Part 1
1995
Richie: 6 years old
The Yellow Truck
Pa is mad again. I know this by the way his truck barrels down the road toward our house, big clouds of dirt rising around his wheels. Ma knows this too because her relaxed body stiffens in the rocking chair beside me as she closes the book she’s been reading all afternoon while I’ve been playing with the toy soldiers she got for me yesterday when we went into town.
“Richie,” she says gently as she kneels in front of me. She’s smiling, but I notice the way it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her hands hold my arms and I wince at the tightness behind her grip as she sets me on my feet.
“Go along now and feed the chickens,” she tells me as she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
It’s a little early to be feeding the chickens, we both know this, but I don’t argue with her, just do as I’m told and make my way down the porch steps and into the front yard. From my place in the grass I watch Pa slam his car door shut and stumble out into the setting sun. He doesn’t look at me, just heads straight for Ma the way he always does.
“Annie!” he yells as he struggles to climb the steps.
“Go on, Richie,” Ma encourages with a soft smile.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Pa demands, close enough now that he grabs ahold of her arm and yanks her forward. Ma flinches and I take a step towards her.
“Go on, Richie!” Ma calls out just as Pa raises a hand to her and slaps her across the cheek. I turn then and do what Ma was really asking of me.
I hide.
I let my legs carry me into the field and then run to the sound of my heart beating in my ears and I don’t look back, not even when I hear the sound of Pa’s voice rising above the crickets and mooing cattle. I run until I’m met with the wooden fence that separates Mr. Grandy’s land from ours. Pa is always telling me not to climb on the fence, but I never listen. Today is no exception. I’m up and over the fence in a matter of seconds. I know Ma will come and get me once Pa calms down. For now I’ll just hang out with Mr. Grandy. He never minds, or at least I like to think he doesn’t. He always offers me the best sweets and lets me play with his old collection of toy cars.
He’s not out walking with his dogs the way he normally is this time of day and instead of the beat up truck he once told me belonged to his Pa there’s a big yellow moving truck out front. My steps falter as I approach it. I look inside the opened back to see loads of boxes and furniture stacked tall, but no sight of Mr. Grandy.
“Hello!” I holler and the sound of barking has me whipping my head around to see Daisy and Tucker, Mr.Grandy’s two black labs, racing towards me. A burst of laughter springs from me when they finally reach me and tackle me to the ground. For a moment I’m being covered in slobbery kisses and then it all comes to a stop when a soft, “oh my,” drifts through the evening breeze. I look past the wall of fur to see a lady in a bright yellow sundress looking down at me. She’s beautiful in the same way Ma is, rosy cheeks and kind eyes. I’ve never seen her before.
“Oh sorry, I’m here to see Mr. Grandy,” I tell her as I rush to stand and wipe the slobber from my now sticky face. I can’t read the expression that crosses her face as she looks me over, but I don’t like it nevertheless.
“Oh sweetheart. Mr. Grandy passed away last week,” she tells me after a beat of silence. Both Daisy and Tucker press into my side and I’m grateful because suddenly my legs feel weak. I’m crying before I can stop myself, big ugly sounds rise from within me and I let them overtake me. Pa hates when I cry, but Mr. Grandy never did.
He told me crying was good for the soul. Now all I can wonder is where his soul went.
“Hey, it’s alright,” the lady soothes as she closes the space between us and kneels before me.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” I sniffle as she rubs small circles on my back.
“Bec, you out here?” A voice calls from in front of the truck. A second later a man that looks an awful lot like Mr. Grandy, if he was years younger, appears from around the truck. His eyes widen when he spots me and he looks between the lady in the yellow sundress and me before hiking his pant legs up and squatting down to my level.
“Who do we got here?” he asks with a faint southern accent. His gaze is soft too, just the way Mr. Grandy’s was. It’s the kind of look I always wish Pa would give me.
“This is Robby,” the lady tells me as she reaches her hand out for the man named Robby to hold. He grabs ahold of her and brings her hand up to his mouth, laying a kiss there. “He’s Mr.Grandy’s son.” His familiarity makes sense now. “I’m Becca, his wife,” she says with a small smile and then adds, “What’s your name, Sweetheart?”
I’m not supposed to give my name to strangers. That’s what Ma told me, but these people seem kind enough. Good folks.
“Richie,” I tell her as I wipe at my running nose. My tears have stopped for now but there’s a sadness buried deep in my chest.
