Part 2: Mama and Gene

Elves Runnin' Loose in the Kitchen

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/AKQKuhrRv4o

Gene’s voice brought her back to her kitchen table when he said, “Yeah, Dad lived right behind Darrell’s grandparents,” then his voice went low, like he was sharin’ a secret. “I spent a lot of time with those folks. They were good to me. The whole family was.”

For a moment, Mama thought he might not continue.

“So, I saw Dad plenty, too. But don’t tell Mom about it. She’d never forgive me.”

He was just seven years old when his dad moved out, so he followed him right down the street, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Granny did her best to make ends meet, takin’ in laundry from the rich folks in town an’ cleanin’ their houses. She worked long hours, an’ it was hard to keep track of her boys, especially Gene. Most days, durin’ the summer, she figured he was with Darrell an’ his grandparents, an’ a lot of times, he was. But their Dad’s house with Jeannette was just one street over. All it took was a quick hop over the back fence, an’ they were practically in his backyard.

That fence got jumped most days. Gene an’ his brothers liked goin’ where no one was tellin’ ‘em what to do. An’ with their Dad, they could do as they pleased.

Gene was only nine years old when he had his first beer at Jeannette’s kitchen table. A door swung wide open into Smitty’s world. “You’re one of us now,” his dad said with a grin, an’ Gene forced himself to grin back. It was a small price to pay to be part of his dad’s world. At least, that’s what he thought back then.

But he grew up too fast in that house where Jeanette’s cousin, four years older’n him, knew too much about the ways of the world. Gene was barely twelve when she started lookin’ his way. He never told anyone about those days. Not a soul.

Gene glanced down at the brim of his hat, fidgetin’ with it as he spoke. “Mom thought I was just runnin’ around with Darrell. She never knew how much time we spent at Dad’s… or what was goin’ on there.”

His voice faltered for a moment before he continued. “Smitty was more like a buddy than a dad. Taught me how to play cards, let me drink, even bragged about me to his friends at the pool hall. But he never showed me how to handle the rest of it.”

Darline stayed quiet, lettin’ Gene find his words. He looked up at her, his eyes full of the weight he carried. “I need your help, Darline,” he said finally. “I can’t do this on my own anymore.”

“You know, by the time I was ten, I could hold my own in any backroom poker game around.” They both thought back to those days, not so long ago.

It was 1942, an’ America had just declared war on Japan. The world was shiftin’ under everyone’s feet, takin’ young men to faraway battlefields to fight an’ die in places Gene couldn’t even find on a map. Junior had signed up a year earlier, an’ in 1942 he was fightin’ for his life in a hospital somewhere in paradise. A place called Pearl Harbor.

The whole world was comin’ unglued, so Gene pretty much did as he pleased.

“You remember when I’d come home with enough cash to help Mom pay the rent? She’d usually square up with the milkman too, an’ I still had plenty left over for myself. That was before Darrell an’ I hired on at the Co-op. I always knew how to make money.”

“I knew takin’ care of us kids wasn’t easy. I wanted to help. I didn’t know about the fifteen dollars Dad left on the kitchen counter ever’ payday. Don’t matter none, though. It wouldn’t have changed much. Smitty’s money wasn’t a gift. It was hush money; he’s just tryin’ to ease the guilt of what he’d left behind.”

Mama watched her brother closely. “Why are you here, Gene?” she asked, her voice low an’ steady. She knew he hadn’t come just to talk about their Dad.

“Well, I’m about to tell you,” Gene said, bowin’ his head as his hands traced the brim of the hat he held in his lap.

He hesitated, his words comin’ slow. “Darrell came to see me about a month ago. Maggie’s been sick. Her husband’s lookin’ to hire a housekeeper, someone who can help with the boys an’ take care of Maggie when he’s workin’ the farm. There’s a four-year-old an’ a baby born last November. She’s havin’ trouble takin’ care of things, an’ I think… well…”

Gene’s voice cracked, an’ he looked away, runnin’ a hand down his face. “Darrell says it’s bad, Darline. Those boys… Mags… they need—”

Gene’s words caught in his throat. He bent his head, buryin’ his face in his hands. Mama’s heart beat faster against her ribs. She knew somethin’ bad was comin’, an’ she was beginnin’ to think she knew what it was. But why did Gene think this had anything to do with her?

