The Trouble with Being Born: A Novel

Mother

193 Mother “Look Frances, look at all the cars and trucks. Looks like the entire county’s here. There’s Albert and Ruby’s old Ford Model A, and Uncle Chauncy’s flatbed. There’s Josiah’s new yellow Nash.” “That’s a Standard Six. Not a bad car.” “I wonder where he got the money for it.” “Probably from his daddy.” “Some folks got it.” “And some don’t.” “I see the sheriff’s car.” “Yeah, I reckon he’d be here. Probably brought a few deputies too.” “You think there’ll be trouble?” “Naw, there ain’t going to be trouble. This many people, he just wants to play it safe.” “There’s Tom Rawlins’ truck.” “I thought Martha was sick.” “She may very well be but that looks like Tom’s truck. Don’t that look like Tom’s DeMartini, Ray?” “It does.” “Maybe she’s feeling a whole lot better.” “Last I heard, she was in the hospital in Springfield. And I didn’t hear that she came out yet.” “You know Tom, always willing to help out.” “He should help out his own kin first.” “Now Maggie, we don’t know the man’s business.” “I’m just saying, take care of your own kin first.” “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think we should be here? Helping out?” “I’m just saying, if Roy Newsome hadn’t wanted to be all high and mighty he wouldn’t have got himself, and his family, into this bank mess. Nobody forced him to buy half of Jason’s farm. And without the cash money to do so. So 194 mother he borrows from the bank. And what does he need to farm all that new land? A couple of new John Deeres and a cultivator. Again, no cash money. So he visits Mr. Oliver Warbucks at the bank again. Three bad years and here we are. The entire county out to save his hide. I don’t see Ray and Helen traipsing down to the Security Bank every time they want a new winter coat or new Zenith radio. You take care of your own kin first. I ain’t going to say another word about it.” Ma sounds mad. I’m excited . I’ve never been to an auction before. “Lowell still sleeping , Maggie?” “Yes he is.” “I’m just going to pull in here.” It’s cold and rainy outside, but the barn is warm and dry. It smells like dry hay, corn, horses and people. I wonder where the horses are now. There’s a crowd of folks here, and I have to stand on my toes to see. Ma, Lowell and Aunt Helen are in the back, sitting on a bale of hay, but I’m with Pa and Uncle Ray near the front because I don’t want to miss whatever’s going to happen. I see my uncle Chauncy and cousin Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Hales, Susan Kay and Betty Ann McCleery with their dad, and a group of strangers in dark city clothes in the corner near the birthing stall. Mr. Newsome is talking to Mr. Rawlins near a long table set out near the big double doors. I don’t see Mrs. Rawlins or Mrs. Newsome or Janey and Pete. I never liked Janey. She’s mean. She once called Ellen Perry a P-I-G pig right to her face and said she was sure glad she had nice store-bought dresses to wear to school, and not some farmhand stockings and seed-bag shifts like some girls wore. Lewis Boyd and Evan Goodfellow started laughing, and Ellen Perry ran off crying. Miss Forbes came over and asked what was wrong with Ellen Perry, and I didn’t want to tattle, so I didn’t say anything. There’s the sheriff. He’s standing with this small man in a city hat who looks like he’d rather be somewhere else. 195 mother Mr. Prentiss, the auction caller, walks up to the table, takes out this little hammer from a small drawstring bag, and hits the table a couple of times. He’s wearing his dark Sunday suit. Everyone gets quiet. “I reckon you all have had a chance to look over whatever it is you were going to look over, so we’ll get started. We’ll commence by taking bids...