A Northern Light(38)

Pa sighed. "It's the way they say it here. The way they wrote it on the tax rolls. It's easier, Francis. I've told you all this before. Lord, but you're a pain in the ass. You never let anything go."

"Me? You a pot who tell da kettle he's black! She gone, Michel. Your Ellen, she dead."

"I know that, Francis."

"But you not let her go! You bleed for her in your heart. You make beeg sorrow. I see it in your face, in your eyes. How you walk. How you talk. She gone, but you still here, Michel, and your girls, dey still here. Don't you see dis?"

"Anything else you want to bust my nuts about, Fran?"

"Yes, der is. Why your son leave, eh?"

There was no answer.

"I tink I know. I tink because you wan miserable son-bitch, dat's why. I see dat you are. You never a barrel of monkey, Michel, but you better den dis. What da hell wrong wid you? Dose girls, dey lose someone, too. Dey lose der mamma, den der brothair. But dey not turn into miserable stinking ghost like you."

"You've had too much whiskey, Francis. As usual."

"Not so much dat I don't know what I see."

"There's plenty you don't see."

Pa came out then, on his way to the outhouse, and I pretended only to be bringing the wood and not eaves-dropping.

"I am proud of you, Mathilde, for all dese test you take. Very proud," Fifty said, as I opened the door to the cylinder stove.

"Thank you, Uncle Fifty." I was pleased that he said it, but his words made me sad, too. I wished my father could have told me he was proud of me.

"What you do now wid all dese test? You be teechair?"

I shook my head, put two logs in the stove, and closed the door. "No, Uncle Fifty. You need more schooling for that."

He thought about that, then said, "Why you don't go for dis schooling? You plaintee smart girl. I bet you da smartest girl in da whole nord contree. Dis schooling, it cost money?"

"The school doesn't. But the train ticket and clothes and books do."

"How much? Twentee dollair? Thirtee? I give you da money."

I smiled at him. His offer was so kind, but I knew he'd spent most of his stake, if not all of it, on the supper and our extravagant presents. He probably only had five or ten dollars left to his name, all of which he'd need to get himself back into the woods to his next job. "Good night, Uncle Fifty," I said, getting up to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you've come to see us. We missed you."

"You tink I don't have it, but you see," he said, winking at me. "I don't just tell de tale. Not always."

I was back in the kitchen when Barney started whining, so I opened the back door and let him out. "You stay out of the garden, you hear?" I told him. I waited till Pa came back in, then I made a trip to the outhouse myself. Barney was waiting for me by the shed steps when I'd finished. I got him settled, then made my way upstairs to my own bed.

Lawton was the one who discovered that voices in the parlor carry right through the wall into the stairwell. The knowledge came in handy around Christmas, when we wanted to find out if there would be any presents. I could hear my father and uncle still talking as I walked up the steps.

"Francis, you spent your entire stake, didn't you? On the supper and the presents and this bottle here, and God knows how much whiskey wherever you were last night."

Pa's voice was disapproving. Why, oh why is he always so sour? I wondered. A wonderful supper and presents, and he still can't say anything nice.

"No, I deed not."

"I don't believe you."

"Well den, look here, Meester Poleeseman..." I couldn't hear anything for a few seconds, then, "...a bankair's draft for wan hondred dollair. What you say now, eh?"

"A banker's draft?" Pa said.

"A banker's draft?" I whispered. My goodness, he really does have the money, I thought. He has a hundred dollars and he's going to give me some of it and I am going to college after all. I'm going to Barnard. I'm going to New York City.

"Dat's right. Da boss, he give us our money one-half in cash, one-half in dis paper."

"I'd say he's looking out for you, Fran. You going to hold on to it for a change? Put it in a bank instead of pissing it all away in some Utica whorehouse?"

"I have someting in mind for it. You be very surprise."

Silence. Then, "Francis, you didn't go making any woman promises, did you? That gal up to Beaver River, the one you proposed to on your last spree, she still thinks you're going to marry her. Asks me when you're coming back every time I see her."

"You wait and see what I do. Dat's all I say. In five, six day, I go to Old Forge and cash dis paper. Den you be surprise, indeed. Now, Michel ... where is dat whiskey? where da hell she go?"

I nearly flew the rest of the way up the staircase. I hadn't told anyone in my family about Barnard. I hadn't seen the point, since I didn't think I would ever get to go, but right then, I wanted to tell Abby powerfully bad. I couldn't, though. We all slept in the same room. Lou and Beth would hear and they both have big mouths. One of them would tell Pa for sure, and I didn't want him to know until I was ready to go. Until I was sure of a room in Miss Annabelle Wilcox's home and I had my things packed and thirty dollars in my pocket. Pa had knocked me out of my chair for buying a composition book. He'd swung a peavey at Lawton. I wasn't going to give him the chance to swing one at me. I pictured the look on his face as I told him I was leaving, and I was glad at the imagining. I was. He'd be furious, but only because he was losing a pair of hands. He wouldn't miss me one bit, but that was all right. I wouldn't miss him, either.