All About Us

Scene One, Chapter One

It was the summer of 1955, a sweltering summer day, with a welcoming breeze. Pres and I walked from Fair Green Swimming Pool and headed for home. The pool was one of the amenities enjoyed by the kids who lived at Fair Green. Fair Green a housing project built in 1949, meant for Negros. It was located on the south side of Glassboro, a growing city in North Carolina.

The density the apartments were built with was staggering. There were six apartments in each unit. All the apartments were one story, with two bedrooms. What stood out were its exterior dull peeling gray paint, sun drenched green shutters, and its small yards. Red clay dirt was visible as far as the eyes could see. The rapid growth of weeds took over the yards. The inside of the apartment, built with thin walls, allowed me and Pres to hear everything within our apartment. Pres was my older brother, and he was eight years old.

The swimming pool kept the kids busy during the summer. We had played in and out of the water all day long. Pres grabbed my hand and said, Come on Caiti, I got to go back, or I’ll wet my shorts. Pres and I were avid swimmers. Going to the pool was a treat for us. Fair Green Community Center also sponsored indoor activities. The children took advantage of sewing, embroidery, painting, arts, and a fall bible camp, all provided by Glassboro Housing Authority.

Pres pulled me along. We raced back indoors to the community center. Into the main building we ran, a right towards the locker room area, a left down the hall. The restrooms were at the end of the hall. Ohhh, I hope the restrooms are all clear. Got to drop a bomb, he uttered.

Lucky for them, it was empty, I thought. He dropped my hand, Wait here, Caiti.

Okay.

I was six years old, and to me, Pres’s word was the gospel. He said wait, I waited. This time I waited at the entrance to the girl’s locker room. The locker room held individual showers, as well as lockers for changing swimwear and street clothes. Girls darted in and out of the showers, without changing their clothes. No one seemed to really mind.

On the opposite side of the pool area was a wide hallway with four restrooms two for the boys, and two for girls. Sometimes the older boys and girls would go past the restrooms to the very end of the hall. They were there to kiss and feel around each other. I leaned against the wall.

I bent forward just a bit to be nosy. My eyes narrowed and focused on the last two restrooms. No one down there today, I surmised. I reached inside my baggy overall shorts to fiddle with my twelve jackstones and my little ball. The boy’s restroom door opens. Come on now, don’t be slow. We gotta get home before Dad gets there, otherwise, he is going to be mad at Mom for letting us swim today.

Dad was nineteen at the time of an unfortunate accident. Friends of his gave a party at Lake Wylie. What started out as a challenge for Dad and his college friends ended horribly. Since it was quite warm that day, the boys wanted to cool off. A challenge was made to swim in the water, which was off-limits to swimmers. Seven young people went into the water. Six came out. Gene, Dad’s bestie, was found in deeper parts of Lake Wylie the following morning. Consequently, Dad never wanted us near a large body of water.

Dad, devastated, took to drinking. He never got over it and blamed himself. Mom said that is when Dad decided to drop out of college and attend barbering school. Dad successfully completed barbering school and went directly into the trade. He left home at seven-thirty in the morning. He returned in the early evening unless he was at a liquor house or gambling shack. We walked faster. However, we took a moment to marvel at all things of nature. The damp grass we trampled in. Daffodils we admired their flowering blooms.

A rainbow after a thundershower, excited us. The rain enhanced flowering weeds that we sometimes took home to Mom as a flower bouquet. We loved the smell of rain. Just the taste of the outdoors excited us since we had few toys. We walked through the front door of our small two-bedroom apartment. The apartment was warm. My eyes turned toward our bedroom, which I shared with my three siblings, Pres, Stevie four, and Lilly two.

I walked into our bedroom, Stevie and Lilly were napping. Lilly sweated around her hairline as she slept. Strands of curly brunette hair escaped from her ponytail and lay plastered to her small damp forehead. I glanced at Stevie; he sweated, but not as much as Lilly. A small fist was balled up under his closed eyelids. His caramel-colored body was also damp from sweat. I walked to the bathroom to get a cool cloth to place on their foreheads. Pres nudged me in the back as I came out. I saw why.

On the chair was Dad’s barbering bag. Hanging out of the bag was his most expensive work tool, a six-inch-wide leather barber’s strap. Barbers used this kind of strap to sharpen their clippers, scissors, and razors. I took a deep breath and gently placed it inside the bag. The bag was an indication that he was somewhere in our small two-bedroom apartment. Pres squeezed my right hand; he was nervous, and so was I. Why was he home so early?

