Chapter 31

This was not the time or place for this to happen. It was Sunday morning, my mother was running around trying to get breakfast ready before heading to church and make sure the two heathens in the kitchen ate and were out of the house before any of her buddies dropped by to console her.

My father had also passed away the previous night. I looked and felt like crap and didn’t want to have to deal with company, especially the two people standing at the front door.

April got a strange look on her face when I let out the “ugh” comment. I wished that was something I could take back. The only time I had seen her look better was at our wedding. Her hair was fixed up and she wore a red dress with flowers on it. Her necklace had a large golden cross on it. I hoped that wasn’t just for show and it was how she felt.

The little one was doing his best to hide behind her right leg. Little Michael was a cute little fellow, I guess. He had the kind of blonde hair only little children can have. It was short and combed a little to the side. His glasses were thick with black around the lenses. They were strong enough to make his eyes seem larger than they really were.

He was wearing a dress shirt. It was light blue with white stripes. Underneath, the boy wore a white tee-shirt. His pleated shorts were white and almost reached his knees. He was wearing a pair of sandals that had lights on the side that would go off with every step.

The boy was horrified as he looked at me. I wondered if he knew I felt the same way.

“Uh, hello,” I finally managed to say. But the “ugh” comment was still weighing heavily on her.

“Hello, Michael,” she said, put her hand on the boy and tried to move him out from behind her. He was on her like the leach I saw attached to the scientist on the National Geographic special I watched earlier in the week. Back when life was normal.

I didn’t want to be rude, but they really shouldn’t come in the house. I didn’t think it would help the boy’s feelings toward men to expose them to Squiggy and Mule. Those two certainly didn’t make me feel any better about the male species. For a little kid already scared of men, they would probably send him off to the nut house at Vinita.

There was no way to know how Mom would react either. She always liked April and hoped we could get back together. Mom didn’t know the reason for our divorce, that a lot of other guys liked April and she felt the same way about them.

April looked like an angel this morning. It was tough to take my eyes off her. I couldn’t even hear the guys in the kitchen, sounding like a bunch of pigs at the trough.

“This is my son, Michael,” she added. I’m glad she explained that. I didn’t know what to do so I kneeled down to get at the little fellow’s level.

“How’re they hanging, little guy?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. That was appropriate because it was how I felt.

The boy tugged on April’s dress. He cupped his hand to say something, hoping I wouldn’t hear him.

“I wanna go home!” he said.

That was something we both had in common.

She rubbed his head and smiled. The boy leaned his head on her leg and grabbed hold of her. He looked at me like I was some evil person. The boy was confused. That was my father. I’m not evil, just clueless as to how to handle this situation.

“This is Mister Hunt,” April told him, pointing at me.

The boy gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. I held out my hand, like the little fellow would want to shake it. He looked at it like it was an anaconda coming after him to squeeze the life out of him. The boy turned away and started shaking.

Well crud, I thought, I made the little guy go into one of his fits. I drew my hand back and stood.
“Hello…” I said, then froze up. What was I supposed to call him? Boy? Little fellow?

“His name is Michael,” she repeated. “I usually call him M.J.”

“Okay, like Michael Jordan!”

“No, like Michael James.”

I nodded. That was cool with me. April didn’t really seem to act like she cared if I was okay with it. M.J. had stopped shaking and was looking at the ground. I had never found the porch that interesting.

“Can we come in?” she asked.

Oh gosh, that was terrible. But it could not be avoided. I couldn’t keep them on the porch with the door open.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I finally said and stepped out of the way. April and M.J. came inside. He made sure to stand on the far side away from me.

We walked into the family room. There was still a loud noise of slurping and grunting coming from the kitchen. As we sat down on the couch, a noise came from the kitchen that had to come from Squiggy.

“My word!” Mom exclaimed. It was a noise she never liked to hear anywhere, especially in her kitchen. “We do not do that in my kitchen!”

There was a muffled response. I could imagine Squiggy trying to apologize, but unable to do so because his mouth was full of food.

“I hope nobody lights a match,” Mule added.

April turned to look at me with a questioning look on her face.

“It’s Squiggy and Mule,” I said. This was a good enough explanation for the odd behavior.

“I thought that was his truck outside,” she replied. “Does he know there’s a woman sleeping in the bed of his truck? I started to say something to her but some ugly dog growled at me.”

“Yeah, he knows.”

“I feel sorry for the woman. She’s got some kind of bites all over her.”

M.J. was looking around the room to see if there was anything interesting. He saw a golf ball and a putter against the wall. Dad used to practice putting in here. I doubt if it helped him much since the carpet in the family room was the thick shag stuff that was popular in the 1970s.

The boy walked over and kneeled down next to the ball. There was one of those cups next to the ball that you could putt at. If you made the putt, the cup would return the ball. M.J. grabbed the golf ball and rolled it to the cup. He was only a couple of feet away, but missed several times.

M.J. kept looking at us to see if it was okay. I didn’t care if he played with it. Dad probably would, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

The swinging door to the kitchen swung open. Mom walked into the family room and almost stepped on M.J. She stopped just in time. Mom stepped back and eyed the boy like he was E.T. She finally broke her gaze, looked at the couch where we were seated and almost looked like she was going to faint.

“Oh, Michael!” she said. Mom had to grab hold of a chair to stop her swoon.

“What?” the boy and I said in unison. She looked at the boy, at me, then back at the boy. I figured out that she was trying to see if M.J. resembled me in any way.

She glared at me in a way I had not seen in years.

“Is he…,” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Mom had just lost her husband last night. Now she was afraid that there had been a grandson nobody ever told her about.

