Christmas was coming. It was in the air, palatable and real. Especially for eight year olds, who still held onto the magic of Christmas, though who could also feel it slipping (almost imperceptibly) away bit by little bit. Billy had a younger brother, Scotty, who was also his Best Friend. When they were younger, Billy, with Scotty's eager anticipation, had invented a language by which they could communicate, for Little Scotty could not enunciate properly. So this language was like a sing song language with Words running together like musical notes, each intricately linked to the word before, and to the entire phrase overall, sometimes by rythym, sometimes by rhyme, sometimes by subtle inflections on intonation of sylables could meaning be conveyed in this language. Each word building on the one before in a cascade of beauty and wonder until the meaning that Billy and Scotty wanted to convey became clear. Scraps of that language still remained in his eight year old brain but by and large it was forgotten now. Like the French Billy would take in high school was all but forgotten as well.

"Where's Momma tonight?"

"I don't know, Billy," Daddy answered. Daddy. Daddy could do anything, and Billy's greatest happiness resided in just watching Daddy work. His gnarled hands always seemed to know just what to do to fix anything, anything! It didn't matter what needed fixing, Daddy could do it. One index finger of Daddy's was permanently crooked from an industrial accident.  Daddy would let him and Scotty pull on it and try to straighten it out for him, though it never worked. It always remained crooked. A long jagged scar running from that finger all the way to Daddy's elbow bore witness to the machine that crushed that finger into permanent crookedness.

"Somethin' Bad happen to Momma?" Scotty asked. Billy and Daddy both looked at him. Scotty knew things. Billy knew that Scotty knew things. Even when Little Scotty couldn't talk to Momma and Daddy, he could talk with Billy in their sing-song language of rhythm and rhyme and tell him of things he knew. Daddy didn't catch Scotty's intoned inflection on "Bad" or the subtle meaning lurking behind it, but Billy did. Some half-remembered snatch of sing song phrase which meant unthinkable terror, from which both boys drew away from, shaken, refusing to consider further, ever.

"No. Nothing's happened to Momma, Scotty. She's probably just running late. That old car of hers is acting up. I hope it didn't break down on her," Daddy said, running one of those gnarled hands through his hair, pushing it straight back. He looked out the darkening window at the snow falling and sipped his Drink.

They sat around the kitchen table, the three of  them, Daddy just home from work and on his second Drink while Billy and Scotty sipped hot cocoa. Daddy always had a few Drinks when he got home from work. Billy loved watching Daddy's face soften as the Drinks took affect. The way the corners of his mouth would soften and the way his eyes seemed to take on a shine and the way the crease in his brow would unfurl. Suddenly the Phone rang. Daddy started at the sound, then rose, but the ringing stopped before Daddy could reach the phone. He sat back down with a groan that grew into a sentence.

"Oh I'm tired tonight...did your Mother say she would be late tonight, Billy?"

"I don't know."

The eight year old had searched his mind quickly, even before Daddy asked, as if he knew he would ask (things often happened like that to Billy) and remembered Momma was upset with him that morning before dropping him at School. He'd forgotten his lunch at home and Momma had to go back home and retrieve it. There were cross words for him as she put his brown crumbled lunch bag in his hand. She was late for work and it was his fault. She walked back to the old aqua green and white '56 Chevy and drove away without saying good-bye, so Billy knew she was really cross with him. Momma always said good-bye. Always kissed him and held him close. Not today though. Billy remembered all that in a flash but didn't tell Daddy when he asked. Just like he didn't tell Momma when Daddy kissed The Pretty Woman who lived across the street. No one had to tell Billy not to tell. He just knew that such things weren't talked of, that's all. Better left unsaid and not thought of, lest unknown disaster should befall. Things like that were Bad. This Billy knew. But he wished he had not forgotten his lunch for a long time after that day.

"I guess maybe I should take a drive and see if her car has broken down on the way. You boys stay here with your sister, hear? She's in her room doing homework."

Daddy rose to leave in a flurry of parka and gloves so big that both Billy and Scotty could fit in with plenty of room to spare. And boots so big they went up to Billy's thigh.

"Daddy." "Yes Billy." "Can we come with?" "No Billy." "But Daddy..." "No Billy."

The Phone rang.

Daddy walked over and this time it didn't stop before he picked it up.

"Hello? ...yes, this is he." Daddy listened again to the Phone, his facing changing somehow, the mask of composure that it always wore gradually seeping away.

Something was wrong.

Something Bad, just like Scotty had said. Billy knew it too. Deep in his stomach, he knew it already. And he knew he knew it. Didn't know how, didn't know why, but he knew. Billy wondered if this was how Scotty knew things. He thought it must be. This feeling in his gut. But he didn't know how to ask Scotty that.

Tears were rolling down Daddy's eyes as he hung up the Phone and he wiped them away with the back of his huge, gnarled hand. Billy could see every wrinkly crease, every bit of grime still on Daddy's Great unwashed working hands. Billy had never seen Daddy cry before. Then Daddy only spoke three words but they would change Billy's and Scotty's lives forever.

"Boys, Momma's Dead."

They drove to a hospital and an old Priest came and talked with Billy and Scotty. They sat together in a large hallway on a threadbare bench that had all the comfort squeezed out of the cushions. Their older sister, Milli, was insane with grief, screaming "No! No! No! I don't believe you!". Several nurses led her into another room and Billy wanted to go to her and tell her things would be ok but he knew they wouldn't be. He knew that would be a Lie, like the Priest's Lie. The Priest spoke to Billy and Scotty of Jesus and everlasting life. Billy wanted to ask the Priest why God had taken Momma, but he sensed this old man had no answers. And he sensed there was no everlasting life after death either. Otherwise why would people bother living at all? He wondered why the old Priest spoke these inane words when just plain silence would have eased their suffering nicely. Why did this old man feel a need to Lie to them? Did he think it comforted them to be Lied to? It didn't. Billy hated the Priest for a long time after that. Even though he knew that was Bad, he hated him anyway.

