27

Hot Dogs

Odessa has made a fire in the grill outside on the patio. Davy and I are going to cook hot dogs for lunch. Pops has whittled some sticks to a sharp point. We have to put them through the cold hot dog and then hold them over the fire. I pull one of the patio chairs, my favorite one because I can lie down on it if I want, over to the grill which is made of bricks and is where Pops cooks chicken and steaks. Oh, yes, I remember, there was one Christmas day he cooked steaks out here wearing his warmest coat and his biggest gloves and a stocking cap, a red stocking cap.

The coals are dark red now and yellow, they send up a wall of heat. I can’t see it but I can feel it as I put my hand out to the fire. It feels like my skin could just shrink up like paper in fire.

Look Davy, I say, the fire is winking at us. It’s like a blinking traffic light, first red, then yellow, then red. The red is so hot and the coals have white rings around their edges and I can smell the lighter fluid Odessa used to start the fire. Davy is racing his new blue matchbox car over the sides of the grill. Whew, he says, that sure is damned hot. It feels like it could burn my face off.

Come sit with me, I say, and make room on the chair for him. Sit here, I say, and you won’t get burned. He sits next to me and runs his car up my bare arm to my shoulder onto the side of my face and then over the top of my head. He doesn’t say anything about my new hair cut. Don’t do that, I say. He stops, puts the car down and says, Well what do you want to do?

Odessa comes out to the picnic table, the redwood table with its two benches, and puts out a couple of plates and a big pitcher of lemonade and a bottle of ketchup. As she goes back inside she says, Tell me when that fire is ready for your hot dogs.

Davy watches her go and then says, Want to see something neat? He digs deep into his back pocket. He pulls out a square package, holds it in the palm of his hand and presents it to me. What’s that? I ask. I look him straight in the eyes. He has on his I-know-better-than-you smile. He giggles and closes his fist around it. What is it? I ask. If you’re going to show me something but not tell me what it is, you’re no fun. I’ll tell, he says, if you promise not to tell anyone. I say, I won’t tell a soul.

Odessa brings the hot dogs and buns outside along with Pops’ sticks. Davy giggles through his nose when he sees the plate of franks. They are big and red. Odessa asks, Do you want me to put them on the sticks for you and cook them? I say, No thanks, just help me a little. Odessa picks up one of the hot dogs and pushes the stick through it until it comes out the other end. Davy is laughing and giggling as he does the same thing. Odessa asks him what’s so funny and why is he laughing so hard? Davy ignores Odessa and tells me nothing too. Odessa says, after she hands me the stick, Be careful by the fire. She goes back inside looking over her shoulder at Davy and shaking her head. Finally, he gets his stick in the hot dog right and is waiting to cook it.

Davy, I say, what’s so funny? He says, Do you want me to show you my secret? I say, Yes. He puts his stick on the table, pulls out the package and opens it. It’s little and round. He puts it on the tip of his hot dog and rolls it down until it is all covered by this tight balloon.

He has a very serious look on his face like he’s thinking hard about what he’s doing. You have to be careful, he says, not to rip it. Once the balloon is over the hot dog, he picks it up and points it at me. He says, I’ve got you covered. I don’t know what he means. He looks at me and says, You don’t get it, do you? This is a thing. The hot dog? I ask. Yes. And the balloon? That’s a rubber. What’s that? That’s that, he says pointing. Men’s things can make babies inside a woman. I know that, I say. Well smartie, he says, this rubber keeps the man’s sperm from getting in the woman. Why? I ask. What do you mean why? Why don’t they want to have babies? I’m all confused. What does Davy do with these rubbers when he’s alone? I think if things are something Davy has and I don’t, why didn’t I get a thing? Look at all the neat things you can do with one.

You ready to cook yours? Davy asks as he rolls the rubber off and shoves it in his back pocket. He walks over to the grill, places his hot dog above the flame and turns it ever so slowly to cook it all the way around.

Odessa comes out and sees me staring at Davy’s hot dog which is getting plumper and redder. Don’t you want to cook yours? She asks me. Stick your hot dog in the fire. I want to wait a little longer, I want to see Davy’s hot dog get burnt and then I can put mine in the fire, I say to Odessa. Davy giggles and pulls his hot dog out of the fire and Odessa takes it from him and wraps a bun around it and pulls it off the stick. Okay Scags, she says, I’ve got some other work to do so you hurry up, you hear?

I slowly get out of my chair and shove my lunch into the fire and put it where it’s the hottest slowly turning it like Davy did. I smell all the different smells in the meat, the garlic and the juices. I look at Davy who is stuffing his face, taking big bites of the red, red meat, now dripping with ketchup. I think that Davy’s laughing at me because he has a thing and I’ve only got a hot dog.