Politics and Stick Candy

FICTION Politics and Stick Candy Mike Wilson I WALKED WITH PAPAW BESIDE THE HIGHWAY, my little hand inside his big, warm callused one. He was nearer to the traffic, which suited me fine because there really wasn't a shoulder to this winding two-lane road. He buffered the dust and exhaust that washed over us each time an oncoming car whipped by. We were walking to the store to get things Mamaw said we needed. A piece of quartz in the gravel caught my eye. Papaw stopped as I bent over and picked it up. Then he took my hand again and we continued walking. Papaw had to walk slowly, and I almost had to run sometimes, because his big stride equaled two or three of mine. He waited patiently each time I stopped to gather treasure, just like Dad would stop to wait for Lady to poop when he took her for a walk. We passed the Camfield's house. An old woman in a flowery dress sitting on the porch waved. A red-faced man siting on a kitchen chair under a tree in the front yard called to us, and Papaw answered. We stopped and the man and Papaw chatted for a minute. I didn't pay much attention until I saw the man looking at me quizzically. "This is Larry's boy," Papaw said in a tone that made me proud I was Larry's boy. "He looks just like his daddy," the man in the chair said wisely. I looked down and got a little closer to Papaw because I was afraid. Papaw never was afraid. The store was a large wooden shack with a front porch raised high off the ground. As we approached, I saw men wearing overalls sitting in cane chairs and whittling sticks, chewing tobacco and spitting. The porch steps were made for longer legs than mine, so I had to let go of Papaw's hand and turn sideways to keep my balance as I climbed up. I could tell Papaw didn't like these men as well as the neighbors we spoke with on the way to the store. I didn't like them either. They had amused expressions on their faces, and I was afraid they were laughing at me. Papaw told them who I was and talked with them some. I felt like he was anxious to get past them and into the store. I knew I was. It was cool and dark inside the store. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling to help the sunlight streaming in through wire mesh window screens, creating a beam that splashed on the wooden floor. 39 I saw Papaw pick up a red package of Mail Pouch chewing tobacco. I knew what it was because I always watched when Papaw loaded up his mouth with a chaw as he lay in his lounge chair in the shade of the apple tree. Some ofthe supplies were in shelves behind the counter. Alady with bobbedhair fetched them forPapaw ashe toldherwhathewanted. While she did this, she made a fuss over me, talking about the Cincinnati Reds baseball cap I was wearing and what a nice boy I was. She finished piling our purchases on the counter and Papaw said, "Give us some candy." "Candy?" the lady grinned with wide eyes, as if we'd asked for something exotic, like tiger testicles. "What kind?" "What kind you got?" said Papaw. "There it is," she said, pointing to a row of jars beside the cash register. I didn't know at the time that they were carrying on this way for my benefit. I gazed at the stick candy, striped and plain, remembering the way it dissolved in my mouth and how I always felt giddy after eating some. "Pick what you want," Papaw said to me. I pointed to the peppermint. "What else?" Papaw asked me. I didn't know what to say, because all I wanted was peppermint. When Papaw and the lady with bobbed hair grew tired of waiting for me to answer, Papaw picked some candy from the other jars and that was added to the sack. As...