Cody: A Boy's Odyssey

By Jon David Douglas

Codys mother dies before she can answer the fifteen-year-olds question: Who is my father? Homeless, Cody is first aided by a kindly landlady, later abruptly forced into a sadistic foster home. He flees in desperate search for his real father, but is caught and put into a juvenile facility, from which he narrowly escapes. Free again, he hitchhikes across country, running into people who help, but hindered by others. Jobless and penniless, he learns to survive on the brutal streets. Cody discovers shocking facts about his mother, and as he continues his search, discovers truths about himself before he finds a solution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 18, 2003
• ISBN: 9781465330666

Book preview

Copyright © 2002 by Jon David Douglas.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Part TWO

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue

Liberties have been taken with actual geographic locations.

The story is purely fictional and any resemblance to persons

living or dead is strictly coincidental and unintentional.

Acknowledgments

The author wishes to especially thank Mildred Harding

for her primary editing and helpful advice. Also thanks to Angela Masterson Jones, Sylvia Needel, Barbara Williams and Branwen Denton for their suggestions, additional editing and proofing. Thanks to Judie Herr for her help on word processing matters. Special thanks also to model, Jim Amidei, whose appearance on the cover neither infers or represents anything about his personal lifestyle. And to artist Mike Taylor for his photography. To Michael Canavan and Jan Dunn for their art and graphic expertise in producing the front and back covers. This book would not have been possible without their kind help.

Foreword

The treatment of young orphans is haphazard and sometimes cruel in society today. For the most part we don’t have orphanages, but the present system of foster care and other juvenile holding facilities isn’t emotionally much better now, than in Charles Dickens’ time.

The general attitude seems to be, put the children away, out-of-sight in foster care. We want to think they’re being kindly and gently cared for, but sadly, this is not always the case.

There are untold millions of homeless abused children—we can’t even begin to gauge the accurate numbers—boys and girls, each day not knowing where their next meal is coming from. Their homes are streets, alleys or parks, where they cling to survival in cardboard boxes, under bushes, in caves, trash containers, sewers and abandoned cars. Ruthless adults often exploit them either for their own pleasure or for profit. I’m not talking about some banana republic or third-world country: it’s happening right now in our own back yard!

Cody—A Boy’s Odyssey, illustrates what’s happening to many children in America: the abuse of children under care and the total absence of care. There’s more interest in the humane treatment of animals than in the care and treatment of the homeless and orphaned youth of our country. The richest nation in the world, we must stop tossing our children away!

Jon David Douglas Florida

Part One

Trouble!

Chapter 1

St. Petersburg, Florida.

M rs. Williams! Mrs. Williams! I can’t wake Mom. I can’t figure out what’s the matter, and I don’t know what to do!" CodyJohnson shouted, as he pounded frantically on Mrs. Williams’ apartment door. It opened and a gray-haired black woman appeared.

Whats’a matter, Cody? she asked. Your shoes isn’t tied. I swear, someday, Cody, you’re gonna trip and break your neck. Better tie ‘em right now, she ordered. Then tell me about your problem.

She smiled at the blond fifteen-year-old. The teenager was clad in a gray T-shirt, jeans, and well-worn athletic sneakers. He was, Mrs. Williams thought, just a typical boy.

Oh, Mrs. Williams! he groaned impatiently. He knelt on his left knee and hurriedly tied his right shoe, then switched his position, talking excitedly as he tied the other lace. Don’t mind my gosh-darn shoe laces. He stood again. "This is an emergency! I couldn’t wake Mom for work! She just lays there, won’t open her eyes. She can’t lose this job.

She told me that she likes it, and of course she really needs it."

I’ll come upstairs and take a look-see for myself.

Yes, hurry!

Limping up the steep outside stairs to the second-floor apartment behind Cody as fast as she could, Mrs. Williams complained about her aches and pains. Oh, it’s painful to grow old. Let’s jus’ take it easy, she said, stopping a moment. Cody sighed.

Do you suppose Linda Mae’s been drinkin’ again? she asked. Sounds like it.

That’s what I thought at first. A couple of years ago, after she lost a job because of drinking, she swore to me she’d never do that again. She’s never lied to me, and I didn’t find any bottles, like before. I didn’t smell nothing either, he said, wiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. She seemed okay when I got home from school. She woke for a couple of minutes, said she was still tired, had a headache, and was gonna go back to sleep until she absolutely had to get up to go to work. I was to wake her in an hour.

Oh, so maybe she’s just plain tired, Mrs. Williams said, resuming her climb. I know she tries so hard for you. It’s tough, Linda Mae being all alone, trying to make her way by herself.

She has me, said Cody.

Yes, and you with no father and all. She works so hard, yet always keeps you so neat and clean. Taught you the right way to behave. Oh, Lordy, I’ve jus’ got to rest my bones before I climb the rest of the way, she said panting. I’ll sit on the steps and rest a spell. You go on. I’ll be up there in a minute.