Scene One, Chapter Two

There were two twin beds in our room. Each was pushed against the opposite wall. This gave space for a small play area. Stevie and Pres slept together. Stevie slept on the back side near the wall to keep himself from rolling out of bed.

Lilly and I slept the same way, on the opposite side of the room. There was a small closet, with a hanging rod, and small items of clothing. Hung from wire hangers was our wardrobe. Our heavy black trunk, incredibly old, sat right underneath our bedroom window. Mom had a sewing machine she sewed. She was a petite woman of five feet, three inches, with long eyelashes that batted against her caramel skin. Her short, bobbed haircut augmented her youthful face.

For our dreary little room, she made pretty pillows and cushions for us to place on our trunk. We used the trunk for sitting and a study area. Plus, it had lots of storage room, although we did not have too much to store. Mom and Dad often argued over money and Dad’s unpleasant habits. At times, their arguments scared us into a fit, with him usually wearing Mom down. Dad never struck Mom, probably because she was light-skinned and easily bruised.

There was a mean streak about him, one we hoped he never revealed. Dad called out to us from the back bedroom, Caiti, Pres, come in here. He was in a good mood; You all have gotten darker, he chuckled.

We answered, yes, sir, like little soldiers.

Yeah, Pres, light complexion, very much like Dad, had gotten darker over the summer. I, a chestnut brown, with coarse hair, turned bronze when in the sun for a while. I, too, was darker. Mom came through the back door after taking the laundry off the line. Dad playfully grabbed her around the waist and said, I have a new barber’s job with more money. I am going to be working at Queen City Barber Shop, on Cane Street and Adkins. Three blocks around the corner from Jenkin’s Department store. You kids will be able to pop in any time, he shared and handed each of us a dollar.

Dad splurged when he had a good day and gave us each a dollar. We usually never got dollars unless it came from Grandma Dusti, Granddad Will, or Nana. Dad was right, Jenkin’s Department store, a good place to shop, with quality goods and fair prices was close to his new job.

You know Reed, I was aware you interviewed but wasn’t sure you wanted something like that. I have a problem with how the place is going to operate. Let me get this right, the barber shop is owned by Whites, managed by a Negro man, with six Negro barbers, one Negro shoe shine guy, and caters only to Whites? Mom expressed questionably and raised her left eyebrow.

Don’t make a big deal out of it, it’s more money, Kahili, Dad mentioned angrily. You know I am committed to doing better. And he looked down at my beat-up tennis shoes. Dad trying to do better and stay out of trouble. We will have to see.

Suddenly, the front door sprung open. Clarke, Dad’s younger brother, was yelling, What the hell did you do with my car? You said you were coming right back, what is going on Reed? Did you lose the damn car in another gambling match?

No, certainly not. Jack over, over…over in the next unit is uh…uh, looking at the carburetor.

Dad insisted to Uncle Clarke he would return the car undamaged, which is why our neighbor Mr. Jack looked it over. Dad gushed out more, You know him, Clarke. I would not lie about that. Believe me. Your car is in excellent shape.

Uncle Clarke was so angry that the muscles in his jaw moved when he pronounced Dad’s name REED. Dad knew better than to cross him again. Today, he was terribly angry at Dad. Man, I thought you lost the car gambling. That has happened before, you know.

Dad stood and faced his brother. He stared directly at Uncle Clarke’s sand-colored complexion and hazel eyes, without saying a word. He really wanted to slap him.

Uncle Clark turned toward Mom, Kahili I apologize. Someone got word to me that Reed was home. The car was nowhere to be seen. That still doesn’t make it right that I stormed in here like that, he said humbly.

I accept your apology, said Mom, understanding Clarke’s concern. Mom often said, If your Dad could gamble you, kids, away, none of you would be here.

Now, I hope Uncle Clarke and Dad don’t get into a fight, Pres said, fazed by the shouting match.

Maybe they won’t, I added with concern.

At that, Uncle Clarke, with his towering height of six feet four inches, stuck his head in our bedroom with a shout, bye, you guys. Before either one of us could answer, he grabbed us up in each one of his big strong arms. I am sorry for going off on your Dad like that, Reed is a pistol.

He fished around in his pockets for coins. He found a handful and handed them to Pres. At first, Uncle Clarke was shaken up about the car, but now he was calmer. Thanks, Uncle Clarke, Pres politely said.