“Well, Richie. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Robby says, offering up his hand. I shake it and that seems to please him. “Where’s home? Can’t be far from here,” he says and Becca nods and says,“It’s going to get dark soon. Might wanna head on back.”
I look across the fields at the setting sun.
“Can’t go home,” I tell them as I bury my fingers into Daisy's fur.
“And why’s that?”
The question makes me bite my lip. Pa doesn't like when I tell his business to people and Ma told me it ain’t my place to speak of Pa’s anger.
“Ma will come pick me up,” I tell them. They blink at me and I swallow hard.
“Well, all right then!” Becca exclaims as she bounces to her feet. “Come on in and we can wait together. How does that sound?”
“Bec,” Robby says and Becca shoots him the same look Ma is always giving me when I talk back.
He throws his hands up before turning to close the trucks back.
“I got someone I think you might like to meet,” Becca tells me and I can’t hide the way my curiosity peaks. I follow her up the porch steps and just as she opens the screen door she gasps. She’s looking at my bare feet the way Ma always looks at bugs. They’re covered in dirt and grass. “My goodness. Now hold on and let me get something to clean you up with.” She disappears inside and not even a minute later reappears with a bucket of water and a towel. I let her place my feet in the bucket and watch as the dirt colors the water brown. Once she dries me off she’s back to smiling and we head inside. There are boxes everywhere I look and the things that aren’t in boxes sit in little piles all over the house.
“Aussie!” Becca calls out, peering into each room we pass. I wonder but don’t ask who Aussie is, just follow along at her heels, watching the way her yellow dress sways from side to side. “There you are,” she says as we turn into the kitchen. “Hey now! What did I say about putting your fingers in the jam without asking?” She scowls but there’s no real anger behind her words. If anything she sounds amused as she walks towards a little girl standing on a chair so that she can reach the jars. She’s pretty just like Becca. Long golden hair and big sky blue eyes. That’s the first thing I notice. Only I can see hints of Robby in her face too. The second thing I notice is her outfit. Baggy overalls and a ball cap two sizes too big for her. The outfit ain’t like what I see most girls in town wear. They’re always in nice dresses, their hair done up all pretty.
Aussie giggles as she places a jam covered finger in her mouth.
“I was hungry, mommy.”
I frown. Her voice doesn't sound like any girls in town either and I feel awfully rude for thinking it
“Richie, meet my little boy Austen,” Becca says.
“Oh,” is all I say as I feel my cheeks heat.
Austen jumps down from the chair and runs to hug Becca’s legs, hiding behind a wall of yellow fabric.
“Come on, now. Say hello.”
Silence spreads across the kitchen and I look up at Becca for help. Giggling, she pulls Austen forward and gives him a little shove towards me.
“Go on,” she encourages, but still nothing.
It’s then and there that I decide to be brave. I reach my hand out the way Robby did earlier. Austen stares for a moment before he slowly shakes it. His fingers are sticky with jam and small like mine and for the first time I wonder how old he is. It would be nice if we were the same age.
“Alright now. Richie is going to stay here just until his mommy comes to pick him up. I want you to play nice.”
Austen stares me down and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze and then something passes over his face and he smiles my way.
“Wanna see my dinosaurs?” he asks as he takes ahold of my hand and drags me out of the kitchen. We enter the living room and I see what looks like a hundred toy dinosaurs all over the carpet. The sight has me grinning.
“This one here is called a Velociraptor,” Austen tells me as he hands over a blue dinosaur. “Oh and this one here is my Tyrannosaurus Rex.” This dinosaur is green. “You got any dinosaurs at home?” he asks and I shake my head. “Grandpa sends me a ton every year for my birthday…well he used to anyway. Mommy says he can’t anymore which makes me sad. Daddy says it’s okay to be sad and that just means I loved him.”
I want to tell him I’m sad too. Instead, I sit down and grab another dinosaur.
We play then and I quickly learn the name of every dinosaur in the room. We sort them by color and size and Austen teaches me about carnivores and herbivores. We play until we’re tired. I don’t know when I fall asleep, only that I do and when I wake it’s to the sound of Ma’s voice.
“Thank you so much for watching him,” she says and I open my eyes to see her standing in the doorway with Becca.
“It was no problem. He and Austen got along just fine. Plus, it’s always nice to fill the house with a little noise. Robby’s dad would have wanted that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, truly,” Ma offers up and she and Becca exchange a quick hug before she turns to see me watching them.
“Come on, baby. Let’s head home.”