Please don’t take too long. Cody looked down the stairs. It was hard to determine exactly how old Lilly Belle Williams was. He thought she was at least seventy, maybe more.

At the top landing of the wooden stairs that ran up the side of the house, Cody’s fox terrier, Corky, pranced around, sniffing his pants leg. He automatically bent from habit to pat the dog’s head, in spite of the urgency he felt. Corky wagged his short black and white tail and whole body in excitement as he tried to lick Cody’s face.

Not now! he said sharply to the dog. Stay out here, Corky. Mrs. Williams puffed up the last few steps.

I’m coming, wheezed Mrs. Williams.

Quick! he said, holding the door and waiting impatiently as she slowly limped toward it.

I only moves so fast, she said straightening the faded green and brown sweater on her shoulders. Oh, this rheumatiz. And it’s chilly. I should have worn me a scarf. Sometimes it gets bone-chilling cold, even here in Florida, especially when a person gets older.

I don’t think it’s so bad. It’s almost spring. Hurry!

Don’t mean a thing. Spring arrives when it gets here. No sooner. Now, jus’ hold on. Where’s Linda Mae?

In the bedroom. Cody led the way.

Well let’s jus’ see. Mrs. Williams followed Cody through the tiny neat kitchen. A box of Raisin Bran, sugar, and clean bowls were on the table along with a cup and a glass. Looks like she was fixin’ to eat breakfast.

She always eats Raisin Bran in the afternoon before she goes to work. Sets it out before she goes to bed. Says breakfast gives her energy for the whole night. Sometimes I eat that for supper when we don’t have nothing else. Or maybe just Jell-O.

Kind of upside down, breakfast at night, you poor boy.

Every once in a while we get a pizza. That’s a real treat.

Mrs. Williams placed her hand on his cheek and slowly drew it away as she walked through the living room to the bedroom. Cody ran ahead of her brushing against her as he passed.

In here. His hand on the knob of the door, he opened it all the way.

Mrs. Williams entered the small room and hurried to the bed. Now, let’s jus’ see. She’s still a’breathin’, thank goodness! Lordy, she’s out, she is! We better call nine-one-one.

Cody tore his eyes from his mother, turned, and raced back to the living room, grabbing the phone from a table by the portable TV. He hurriedly pressed the buttons. The rabbit-ear antenna had a ball of aluminum foil over one tip. As he waited for an answer, he nervously compressed the foil to a clump. It’s ringing. I hear it. He smiled uncertainly at Mrs. Williams, who looked on from the doorway of the bedroom.

He stared around the room as he waited impatiently for an answer. It was basically clean, with cheap blue plastic curtains covering the windows. Behind the curtains, the paper window shades were pulled down, one crooked and the other with a jagged section torn out of one side. A faded blue living-room suite dominated the room. The sofa and chair were tattered. The fabric worn smooth on the arms and one corner of the couch was held up by a brick. A stack of comics and super-hero figures were scattered on the floor among a few other boys’ things. Cody continued to listen to the phone ringing on the other end.

No answer yet, he said. Isn’t anyone there? It just keeps ringing ‘n ringing. Don’t they know this is an emergency? A recorded message came on. Now a voice just keeps telling me to stay on the line, saying calls’ll be answered in the order in which they were received.

Now, jus’ don’t get excited, Mrs. Williams urged. It’s only been a minute. They muz be pretty busy.

What’s the nature of your emergency? asked a voice on the telephone.

Oh, hello, finally! This is Cody Johnson. My mom won’t wake up. Something’s the matter. She has to go to work at five-thirty!

Would you repeat your name please?

Cody, C-O-D-Y Johnson, J-O-H-N-S-O-N. My mother’s name is Linda. Linda Mae. I always call her that. Linda Mae-both names. Hurry please.

Remain calm, give me your age please.

Why do you need that? I’m fifteen and I need some help.

Where are you located? The address where you need this help.

411 V Orange Grove Avenue. Upstairs.

What city please?

What city? Well, here … right here in St. Petersburg.

Is your mother breathing and is the air passage clear?

Yes, she’s still breathing. He turned to Mrs. Williams. They wonder if her breathing passage is clear. I don’t know.

I’ll check, she said

Mrs. Williams is checking … He gripped the phone. Hurry! he shouted.

Please remain calm. I’m contacting EMS. Emergency Medical Services, an ambulance.

"I am staying calm, but can’t you send help quickly. Like NOW!"

Her breathin’ is clear, Mrs. Williams said, re-entering the room.

He spoke into the phone, Mrs. Williams says her breathing is clear.

Who is Mrs. Williams?

Mrs. Williams is the lady who lives downstairs. We rent this place from her.

In case we lose this connection, what is your phone number?

He gave the number.

Paramedical help is on the way.

Finally, but I don’t hear any sirens coming!