I added, Thanks, Uncle Clarke.

You both are welcome. Reed, congrats on that new barber’s job, he said.

Dad snorted out, They just told me two hours ago. The same person that told you that the car was not here is the same one that told you about my new job.

Right, Uncle Clarke muttered as he hugged Mom bye.

Dad secured a better job making more money. Mom was not taking his word about doing better. Having breakfast, the following morning; Mom dropped a bomb on us.

I found a part-time job. I will be caring for Charlie Helmsley’s set of twins. You know he is one of the most well-known land developers in Glassboro. He and his wife adore those kids. The pay is not bad.

Dad mumbled as he often did, Yes, he ought to pay well. His company was one of them that helped develop Fair Green and other projects throughout the city. They need to build housing for Negros. Projects do nothing but breed crime.

I agree. It is also unfair the way the country treated our Negro veterans after their return from World War II. All those soldiers went off to World War II to risk their lives trying to save this country and other democracies, Mom put in. Too bad the Negro veterans have not been able to tap into their GI benefits. Yet the GI bill designed to ease the return to civilian life for all veterans eased return for Whites only.

It’s all about the resources, Kahili and let’s leave it at that, Dad responded, as he meandered to their bedroom and shut the door.

Curious about Mom’s part-time job, Pres whispered to her, Why work part-time when Dad has a better job?

Better job for whom?

You and Caiti, for the remainder of the summer, will need to help me out. The job is going to interrupt your summer. My part-time job may not be the best job, but it will bring in a little money to help with these bills.

Mom, you like sewing for the neighbors and making a little money, don’t you? Pres asked.

Honey, it is just not enough, and it is not going to be like this always. In fact, school is about to start. You and Caiti need school supplies. Both your grandparents are going to help with clothes while your father and I will buy your school shoes.

Later, as we sat on the trunk, Pres looked worried. Pres, you worried about Mom?

Yeah, and us too. We are going to have to work. Our summer is over with, he replied as his mood sank.

It won’t be too bad, I pouted. Oddly enough, I knew then that I should be worried, especially when Pres’s bushy eyebrows came together to make an arch.

Scene One, Chapter Three

Still concerned, Pres said to Mom, days later, after she finished making Ms. Pleiss a set of curtains, I hate to see you going to work every day.

Ahh, honey it is going to work out. Your grandparents offered to help. Grandma Dusti and Grandpa Will are going to help buy school clothes."

I dared to hope and wanted more assurance. I asked, too afraid to be hopeful, Mom, are they really going to do that for us?

That’s right.

The clothes Pres wore to school the last two years, his pants sometimes too short and worn-out suspenders that barely held his pants up. His shirts, he had outgrown, and his shoes had holes. His socks were too small that by lunchtime the back of his shoes swallowed the whole sock. He often said the kids teased him about his clothes. When that happens, I just smile and say the joke is on you.

What does that mean? I asked.

Heck, I don’t know. But it stops the teasing. Like right away.

Mom is Nana helping, Pres asked for clarification?

Yep, she is not going to be outdone by my Mom and Dad.

Yay, yay, I yelled as I jumped around.

Pres pumped his right fist in the air, yes, yes.

Do you think they might be able to buy me a red book satchel? I asked.

Yeah, I am sure one of them will.

I am so glad they are willing to help, Pres said, all grown up.

All I could say was, me too.

Pres had other questions for Mom. So, I and Caiti are to take care of everything while you work?

You and Caiti will oversee your little brother and sister. You will have chores to do, as well.

Chores? We are just kids, I said, surprised. How can we work when we are just kids? I asked.

Shut up! Caiti, you will learn, she said.

Mom started with the word process. If you follow the process when doing your chores, you’ll do fine, she told us. Everything is a process, she went on rapidly.

The process to change diapers for the smaller kids was for Lilly’s bottom to be checked every hour for dampness or poop. Stevie was potty-trained. We checked on his bottom often. We were good at changing diapers and washing them. Mom shopped at the Salvation Army and found a step stool for me. The afternoon before she started to work, she came into our bedroom and said, Caiti, come in the kitchen for a minute. Pres was in the kitchen as I entered. He surely had a look of bewilderment on his face.

Step on each of these steps, Mom motioned and slid the step stool in front of the stove. I reached the third step. I could see the entire top of the electric range.

Whattttt, I said. Suddenly, I felt a slap upside the head. I knew what that meant, no more talking, just listen.

