32
In the cold dampness of February, Truman was lying in bed, restless. He tried to sleep but all he could think about was his mother in New York. He imagined her all dolled up and walking down a fashion-show runway under the gaze of cameras and flashbulbs.
He heard the telephone ringing.
Truman listened as Cousin Jenny came down the stairs to the hall phone. He could faintly hear her talking but couldn’t make out any words. There was a long silence, then he heard footsteps in the hallway. Finally, his door opened and Jenny poked her head in.
Truman pretended to be asleep. She crept slowly up to his bed and nudged his shoulder. “Truman,” she whispered. “It’s your father.”
Truman opened his eyes. “Daddy?” Why was he calling?
Truman rubbed his eyes as Jenny led him to the phone. She handed him the receiver, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk.
“Go on, Truman.”
Truman took the call. “Hello?”
“Truman!” Arch’s voice sounded far away.
“Where are you?”
“. . . On the road . . .” His answer was garbled by the static.
“Where?”
“Truman, I need you to pack your bags. I’ll be there in the morning.”
Truman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Where are we going?”
“A little father-son adventure. I think you’re old enough to see . . .” Again, the words were lost.
“A trip? Tomorrow? What about school?”
“School can wait. Time alone with my son is more important, especially since your mother—”
The line went dead. “Hello?”
Truman handed the receiver back to Jenny. She listened but there was nothing more. “What’d he say?” she asked.
“I think he wants to go on a trip with me. Tomorrow.”
Jenny shook her head and put down the receiver. “I don’t know, Truman.”
“Please? It’ll probably be for only a few days. And Callie could give me some homework to do on the road.”
She sighed. “Well, I can’t stop you. He is your father.”
Truman beamed and ran back to his room. He went rummaging under his bed for a suitcase.
Sook woke up, of course. “For goodness’ sake—what are you doing, Truman? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Looking for my suitcase. I’m going on a trip with Arch.”
There was a long silence. “You’re missing school?”
“Callie will catch me up—gotcha!” Truman pulled out the same old brown suitcase he’d come to Monroeville with.
As soon as Sook heard Arch wasn’t coming till tomorrow, she went back to sleep, willing to deal with it in the morning. But Truman was wide awake now. He stayed up all night, packing clothes and making a list of things they would talk about while driving. He imagined maybe they would go up to New York to see Mother. Or get back on the steamboat like old times. Either way, it would be a grand adventure.
When the sun came up, Truman was exhausted but dressed and ready. Little Bit found him sitting on the stoop of the front porch as she came in. “And where are you going, Mr. Truman?”
Truman yawned. “On a trip with Arch!”
Little Bit rolled her eyes. “Don’t get into it,” she mumbled to herself. She smiled and went inside.
Nelle and Big Boy stopped by on their way to school. “Well, come on, Truman, we’re gonna be late,” Nelle said.
“I’m not going. I’m going on a trip. With Arch.”
Nelle grimaced. “Where you headed?”
“Wherever the wind takes us.”
“Lordy, help me,” she said under her breath.
Big Boy just smiled and pulled her away. “Sounds great, Truman. I guess we’ll see you when you get back.”
Callie dropped a stack of homework on the porch next to him. “Who takes his child out of school for no good reason . . .” was all she said as she headed out.
Truman didn’t care what anyone said. He was going to have fun. He sat there and watched the horse carts carrying deliveries from the underwear factory nearby. He watched the cooks and handymen walk to work from Mudtown. He watched the schoolchildren come and go.
Sook found him asleep on the porch several hours later. She picked him up and put him to bed.
Archulus Persons never showed up.