The ambulance is on the way. Will Mrs. Williams stay with you?

Yeah, Mrs. Williams will stay with me. He covered the phone, and his eyes pleaded with the old woman. You will, won’t you?

Yes, of course, dear child.

Yeah, she says she’ll stay with me. He nodded vigorously.

Is this person related to you?

No, we’re not related. He shook his head and smiled when he thought how different he and Mrs. Williams looked. She was black, as dark as night in a mine, while he was blond, his hair light as ripe wheat. His blue eyes brimmed with tears and he bravely fought them back.

From a distance he heard the faint sound of a siren.

Okay, now I hear the siren. Anyway, I hope that means it’s headed here. Mrs. Williams, can you hear it? They’re coming here, I think. At last!

Yes, I’m sure it’s for your mother, said Mrs. Williams.

The voice said something on the phone.

What? asked Cody and put his finger in his left ear to shut out the noise as the siren screamed louder.

Would you repeat the address?

"The apartment is upstairs. 411 and a half Orange Grove Avenue! There’s steps, outside, outside the west side of the house. He turned to Mrs. Williams. Can you watch for them, open the door?"

Don’t worry. They’ll find it. I put up new house numbers last year.

Please remain on the phone until help gets there. Then we’ll want to confirm with the paramedics when they arrive.

They want me to stay on the phone till help comes.

Mrs. Williams went to the kitchen. After what seemed an eternity to Cody, two men dressed in blue, carrying a shiny metal stretcher and paramedical apparatus, burst into the room.

The woman wants to talk with you, Cody said and handed the phone to one of the men. The man had an Emergency Medical Services patch on the shoulder of his shirt.

Where’s your mother? the second man asked.

This way. Cody pointed to the bedroom and walked toward the doorway.

Son, you better stay here, out of our way, said the paramedic going into the room.

The other paramedic hung up the phone and came to Cody. He carried a metal clipboard with a form on it. I have to ask you some questions. Got the name, Linda Mae Johnson. Right?

Yeah, right.

Your mother?

Yeah.

Do you know how old your mother is?

She’s around thirty-two or thirty-three.

Do you know the date of her birth?

June twenty-third.

The year?

No. I don’t know.

I never heard, interjected Mrs. Williams. I know’d the mother. She’s been here five years. I live downstairs. I owns the house. Talked with her a lot, but she never mentioned her birthday.

I’ll put down a birth estimate of about thirty years ago. Any medical conditions?

None that I know of, said Cody.

Or me either, said Mrs. Williams.

Is she on medication?

Tylenol, Extra Strength, said Cody. She gets terrible headaches, the last few months anyway.

When’s the last time you talked to her?

When I first got home from school. An hour ago. She was awake a minute then, said she was going to sleep some more. She was tired, had a headache she said, and told me to wake her in an hour.

So she was conscious and talking then? Did she eat anything in the last few hours?

No, I don’t think so. She was gonna eat with me before work. She works as a waitress at the Old Hickory House. I sometimes have cereal, a peanut butter sandwich or a hot dog with her, but I eat my big meal at school mostly.

The other medic came to the door. "Wanna help me, Fred?

Get her on the stretcher? Lift her?" Cody stood at the bedroom doorway.

He heard a knock on the back door.

That must be the backup, said one of the paramedics. The Fire Department’s rescue team always shows up, too, when you call nine-one-one. Sometimes they arrive at the emergency scene first. Maybe they’re closer, other times, maybe we are. It’s important when seconds count. Wanna let them in, son?

Cody nodded and ran to the kitchen. Through the glass in the door he saw two blue-shirted men standing on the porch. He opened the door.

Everything under control? one of the men asked.

In there, said Cody, nodding toward the bedroom.

Yeah, in here, yelled the original medic from the bedroom. Come on in. We’re just ready to take her to the Med Center. Looks like some sort of neurological seizure. Want to help lift her? And then we may need some help on the porch and stairs, too.

From the doorway Cody watched as they lifted his mother onto the stretcher. The little room seemed even smaller with four men in it. One man administered oxygen. He placed a breathing mask on her face, fixing it in place with an elastic strap. The tank was positioned on the stretcher between her legs. They moved her through the living room, the kitchen, and out onto the porch.

Is she going to be all right? Cody asked, following the paramedics.

We don’t know, son. The doctors have to look at her. We’ll telemetry her vital signs from the ambulance as we go. The hospital will be ready and do all they can when she gets there.

Cody followed the stretcher down the stairs.

Careful. Please don’t drop my mom.

Never dropped anyone yet.

At the bottom, they let the stretcher wheels down and rolled it on the sidewalk to the street, where the white and orange ambulance waited with its lights flashing. We’ll be taking her to Bayfront Medical Center, said the paramedic, opening the rear door of the vehicle.

We’ll be right along, said Mrs. Williams. She looked at Cody. I’ll drive us. She put her arm on his shoulder.

