I had moved from Texas to North Carolina a few months earlier. I scheduled a week off of work to drive my pickup to Texas and collect the rest of my things. I called my sister to see if she thought David, my oldest nephew, might enjoy going with me. He was delighted.
Two days before I was to leave North Carolina Deedee called me and said David was going to be visiting his dad in Florida that week. I was audibly disappointed. She scolded me a little and said, “Well, you know you have another nephew.”
Brian was nine. I did not have the same relationship with him as I did with David because I had been in Texas most of his childhood and had only met him a few times. I thought, “Well, this will be a good time to get to know Brian.”
A week later I swung by my sister’s house outside of Cincinnati, picked up Brian and his luggage, kissed my sister good bye and headed to Texas. Brian was in high spirits, friendly, pleasant, clearly excited about his big adventure.
He chattered nonstop, and I enjoyed his company. After a couple of hours he grew a little quiet and began looking out the window into the growing darkness. Then he looked at me with a big grin and said, “Mom doesn’t think I can do it!”
“Do what?” I asked nonchalantly.
“She doesn’t think I can make it one night away from her.”
“Oh? Why not?”
He looked back out into the night. “Because I’ve never done it before.”
“Never done what?”
“I’ve never been away from home at night.”
The thought had never occurred to me. By the time I was nine I had spent many nights away from my parents. I often stayed with my grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends, summer camp, girl scout trips.
“You’ll be fine,” I assured him.
“I know,” he said. “That’s what I told Mom.”
Since the utilities had been turned off at my house, Brian and I spent the nights in one of the cottages at the children’s home I had worked at for three years that week. One wing was being renovated and the children and houseparents were staying at another cottage. The first night we got there, exhausted from the long drive, I unloaded our luggage, and got Brian situated in the one of the bedrooms.
“Tell me a story, Aunt Kit,” he asked.
“I don’t know any stories.”
“Mom always tells me a story.”
“I’m not Mom.”
“I know.”
I told him a story. It wasn’t a very good story. I made up something about three little pigs and a blonde headed girl who was on the outs with her grandmother, who eventually cooked her in the oven.
“That’s sort of an unhappy ending,” Brian said.
“It’s the best I can do. I’ve been driving for the last two days.”
“Mom tells better stories.”
“I’m not Mom.”
“I know.”
Brian finally fell asleep and I tiptoed out of his room and into one across the hall. I can’t remember when climbing into a bed felt so good. I fell asleep immediately.
I felt a small hand on my shoulder.
“Aunt Kit?”
“What?
“I’m thirsty.”
“Go drink some water.”
“I can’t reach the shelf.”
I turned on the light and got him some water. He gulped it down, wiped his lips, rinsed the glass, and dutifully returned to bed. I tucked him back in, told him another story, equally dismal and as poorly told as my first story.
I fell asleep. After a short time I heard a little boy’s voice in the dark.
“Aunt Kit?”
“What is it, Brian?”
“Can I sleep with you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because little boys do not sleep with grown women.”
"Mom lets me sleep with her."
"I'm not Mom."
"I know."
“Go to bed.”
I heard him shuffling sadly through the dark. I went back to sleep.
Suddenly the overhead light was blaring in my face. I opened my eyes. Brian was standing over me, screaming at the top of his little lungs, “There’s a spider in my bed!”
Wordlessly, I sprang out of bed, marched into his room, yanked the covers off, slapped the spider as hard as I could, threw the covers back over the bed, and demanded, “Now! Go. To. Sleep!”
Over the course of the next several days Brian delighted in pushing every button I owned. He wanted to go home. I told him we were scheduled to be here for a week. He wanted to go home now. He missed his mother. He wanted to go home. NOW!
By the middle of the third day I could stand it no longer. While Brian waited in the car, I called Deedee from a pay phone.
“How’s it going?” she sang into the phone.
“Your child is a brat.”
“Oh oh.”
I told her every contrary, evil thing Brian had done for the last three days. She listened patiently, said “Uh huh,” a couple of times, and when I was finished, she said, “Let me speak with my son.”
I called Brian to me and he skipped to the phone. As he took the phone he looked up at me with a smirk and said, “My mommy loves me!”
I smiled sweetly as I handed him the phone.
I only heard his end of the conversation.
“Hi, Mommy!”
“But, Mommy, I was only….”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But….”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bye, Mommy.”
Brian handed the phone back to me and slowly shuffled slump shouldered and sniffling across the parking lot.
“So,” Deedee said playfully. “Not having a good trip?”
“We’re leaving Texas this afternoon and I’m driving straight through to your house. We should get there late tomorrow night.”
“But you’re supposed to be in Texas for another three days.”
“I won’t last another three days. Blood will be shed. Lives will be lost. We’re headed to Kentucky at sixteen hundred hours. Leave the light on!”
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Comments
nephew
This is rich! Funny and easy to visualize! can't wait for the next episode...does it involve weapons? ;} r
i also would have, but still, i would not have gotten back in that bed.
I felt your pain..:)
Rated with hugs
Doiriann - I was not "One who must be obeyed." I was "One who must be terrorized." I was, in short, PATHETIC.
happy - hahahaha.
Linda - Well, these weren't your average spiders. These were Texas spiders. Does that make any difference?
Bernadine - You must tell me if you guess correctly!!!!
Actually, what Brian put me through was nothing in comparison to what I endured at the hands of his little sister when I took her with me to Nebraska twenty years later. But you won't read about THAT trip here - I'm still traumatized.
Fun story, hope to hear more.
Amanda - I know, I know. I was a HIDEOUS aunt. A TERRIBLE aunt. And I did not kill the mouse. The cats and the puppy did the mouse in. I did inadvertently kill the hitchhiking rat. But he should have known better than to be in my car unauthorized.
I was able to tolerate my own son (most of the time) but I didn't like other people's kids. Still don't. When a friend suggests she bring her grandchild over to visit with me I suddenly remember I have a bad cold (cough, cough) or the flu (everything aches) or some dread, infectious process going on. Only problem with that is, I forget after the crisis has passed what I said was wrong, so when she calls back and I'm my usual bubbly self, she gets suspicious. Arg.
Love this, Kit. I'm afraid I'd have used some kind of restraint to keep him in his own bed--and a sock in his mouth for good measure. See--I really don't like kids!
Rated. D
Here's the story about the hitchhiking rat. Ironically written on my sister's birthday.... hmmmm.
YO - So, let me pull out all my empathetic skills and see if I am understanding you. Ummmm. What I hear you saying is....
You don't like kids????? Did I get that? What do I win??????