My father had two brothers. The younger was named Ben and the older was named John. Both were alcoholics and ne’er-do-wells. My parents often spoke of them.
“Neither of them amount to anything,” said my father.
“You just come from a bad family, Daddy,” said my mother.
“And your brother doesn’t amount to a damn either!”
My mother’s brother was in Germany. My father often spoke badly of him.
I had another uncle, Jack, who was married to my father’s sister,
Elinore. I had never seen my Uncle Jack or my Aunt Elinore because there were bad feelings between them and my father.
“See this scar on my hand?” asked my father. “Well, that’s where
Elinore stuck me with a sharp pencil when I was very young. That scar has never gone away.”
My father didn’t like people. He didn’t like me. “Children should be
seen and not heard,” he told me.
It was an early Sunday afternoon without Grandma Emily.
“We should go see Ben,” said my mother. “He’s dying.”
“He borrowed all that money from Emily. He’d pissed it away on gambling and women and booze.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“Emily won’t have any money left when she dies.”
“We should still go see Ben. They say he has only two weeks left.”
“All right, all right! We’ll go!”
So we went and got into the Model-T and started driving. It took some
time, and my mother had to stop for flowers. It was a long drive toward the mountains. We reached the foothills and took the little winding mountain road upwards. Uncle Ben was in a sanitarium up there, dying of TB.
“It must cost Emily a lot of money to keep Ben up here,” said my
father.
“Maybe Leonard is helping.”
“Leonard doesn’t have anything. He drank it up and he gave it away.
”I like grandpa Leonard," I said.
“Children should be seen and not heard,” .said my father. Then he continued, “Ah, that Leonard, the only time he was good to us children was when he was drunk. He’d joke with us and give us money. But the next day when he was sober he was the meanest man in the world.”
The Model-T was climbing the mountain road nicely. The air was clear
and sunny.
“Here it is,” said my father. He guided the car into the parking lot of
the sanitarium and we got out. I followed my mother and father into the building. As we entered his room, my Uncle Ben was sitting upright in bed, staring out the window. He turned and looked at us as we entered. He was a very handsome man, thin, with black hair, and he had dark eyes which glittered, were brilliant with glittering light.
“Hello, Ben,” said my mother.
“Hello, Katy.” Then he looked at me. “Is this Henry?”
Yes.
“Sit down.”
My father and I sat down.
My mother stood there. “These flowers, Ben. I don’t see a vase.” “They’re nice flowers, thanks, Katy. No, there isn’t a vase.”
“I’ll go get a vase,” said my mother. She left the room, holding the flowers.
“Where are all your girlfriends now, Ben?” asked my father. “They come around.”
“I’ll bet.”
“They come around.”
“We’re here because Katherine wanted to see you.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to see you too, Uncle Ben. I think you’re a real pretty man.” “Pretty like my ass,” said my father. My mother entered the room with
the flowers in a vase.
“Here, I’ll put them on this table by the window.”
“They’re nice flowers, Katy.”
My mother sat down.
“We can’t stay too long,” said my father. Uncle Ben reached under the mattress and his hand came out holding a pack of cigarettes. He took one out, struck a match and lit it. He took a long drag and exhaled.
“You know you’re not allowed cigarettes,” said my father. “I know how
you get them. Those prostitutes bring them to you. Well, I’m going to tell the doctors about it and I’m going to get them to stop letting those prostitutes in here!”
“You’re not going to do shit,” said my uncle.
“I got a good mind to rip that cigarette out of your mouth!” said my
father.
“You never had a good mind,” said my uncle.
“Ben,”my mother said, “you shouldn’t smoke, it will kill you.”
“I’ve had a good life,” said my uncle.
“You never had a good life,” said my father. "Lying, boozing,
borrowing, whoring, drinking. You never worked a day in your life! And now you’re dying at the age of 24!”
“It’s been all right,” said my uncle. He took another heavy drag on the Camel, then exhaled.
“Let’s get out of here,” said my father. “This man is insane!”
My father stood up. Then my mother stood up. Then I stood up. “Goodbye, Katy,” said my uncle, “and goodbye, Henry.” He looked at me to indicate which Henry.
We followed my father through the sanitarium halls and out into the parking lot to the Model– T. We got in, it started, and we began down the winding road out of the mountains.
“We should have stayed longer,” said my mother.
“Don’t you know that TB is catching?” asked my father.
“I think he was a very pretty man,” I said.
“It’s the disease,” said my father. “It makes them look like that.
And besides the TB, he’s caught many other things too.”
“What kind of things?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you,” my father answered. He steered the Model-T down the winding mountain road as I wondered about that.