There will be times to check the food to be sure it is not burning, or you may need to add water. Caiti, you will need to see over the stove to know what needs to be done. Like turning off the burners and putting water in a pot. You understand?

Yes ma’am.

Let me do it now, Pres asked. I carefully stepped down. He stepped up two steps, Is it okay if I use it too?

You both can. I felt comfortable standing on the step stool, and sure enough, I reached all four burners easily. Next came the hard part. We were to wash everyone’s clothes except for Lilly’s. Towels, sheets, and pillowcases were to be washed as well. We were up early the next day to start.

Wow, Pres said the first day, as we tried to make sense of how to wash clothes bigger than we were. Caiti you know, we don’t like this soap. It makes no suds. It’s the cheapest soap you can buy anywhere in Glassboro.

Gotta use it. It’s all we have.

I thought it best to follow Pres lead. Caiti, I will start the water for the clothes, you gather the three clothes baskets from the hall.

Okay. I pulled the clothes baskets out and started to sort clothes. Pres came over to check.

Be sure to put all the white clothes in one pile, the darker clothes in a separate pile. I did as he told me. He checked and seemed pleased. I followed him into the bathroom. I watched him unwrap the brown octagon soap, dropping the entire bar in the hot water. Now Caiti, you practice placing the clothes in the tub.

I gathered up a big bundle of white clothes and threw all of them in the tub of hot water at once. I turned and said, What next?

We let them soak for a while. Help me start breakfast, then get the kids up and dressed. I tracked into the kitchen behind Pres. Mom and Dad had left before we started the wash, but not before warning Pres and me to be careful when using the stove. Pres placed a pot of water on the stove for grits. I got the butter and milk from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter furthest away from the stove.

Pres poured the grits into the boiling water and stirred until they started to simmer. As Pres cooked the grits, it was my responsibility to keep Stevie and Lilly away from the kitchen. I had the kids bathed and dressed before Pres finished preparing breakfast.

Before Mom left for work each day, she would prep and season the food. She showed us how to boil and warm food all before leaving for work. We cooked beans, and grits, boiled and baked potatoes, and warmed can foods. Can we come into the kitchen now? I yelled.

Not until I get the toast out of the oven and finish sweeping the floor.

All right.

We watched from the kitchen doorway as Pres opened homemade canned peaches. The kids loved those canned peaches. Their little heads stuck to the door frame of the kitchen, anticipating the sweet taste of the fruit. I waited with them, until he said, You can come in now.

I took out our red and white checked picnic quilt from the pantry as Stevie and Lilly unfolded their end with their small chubby hands. Come on Stevie and Lilly, grab your end so we may get ready for the picnic. This meant to encourage them to hold their end of the quilt and lightly let the quilt fall to the floor.

Ahhhhh, squealed Lilly, as she helped me spread it on the floor. The quilt is pretty, once evenly placed. Stevie had his assigned plate in his hand, which he removed from the bottom cabinet earlier.

He yelled out, eat, eat, eat.

We put out 4oz. Ball Mason jars that we used as glassware. We carefully poured the milk so that the little ones would not accidentally knock it over. The four of us got down on the floor and said grace. We finished our breakfast. Pres washed the pie pans we used in place of dishes. I dried them and placed them back inside the bottom cabinets. We then took the picnic quilt outside on the back porch and shook it fiercely. We folded it and placed it back inside the kitchen pantry.

Once the kitchen was clean, our next chore was arduous work. Caiti, are you ready to start washing?

Do we have to? First, it was the octagon soap. We used it for household cleaning, it never cleaned too well. I can’t say how clean those clothes were. Pres and I did the best we could. Mom showed Pres and me the process for using a scrub board.

Yes, the wooden one, with the silver tin ripples down the middle. The washboard was as tall as me. Although Pres and I took turns on the washboard, it wore us out. Caiti, you need to rub the soap harder into the clothes if you can, then try sliding them up and down the washboard.

Okay.

I did as he suggested. Rub a dub bub, rub a dub bub, I went up and down. Pres laughed so hard. I thought he was going to get sick. Whoop, whoop, you look so funny, he said in between bursts of laughter.

Wow, I am tired. Look at my hands. They are red and itchy, I complained.

Mine get that way, too.

Almost finished with the chore of washing, Pres held up the palms of his hands to my face. Red and swollen, he cried out loudly, They itch badly.

I opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a can of green salve. It was an ointment Granddad Will always give us for bee stings, burns, and other small injuries. Here, let me rub some on your hand. I pulled at his arm. I slowly applied a little to my fingertips and spread it over the inside of his hands.

With a sigh of relief, he said, It feels so cool, and it made my hands feel better. Once I finished the rub, I washed my hands in hot water and went back to my chores.

Pres don’t wash anymore let me do it, I ordered with an authoritarian voice. I leaned the washboard at an angle against the side of the tub, and a rub a bub, a dub I went, up and down on the board. After we washed each item, we twisted opposite ends to ring out the water.

Pres held up a sheet dripped with water. He took one end and twisted it in the opposite direction. Caiti, take your end, twist it opposite of my end, he said, as he used his head to nod in the direction he wanted the sheet turned. It worked great until all the twisting left the bathroom floor flooded with water.

I’ll get towels to get the water up, I said and hurried to the closet for towels. It took many.

Mom got home, saw the mess, and ordered, Get out of those wet clothes now.

Scene One, Chapter Four

Our clothes were soaking wet down the front and our bellies itched. We wanted to change clothes long before Mom got home, but we feared the wrath of Mom or Dad if we did. Don’t worry about the wash. I will get these things to the washerette, Mom said and grabbed up the wet clothes. She headed out the door to the end unit of our building where four machines worked.

The next morning, up early, we had no idea what was in store for us. Overnight as we slept hard, Dad came in drunk with meat wrapped in a burgundy piece of thick paper called the butcher’s wrap. The four of us wandered into the kitchen that morning as Mom began to unwrap the papered package on the countertop. Once completely unwrapped, she placed her right forefinger in the air and said a long, Shhhh.

Dad is in the bathroom, we better whisper, I warned. We moved in closer to see what it was. Entirely exposed and the size of a baking hen, a dead furry, bloodied rabbit, ears, tail, and all.

Stevie, behind me, started to make sounds of grunts, I don’t like and sped from the kitchen so fast his little body left a breeze.

Why do we have that here? That is a rabbit. Maybe someone’s pet. Does Dad expect us to eat the thing? Pres complained.

Your Dad won it in a gambling game, bought it in from the gambling shack, Mom whispered. She waved her hand in the air, indicating to keep our voices down.

I don’t want to be near it. Do we have to cook that today? I asked.

Dad came out of the bathroom completely dressed, so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. He grabbed his shoes, sat at the foot of the bed, and pulled them on. He yelled towards the kitchen, They say that is good meat, tastes like chicken. That meat ain’t cheap. Kahili, you skin it, cook it, that will make two meals for all of us.

Pres wondered who ‘they’ were. He never heard any of his friends talk of eating a rabbit. We were squeamish about the bloody rabbit as it lay on the kitchen counter. Before Mom left for work, she went next door to our neighbor, Mr. Jordon, to borrow his sharpest knife.

Hey now, you are not about to do anyone harm over there are you? he asked teasingly.

No, going to skin a rabbit.

You’ve done it before?

No. I don’t know where to start. Reed bought a rabbit home last night in his drunken stupor. He insisted we cook it.

What time is he leaving today? He and I can skin it together.

Dad hearing this rushed around looking for his suit jacket. He looked down, darn, he had it across his right arm. He was getting the hell out as quickly as he could. He knew nothing of skinning a rabbit. See you later, Dad said and dashed out the front door.

Mom walked back inside as Dad stepped on the bus. A bus rider walked by our apartment earlier and whistled for Dad. It signaled the bus three blocks down from Dad’s stop. This put him in a rush. If he missed this bus, he had a long wait for the next one. He wanted no part of skinning or cleaning a rabbit.

Mr. Jordon said, I have time, I can do it for you.

Give me a minute, Mom said, I’ll help you.

No worry, Kahili, I got it.

An hour later, Mom urged, Pres, let Mr. Jordon know he can cut up the rabbit, whenever he is ready. He knocked on Mr. Jordon’s door. He came to the door, coffee mug in hand.

Mr. Jordon, Mom wants to know if you can help with the rabbit now?

Sure, meet me on your back porch and we can do it together. I have heavy plastics we can wrap the debris in and take to the incinerator. Mr. Jordon turned toward his bathroom to splash water on his face and to change out of his pajamas. Pres took a seat in the living room.

Mr. Jordon, may I ride with you to the incinerator? I want to help, Pres asked.

