“Thank you.” Willie Lee positioned himself back on the bench.
“You’re welcome.” Winston slung the excess ice cream from his palm, then held his hand out away from his clothes while he finished his own ice-cream cone. A man with his years behind him no longer worried about small inconveniences.
“Miss Gabby is still right sweet on you, I see.”
Willie Lee shrugged. Winston detected some gloom.
“Is there a problem?” Having a sense of great disappointment in his own life at the moment, he felt irritated at life for bothering the boy.
Willie Lee shrugged again. “I am not…grow-ing.”
“Well, yes, you are. Your mother had to buy you new jeans just last month, said you’d grown a foot.”
“She was ex-ag…ex-ag…”
“Exaggerating.”
Willie Lee nodded, then said in his practical manner, “People do not grow a foot in a month. Pa-pa Tate said.”
“But you have grown into larger pants,” Winston pointed out. “And you’re not done growin’ yet. Not by a long shot. Besides, even if Gabby grows taller, that doesn’t matter. Lots of tall gals go with shorter boys.”
He tried to think of an example and came up short, which seemed a funny pun. He hoped to remember it for his radio show. He liked to write down his thoughts, but his hands were busy at that moment.
Willie Lee said, “I mean…in-side.” He looked solemn. “I am re-tar-ded. I can-not have a girl-friend.” He hung his head, holding out his melting ice-cream cone.
“Eat your ice cream,” Winston said. Then, “Who told you that you cannot have a girlfriend because you are retarded?”
“Just some-one.” Willie Lee focused on licking his ice cream. It had been Mrs. Pruitt, the librarian at the Valentine library, who scared a lot of the children. Mrs. Pruitt had the idea that all the books in the library were her very own, and she would just as soon that children not be allowed to handle them.
“Yeah, well,” said Winston, “that someone is all wrong. Of course you can have a girlfriend.”
Winston considered pressing the boy to get the name of this someone and go set the person straight. Such a person was the type who liked to make other people feel small, mostly because they themselves were shriveled up.
Willie Lee interrupted Winston’s thoughts by saying, “I know I am slow, aannd I will ne-ver be fast-ter. At scho-ol I go to the class for spe-cial ed, but it means slow. Men-tal re-tar-da-tion. There is no cure.”
Winston couldn’t recall ever seeing Willie Lee so sad. He found himself upset at the boy’s pain and unable to form an instant comeback, something that did not often happen. Thinking on it, he finished his ice-cream cone, took napkins from his shirt pocket and cleaned himself up.
“Yes, my little buddy,” he said finally, “I’ll admit that you do not think just like everyone else, and the term slow is used and quite accurate by many standards. Nevertheless, as in all things, it is a matter of perspective. Maybe the world and people in it go too fast. Did you ever think of that?”
Willie Lee looked up, frowning in thought. In Winston’s opinion, and that of a number of observant people, the boy had pockets of rare understanding inside of him that had nothing to do with intellect.
“Being slow is not such a bad thing and has nothing what soever to do with havin’ a girlfriend. Girls prefer boys who are not so fast.”
He reached over and began to wipe up Willie Lee. Suddenly becoming aware of his actions, he handed the napkin to the boy, saying, “The female human is somethin’ I know a bit about. I’ve had a bunch of girlfriends from the time I was younger than you, and two wives, and the first of those was a doozie. I’ve learned from experience that as long as you speak to a female’s heart, she isn’t gonna care how well you think or how tall you are.”
“I can-not re-ad. I will not be a-ble to take the test and get a dri-ver li-cen-se and take my girl-friend on a date. That is what a boyfriend does.”
“Aw, you got somethin’ better than readin’, Little Buddy. You have that trust fund, son. You can buy a car and hire someone to drive you on a date. You won’t ever need a driver’s license. You could go on a date right now, if you wanted.”
“I co-uld?”
“Yes, sir, you could.” Winston was proud to solve that problem. He was counting up Willie Lee’s assets and became happier by the moment.
“I can absolutely assure you, son, that you are more than qualified to have a girlfriend.” He rested a hand on the boy’s small shoulder. “You have everything going for you. You’re a healthy and even handsome young man with a secure future, and there are pitiful few people who can say that at any age.
“But most importantly, Little Buddy, your heart overrules your intellect, and that is the main necessity for gettin’ along with girls.” Then, after a moment, he added, “Really, for successful living, I’d say.”
11
Mothers and Daughters
From the Valentine Voice:
June 3, 1998
Kinney—Berry
Mr. And Mrs. John Cole Berry of Valentine are pleased to announce the engagement of their son, Johnny Ray Berry, to Miss Gracie Louise Kinney, daughter of Mrs. Sylvia Kinney of Baltimore, Maryland.
The prospective groom serves as a manager and vice president of the Berry Quick Stop Enterprises.
The bride-elect is a regional manager for the M. Connor chain of women’s apparel.
A September wedding is planned in Valentine, where the two plan to make their home.
When young Paris Miller, who was clerking at their Quick Stop No. 1, called to let Emma know that the Wednesday after noon edition of the Valentine Voice had arrived, Emma went right down to get four copies. John Cole had wanted to know why she didn’t just make copies from one clipping, but she said it wouldn’t be the same. Men simply did not understand these things.
Just as she entered the store, a boy running out about knocked her down, followed by Paris yelling after him. Emma stood there watching the dark boy in a baggy T-shirt, with a girl with splotchy-crimson spiked hair hot on his heels, disappear around the corner of the building.
Emma went into the store, which was totally vacant, and realized that Paris had abandoned the cash register. She forgot about the register, though, as her gaze lit on a newspaper lying on the counter, folded back to the engagement announcement. Paris was a kind girl.
As Emma started to read, Paris came huffing back through the door. “Oh, Miz Berry—I’m sorry I forgot about the store! I didn’t really…I just wanted to catch that little creep. He shoplifted a handful of candy bars. I gotta call the sheriff.”
“Oh, no, honey. Let him go. He’s only a little boy, and it was just candy bars. All children want candy.” Emma generally did not believe in pursuing children, and in any case, her attention was totally on the picture of Johnny and Gracie. “Didn’t their picture come out great?”
Paris agreed about the picture, and then protested that it wouldn’t be right to let the boy go. “He is old enough to steal, and we might be the ones to save him from prison when he’s older.”
Taking full note of the girl’s upset, Emma looked up to see Paris’s frowning furrowed brows—each one pierced through with a gold ring. She was such a lovely girl. It was a shame that she felt the need to poke so many holes in her body.
Emma said, “Perhaps he’ll return, and you can catch him in the act and instruct him. That would be the best thing.