He stared down the empty street feeling terribly alone, watching the ambulance until it disappeared in the distance. As he looked at Mrs. Williams, his lower lip quivered.

Please tell me she’s going to be all right.

Not for me to say, child, it’s up to the Lord. Let’s go now, get your coat.

Chapter 2

Cody couldn’t remember being in a hospital before. He was overwhelmed by all the activity: the smells of disinfectant and illness, the cacophony of chaotic sounds, the repetitive paging of doctors, the constant background din of fleeting conversations. He listened a minute to the calm, but urgent voice coming over the paging system:

Dr. Ernest Gilmore, Dr. Gilmore … Dr. Elliot Zepheran, Dr. Zepheran … Dr. Robert Post, Dr. Post … Dr. Ernest Gilmore, Dr. Gilmore …

Why aren’t the doctors where they’re supposed to be? Cody asked Mrs. Williams.

I guess sometimes they’re wanted somewhere at the same time they’re somewhere else. Are you hungry, child?

A little.

I saw a candy machine in the hallway as we were coming in. Get something. It’s your dinner time. She fished two dollars out of her knitted purse.

Thanks. Do you want anything? he asked, taking the money gratefully. He was starved.

No, you just go, child.

A patient on a gurney was wheeled by, parked by the elevator, and apparently just left there in the stream of pedestrian traffic. Cody tried not to look at the man as he walked by, but he couldn’t help it. The man’s eyes were open, they looked yellowish and sick to Cody, who glanced away quickly. Nurses walked by, ignoring the patient, as did some white-coated men who were wearing stethoscopes around their necks. Workers in green scrubs walked by. Cody took everything in. A clock jutting perpendicularly out from the wall into the hallway had back-to-back clock faces so it could be viewed from either side. Seven thirty-five, the hands displayed on one side. He walked to the candy machine and looked back at the clock from the other side. Seven thirty-five there, too. He noted the IBM trademark, same as all the clocks in his school. He slipped a dollar bill into the bill slot of the coin changer. The machine snatched the dollar away. A few seconds later, change dropped. At the candy machine he decided on a Snickers bar, and purchased a Pepsi from the soda machine. He returned to the waiting room holding out his hand with the change to Mrs. Williams.

Here’s the change.

No. You might need sumthin’ else, child.

Only a half dollar left.

Keep it for sumthin’ then.

Thanks, Mrs. Williams. Are you sure we’re in the right place?

It’s where they said they’d page us. I left our names with the girl sitting there, she said nodding toward the desk.

He set the soda can on the empty chair beside him, opened the Snickers bar far enough for a couple of bites, and took a sip of the Pepsi. An old man sitting across the nearly empty waiting room looked at them critically. Cody wondered whether the man was merely curious or whether he disapproved of the black and white aberration sitting before him. Cody decided he didn’t care, and finished eating and drinking. He tossed the can and candy wrapper into a trash container. Another patient was wheeled by. Cody turned around to see if the first patient was still in the hallway. To his relief the hall was empty, the man was gone. He returned to his seat.

That little candy bar going to hold you? You need some of my sourdough biscuits.

Yeah, wish I had about a half dozen, Mrs. Williams. I wonder how Corky is? I forgot all about him. Bet he’s hungry. And Mom. Sure hope she’s gonna be okay.

It does seem like a long time, but I suppose all the tests take a while.

Where are we?

Neurology.

What does that mean?

I don’t know. Sumthin’ to do with the brain.

I’ll see what time it is now.

Why don’t you do that? And I’ll find a restroom. Come straight back, ya hear? Sit yourself down here in the same spot. I’ll be right back.

They took off in different directions. Cody went back to the array of snack machines and scrutinized the clocks. Eight-twenty. Once again he checked both sides of the clocks. Yep, same on both sides. He slowly walked back to the waiting room, picked up a magazine, a National Geographic only a few months old. He glanced at the titles listed on the cover: Alcatraz: Island by the Gate, The Marvels and Mysteries of Kentucky, and India: Old Traditions and New Promise. Wondering if the waiting room had any comic books for kids, he shuffled through the pile of magazines on the table. Nope. He picked up the National Geographic again, sat down and started reading.

Are you by yourself? You okay? asked a voice.

Looking up from the magazine, he saw the old man standing over him.

I’m with Mrs. Williams. She’ll be right back, said Cody. They brought my mom in here today. We’re gotta find out what’s the matter.

Oh, my wife’s here too. I was wondering about you, son. I was hoping you’d be okay.

Thanks. Oh, here she comes now. Mrs. Williams walked down the hall toward them.

Everything all right? Mrs. Williams asked quietly.

Yes, said Cody. The man sat down in the row of chairs across from them.

What did that man want? she whispered in his ear.

I think he wonders what I’m doin’ with you or what you’re doin’ with me, he whispered back.