When Gene raised his head again, the look on his face was somethin’ she’d never seen. If she wasn’t scared before, she sure was now. Mama twisted the ponytail she’d tied that mornin’ over her shoulder, her fingers wrappin’ and unwrappin’ strands of hair. When she was a girl, she used to chew on her hair when she got nervous. She’d broken that habit years ago, but the twistin’ was still there, as if her hands needed somethin’ to hold onto.

“I want you to take that job, Darline. I want you to go take care of Maggie an’ her boys.”

Mama blinked, tryin’ to make sense of what he’d just said. For a second, she thought maybe she’d misheard him, but no. He was serious. Dead serious. If he’d suddenly sprouted potatoes outta his ears, she wouldn’t have been more shocked.

“You want me to what?!” Her voice shot up so high, she was pretty sure Willie Mae downstairs was wonderin’ what was goin’ on. “I want you to take that job. You gotta do this for me, Darline. If you love me, you’ll do it.”

Mama let out a laugh that wasn’t entirely amused. “Why would I do that?” she asked, her voice harder now. She’d finally found a little bit of independence now that Barney was gone. She’d just started managin’ the soda fountain at Kresge’s. It wasn’t just a job; it was a lifeline. She was makin’ good money, an’ tips on top of that. For the first time in years, she was feelin’ like she could breathe again. The thought of givin’ that up to go take care of somebody else’s babies made her stomach twist.

“I mean, I love little ones,” she said, softer now, glancin’ toward the front door, thinkin’ of her own babies playin’ paper dolls at Willie Mae’s table. “But Gene, I got my own to take care of.”

Gene didn’t flinch. “Darline, just go out there to meet ‘em. You’ll see why when you get there. They live in Orient, in Adair County, about twelve miles out of Greenfield where Darrell’s parents live. I’ll write the address down for you.”

Mama just stared at him expectin’ those potatoes to start growin’ any minute.

”What?! That’s more’n four hours away! How am I supposed to get there? My car barely gets me around town, an’ you want me to go traipsin’ across the countryside to some place I don’t know?” Her voice was sharp now, almost bitter, but she couldn’t help it. The audacity of him sittin’ there, askin’ her to upend her whole life like it was nothin’, made her blood boil.

Gene’s eyes stayed on the floor, his fingers twistin’ the brim of his hat. “You’ll understand when you see it, Darline. Please. Just go.” His voice broke on the last word, an’ for the first time, she saw the cracks in the brother she always thought was unshakable.

Gene had always been the kinda kid you couldn’t tie down, always comin’ up with wild ideas. “Ornery Huckleberry,” their dad used to call him. Now, as a grown man, he was a charmer, a lady’s man more concerned with havin’ fun than anything else. This whole conversation made no sense a’tall.

The girls had always loved Gene, an’ why wouldn’t they? He was the best-lookin’ man in town. Dark, curly hair crowned a face you might call beautiful if it weren’t for those deep blue eyes that gave him an edge, an’ when he smiled, all you could do was stare. At 6’4”, he could’ve been Charles Atlas himself. It had been this way since he was twelve. Shot up from boyhood, filled out into manhood almost overnight. Gene looked like a man, but right now, sittin’ in front of her, he seemed like a lost little boy again.

“Darline,” he said, his voice crackin’, Maggie’s more’n just the sister of my friend. I love her. I mean, if I could ever be in love — it’d be with her. But now...” His words broke off, his hands tremblin’. “Now she doesn’t even know who I am. She got sick, an’ it made her forget ever’thing. Even her boys…”

Now, he looked up at her, straight into her eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Our boys,” he said.

Mama froze. Her heart skipped a beat. He had said “our boys.”

