|Posted by Admin on April 21, 2015 at 6:35 PM|
Miz Stitz and Sonny Dear
Back at the store I explained about the accident (leaving out minor details) and went into the walk-in meat locker to sull and cool off while Uncle Whit refilled Miz Stitz’s order. Five minutes later I walked out of the cooler refreshed and good to go, the sweat on my body having turned into a fine film of frost. I got the Stitz order arranged in the basket and headed back down the hill. I didn’t look at any girls this time. I figured
Miz Stitz was beginning to wonder where her groceries were, so I wasted no time. I worried that Uncle Whit might dock my pay for the spoiled groceries, but he never had before. I only made thirteen dollars a week anyway.
Miz Stitz was not cooking chitlin’s when I knocked, thank goodness. She let me in and smiled when she saw the fat green watermelon. She was not a tiny woman herself. Let me put it this way…if you were the mailman and she came down to mail a letter, while she was standing there you would not be able to see her house.
The living room was not arranged in any logical order, or in any order at all. Stuff was scattered everywhere. There was a baby bed in one corner, the kind with bars, where one side slides up and down. Lying there in the bed was a kid. I thought it was a baby at first, until Miz Stitz shook the bed and said, “Wake up, Sonny dear. Tell Mama what you wants for breffus.”
Breakfast? It was already past noon.
The kid rolled over, yawned and stretched. I asked how old the baby was, and she said, “Six.”
Six? That was the tiniest six-year-old kid I ever saw. He sure didn’t take after his mama. He was so skinny I could see his ribs when he stretched. He was dressed in nothing but an oversized pair of khaki shorts that came down to his ankles. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, in no hurry to be awake.
“Well, tell me, honey,” Miz Stitz repeated. “What you wants for breffus?”
“Beer,” Sonny said lazily, and lay back down.
I waited for the rebuke. There was none. I took the groceries on back to the kitchen to unload and left. As I went out the front door I heard the refrigerator door close in the kitchen.
None of my business, I said to myself as I rode away on my bike. None of my business.
Continued next week......