Billy watched Daddy across the room and wished the Priest would just go away and leave them alone. Daddy was now composed. A group of Police Officers and Doctors surrounded him. Daddy was stoic, his mask of composure now firmly back in place. He saw Daddy's mouth moving but he couldn't hear his words over the Priest's words he must have spoken a thousand times befor. Like well rehearsed lines of an actor. Billy just wanted to shout "Shut up!" to the old Priest, but he knew that would be Bad. The Priest smelled of lavender and Death and when he bent close to Billy his breath stank of a down deep rot that no mouthwash could cover up. Billy knew this man wasn't long for the world and to avoid looking into that face of Death, Billy looked around at the hospital hallway shining with an unearthly White, and by and by he heard Milli's screams subside into sobs. He was glad when the Priest finally finished saying what he wanted, got up and left, and even more glad when they finally left the hospital and headed for home.

Nothing was said in the car. Only Milli's stifled sobs broke the silence. Daddy drove with one gnarled hand on the steering wheel, the lights of the approaching cars illuminating his face from time to time in the darkness. Snow swirled silently outside Billy's window as he watched, when no other cars were coming and he could no longer see Daddy.

Later that night in bed, Billy and Scotty talked. Like they talked every night. What had happened tonight? Was it a dream? Maybe they would wake in the morning and Momma would be ok? After pondering this notion, twisting it around and examining it from all sides, they both rejected it. It was real. This was no dream.

Momma was Dead.

Billy knew death. Whiskers the Cat had died when Billy was six. Whiskers was a neat Cat with sawdust colored fur and white tiger stripes and he used to sleep with Billy every night and keep Boogeroos away. Boogeroos looked like a goose but had a furry, short animal body with weird claws and very sharp shiny tiny teeth that seemed made to nibble on toes, more frightening, his toes! Boogeroos always visited Billy in his dreams. Unless Whiskers was there at his feet, protecting him. Or Momma or Daddy. But Whiskers liked to stay with him and Billy sensed Momma and Daddy would rather not.

Whiskers had curled up on the rug in the kitchen and died one day.

No one knew why. It just Happened. His sister, being the one who found Whiskers curled up on his old rug dead, had laughed when telling Billy, as if death were somehow funny or perhaps to cover her own grief (Billy told himself, though he knew she was allergic to cats and hated Whiskers being in the house). Since then, Boogeroos came nearly every night and Billy often awoke screaming and kicking his feet, just before Boogeroos bit into his toes with those bright shiny teeth. And many times he lay  awake the rest of the night, too afraid to let his eyes close again. His feet sweating under the covers but too fearful to expose them. He missed Whiskers dreadfully and though he doubted it, he hoped there was a Cat heaven for his old friend. Just as he hoped there was a heaven for Momma. Maybe both Whiskers and Momma were together again and Whiskers would keep Boogeroos away from Momma. But Billy felt this was not how things really were at all, no, not at all.

Momma was dead. No one knew why. It just Happened. At least that's what Daddy said. Grandma would one day tell Billy that Daddy knew exactly why Momma died that day, but Grandma was a mean Old German Woman who lost her only daughter and perhaps had a right to be recriminatory towards the man who married her and took her away. Grandma didn't like Daddy much. Billy remembered her visits and how she would flick the ashes of her cigarette into her hand rather than dirtying one of Momma's ashtrays.

The next morning a parade of family and friends began. People Billy had never met, and who he would never see again, arrived at the house. Some in tears, some not. A large fat lady strode in, smiling. Billy hated her immediately. Momma deserved tears, he thought. Billy had cried when Daddy had told him and Scotty of Momma's death but now he remained stoic. Like Daddy. A brave little boy, people called him. Billy thought how Little Scotty never cried for Momma. Not even when Billy had. As if he had already reconciled himself to her going. Scotty just knew things, Billy thought. Still, Billy wondered why Scotty didn't cry and kept expecting him to burst into tears any minute. It never happened though.

Finally, the funeral.

Momma; so silent and still. Grandma made Billy kiss her cheek and it was cold like clay. Like wax. Not like he remembered Momma at all. They weren't allowed to see them put Momma in the ground. The Pretty Woman told Daddy she thought it would be too much for the boys. Daddy agreed. Just like he always agreed with her.

Billy and Scotty were dropped at a sitter's house while the rest of  the family went to bury Momma. Playing alone in the yard, they talked.

"Do you think the worms 'il eat Momma?"

"I dunno Scottie. I hope not.  I don't think so. I think they put her in a box first so the worms can't get her."

"Where did Momma go though, Billie? D'you think we'll ever see'r again?"

"I think she's in Heaven now Scottie. 'Member that Priest said so."

"I didn't like'm much Billie. He smelled. Will we see Momma again when we die?"

"I dunno. I guess if we're Good like her we will."

"I miss her."

"Me too."

No one spoke of Momma's burial when they picked up Billy and Scotty. They went home and ate food that people had brought. More people were in the house that Billy didn't know, some he did. Then it was over and everyone left, promptly forgetting to stop by again, ever.

Christmas went on. Momma had left gifts under the tree and Billy over-heard The Pretty Woman and Daddy discussing whether they should be given to Billy and Scotty. Both he and Scotty knew of the presents already and had even shaken them in efforts to determine their nature. Later that night when everyone was asleep, Billy and Scotty crept out to see if the presents were still there under the tree, but they were gone.

Billy wondered what they were.
 
 

Chapter 2

Paradise Unbound
 

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