“It’s not Michael’s son,” April finally said.

Mom broke out in a big smile, flashing those pearly white dentures.

The boy had gone back to playing. He rolled a ball into the cup and it was returned to him. M.J. smiled and looked at his mother to make sure she saw him.

Mom was good with kids. She leaned down and rubbed the boy’s head. He looked at her like she was bothering him.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. Mom had this thing about always worrying about somebody being hungry. She never wanted anybody to leave the Hunt house hungry. “I could make you something.”

“We ate McDonalds,” the boy said. He rolled the ball again, this time from a little farther back. It was straight in the cup. M.J. raised his arms and did a little shake.

“How about some juice?” Mom asked.

“Kooaid?” M.J. asked. It took a second for me to figure out what the boy said. Mom didn’t have any problem. Must be a woman thing, I decided.

“No, but we have apple juice. Would you like some?”

He nodded, then looked at April for approval. She smiled and that was good enough for Mom. She headed back toward the kitchen.

When the door opened, I never looked back at it. I expected it to be my mother bringing a glass of apple juice for the boy. I was watching M.J. play with the golf ball until he got a look of horror on his face. I looked away from him and saw Squiggy and Mule standing next to him. Squiggy was looking at the boy. Mule was eyeing April like she was a babyback rib.

“You playin with your balls?” Squiggy asked, then looked around to see if anybody appreciated his humor. Nobody did, of course.

M.J. threw his gear in reverse and started backing away. He had a look of horror on his face, one that Squiggy was used to seeing from women.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” Squiggy asked. M.J. stopped his retreat. “You scared of the Squigster?”

M.J. nodded furiously.

Squiggy sat down on the floor with his legs crossed. I saw there was a big hole in the crotch of his pants. Luckily, he was wearing underwear.

“Whatcha playin?” Squiggy asked, real soft and calm.

“Goffball,” M.J. answered.

I noticed Squiggy was still wearing a large portion of his breakfast on his face and tie. M.J. saw this and smiled.

“You messy,” he stated.

“That’s okay,” Squiggy replied. “It’s a guy thing.”

“I don’t believe this,” April said. “He won’t ever have anything to do with guys. When he finally does, it’s Squiggy.”

Mule was fascinated with April. He stood near the dining room table, staring at her. There could be a swarm of killer bees attacking him, and I don’t think he would be distracted.

He finally started walking toward us, a shy smile on his face. Mule sat down in my father’s chair, his eyes never leaving April.

“Your purdy,” he said.

Apparently April had not heard about Mule’s main asset. She did not seem to be interested.

“Thank you,” she answered.

“I’m Mule.”

That got her interest for a second. She must have matured over the years as April turned her attention back to her son and Squiggy.

“We got some beer in the truck. Want some?”

“No thanks.”

Mule grunted. He was even making me uncomfortable. Squiggy was no help. He and M.J. were having a great time, probably because their maturity levels were at about the same stage.

“I ain’t no retard,” Mule added.

“Good,” April replied. She started to edge closer to me and farther away from Mule.

“Squiggy always tells people I’m a retard.”

April shook her head. She was starting to look at me for help.

“You like to hunt?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Hum,” he grunted. “We was gonna go out and kill some wild boar today. Wanna come?”

“I really can’t make it today,” April answered. She edged closer to me. Now, we were in contact.

“Is okay,” Mule added. “I’d like to take you huntin some time.”

Now April was practically sitting in my lap. Not that I could blame her.

“I really don’t like to hunt.”

Mule nodded. He couldn’t be chased away that easily.

“I guess we could just drive around and drink beer.”

April was more interested in watching Squiggy and M.J. play. Mule's frustration was starting to show. April just wasn't interested in him, which was reasonable since his hair was worse than anything Michael Jackson had ever displayed. Plus, he was wearing his shirt inside-out and backwards. His feet, particularly the toes would scare off anybody.

Time was running out! Mule knew he had to bring out the big gun, the one that had convinced so many women to be interested in him.

"You know why they call me 'The Mule'?" he asked. April shook her head. I'm not positive, but could swear my mother smiled.

April leaned forward on the couch. I watched as Squiggy leaned over and tried to tickle M.J. The boy was fine until Squiggy touched him. He screamed. April was off the couch in a flash. Mom moved faster than I’d ever seen her.

M.J. fell back on the floor and started shaking. Squiggy jumped up and ran backwards.

“Crapfire!” he yelled. “The boy’s a floppin like a fish outta water.”

April picked up M.J. and held him close to her. He was still shaking violently. Mom had her hand on the boy’s back, trying to rub away the scare. I looked at Squiggy and couldn’t tell who was more bothered, him or M.J.

“Way to go, Squiggy!” Mule yelled. Mule was hacked. He finally got the chance to hit on April and Squiggy ruined everything by making the boy have a fit.

Squiggy didn’t even reply. He was leaning against the wall, more scared than I have ever seen a person.

“I didn’t mean it!” Squiggy kept saying. He dropped to the floor and put his hands in his face.

M.J. was throwing his arms around and kicking his feet. April was taking a terrible beating, but she would not let go. I looked at M.J.’s face and saw his eyes were practically rolled up in his head. He was still screaming.

“Do we need to get him an aspirin or something?” I asked.

April and Mom turned to look at me. They didn’t like my suggestion.

“It’s not a headache!” Mom pointed out.

Well, it wasn’t like I knew what to do. April wanted me to take care of him? I don’t think so. M.J. let out a scream that was so loud I was afraid my eardrums were going to bust.

Then, he stopped.


Chapter 32