You don’t want to help me cut it up? Mr. Jordon inquired from his bedroom. He received a long, long pause from Pres.

Mr. Jordon tried another way, Hello, earth to Pres. Still silent. Hey buddy, are you still there?

Yes sir, I am thinking. He is doing long thinking, Mr. Jordon thought. Then Pres said, No, better not help you with that. I don’t know how to use sharp knives. Mr. Jordon bowled over laughing at Pres. He was so tickled he was in pain; he did not want Pres to hear him laughing. Pres sat quietly in Mr. Jordon’s living room and watched TV. Pres always tried to help his family out. This morning was not one of them, Mr. Jordon noticed.

Neither Mom nor Pres went outside to help skin the rabbit. Mr. Jordon took the skinned rabbit, cut it into pieces, cleaned it, and placed it in a sealed container. Once completed, he placed the remnants in thick heavy plastic and took them to an incinerator. Then back to his apartment to bathe before going to work. All Mom could say was, Thank you, thank you. You helped me out.

Glad to help. Now don’t eat too much of that meat. Let me know how it tasted, I have never eaten rabbit before.

Okay, I will.

Before Mom left for work, she cleaned the rabbit again, braised it, and placed seasoning on it. We were to boil it slowly and keep checking the water level to avoid burning. After Mom left and before we got busy with chores, Pres called a meeting. Caiti, all y’all come in the living room, we got to talk. I skipped to the living room with Lilly and Stevie behind me. Pres asked, Anyone want the rabbit for dinner?

I replied, I don’t. Lilly and Stevie looked up at us, wide-eyed.

Stevie started to wail, I no eat it, I not, eat it.

Pres tried again, They are going to make us eat the thing. Lilly, do you want a rabbit for dinner?

Stevie cried again, No eat it, I no eat it, boo, who, boo, who.

Lilly stood as if she had no voice and said nothing. Pres chimed in once more and said, Three to one, Lilly refused to vote. He added in a faint voice, We can let it burn up.

Then the house might catch on fire, was my answer.

We won’t let that happen, he said with confidence. Pres and I got so busy with our chores; we unintentionally forgot the rabbit until we smelt it burning. Pres rushed to the kitchen, slid the pot off the stove, lifted the lid, and burned smoke filled the apartment.

Caiti, don’t worry, Mom won’t be mad. Did you see how she looked when I said it may be someone’s pet?

No. But if you say she won’t be too mad, then I believe you.

Mom was okay with us letting it burn. She didn’t want it either. Pres and I thought of rabbits as pets, not meant to be eaten. When Mom got home she said, You and Pres let the dinner burn up.

We are sorry Mom; we got so busy with chores and all and forgot, I explained. Mom looked as if she was happy and in a laughing mood. She had brought home a dozen hot dogs for dinner to go along with pork and beans and French fries.

Mr. Jordon arrived home and yelled, Hey Caiti, your Mom home?

Outside, playing with Bebra, I answered, Yes sir. Knock on the door. She is near.

He knocked on our door. Mom came outside, Hey Jordan, thanks for your help. Reed and that damn rabbit. The last thing I thought he would bring home. Who gambles away rabbits?

Mr. Jordon did not answer, instead, he laughed as he said, Reed got out of here this morning. As soon as the bus driver opened the door, he disappeared. How did it taste?

Mom rolled her eyes upwards to the sky, smiled, and said, The kids let it burn up, pot and all. We threw it away, pot and all.

Mr. Jordon howled like we never heard anyone howl. He was bent over laughing hard, barely able to catch his breath, sat down on the step, slapped his hand on his knees, cried, and laughed more. Then Mom started laughing hard as I looked on. Mr. Jordon finally caught his breath, barely able to speak, and said, All that to eat a rabbit and the kids let it burn up. He and Mom went back to laughing.

Dad came home that evening around seven. What happened to the rabbit?

The kids were busy with chores and let it burn up.

Dad said unconcerned, Well, it’s okay. I know they get tired of eating the same ole, same ole. Thought it would help, to have an assortment of foods.

But not rabbits, Reed, Mom said.

Scene One, Chapter Five

We took one day to wash white clothes and another day for colored clothes. To avoid flooding the bathroom, we were no longer required to wring them out. We washed clothes, let the dirty water out, filled the tub halfway with clean water, and left the clothes for Mom to rinse later and hang outside to dry.

I cleaned Mom and Dad’s room every morning after