Humph, she muttered. Don’t you talk to strangers, she said under her breath.

The man got up and wandered off.

It’s okay. I think he’s just checking on me. He seems like a nice old man.

I’m sorry. You’re right, child. We shouldn’t mistrust all people. Trouble is ya don’t know now-a-days, but just remember there’s still a lot of good people in the world—young an’ old, rich an’ poor, black an’ white. She hugged him. I love you child.

And I love you, Mrs. Williams. Next to my mother you’re the only person in the world who gives a darn about me. It’s really nice of you, taking care of me like this.

Ain’t nothin’ to thank me about, just being neighborly.

The old man came back to the waiting room, resuming his seat.

I checked the time, it was eight-twenty, said Cody. Probably eight-thirty now. I think we better ask about Mom.

Just what I was thinking, said Mrs. Williams. She walked over to the neurological ward’s reception desk. Cody could see her talking, animatedly pointing to him from time to time. She walked back to Cody.

The other girl I talked to forgot to say anything about us being here to this new girl. She is powerfully sorry they didn’t inform us that your mom woke up a little bit ago. We can see her. They’ve doped her up with medicine, of course. Let’s go. Visiting hours are over at nine.

Yes, let’s go! said Cody.

Er … , the old man began as they rose to leave. I couldn’t help overhearing. I sure hope your mom is gonna be okay.

Thanks. I hope your wife is gonna be fine too.

They walked to the elevator and rode it up to fourth. At the nursing station they learned the room number. The nurse insisted that they stay only two minutes. She’s been heavily medicated, you know.

Chapter 3

Tiptoeing into room 405, Cody saw a small form in the bed. Linda Mae’s eyes were shut and her light complexion had turned ashen. With no make-up and her blond hair unkempt, she looked terrible. A tube ran from the needle in the back of her hand to a transparent medication bag hanging from a stand near the bed. Cody placed his hand on her arm above the needle and shook her gently.

Mom, he said quietly. How do you feel? You look just fine.

She opened her eyes and seemed to have trouble focusing on Cody. She closed one eye, smiling faintly. "Cody, I’m so sorry to let you down, with me getting sick and all. I think I’m real sick this time. I don’t want to leave you alone, but I can’t help it," she said shaking her head weakly.

Don’t worry. Mrs. Williams is taking good care of me.

I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.

Stay as long as you have to, Mrs. Williams said, coming over to stand by the bed. Cody’ll be fine with me. Don’t you worry.

Thank you, Mrs. Williams. She turned to Cody, lifting her head. Promise you’ll listen to Mrs. Williams. Watch who you make friends with and be polite to everyone, as I’ve always taught you. And promise you’ll go to school—don’t ever skip school, no matter how long I may be gone. Promise me that, won’t you?

Awh, Mom, he protested. Okay, I promise.

I love you, said Linda Mae.

I love you too, Mom. But Mom … he said, sensing the seriousness of her illness, you’ve got to tell me. There’s one thing I’ve always wondered about.

What’s that, Cody?

You never told me anything about my father. I was afraid to ask. Who is he and where is he? I need to know! If anything happens to you …

Cody, don’t you remember when you were just a little boy, you used to ask the same questions constantly? I said he was away.

I don’t remember that.

You really wanted a father and it hurt not to be able to answer you truthfully then. I tell you now, and this is the honest truth: I really don’t know. I got pregnant with you a long time ago, when I was a different person back in Iowa. I really don’t want to think about it. The memory hurts too much.

But …

Cody, please, I don’t want to talk about it now. Linda Mae put her head down on the pillow. I’m kinda tired, she said, closing her eyes and sighing.

But … he protested.

Mrs. Williams shook her head at Cody. Miz Linda Mae, now you’d jus’ better rest. We’re gonna leave, but we’ll be back tomorrow. You jus’ get better. She took Cody’s arm in her hand and steered him toward the door.

Give me a kiss before you go, Cody, his mother said softly, and lifted her head again. Cody went back, bent over, and kissed her pale cheek. Thank you for coming, and Mrs. Williams, take good care of my little guy. Her head dropped heavily on the pillow.

Don’t you worry about him. He’ll be fine with me. Cody, we’d better go. She pointed to her watch.

A doctor or intern was at the nursing station reading charts as they were leaving. Mrs. Williams stopped. Could you tell us sumthin’ about Miz Linda Mae Johnson? Whats’a matter with her, Doctor?

You can’t be family! he said, looking at her critically.

Oh, no. This boy, Cody Johnson, is her son. The only family she’s got. I’m taking care of him. We need to know what’s the trouble.

Well, in that case. Can I speak frankly?

Just tell us the truth, said Cody. Please.

The truth is we don’t know exactly what’s wrong. Indicators show it might be a stroke. We took a CAT scan, but it’s not conclusive. She’s young, a stroke normally doesn’t hit people until the late fifties or early sixties, but of course it can happen to anyone. Just a bad shake of the dice.

