Pappy

“Pappy.”

“Pappy.  Wake up, I gotta tell you something.”

“Uh?  What is it son?  Can’t you see I’m sick?”

“You been asleep for days off and on, Pappy.  The Doc came around this morning.”

“What you doing bringing him around here?  We can’t afford his bills, dammit.”

“I gotta tell you something, Pappy.  Doc says you’re dying.”

“You woke me to tell me that?  You shit-for-brains!  What the hell got into you?”

“I don’t know what to do, Pappy.  I need you to help me.”

“God-damn!  If I could get outta here I’d knock your stupid head off.”

“Doc told me I’d better start getting things ready – calling relatives and finding papers and all.  Well we ain’t got no relatives anymore and I don’t know what papers he’s talking about.  I’m scared, Pappy.”

“Damn! Damn! Damn! Did he say what’s wrong with me?”

“Says it’s the trouble you had last summer, come back again.  But this time ain’t nothing he can do.”

“It’s my guts, boy.  It never went away.  They done all they could last year.  Is that water fresh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Pour me a glass.  My mouth’s as dry that land.  Pass it here.”

“Will you tell me something, Pappy?”

“Oh! Sweet Jesus!  Give me some more of that.  Tell you what?”

“Well I wanted to ask Mama, but she couldn’t speak no more when she was sick.  What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Dying.”

“Hell, boy!  Are you crazy?  Whaddya want to ask a damn fool thing like that for?  I’m sick, can't you see?  Sick!  I’m tired and I’m sick.  Why can’t you let me sleep?  And there ain’t no papers.  No insurance.  Nothing.”

“But…”

“But nothing.  Just get outta here and leave me alone.  Oh, Jesus Christ!”

“Pappy?  What’s wrong?”

“Get outta here!”

“Jesus.  I’d say you took a dump right there in the bed.  Shit.  Stay right there.  I’m gonna get some water and a cloth.  Don’t move.”

“Oh, God Almighty!  What have I done to deserve this?”

“It’s OK, Pappy.  It’s gonna be OK.”

“Get away from me, you bastard!  Oh, God help me.”

“I need to clean you up.  The bed’s full of shit.  Oh, Jeez, it’s blood and shit and, oh my.  I’m sorry, Pappy.  I’m real sorry.  Please don’t cry.  I only ever saw you do that when Mama passed away.  Just let me clean this up.  I got clean linen outside.”

 

---

“Pappy.  You awake?”

“Yeah.  Give me a drink.”

“What you thinking of?”

“Your Mama.  This house and land.  I’m thinking about when I was a kid.  The things I wanted to do.”

“What did you want to do?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Does to me.”

“Son.  There’s nothing for you here.  Only what you’re looking at.  You’ll just follow me like I’m following my Pa.  Trying to make something of this dirt just because you were born on it.  And this is where you’ll die.  Sell up, you hear me?  Sell up and get the hell out of here.  Go to the city.  That’s where the opportunities are, boy.  These are new times.  We've been left behind here – not that the place was ever much anyway.  Leave.  Talk to Henry, the Real Estate guy.  He’s OK.  He’ll fix you up.”

“I ain’t leaving, Pappy.  This is your land.  Our land.  What else have we got?”

“It ain’t worth shit, except for a few bucks to get you on your way.  Get out.  Go to the city and find a job.  You can do that, can’t you?  Yeah.  You can do that.”

“But I don’t know nobody in the city.”

“You will.  Just do as I say.  We shoulda sold up years ago.  This place worried your Mama into her grave.  Just promise me you’ll do as I say.”

“I can’t promise, Pappy.”

“You will.  Ah!”

“Pappy?”

“Give me another drink.  I’m tired.  Listen.  In the picture frame, behind your Mama’s picture, they’s the Title Deeds for this place.  Ah!  Oh, God in Heaven.  That hurts.  Take the Title Deeds to Henry.  Tell him I want the place sold.  It’s your future, son.  Now, run up the lane and get me the preacher.  Go now.  I need to sleep.  Go!”

“I’m going.  I love you, Pappy.”

“Git!  Goddam it!  Get outta here!”

“Yes, sir.”