Although Uncle Ted Day was the most exciting day of the week, Fridays were a close second because we had group lessons at the community pool.

“What’s that on your shoulder?” I asked Jimmy one Friday.

“Just a bruise. I must have fallen.”

He couldn’t fool me. That bruise on Jimmy’s shoulder was an Uncle Ted Bruise. Each week it got darker and darker, one bruise on top of last week’s one, on top of the one from the week before, none of them getting a chance to heal between visits.

“Uncle Ted shouldn’t hit you so hard.”

“He doesn’t mean anything by it. I’m just a softy, that’s all. And he’s always swinging like a big door. He doesn’t know his own strength.”

I squinted my eyes at Jimmy. The last part sounded like Aunt Jean’s words, the part about Ted not knowing his own strength. Hogwash! Uncle Ted may have been as tall and as wide as a door, but he was more like a screen door to my way of thinking. There was always hot air rushing out of him.

The Thursday before school started, the one before the long weekend, was Aunt Jean’s summer wind-up Canasta tournament, but she was prepared to stay home and visit with Uncle Ted as usual.

“Go. Go. Jimmy and I will be fine,” said Uncle Ted. He gave Jimmy a little love-punch on the shoulder to prove it.

Don’t go, Aunt Jean, I wanted to scream. Stay home!

No words came out of my mouth and I deeply regret that. I deeply do.

Aunt Jean put on her white gloves. She pinned her straw hat on her head and snapped her purse shut. She kissed Jimmy good-bye. “Be good,” she said, including me.

When Aunt Jean was almost out of sight, Uncle Ted turned to me, “Go home and tell your mother she wants you.” I figured he wanted me to get lost so I went and sat on my porch.

“Jimmy, keep your friends away from my car.” Uncle Ted took the paper and went inside.

Jimmy’s friends swarmed all over the car as usual, but with Aunt Jean gone, Uncle Ted seemed more mad than usual. I think now that his anger had been building up all summer long.

When Jimmy got carried away and tooted the horn, Uncle Ted came out of the house screaming. Even I was scared, and I was not involved. Uncle Ted yanked Jimmy out of the car. He jumped in behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Get off. Get off, you kids! I’m moving this car.”

He put the car in gear and went forward with a jerk Then he slammed on the brakes. Forward, slam. Forward, slam, like a baby blue bucking bronco, until all the kids, laughing, fell off the car and onto the road. All except one.

Jimmy was splayed over the trunk holding on to an armrest in the backseat.

Uncle Ted zoomed off down the lane, into the park, with Jimmy on the trunk. All the kids followed.

I ran as fast as I could, I really did. My hair streamed off my neck and I galloped, trying to go faster.

When I got down into the park, the light was fading. The swings and the cat-poop sandbox and the picnic tables were blending in with the grass. Uncle Ted was blowing hot air about how rich and important he was and handing Luanne the five-dollar bill.

I shinnied up a tree and blended in with the leaves.

When all the kids were gone, Uncle Ted turned to Jimmy, who by this time, had jumped off the car and was standing by the driver’s door. Uncle Ted punched him on his sore shoulder and then his good shoulder and then his sore shoulder.

“So you want to drive my car, do ya? Huh? Huh, you little twerp?” Jimmy kept moving back and forth during the punching and saying, “Yes, I want to drive your car!” From my perch it looked like they were doing the cha-cha dance.

Uncle Ted pushed Jimmy with two hands. “Well, you’ll have to race me then.”

Jimmy got on his mark, lined up with the front bumper of the car. Uncle Ted tooted the horn and they were off, Uncle Ted gunning, gunning, and Jimmy pumping his legs fast. He did pretty good. He ran straight down the parking lot. From my angle, I thought Jimmy won, but no, there had to be a re-run.

On the re-run, Uncle Ted changed the rules of the race. The car cut into Jimmy’s lane. It cut him off just missing him. Jimmy kept running. When he realized that Uncle Ted was chasing him, he went even faster. Jimmy ran out onto the grass. Ted didn’t care. He drove up and over the log that marked the end of the parking lot and onto the grass, carving doughnuts — trying to run Jimmy down. Jimmy darted. He deked. He leapt out of the way and dove into the backseat of the car.

I thought he was safe. But no, Jimmy was like a burr to be shaken loose. The car lurched and Jimmy was thrown from passenger door to passenger door and back again. Oh, those sore shoulders! Oh, the noise!

I started to scramble down from the tree. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” He didn’t hear me.

I was dangling from the lowest branch when Jimmy’s body flew out the back of the car. It arced in the air and dropped to the ground. Jimmy lay still.

The rest you know. I’m sorry I can’t tell it as fast as it happened.

Apparently Uncle Ted passed Aunt Jean coming home from Canasta. Aunt Jean tells how she cradled poor Jimmy’s head on the way to the hospital.

Jimmy didn’t go to school on the day after Labor Day. He hasn’t been to school yet, because of his head injury.

Uncle Ted still comes on Thursdays, which is fine, because Aunt Jean has no other visitors now except me, and Jimmy is a peck of trouble. A peck of trouble. Aunt Jean says that a visit from her only living relative makes a nice break. It’s something to look forward to.

It is now my job to scoot the kids away from the car, which is easy, because I have a new technique.

“Can Jimmy drive your car?” I ask Uncle Ted sweetly. “His diapers won’t leak a bit. They were just changed.”

Uncle Ted always lets him, but I have to put down the car blanket first. Jimmy sits behind the wheel and I go, “Rummmn Rummmmn.” He bounces up and down like a baby, and the other kids stay back and watch.

When it’s time for Uncle Ted to leave and he is handing over a ten-dollar bill, I say, “Aunt Jean could do with some more handkerchiefs on account of Jimmy’s drooling from the accident.”

Uncle Ted peels off two more bills and presses them into Aunt Jean’s hand. Then Uncle Ted goes to pat Jimmy on the head. Jimmy ducks. Ted tries to give me a love-punch in the shoulder. I put my two hands up like a shield and kick him in the ankle.

“Carolyn!” says Aunt Jean. I don’t say anything. What would be the point?

On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, I push Jimmy on the swings when no one’s watching. He hangs on tight like he always did. He loves to go really high and touch the sky.

Our Jimmy is not scared of anything or anybody.

Neither am I.