CUSSIN'

 

Henry was ten- or eleven-years old living in a working-class neighborhood with his Mother. His “old man" was supposedly working for a company out in Texas.

Life was better without his Fathers overbearing presence. He seemed to make Henry’s Mom alternately sad and angry.

Henry was “latch key” because she worked downtown. Somewhat bookish yet prone to mischief he did a bit of after school roaming before her daily check in phone call. There would be hell to pay if he missed that call or the ever-present list of chores was not done (mostly yelling and disappointment which was punishment a plenty) but she’d also threaten to send him to Jackson Training school if he didn’t straighten up. He suspected she didn’t REALLY mean it, but it alarmed him nonetheless.

Billy was a tall lanky 16-year-old who lived down the alley. Henry being a freckled  adolescent was fascinated by Billy’s tanned and remarkably hairy legs. Henry would sneak over the back fence to Billy’s bedroom window and tap on it. Billy was almost always lounging on his bed talking on the phone. He’d grin that lazy grin and waive Henry in.

It made him felt special. No other kids were allowed. For some reason Billy liked Henry and took it upon himself to teach him the ways of the world.

Billy would steal bicycles and mix up the parts and paint the frame to disguise them for sale. It confused Henry because of the do not steal commandment in the Bible but his curiosity and admiration for Billy got the best of him.  Billy's  Mom was around but seemed oblivious to Billy’s comings and goings. It’s like she was sweet nature dumb and blind with love for her dark and handsome son.

Billy liked girls and they liked him. That impressed a 11 (and ½ ) year-old. Billy spoke a soft drawl laced with colorful language that Henry had heard all his life from his Father and his uncles  but coming from Billy it took on a movie star quality. Henry began to test the waters.

Hanging around with guys his age he’d try it out. They seemed impressed with a good “Kiss my ass” or “Damn that’s cool”, so the colorful language thing became like an old pair of sneakers you wore all the time.

He had to be careful though. His Mom was straight laced. She’ d have one of those mouth foaming fits if she knew Henry was cussing. He was also trying to smokie cigarettes behind the garage with Gary Gunthenfaler who lived a couple houses closer to Henry than Billy. All Gary’s parents did was watch soap opera sitting  in two recliners, smoke cigarettes and drink beer. “They’re older” Gary said “but they’re cool.”

Gary cussed as good as Henry did, and he’d steal cigarettes from his Dad. They would smoke them behind a sagging garage that nobody ever parked in behind a neighbor’s house.

It was mostly coughing, and gagging interspersed with “Damn that’s strong” and “” That’s making me dizzy as hell.”

It was Sunday and Henry’s Mom insisted they go to church with his Aunt Mabel and Henry’s three cousins. They were walking out the front door on a cold and icy day. The front stoop was eight or nine brick steps configured sort of like a bay window.

She had on the ever-present high heels. Henry was concerned she’d fall and was paying more attention to her as he held her hand being a big man and protector. Next thing he knew he was looking up at his loafered feet and sky while wind milling his left arm as she tugged back on his right. When his tailbone hit the steps he hollered, “Damn!’ and skidded a couple more steps, his Mother gasping. No sooner than he hit she pulled him upright looked him in the eye and said, “WHAT did you say, young man?”

“DOWN Momma … I said DOWN, cuz that’s where I was headed.”

Who knows where kid stuff like that comes from, but it was there as convenient a lie as finding a lucky penny, even though he knew it was lame as hell.  He waited for the slap on the back of the head or his hand as she pursed her lips. Then like a miracle she smiled that big Mary Tyler Moore smile, bent over and started that sort of quiet, shoulder shake laughing she did. still holding on to his hand trapped against her dark wool coat.

After it passed she stood  looking him in the eye  and said, “Ok. But if I ever hear language like that from you again I promise you I will wash your mouth out with soap.”

He could tell she was struggling not to smile. It gave him a warm feeling behind all that fear of trouble he carried around behind his ever-present mischief.

Henry went on to live a "colorful life". Now he’s pretty much a family man. Some might say he's even a little religious so are a bit surprised sometimes because he can be a rather “salty” fellow.

He tries to watch it, especially around church folks and his now 86-year-old Mom but every now and then   something will slip. Henry will turn beet red and look down at the floor or his plate. Usually little will be said but it’s funny how it makes him feel … kind of like an eleven-year-old that needs his mouth washed out with soap.