She’s been having awful headaches, said Cody.

Yes, that’s a symptom. Did she drop things, lose her balance, have sudden weakness on one side or distorted vision? Did you notice?

She thought her headaches caused her to have seeing trouble, said Mrs. Williams.

Classic stroke, probably. I should imagine it had been coming on for some time. I can’t give you an accurate prognosis.

Can’t you tell us anything? asked Cody.

We just don’t know. Nothing showed up on the scan.

That’s good news, isn’t it? Cody said.

No, it didn’t tell us much. She’s unable to walk. She’s paralyzed on the left side. It’s definitely neurological. Sometimes it clears right up, sometimes a patient never walks again. She’s stabilized, but the next few hours are critical. Anything can happen. It could go either way. If she survives through the night, she might recover somewhat. We’ll need more tests, an MRI.

MRI, what’s that? Cody asked.

That stands for magnetic resonance imaging. To put it simply, it’s a process we use which gives us a more detailed picture of the brain than an ordinary X-ray.

Only a picture? Can’t you please do more?

We’re doing everything possible, son. We’ll just have to wait to see what happens. That’s all I can say. In the meantime you and your friend need to go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day for you all. In case we need to get hold of someone, please leave a phone number with the nurse.

I’ve left mine, Mrs. Williams said, then put her arm around Cody. Let’s go feed Corky. Nothin’ we can do here.

They walked from the hospital to the parking lot. The sky was dark. The mercury vapor lights lit up the parking lot with a bright greenish-blue cast. Cody said nothing, just walked with his eyes cast down on the pavement.

We jus’ gotta hope for the best, said Mrs. Williams searching for her car keys.

Why did it hafta happen to her? Cody kicked the tire of a nearby Chevy.

God strike me dead, I truly wish it could have happened to me instead, Cody, she said as she unlocked the car door. I mean that.

Cody ran to her and put his face on her shoulder. She put her arms around him, patting him tenderly on the back. There … better cry it all out, child. It’s okay to cry. Look at me crying. Tears streaked down her black cheeks.

Mom used to tell me it was okay to cry too, he said. I always tried not to, because I never wanted to make her feel any sadder than she was and I didn’t think boys ever cried. Now I can’t.

They drove slowly through the night, finally arriving home after nine. There’s Corky sitting on the steps looking for you, a’waitin’ for his supper. Just look at him wagging his tail. She turned to Cody. I’ll feed him, and while I’m a’doing that, why don’t you go upstairs, get some things together, and bring ‘em down? Clothes for tomorrow, school books, toothbrush. You can sleep in Rodney’s old room.

I don’t think I ever knew Rodney.

He’s been gone a long time.

What happened to him?

He went to Chicago, and he got in trouble where a man was kilt. Rodney ended up in Joliet State Prison. Ain’t seen my boy for a long, long time. And he’ll be there longer, too. Maybe forever.

I’m really sorry.

Yes, well there’s a whole lot of sadness in this world. I should be used to it by now. He don’t answer my letters. I still write about once a month, but he never does. You’d think he could do that. Knows the address well enough. I’ve been here since Mrs. Lemmele willed the place to me when she died, a long time ago. Fixed the room up special for him and all.

Cody ran upstairs. In minutes he came down carrying a bundle.

I fed your dog, gave him some raw hamburger and he gulped it right down, she said. Now I’m gonna make you some nice pork chops with homemade applesauce, fried potatoes and okra. You like that?

I don’t think I’ve ever had okra, but everything else sounds okay.

Okra’s good for you. Soul food.

I know. I’ll try it.

Just sit down, make yourselfta home. Bedroom’s over that-a-way. You put your things there. I emptied the top drawer of the dresser for you.

While Mrs. Williams bustled around the kitchen, Cody placed his belongings in the bedroom. It was a young boy’s room. A pattern of cowboys and Indians rode endlessly across the brown bedspread and up the matching curtains at the windows. It was nice. He walked back to the living room and stuck his head into the kitchen, where Mrs. Williams was peeling potatoes. Just relax a while, watch TV or sumthin’ else, she said. It won’t be long.

A table-model TV in the living room had TV Guides stacked beside it. He turned on the set, skipped through the channels, and finally settled on a wisecracking situation comedy. He sat on the couch and watched without interest, smiling once in a while at the silly banter.

Mrs. Williams stuck her head into the room. Do you like your potatoes crisp, like french fries? Or sort of soft? I can fix ‘em either way.

Crisp, he said.

With onions cooked right in?

Yes, that’s exactly the way I like ‘em.

I thought so. Comin’ right up.

On one wall of the living room was a print of a disheveled woman clinging to a rock in the middle of waves in a windswept sea. Rock of Ages was printed in ornate gold type arched over the scene. Cody shuddered because it reminded him of his mother’s predicament and the terrible way she had looked. The picture made his skin crawl. A Bible lay open on the coffee table in front of him, with a dated Florida lottery ticket as a bookmark. Boy, she sure is religious, he decided.

