MY BABY'S AFFLICTION

SIX

 

 

MY BABY’S AFFLICTION

“Well, it’s so hard, bathing him, washing him, and of course he doesn’t appreciate it” Dolly Compton said into the phone, as she leaned back against the Formica counter. “I…well, I can’t help wondering if the accident was God’s way of punishing Toddy,  sending him back to his folks, who love him, and want to…yes, I know, Gertrude.”

 

“But…” Mrs. Compton lit a Pall Mall and inhaled, scowling as one of her plastic dime-store curlers fell in front of her eyes. “Gertie, I didn’t buy Todd that motorcycle, I didn’t tell him to drive it drunk, and  I didn’t tell him to be a sodomite. Remember? We nailed his windows shut so he wouldn’t sneak out with those disgusting people…Yes. Oh, I have to go too. The rummage sale? Father Macklin wants us…” Mrs. Compton nodded her head briskly and said a quick goodbye.

 

Gertrude probably wanted to get off the phone so she could stuff her face, Mrs. Compton thought to herself complacently. It was such a waste for Father to appoint Gertrude head of the Rummage Sale Committee. But, then again, with Todd to look after…Roderick was right, of course, they should probably put the ungrateful little somebody into a nursing home.

 

Dolly Compton poked out her cigarette in an ashtray made as a model of the Crucifixion that she and Rod had up visiting his brother at Holy Cross College back in 1963. Viciously she stubbed the butt right below the cross.

 

“Ma?”

 

Dolly looked up. “Yes, Toddy, what is it, hon?”

 

“Is um, Edmund here yet?”

 

“No, he’s coming in about five minutes. I just got you changed and I hope you two won’t be out too long, but I’m glad a nice young man like that can take you off my hands for a little while.”

 

How a nice, masculine boy like Edmund O’Neill could have shared an apartment with her son  for three years and not know of Todd's disgusting habits? Or maybe he did know, but felt sorry for Todd as one Catholic would for another. It was an affliction, after all.

 

Dolly went into the living room, and smiled at her poor son. Oh, how she wished she could get him to eat more. He was so thin! Sometimes she put an extra egg in Todd’s milk shakes or in his macaroni and cheese, but that always made his diaper a nasty, liquid mess.

 

“So will Edmund be taking you to afternoon services, or what will you boys be doing?”

 

“I don’t know, Ma. Possibly we’ll go sit in the park for a while. Tunstall Park is so nice.”

 

Dolly sighed, looking at her son, languishing in the wheelchair. He had been such a sweet child, he’d built a dollhouse for his sisters, and always helped Dolly around the house. And he’d become a pastry chef, and made the best wedding cakes in Lilburn City! Why a nice boy like Todd couldn’t have married well…and now all he did all day was watch “General Hospital” and “The Guiding Light” on the boob tube.

 

LAWNS MAKE FERRET QUEASY

 

Ferret patted Deon’s shoulder. “Here’s good.” Deon parked Carl’s 1967 rusting blue Chevy Impala at the end of Pearl Avenue. Deon grinned at Ferret. “This is because of the Compton bitch, right? A queer alone better than a queer and a spear chucker?”

 

Ferret rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t know about me, I think.”

 

“Shoulda been in the apartment last night,  all that banging around in your room, that Chinese delivery boy.” Deon looked serious for a moment. “You don’t think you’ll need help with the wheelchair, Ferret?”

 

Ferret laughed. “I was juggling men in wheelchairs before  you were born, kid. Wait right here.” Ferret got out of the car and began walking down the block. Deon was gratified to see Ferret cover his nose once or twice. The boy was allergic to suburbs, or something.

 

Deon leaned his head out the window. What you looking at, white man? Son of a bitch running his grass cutter staring at a colored boy in an old Chevy in this cracker neighborhood. Ugh.

 

Deon had not been crazy about it when Daddy had moved to the gay ghetto, but he had had to admit that the faggots had treated him better than straight white people, he’d grown up having a pretty good time. Shit, look at this ofay bitch with her daughter walking by and looking at him. Like I’ll rape you, bitch.

 

Finally, Ferret came, rolling Todd Compton up the street. Mr.Compton was a pretty good guy. He'd had that bakery,right in the neighborhood,and the door was always open.  Mr. Compton had given Deon and his friend’s carte blanche on whatever sugary leftovers they wanted while coming home from school. It had been a shame when Mr. Compton had crashed that bike, man.

 

Todd appeared to be crying. “And he yells at me,  at night, when he gets home drunk from the V.F.W. Hall, Ferret. And I can’t walk out of the house, or even out of the room anymore. I’m like, ‘Daddy, I can’t help it if I’m a fairy.”

 

Ferret opened the car door and Todd, seeing Deon, paused and smiled. “Hi Deon, how are you?” Ferret took a red neckerchief out of his pocket and held it over Todd’s nose.

 

“Blow” he ordered, and Todd blew, and then Ferret wiped  Todd’s face. He lifted Todd up and put him carefully in the back seat of the sedan, and shut the door, and then folded the wheelchair up, shoving it in the trunk.

 

“How’s it going, Mr. Compton.” Deon said. “We going to the park, or the baths today?”

 

“Wherever I can use my mouth more usefully.” Todd said, and when Ferret got in the car, they all laughed a little too loudly.