, but just a task to be done.

I went back to my room and took down the backpack. The study door was open, and on an impulse I went into the room and pulled open the drawer. ^The pistol was still there. They had missed the false bottom. I took it out and looked at it. It was well oiled and held a full clip. It still didn't make sense. Guns were for frightened people, and my father hadn't known the meaning of fear.

I pulled open a flap of the pack and shoved the gun inside between my underwear and my shirts. I pushed the drawer shut with my knee. The coffee should be about ready by now.

"Jonathan." My mother was standing in the doorway. ''What are you doing?"

''Nothing." The cla.s.sic answer of a child whose parents have caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. I wondered how long she had been standing there.

She came into the study. "I can still smell his cigars," she said, almost to herself.

" Airwickll get rid of it, if you can believe the commercials," I said.

She turned to me. "Will it be that easy?"

I took a long moment. "No. Not until they make one that can air out the inside of your head."

She noticed the pack. "You're leaving, so soon?"

"There's nothing to hang around for," I said. "And only seven weeks left of the summer."

"Can't you wait a little while?" she asked. "There's so much we have to talk about."

"Like what?"

"School. What college you want to go to, what you're going to do with your life."

I laughed. "Small choice. My draft board will tell me.

"Your father says ..." She corrected herself. "Your father said that you wouldn't be drafted."

"Sure. He had it fixed. Like he did with everything else."

"Isn't it time you stopped fighting him, Jonathan? He's dead now and there's nothing he can do." Her voice broke.

"What about you?" I asked. "You don't believe that any more than I do. He provided for everything. Even death."

She still didn't speak, but just stood there with the tears running silently down her cheeks. I walked over to her and awkwardly put my arms around her shoulders. She buried her face against my chest. ''Jonathan, Jonathan."

''Take it easy, Mother,*' I said, stroking her hair. "It's over."

"I feel so guilty." Her voice was m.u.f.fled against my shirt. "I never loved him. I worshiped him, but I never loved him. Can you understand that?"

"Then why did you marry him?" I asked.

"Because of you."

"Me? I wasn't bom yet."

"I was seventeen and pregnant," she whispered.

"Even in those days you could have done something about it," I said.

She slipped out of my arms. "Give me a cigarette."

I lit the cigarette for her. "Did you turn on the coffee?" she asked.

I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. She filled two mugs and we sat down at the table.

"You didn't answer my question. You didn't have to marry him."

"He wouldn't hear of it. He wanted a son, he said."

"Why? He akeady had one."

"Dan was not enough for him. He knew it, and sometimes I think even Dan knew it. That's why he always tried so hard to please his father. But Dan was soft, and your father was not." Even Mother no longer called him D.J. "Your father got what he wanted. Whether you like it or not, you're exactly like him."

I got to my feet and brought the percolator over to the table. "More coffee?"

She shook her head. I refilled my cup. "You drink too much coffee," she said.

I laughed. "Think it will stunt my growth?" I stood just over six feet. Even she had to smile. "You know. Mother, you're a very pretty lady."

She shook her head. "I don't feel like one just now."

'Give yourself time," I said. 'You will."

She hesitated a moment; then l^r eyes met mine. '' You know about Jack and me ?"

I nodded.

''I thought you did," she said. "But you never said anything."

"Not my place."

"Now he wants to get married," she said. "But I don't know."

"You don't have to rush," I said, "n.o.body's pressing this time."

A shade of wonder came into her eye^. "You looked just like your father when you said that."

I laughed. "I couldn't have. If I were my father I couldn't understand why you wouldn't join me on the funeral pyre."

"That's horrible," she said.

"I always get horrible when I'm hungry," I said. "Is that like him too?"