The program on television ended and another began, an old I Love Lucy repeat. He got up to switch channels.

Want to eat in the living room while you watch TV? Mrs. Williams called from the kitchen door. Appetizing odors wafted out.

No, nothing special’s on. The kitchen’s fine!

The apartment smelled different than his mother’s old apartment. Not bad, just different. He couldn’t quite place it. The aftermath of good cooking, he guessed. Now that he could smell the frying potatoes, onions and chops, he realized how hungry he was.

Okay, Cody, Mrs. Williams called. Come ‘n git it.

He turned off the TV and entered the cheerful kitchen. The walls were painted white, with red trim on the woodwork and cabinet knobs. Red and white checked ruffled curtains hung on the back door and at the window over the sink. It felt pleasant and homey. The round oak table in the center was set with steaming platters and bowls of food.

Smells good, he said. Oh, and you’ve got biscuits! How’d you do this all so fast?

No trouble, she said. They ain’t my sourdough from scratch. I made ‘em with Bisquick. That’s my secret, don’t tell no one. Took only a few minutes to mix and bake.

He sat down, picked up a biscuit, and started to put it in his mouth.

Let’s pray first, she said. Cody watched her and put the biscuit on his plate. She folded her hands, bowed her head and closed her eyes. Cody did the same.

Dear Lord, she said. Thank you for this blessed gift we are about to receive, and while you’re at it, please protect our Linda Mae. Bring her back to us whole, just like she was before. Amen.

Amen, repeated Cody.

Mrs. Williams passed the platter of pork chops. Take a couple. They’re kinda small, and I can make more if we run out.

He filled his plate and ate vigorously. I feel guilty eating this way, but I’m hungry, he said.

You got to eat to keep body and soul together, no matter what happens. Remember you’re still a growing boy. And you’re growing bigger every day.

After dinner they settled in the living room. Mrs. Williams still wore her apron.

What do you want to watch, Cody?

Cody checked the TV Guide. "Let’s watch Metro Police. They can really kick butt." He turned on the TV set.

Mrs. Williams frowned and shook her head. Don’t say butt, she said. You watch the program you want, I think I’ll read my Bible for a spell. Before long she fell asleep, the Bible slipping from her hands. Cody picked it up from the floor, marking her page with the old lottery ticket. Just then the phone rang, waking her. Cody didn’t know whether to answer it or not.

I must have falled asleep, Mrs. Williams said, blinking her eyes.

Cody stood anxiously. Yes you did. Want me to answer the phone for you, Mrs. Williams?

No, it’ll be for me, she said, as it continued to ring. But you can hand it to me if you would and I won’t have to move these rickety old bones.

Cody picked up the handset and, stretching the coiled cord, handed it to her.

Hello. This is Mrs. Williams … Cody Johnson is stayin’ here with me … Oh no … I see, she said looking at Cody. When? Thank you for calling … I’ll take care of everything. She handed the phone back to Cody.

Cody, can you be very strong?

Yes, he said, his voice tightening.

Mrs. Williams opened her arms. Come here. She took him to her. That was the hospital.

Is it bad news?

Yes, the worst. She hugged him tightly. They said your momma died. She passed on peacefully in her sleep a few minutes ago.

No! It can’t be true. Maybe they made a mistake. It coulda been somebody else!

No, Cody. It was her. She went easy. It’s just one of those things. The Lord has her now. Do you have a minister we can call?

No, we’ve never been to church. Mom didn’t know any ministers. Do we really need one now?

Yes, you certainly do. Do you want to use mine? Brother Amos Corning is a wonderful preacher. He’ll do me a favor if I ask him.

Oh, I don’t know what to do. He was desperate and his lip quivered.

Don’t you worry. She dabbed her tears with a handkerchief from her apron pocket. I told the hospital I’d take care of everything.

Chapter 4

There was no one at the graveside funeral service except Cody in freshly-ironed clothes, Mrs. Williams in her blue hat, Reverend Corning in a black suit, and the pallbearers standing respectfully in the background.

Cody looked down at the closed fuzzy, fabric-covered coffin. It was purple-pink-ugly and clashed with the bright green artificial grass spread over the loose dirt. The pastel colors reminded him of an Easter basket his mother had once given him. He almost expected colored eggs hidden somewhere in the cemetery. Everything seemed unreal. He couldn’t believe his mother was in the coffin. Reverend Corning spoke in oratorical tones, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief in the blinding Florida sun.

Why was he talking so loudly, Cody wondered. We can hear him just fine, standing right beside him.

This vale of tears is over for Linda Mae, said the minister, stretching out each word. Today she is with her maker. Now she has no more worries or problems of this life. She doesn’t have to work and toil. She’s in that promised land of milk and honey, where everyone is happy.

