Chapter 23

Ever since Manny ran away, I blamed myself in some way for him leaving. There had to be something I could have done to keep him safe and at home, not living the way he has for so long.
I guess if we had stayed as close as we were as young boys, it would have helped. But things never stay the same. We drifted apart. It’s natural and something all brothers do if there is an age gap between them. I wanted to be around people my age and Manny preferred spending time with the ones in his grade.

It has been rough, every day wondering if your brother was still alive and how much trouble he was in. Manny was like a cat with nine lives, barely getting away before trouble arrived.

As we sat in Mom’s kitchen, I wish there was some way we could turn back time and go back to when we were little boys again. Our main goal back then was to play and have fun. Manny didn’t have to worry about it, but I also had to avoid my father and his wrath, something I never mastered.

This was a little strange, I decided. Usually, when close relatives or friends get together after a long absence, they try to find out what each other have been doing. That isn’t the case with us. I don’t know what he’s been doing and scared to find out.

But the longer we talk, the more I realize that it wasn’t my fault that Manny left. It was my father’s. I don’t know what it would have been like for Manny to find out that our father paid some girl that my brother really liked, to abort a baby and move away.

That would be hard to take as an adult. As a sixteen-year old kid, it would almost be impossible to get over. My little brother isn’t through, however. I’m not sure I want to continue, but know there is no choice. I have lost all feelings about my father, at least the good ones. The bad ones are filling up their container and about to spill over.

Blessed Assurance is now playing in the family room. The Baptist National Anthem is one of Mom’s favorites. When this song comes on, Mom usually stops whatever she is doing, closes her eyes and sings loud and proud. But she is currently still on the phone, relaying all of tonight’s exciting events.

Mom and her buddies would be great reporters. If something is going on or has happened in Langford, they feel like it is their duty to find it out and share it with their little clique. I don’t believe there is any scoring system in place, but they seem to think they get points for finding something out, then bonus ones for each person they spread it to.

They get a lot of delight in their reporting duties. If there was a news organization half as good as them, they would trounce the competition. It is not something I have always enjoyed. As a child, if I did something wrong on the other side of town, Mom would know about it before I got home.

The women are very organized. As soon as one person gets the dirt, she shares it with her co-reporters, which is then shared with all her cronies. Sometimes, the facts get twisted a little bit and opinions are added in. Once it gets back to the reporter that originally broke the story, it might be so different that she thinks this is new information and the chain starts again.

Dad might own the newspaper in Langford, but Mom and her buddies are the ones who have always known what is going on.

“A few years ago, I ran across one of Molly’s sisters,” Manny continued. “She didn’t recognize me and tried to avoid me. I guess she was scared, or something. I would be too if somebody that looked like me was following. Finally, I got her to talk to me. Know what she said?”

I hate it when people ask me this. Was I there? No, then how the heck would I know what she said?

“No,” I answer, trying to be nice. “What’d she say?”

“I was hanging out in south Tulsa then.”

“That’s close to where I live.”

“Yeah, I know. I see you sometimes going into and out of your apartment.”

“How do you do that?” I asked, realizing this is another one of those things that I don’t want to know. My apartment is supposed to keep out the riffraff, like my brother, thanks to the fence and gate.

“It’s easy,” is all Manny says. “Sometimes when I’m feeling a little down, I’ll come by to see you. Once I find out you’re okay, it makes me feel better.”

“I didn’t know you were staying in Tulsa.”

“It’s okay. We don’t exactly run in the same social circles.”

Thank goodness, I thought, but didn’t say.

“So what happened when you saw Molly’s sister?” I asked, realizing it would probably take a while to tell the story. I walk back to the table and sit down.

“Her name was Shannon, Stacy, or something like that,” he started again. “I forget some things.”

So do I, and I haven’t put any outlawed products into my system. The beer was bad enough. I can’t imagine having some of the things Manny has used in my system, ruining brain cells and everything else.

“At first, she didn’t want to tell me anything. I guess she was afraid that I’d hunt her sister down and hurt her. All I wanted to do was see her. Her sister finally told me where Molly lives. It’s just outside of Tulsa, in Coweta.”

Manny takes a drink. He looks around, probably to see if there is any food on the counters. There isn’t anything but health food that tastes like cardboard.

“The next day, I go to Coweta to try and find Molly,” he adds. “The cops run me out of town once, so I wait until night. It takes me a long time to find the place. I have to be very careful, you know. Most people, if they see somebody like me walking down the road, they want to call the cops. I try to avoid the cops if I can.”

