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Outraged.
"That's disgraceful," he tells me, but still it's better than paying for a turkey and going to the effort of cooking. He finally makes up his mind. "All right, I'll do it." He points a finger at me now. "But you're one twisted bastard, Ed."
"Thanks, Marv, I appreciate it," and for the first time in many years, I find myself looking forward to Christmas.
Depending on my cab shifts, I continue going back to Glory Road, and though it's obvious this family is working hard to make ends meet, I still don't know what I have to do. One evening, when I'm standing behind the bushes, the father comes over to me. He's a very big boy and could strangle me with one hand behind his back. He doesn't look happy.
"Hey," he calls out. "You there. I seen you before." He moves fast toward me. "Get out of those bushes quick smart." His voice isn't loud. It sounds like it would be gentle and quiet in most situations. It's the size of him that concerns me.
Don't worry, I calm myself. You need to be here. It'll take what it takes.
I step out and face the man as the sun sets behind the house. He has smooth dark skin and black curly hair and eyes that threaten me.
"You been spying on my kids, boy?"
"No, sir." I lift my head. I need to look proud and honest.
Hang on, I remind myself. I am honest. Well, pretty much.
"Well, why are you here?"
I lie and hope.
"I used to live in this house," I say. Shit. Good thinking, Ed. I've actually impressed myself. "A lot of years ago--before we moved closer to town. Sometimes I like to come up here and look at the place." And please, I beg, let these people not have lived here long. "My dad died not long ago, and when I come here, I think of him. I think of him when I see you with your kids, throwing them in the air and over your shoulder...."
The man softens slightly.
Thank you, God.
He comes a little closer as the sun falls on its hands and knees behind him.
"Yeah, it's a pretty shoddy old place"--he motions with his hand--"but it's the best we can do right now."
"It looks all right to me," I say.
We go on awhile longer, and in the end, the man asks me a surprising question. He moves back, thinks, then says, "Hey, would you like to come in to look around? We're about to have dinner. You're welcome to stay."
My gut instinct is to decline, but I don't. The harder decision is to go in.
I follow the man onto his front porch and into the house. Before we go in he says, "My name's Lua. Lua Tatupu."
"Ed Kennedy," I respond, and we shake hands. Lua crushes nearly every bone in my right hand.
"Marie?" he calls out when we're inside. "Kids?" He turns to me. "The place just like you remember it?"
"Sorry?" Then I remember. "Oh. Yeah, it is."
The kids come pouring out of the woodwork and start climbing all over us. Lua introduces me to them and to his wife. Dinner is mashed potatoes and frankfurts.
We eat, and Lua tells jokes and the kids laugh and laugh, even though they've heard the same jokes a thousand times, according to Marie. Marie has wrinkles under her eyes and looks worn down from life and kids and putting food on the table each night. She's got milder skin than Lua and dark brown wavy hair. She was beautiful once--even more beautiful than this. She works in one of the supermarkets.
There are five kids. All have trouble eating with their mouths closed, but when they laugh, you can see the world in their eyes. You can tell exactly why Lua treats them like he does and loves them that much.
"Can I have a piggyback from Ed, Dad?" one of the girls asks.
I nod to him, and Lua says, "Of course, darlin', but you have to put something else in that sentence." It reminds me of Father O'Reilly's brother, Tony.
The girl smacks herself on the forehead, smiling and saying, "Can he please give me a piggyback?"
