24

Bowling I

Pops is home early on this hot night. Pops likes to drink beer when it’s hot. Mama says to him, Whoa, where’s the fire? Because Pops has drunk 4 beers. Pops laughs and says to Mama, You just don’t understand and I don’t have the time to explain to you that it’s hot and the heat does strange things to a man. The beer is sooo cold and when you’re ready to join me, I’ll gladly share this beer with you.

He lines the empty bottles up under his chair in the living room. He has moved all the furniture to one side so he can have a clear shot at the fireplace with the bottles which he bowls into it, the swept-out, brick-lined hole in the wall where every winter Pops builds fires, big fires and we sit close together as if we needed to keep each other warm.

Mama says, You shouldn’t drink so fast, slow down, come eat dinner. Pops laughs again and waves his arms in the air like a broken helicopter and says, You eat, I’m not hungry.

He stands up and takes one of the empty bottles from under his chair, holds it on its side, takes two long steps and bowls it into the fireplace where the glass explodes and is so loud that I have to put my hands up to my ears. I run to Pops and grab his arm but when I look at his face, he looks right at me and says, I like this crash, bang, crack of broken glass. I don’t say, Well I don’t as he puts the cold one to his lips and I watch the lump in his throat rise and fall as he swallows it all down.

He pushes me away from him and turns to Mama and says, Your turn. What does anyone want to do that for? Odessa asks and picks up the empty bottles and starts to walk away with them when Pops yells, Those are my bottles. I never heard this voice before. How can he talk like this, to be so mean and loud? How can he be mean to Odessa?

Odessa turns to him and says, Mr. Morgenstern are you yelling at me? Pops’ face has a look on it like you better believe it. His eyes are so dark, how have they come together and he’s thinned his lips so that there is a big splash of black and a little splash of red on his face and he’s holding the empty bottle in his hand by the neck and Mama holds herself together by wrapping her arms around herself. I say, Pops why are you like this? I thought you were having fun.

Fun, Pops says, who says anything is fun anymore? Huh? Huh? He walks toward me holding the bottle in one hand and with the other he grabs for me like he was blind. I run, I run out of the room and sit on the stairs. Pops says, This is my house, you’ll let me do what I want.

Put those bottles down, Odessa, Pops says. I hear the clink of glass, and Pops smashes another, then another, then another into the fireplace. I feel like those bottles are crashing in my head. Who is Pops tonight?

Scaaags, he yells and I put my hands over my ears and run up the stairs, close my bedroom door, and lie on my bed with peppery tears rolling out of my eyes. This is worse I think than when he punished me for coming home late from Davy’s. Then he sent me to my room and then went out and bought me a deck of cards with trains on them. I go to my desk and look for them, but I can’t find them, I can’t find them. This is worse and if he comes up here looking for me, I have no where to hide. I get up and listen at the door. No sounds. I open the door slowly, it’s dark in the hall but there he is standing so quietly. I hear Mama and Odessa behind him on the stairs.

What do you want to scare Scags for? Odessa asks. He grabs for me and holds me to himself. He is crying and I can feel his body shivering. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Scags, Pops says. Mama says, You’re drunk, Nate, leave Scags alone and let’s eat.

I’m shivering too. Pops’ eyes are all bloodshot and I want to think how he is better now. He can only be mean once and then he will be nice, very nice.