Gift, Freely Given

Bud and Helen's house

Heat surrounded and invaded the house as July dragged on and on.  Windows were thrown open, front and back doors begging for some sort of breeze, but all was denied. Cicadas screamed a non-stop song, as if they were complaining to God Himself. 


Laundry had hung limp and still damp since morning. Cats flattened themselves on grass in the shade with the largest canopy. There was no joy to be found, none whatsoever.  

Bud and Helen lay around on the same grass and neither cats nor humans found relief under drooping leaves. 

Helen at age 5 and Bud at age 3; Helen was always tall.

He stared through patches of leaves and asked of God: Why, oh why did you create such torture?  

Helen said nothing so innocent: Damn it! Haven't You done enough today? Shit, we need some wind. Dammit! Some snow, even.  Shit!

Despite the torture that only July can give, down came skipping their cousin, Margaret, from her house high up on a hill. Wind blows up there. We sit in a sink hole of flames and she skips. Damn her. Helen grimaced and lay back to await the cuteness that was Margaret's all alone.

"I got a new dress! Papa bought it for me! From the Sears and Roebuck catalog! It cost 50 cents, 50 cents! Why, that could buy two dresses for you, Helen."  

Margaret twirled and the skirt swung out, a pink deliciousness.  "See what it can do when I swing around!"

"I can see your panties. You got a hole in 'em.  What did you do? Poop through that hole??" Helen spit out, staring up at the wafting skirt. "I can see your butt through it. That hole is so huge, a mosquito could fly into it and bite your butt at least a dozen times. Then you'd have red bites and you'd scratch at 'em all the time." Helen smiled outwardly. Inwardly, Helen used her newly found rich cussing words. "Why, you'd be awake all night!" 

The thought filled Helen with indescribable glee.

Margaret twirled, trying to see her butt and her skirt floated around. When she felt there was no hole, she sniffed with all the superiority only a cousin named Margaret could summon. "You're joking me. I'm gonna tell Papa and he'll send my brothers to beat you up.  Beat you up bad!" 

Bud and Helen smirked, this time openly as Margaret turned to stomp home. Ma opened the screen door and called out, "You two come get these and feed the lambs. And make sure you fill the water tank. Poor things, in the heat."  She held two nipple bottles."

Bud

Bud dragged himself up, but Margaret raced to the bottles first. "See, I beat you. I'm faster than you. You're just lazy, too lazy to run." She held the bottles up over her head, trophies of her superiority. "Ha!" She skipped to the pen, where two orphaned lambs waited.

Bud trudged behind her and Helen placed one foot after the other. Dust billowed up around her, then dropped with finality. What a bitch. Even the dust can't take it. 

Margaret giggled, holding a bottle in each hand. "See! I can feed them both at the same time! You can fill the water tank!  I have to finish feeding them!" She smiled her dripping honey smile and turned away.

Helen swore a stream of new words and they both walked away, quite happy they did not have to stand in the sun.  Bud exclaimed, "I got me an idea..."

Moments later, Bud emerged from the privy with a steaming log about the size of a cigar, all wrapped up in a page from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. It was a page of cute dresses for 50 cents each. Helen tore zinnias and tied a bow around the cigar-sized feces and waited.

Margaret skipped back. "See, the lambs like me! They drank the whole bottles. I'll come down and do this again!"

Helen held out the wrapped excrement. "Here. We made this for you. You always help us, and we wanted to give this to you!" Take it, you goddamn girl in your 50 cent dress!

From Pike County, Illinois

Margaret squealed in delight. "For me? And it's all wrapped up!" She reached for it.


Bud carefully laid it on her palm. Then he and Helen waited.

Margaret did exactly as they knew she would. She screamed, dropped her gift in horror, then ran crying the entire way home. They could hear her.

Helen smiled at Bud and Bud smiled at Helen. "Well, then." The scream died in the distance. "That was a hell of a thing."

They picked up buckets by the pump and filled them to pour into the water tank.  Time and time again, water was poured until filling the tank almost to the rim. There was still water in the buckets. Then they did what any child would do on a God-awful hot day. 

Dumping buckets of water, throwing buckets of water, squealing as water trickled down ,pouring over their heads, cooling them down--it seemed to be the best thing to do.  As they listened to Margaret, the air became noticeably cooler. 


My apologies for profanity used in this post. Aunt Helen (as part of her character's persona) has begun to swear/curse. The death of Bud and Helen's father in 1932 affected them both in different ways. My father became moody and depressed, while Aunt Helen developed inward dialogue, which at times became verbal.