Blue Bib Overalls

Blue Bib Overalls

Standing alongside the fence in his blue bib overalls; he was a rather cute sight.  Each day he stood there, ran there, played with a ball, threw rocks, or rolled a stick along the fence, always creating an unholy racket.  Sometimes his mother would yell out the door, “Cephus, you better be in this yard.” She knew full well he wasn’t.  He’d skirt around the fence and dive into the yard, like a world war two vet, yelping as the buttons on the bib pushed painfully into his chest, just in time for his mom to come to the screen door and see him.  He didn’t realize she’d been watching him all the time, but knew he just needed a reminder to not stray too far away. 

She could feel if he was too far away.  It was the one maternal instinct she still had.  Unkind people would imply she merely looked out the window to see where he was and what he was doing, just so she could do what she needed to do; enjoy another can of beer or two, without staring into his dark brown eyes asking her why.  But only unkind people would say such a thing.

Some would say all the other maternal instincts had been washed away by bruises, black eyes, and smeared mascara from too much crying and too many bad men..  The instincts that told her his clothes were too dirty, his face too gooey with ice cream, and his hands too smeared with mud; these were gone.  She could remind herself that it was not okay for his favorite overalls to be dirty.  That reminder, she could still summon.  The others, they were gone.  They’d been drowned out in loneliness, and rum and coke; her latest addition to a can of cheap flat beer, sappy soap operas, and a bed empty of the love of a good man.  She took a deep sigh.  She knew these were not good thoughts to be having this early in the afternoon.  They could pull her down into a pit with no air and no light; the very pit she had to avoid.  She wasn’t sure she could climb out if she fell in there again.  She shook her head to clear away the thought.  She knew she had to.

She also knew his brothers would be coming around the corner soon enough, or too soon; she couldn’t decide which.  It barely seemed like the echoes of their departure had passed before the echoes returned in stereo.  She had difficulty convincing herself she looked forward to the arrival of increased noise, until she saw Cephus repeatedly peering down the street, his eyes wide with hope for the slightest glimpse them; then she knew she was happy.  The giddy happiness of her youngest was as good as it got. 

He couldn’t tell time, but damn if that boy didn’t have an infallible internal clock.  Actually, it was the end of his favorite cartoon that clued him in, but she was often not quite conscious when the show came on or when the show went off.    She had to admit she didn’t even know what the show was.  The front door slamming was her only clue that it was over and Cephus had left the room.  No amount of yelling could break him of the habit.  She often wondered if he did it on purpose, just to let her know where he was, and or, where he wasn’t.

Cephus had been born unalterably left-handed, which made him quite the oddity in a right-handed world.  His right arm hung inanimately from his shoulder and had all the utility of a broken appendage; something about his umbilical cord being wrapped around it.  He just couldn’t quite control it or make it do anything he wanted.  Part of his therapy was to learn how to use it.  They told him he was coming along fine.  When he was still, he looked almost normal.  At least it looked the same size as the other arm when he wore long sleeve shirts; not that he wore shirts very often.  He didn’t seem to have a shameful bone in his body.
His brother Devon was whole, thank God.  A star on the high school football team, he was the only person in the world that treated Cephus like a normal human being.  They would spend hours together and Cephus would help his brother learn his playbook and every once in a while, when they both felt over-zealous, Devon would use Cephus as his tackling dummy and they would giggle and laugh about it like school girls.
Fish, the middle child, was completely opposite Devon and Cephus.  Where Devon and Cephus were big as linemen, Fish was small and thin.  While Devon and Cephus were loud and abrupt, Fish was quietly invisible and all of his sentences seemed to drift into nothingness and disappear into the room.  His only claim to fame, besides being between the youngest and the oldest, was his piercing intelligence.  He could read and decipher anything.  He always stood apart, not quite sure why he knew what he knew or what he was supposed to do with it.  She hoped their gifts were enough, but she prayed anyway.

Cephus figured his momma was on to his movements, and he forced himself to wait until late in the afternoon when she was sleeping to slip out the back door.  Almost everyday he wanted to run away, just to go somewhere new, just to see other places.  Every day he thought about it but every day he either got scared or tired or was busy playing and then he forgot while watching his shows.  But any day now, it might change.  As he pondered it this late afternoon, he caught a glimpse of his brothers coming.

As Cephus ran up, his brothers Devon and Fish were talking about a fight at school and how they needed to concoct a story so Momma wouldn’t find out.  They didn't even notice Cephus as he ran to greet them. And when they finally did see him, they didn’t offer up a kind word or a gentle smile.  They didn’t even wave. 

Cephus didn’t like being ignored by his brothers; his Mom was enough.  He got mad and started dragging his feet behind them as they neared the front fence.  He noticed his mother wasn’t standing in the window the way she usually did, since it had been longer than usual since he slammed the door.  She was probably still asleep.  Maybe she was more tired than usual.  Instead of following them inside, he just kept walking, down the block, around the viaduct and onto the railroad tracks.  He thought he’d hear his mother’s voice any second now.  He absently waited for it.  If he’d been paying attention, he would have noticed the black car following closely behind him.  It was the same car he had seen further down the block, inching closer every day for the last two weeks.  He’d told his mom about it, but she just waved the thought away.

He kept walking down the tracks, waiting for his mother’s calls, and was amazed at what could be found in and around the gravel between the ties; some metal, glass, shining rocks, even a quarter.  He thought that he could probably find everything he needed here to take him far away from the brothers who ignored him.  He began putting things in the pockets of his blue bib overalls, even imagining them being jealous of what he’d found.

The signs read, “Lost little boy.  Last seen two weeks ago wearing blue-bib overalls. He answers to the name of Cephus.  Anyone with any information, please call the city lost and found line at 311-HOME.”

When Cephus finally did return his mother grabbed him and held him so tight he couldn’t breathe.  Then she smacked him lightly on the bottom and told him to go to his room.  He was glad, though you wouldn’t have known it by the vacant stare of his eyes.  His mother recognized that stare; she’d seen it before when she looked askance at herself in the mirror; a smile, but the eyes did not connect to it.  He was hiding something too.  It was difficult to see responsibility when smeared with remorse, blame, and self-pity.  She knew she would never ask him what happened or where he had been.

She saw as he neared the room he shared with his brothers that he no longer had the stride of a child, but more appropriately the limp of someone broken.  He peeled off his new blue bib overalls outside in the hall.  She could tell he’d never wear them again.  They might be new, but somehow he had already outgrown them.

When she leaned over to pick them up, she was amazed at the objects that fell out of the bib, some metal, glass, shining rocks, even a quarter.  She also found the stub of a ticket welcoming him to Disneyland.  Her boy truly had seen the world, but had the world seen him?  She had that ache in her heart; the one all mothers have when the tears come from way down deep.  She busily brushed them away as she gathered up the objects and the overalls.  She threw the overalls in the trash.  She put the objects in the pocket of her terrycloth robe.  His brothers would be home soon.  She had to prepare them not to ask questions.  They would have to suffer another secret unspoken as they again hoped Daddy didn’t return.