Tears streamed down Gene’s face; somethin’ she hadn’t seen since their Daddy left when Gene was seven. It kept her from laughin’ at how crazy this all sounded. But she couldn’t laugh now, not with those tears.

This has to be a joke. That’s got to be it. Gene was always pullin’ pranks, but he’d never come up with somethin’ like this before. An’ those tears. They were too real to be part of a joke.

“You gotta go take care of Mags an’ our boys,” Gene said, droppin’ his head back into his hands.

Mama felt like she was stuck in one of her dreams, the kind that felt more like a nightmare. But this was no dream. This was really happenin’ right here at her kitchen table, an’ it was tearin’ ever’thing she knew apart.

“What do you mean, our boys, Gene?” she whispered, her voice barely carryin’ the weight of the question. No chance Willie Mae downstairs could hear her now, not even Gene, maybe.

 “It’s Adair County, Iowa… you’ll have to move, Darline… I haven’t seen her for a year, but those boys… wait ‘til you see ‘em… that baby…”

Mama’s head was spinnin’. If what Gene was tellin’ her was true, he wasn’t even fifteen when the older boy was born in 1946. This can’t be what he means. It just can’t.

She needed a drink. She must’ve said it out loud, ‘cause Gene wiped his face, stood up, an’ went outside. Moments later, he came back with two bottles of beer from the cooler in his truck. He had come prepared. Right now, she was glad he did.

Funny, the things you remember in a crisis. Gene walked over to the bottle opener that hung next to the sink to open the first beer. The sound it made when the top popped loose took Mama back to that night at the fair when she was just gettin’ to know Barney. The night he kissed her for the first time. The night she met Maggie. She an’ Barney had shared a bottle of Coke on the Ferris wheel when they stopped at the top of the world. He’d kissed her right before he popped the top with a church key bottle opener he kept in his pocket. She’d never forget how she felt after that kiss, or the sound that bottle opener made.

Years later, when Mama moved into this place, the only thing in the apartment was a brass church key bottle opener imprinted with the words Have a Coke on one arm an’ DRINK Coca-Cola on the other. It coulda been the same one Barney used that night. It hung on the wall next to the cast iron kitchen sink. No furniture, no ice box or stove, just the sink, an’ that church key bottle opener.

Now, sittin’ at her kitchen table drinkin’ a beer, somethin’ she’d done only once before in her life, an’ never dreamed she’d do again, especially with her little brother, memories of that night at the fair filled her head.

For a little while, nobody said anything. All the words they’d exchanged, an’ all the things those words meant, danced around the room like the sprites in The Elves and the Shoemaker. But instead of makin’ beautiful shoes for a poor shoemaker an’ his wife, they were makin’ mischief with Mama’s life.

It had been one of her favorite stories to tell her girls. She wanted its message of kindness an’ gratitude to give ‘em hope when life got bumpy. She knew it would. It always did. Sometimes help comes right outta nowhere, when you least expect it, like magic.

Now Gene needed some magical help, an’ he’d come lookin’ for it here in Mama’s kitchen.

 “Alright, you’re stayin’ with me an’ the girls tonight,” Mama said, breakin’ their silence. “They’d never forgive me if they knew you left without spendin’ time with ‘em. I’m off tomorrow. That’ll give us the day to figure this thing out.”

Gene nodded, his shoulders finally loosenin’, the weight of the day settlin’ down. Mama went to get the girls, an’ when they walked in the door, squeals of delight rang out that Willie Mae an’ the whole neighborhood could hear. Uncle Gene was their all-time favorite playmate. For two hours, the room was filled with laughter an’ play, well past bedtime.

When the girls finally fell asleep, practically mid-giggle, Gene took the couch. Mama closed her bedroom door an’ sat on the edge of the bed, alone at last. Her body was tired, but her mind wouldn’t quit. She stared at the ceiling, the weight of Gene’s story settlin’ in heavier with each breath.

It took longer'n usual for her to fall asleep, but when she did, she dreamt of two elves. One was four. The other, just a baby.

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/AKQKuhrRv4o