Yeah, I can see why. Ever since he was a boy, when Manny would tell a story that should last a minute, it was good for at least five minutes. He wants to give all the details and his opinions before returning to the ending.

“Finally, I find her house,” Manny said. “There’s a wooded area across the street from her house. When I first started going there, it was only trees and high grass. Now, they’re developing it and building houses so it’s harder to hide. Anyway, I found her house and hid back in the trees. I didn’t see her for two days and thought she might not live there.

“It was a nice house and I thought she must’ve done pretty good for herself. Late one afternoon, I was up in a tree resting and almost asleep when I heard a door slam. I looked at her house and saw some Jap car parked in the driveway. I look over and see a woman walking toward the front door. She stops and turns to look in my direction.”

“Why’d she do that?” I ask.

“Probably cause I hollered out ‘Molly’,” he replies.

That makes sense, but kind of blows the old undercover operation.

“So it was Molly?” I ask, trying to get him back in line before he veers off into telling me stuff that isn’t that important.

“Yep,” Manny says, nodding his head. “I knew it was her as soon as I saw her face. She doesn’t look much different from when we were kids. She’s wearing a white dress that was a little too short, in my opinion. Molly’s put on some pounds, kind of like you, but still looked the same.”

Now, even my brother’s gigging me about my weight.

“She came walking out toward the road,” he continues. “I climb down from the tree and start to walk toward her. Right about then, the car’s passenger side door closes. I stop and look to see who it is, figuring it was a husband or something.

“There’s another woman standing there, right by the car.”

Manny hits the pause button. He gets up and walks to the refrigerator. This story is getting interesting and I want to find out what happened. Manny digs through the refrigerator, making enough noise that my mother has to hear the ruckus. He finds some sandwich meat and starts building a sandwich, piling all kinds of things on it.

By the time he has finished, it is one of the biggest sandwiches I have ever seen. Manny grabs another Coke and starts looking in the cabinets.

“Where’s the dang chips?” he asks.

“Mom won’t let Dad eat them anymore,” I reply.

“Hmm,” Manny said. “I bet he has some stashed somewhere.”

Manny opens a cabinet next to the sink, one that I never recall being used for anything other than cleaning stuff. He leans in, stretches as far as possible, then smiles. He pulls out a bag of Ruffles that Dad tried to hide.

“How’d you know that was there?” I ask.

“You can’t keep something hidden from me,” Manny replies as he stands. He grabs the bag of chips, the paper plate holding the sandwich and the drink and returns to the table. Apparently Manny must get some nourishment before he can finish the story. He picks up the sandwich and tries to take a bite. It is too big so he takes some off the side.

“Who was the other woman?” I ask. I’ve studied journalism in some fine colleges and taken many classes on interviews. None of the books ever covered what to do when you’re trying to get information from your brother and he’s more worried about eating some massive sandwich.

Manny holds up his finger. I feel like a fish. He has dangled the bait in front of me and I went for it. Then, he hooked me, pulled me in and now won’t release his catch. He grabs the chips. The bag hasn’t been opened. Manny rips the bag open, not worrying that it split right down the middle. Dad would have a cow. He always liked his chips opened with scissors and then carefully wrapped shut and finished off with one of those hair clip things to try and keep the chips fresh.

I start drumming my finger on the table. Mom is bidding her farewells on the phone. There have probably been at least ten women trying to call and get in next so they can gather all the information. These women have speed dial down to a science.

About a quarter of his sandwich is gone. Most of the sandwich is in his belly, some is on the side of his face. Manny takes a drink of Coke. He tries to stifle it, but lets out a burp Leroy Brown could probably hear across the street.

“Michael, I’d prefer you didn’t do that in the house,” Mom shouts from the next room. Manny laughs. He has done something and I got the blame, just like it was when we were kids.

He takes another bite, swallows it without chewing but maybe three times. That was rather gross, I decide. But then remember my little brother isn’t blessed with healthy choppers. It’s probably the best he can do.

“Right after I saw the other woman, I stopped,” Manny said. “They still couldn’t see me. I could see them, though. It was Molly and the other one looked a lot like her.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Like Molly.”

Okay, she’s probably sprung out several children since Manny last encountered her.

“And?” I asked, wanting him to finish up.

He took another drink, holding in any burps this time.

“Bubs, the other woman looked like Molly,” he stated, “but she also looked a lot like you.”

Chapter 24