Prayers for Bobby - Leroy Aarons [58]
On Saturday, January 22, he ventured out for a meeting with his old friend Andrea in Berkeley. Andrea had been estranged from the Griffith family, and she and Bobby hadn’t met for a year. It was a nice reunion. They laughed and joked. To Andrea, Bobby seemed in good spirits. She gave Bobby a gold chain and said, “Next time you see me, give it back.” They parted with Bobby saying, “I’ll call you.”
January 24. Today I went to Dr. Price for more surgery…. First they injected my face with novocain or something and then they took these hole punchers and cut out the pock marks and stitched up the hole.
January 26. I better not be ugly when these bandages come off. I’ve had to be ugly too long and I’m sick of it. I’m going to make myself into the prettiest thing you ever saw.
How have I survived my wicked life without catching a venereal disease? I really wonder about that sometimes. Has my guardian angel been taking care of me or what? It’s either that or maybe I’m not as much of a whore as I think. That’s a laugh. I couldn’t count the number of men I’ve slept with in the last year on both hands. Maybe on my feet. I don’t really know. I try to forget.
He felt useless hanging around, told himself he must find a job, and looked forward to resuming school when intersession ended. He rarely left the house now, embarrassed to show his bandaged face. He stopped going to the gym. He limited his conversations with the members of his family. Mary, ever hopeful that profound change was imminent, began to wonder whether her son indeed needed a change of scene.
One day, arriving home from work at I. Magnin, Mary found Bobby struggling to get his car started. It wouldn’t respond. In a fit of frustration and fury, Bobby began kicking the old Nash, cursing and crying.
“Bobby, can I do something? Can I help?” she asked.
“No,” he said, storming into the house.
Later, Mary approached him. “Bobby, it’s clear you’re not happy here. Do you want to go to Portland?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I don’t have the money,” he said finally.
“We could give you the bus fare,” she said. “We could loan you some money until you get settled and get a job.” It was not as if she were eager for him to go. None of her children had yet left home. And Bobby was so vulnerable. He would be out of her orbit.
“I’ll think about it,” he told her.
By the end of the month, he was in a state of high agitation, a mix of ennui, self-blame, and indecision.
I made it through the weekend. How? It was the slowest, most boring weekend I’ve ever lived through. I’m so restless I could scream!…I’m getting madder and madder. I try so goddamned hard and what do I get?
Finally, Bobby made the decision to move north. The very act of being decisive lifted his spirits, and soon he was planning the transition with excitement. Things moved swiftly. Bobby was scheduled to catch a bus on Sunday night, February 7. That night a winter rainstorm swept through the area. Joy packed Bobby some cookies. Mary contributed shoe polish and brush and an alarm clock. She was crying, and so was Bobby.
Rain pelted the windows. Mary said, “Bobby, why don’t you put off going until tomorrow?” The next day would be his father’s forty-ninth birthday.
“No,” Bobby insisted. “I’ll lose my courage.”
He hugged his father. He hugged his mom, while both wept. Joy and Ed were to accompany him to the station in Oakland in her truck. It was good-bye. Bobby leaned his head out the window and yelled through the rain, “I love you!” Mary turned to Bob and said, “I don’t think I can go through this with three more kids.”
Outside, a chill wind had gathered up the rain and was driving it in gusts. Joy cried all the way to Oakland. She was frightened for him. How was he going to make it up there? At least when he was around she had some idea of what