BOYS DON'T CRY
By Faye Leeper
My sister and I always listened to Henry Aldridge
on Thursday nights, but we never
knew how it ended. Papa had to change the radio station
to get the world news.
I did not know what "Normandy" was.
It was awful to have to miss the end of our show!
One day my sister and I were jumping rope
when she screamed, "Look!" It was our
brother coming home! We ran, threw our arms around him.
He threw us off! We were
struck dumb by that! "We must behave," he said.
His gaze went past us. He stood tall and
marched toward Mama with dignity of one in audience of a queen.
They pulled like magnets, held hands, looked deep into each other's eyes,
then sort of half hugged. Maybe so Mama wouldn't cry.
She said, "1 thought maybe
you’d get here on time. Dinner's ready."
“Yeah,” he said, I’ll go throw hay to the horses."
He knew Papa would be out there.
I saw hay tossed out of the loft. He came by the well
and drew up a cold bucker of water.
For a long time, he splashed it over his face and head.
Papa walked up. Our brother said,
“A man ought not have to kill a man
who has never done him any wrong!"
We went in to a quiet table, bowed our heads
as Papa said, "Bless this food to the
nourishment of our bodies." After a strange silence,
he said, "Give us time and wisdom
to address the wrongs we have committed
out of fear and ignorance." The dinner was
royal, but appetites were lacking as we surreptitiously
glanced across the table toward the
red plate.
The next night, we got to hear Henry Aldridge all the way through.
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