Yes, Lord! interjected Mrs. Williams.

Cody regarded the concept with icy disdain, wrinkling his nose. He didn’t think people were happy to be dead. And milk and honey wasn’t his idea of a promised land.

Mrs. Williams placed her arm around him, failing to notice his skeptical expression.

And one day, continued the minister, we’ll join Linda Mae in death as we all must do. On that final day we’ll be with Jesus. We should then not be unhappy with death, but joyous. The Lord says, ‘I will come again, why do you weep?’ Why then should we weep? Into thy hands we commend her soul. Amen. He threw some loose dirt onto the coffin. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Amen.

Amen, repeated Mrs. Williams hugging Cody near. He broke away and ran to a nearby pine, trimmed to provide headroom under it. Cody rested his forehead against the rough bark. He kicked the tree trunk. A workman, holding a shovel in the dark shadows behind the tree, politely retreated. Mrs. Williams approached the boy slowly.

Why don’t you go ahead and cry. It will make you feel better.

Cody could smell the pungent odor of the pine needles. He pulled himself together, slowly turning toward her tried to stop his sobs. He swallowed and could discern the salty taste of tears in his mouth.

No, it won’t do any good, he said wiping the hot tears from his face. He tried to smile.

Cody, you’ve got to remember there’s a whole lot of sadness in this world, she said.

You paid for all this? He waved his arm at the grave site.

Someone had to do it, she said smiling. I made all the arrangements. You’re too young to have to worry about such things. I know’d how. I had saved for my end, but it don’t matter what happens to this old bag of bones. They can toss me on the trash heap or feed me to the fishes in the Gulf of Mexico. Nobody will much care. Nobody’s left to care.

You spent all your money burying my mom.

No I didn’ an’ that’s a fact. No fancy box, I said, and Burying Sam the Funeral Man did this for me at cost. I buried my mother, my father, my brother n’ sisters, many babies, and my husband with Sam over the past few years. I buried lots and so I’s entitled to lots, a price break. I just told him so. ‘I deserve a break,’ I say. And he gave me one, just a simple service. He say, no fancy cars comin’ an’ going all over the place, no music. It was kind of thrifty-economical. I’m sorry it wasn’t nicer.

I never been to a proper funeral before. All the same, thanks.

Don’t make it no never mind to yourself. Now, let’s go home.

I should go to school.

Not on the day you bury your momma you don’t. No one expects it.

The last promise I made to her was that I’d always go to school.

All right, school tomorrow if you feel like it, although I’d wait till after the weekend. I’ll write you a note ‘splaining if you want.

Tomorrow’s okay. I just don’t want to be by myself, although I’ve still got Corky at home.

And you’ve got me to worry about you, ‘cept you’re no worry at all.

I hope not. I’ll haf’ta be going somewhere, someplace soon.

No, you’re not goin’ no place. Now just where would you go?

I don’t know.

No, you’re gonna stay wid me, that’s that. We’re gonna get along jus’ fine.

Well, okay, he said reluctantly, But I’ll pay you back every penny you spent on Linda Mae and every cent you’ll spend on Corky and me. I can’t pay you back today, but one day I will, I promise.

All right, if that’s the way its gotta be. Now let’s go.

They moved through the light traffic of mid-morning in Mrs. Williams’ car. As they pulled into the drive at her house Mrs. Williams turned off the ignition and said, Now why don’t you gather what you want from upstairs and just move down to Rodney’s room? He ain’t never coming home. You might as well have it. I was jus’ keeping a hopeless dream alive that he’d come back sometime. Look through Linda Mae’s things and pick out what you want. I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow when you’re in school. Give ‘em to the church. It’ll be easier on you that way, and goin’ through her things today will keep you busy. Busy hands are good for you, they tells me. There’s empty boxes in the wood shed.

Cody got a can of soda, then forced himself to go to the wood shed. He carried the empty cardboard boxes upstairs and walked into the empty kitchen. The cereal bowls were still on the table. Just days ago they had sat there joking and kidding around. Now she was dead and buried. I’ll never ever see her again, he thought. I’ve got to get out of here. He made himself think of something else as he walked through the vacant living room. On the floor he saw the figures of Superman, Batman, and Robin she had given him years ago. I’ll take them, he thought. And the comic books, he decided.

He suddenly realized he had his own television set now. He’d take that too. But it seemed eerie, so quiet and lonely in the apartment. He walked into Linda Mae’s bedroom and saw a picture of himself and his mother stuck in the edge of the dresser mirror. Mrs. Williams had snapped the picture just a few weeks ago on January third. It had been his fifteenth birthday. They were hugging each other, smiling. Loneliness swept through him. At least he had a picture of her. It was more than he had from his father, whoever and wherever he was. He eased the picture from the mirror frame and put it in the box with the other things. Maybe there were more