Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [52]
The house was built in Indiana working–class style—the back door opened into the kitchen. Virginia came to the door when I knocked—I saw Rebecca fussing over the stove over her shoulder.
"Hello," the child said gravely.
"Hello, Virginia. Is your mother at home?"
She looked at me the way women have been looking at me for years. Stepped aside to let me in.
"You want some supper, Burke?" Rebecca asked, not turning around.
"If it's not too much trouble."
"Already cooked. You like chicken and dumplings?"
"Sure."
"Coming up. Virginia, go tell Daddy his brother is here."
Virginia ignored her, rummaging in the refrigerator.
"What did I tell you?" Rebecca asked, her voice sharp.
"Daddy will want a beer anyway.
"Is that right, Miss Know–It–All?"
"Oh, Mama. You know Daddy likes it when I bring him a beer."
"Daddy'd like it just as much you brought him a nice glass of apple juice."
The kid giggled, pulled a can of Pabst from the shelf, expertly poured it into a tall glass, creating a perfect head. Marched off to the living room.
Rebecca put a plate of steaming food in front of me. Glass of ginger ale. "Virgil said you don't drink…"
"It's true. Thank you. Your daughter is beautiful."
"That's her mother's blood," Virgil said, coming into the kitchen, a beer in one hand. His son at his side. Looked like the boy grew another couple of inches since I saw him last. Sat down across from me.
"Where's Lloyd?" I asked him.
"Out in the garage. I set up a heavy bag for him. The boy's turning into King Kong."
"He rescue any more waitresses lately?"
"Not that I know of."
Junior stood at his father's shoulder, eyes wide. Watching the stranger.
"Was he always such a big boy?"
"Nine pounds and change at birth. The baby doctor we take him to, he's the team physician for the junior high over to Hobart. Said we ought to move there before Junior turns ten. Says we got a natural–born linebacker here."
"Looks like it to me too. You want him to play ball?"
Virgil lit a smoke, blew a puff at the ceiling. Talking to me with words meant for his son. "He wants to play ball, that's okay with me. But he don't have to. Back home, there wasn't but two ways—the mines or the mills. Football, basketball…that was a way out for some. You know the other ways. But my son, he's not gonna need that. He wants to play ball, his old man'll come out, watch him crack some heads. He wants to be an actor, I'll watch him up on the stage. Don't matter. Whatever he does, we'll be proud of him. Right, Reba?"
Rebecca walked over, kissed the boy on the top of his head. "Of course."
The kid squirmed, turned red. His father gave him a look, telling him it was just one of those things he'd have to put up with. Virginia watched both of them intently.
Virgil saw her watching. Laughed. "Virginia, your little boy's growing up, huh, darlin'?"
The girl frowned. "Oh, Daddy!"
Virgil turned to me. "Virginia, she about raised Junior when he was a baby. Couldn't do enough for him. Used to dress him up, take him for walks in the stroller. The boy's getting his growth now. He don't want to mind his sister like he used to."
Virginia stalked off into the living room, stopping only to plant a kiss on top of the little boy's head just like her mother had done.
Tinkle of piano keys. Warming up. Then the concert started. "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" was her opening selection.
"Who taught her to play?"
"She just picked it up somehow. Used to sit next to me on the bench when I was playing. One day, she just starting hitting those keys."
"Virgil, you're not fooling nobody," Rebecca said. "You notice how his chest just went out about a foot, Burke? Virgil used to play the piano for that child when I was still carrying her. Music was the first thing she heard in this world."
I ate my chicken and dumplings, sipped my ginger ale, listened to their love. Wondered what it would be like…me.
Then I remembered why I was there. Visiting Day.
73
LATER THAT NIGHT, I stood in the yard with Virgil. The house quiet and dark behind us.
"You know that waitress? The blonde one