Truth Be Told (Aurora Antonovic)

 
Truth be told, every family’s got one. You know, a crazy relative they keep tucked away in the background, trotting them out only when they have to, being nice to them ‘cause they’re family.  Well, in my family, we had two of them. Yep, that’s right, two.  One, of course, died long before I was born, and that was my Granny Alder.  The older ones in my family sure could tell tales about her and all her crazy ways, like how she used to try to sneak salt inside the sugar bowl, and watch people’s faces get all screwed up when they tasted their coffee, and then cackle real crazy like.  Then there was the times she used to sneak up behind people, at family dinners and all, special occasions like birthdays, and Christmas, and bop them over the head with a broken piece of broom handle. Yeah, she was a crazy one, all right, and her daughter, my Aunt Louella, Daddy’s younger sister, was just as crazy, some say even worse.

Aunt Louella was a tall, skinny woman with straw like hair that she would pull back into a bun, all tight, with a hair net wound over it. She would go to her job, at the mill, day after day, and come home and rock in her chair, night after night, until it was bedtime, only leaving home to go to work, and once a week to go grocery shopping. That was it.  She was afraid of all kinds of things, like horses, and bumble bees, and having her picture taken. Most family photos showed Louella hiding behind trees, or one of us kids. But the worst thing she ever done was the time my Granny Alder died, and Aunt Louella pulled her up out of the coffin and cried, “Don’t leave me, Mama!” and something flew out of Granny’s nose, like a piece of cotton or something that the undertaker had placed up there. They had to pull her off, and try to put Granny Alder back together, and keep Aunt Louella locked up til they buried Granny. Yep, no fooling, Aunt Louella was a crazy one.

Well, Daddy had always taught us to be real polite to Aunt Louella, her being his youngest sister and all, and we was. We talked nice to her, and we would visit her on Sunday afternoons and tell her about church and all, and name everyone who asked after her. Mama would send her chicken dinner every Sunday, sometimes with the apple pie that was Aunt Louella’s favourite, and she would eat it with her hands, as if she was starving.  We put up with all of her crazy ways, until….well, until Daddy died.

You see, my Daddy had been feeling poorly, and one day he came in with his hand on his stomach, and a worried look on his face, which was all grey-like, and told Mama he didn’t feel so good. When she asked if she oughta send one of us to get the doctor, Daddy fell over, just slumped-like, on the kitchen table and made one sound, like an “Ooof”, and then Mama ran to him and lifted him up while my brother Billy ran like the dickens to fetch Doc Morgan.  By supper time that night, my Daddy was dead.

It was hard, all right, Mama bawling, and all my brothers and sisters crying like the world had ended, and me wanting to go to bed and wake up and find none of this had happened, but of course, it had, and there weren’t nothing I nor Mama or anybody could do about it, so we set about making funeral arrangements. And then the topic came up about crazy Aunt Louella, and Billy said he’d watch her real good so she wouldn’t jump on Daddy in the coffin and try to lift him up like she’d done to Granny Alder. You see, Billy was the oldest in our family, and he remembered what Aunt Louella had done.  He was big, and strong, and fully able to hold Aunt Louella off, but Mama wanted to try to talk to Aunt Louella first, in the hopes that this big scene could be avoided.

Well, when Mama talked to Aunt Louella the night before we buried Daddy, Aunt Louella went all blank like. Then she started wailing and crying, “Oh, my Georgies’s dead!” and then called for Granny Alder, so we knew this was a bust.  Mama’s gentle words couldn’t control Aunt Louella. So Mama came home and told Billy, “Son, you do whatever you gotta do, but keep Aunt Louella off of Daddy.”  Billy promised he would, and so did Randy, the second oldest, who was just as big and tough as Billy. We little kids all promised we’d keep an eye on crazy Aunt Louella ,too, but the next day, something at the funeral happened that nobody could have foretold.

You see, Aunt Louella showed up, and she kind of sensed, maybe in the way she was being watched, that she wasn’t going to get an opportunity to jump on Daddy as he was lying in his casket.  She just sat in the back row, her tiny, icy blue eyes darting back and forth, not really looking at anything in particular, just moving nervous-like.  But then part of Mrs. Simmon’s baby’s rattle or something came off, and he was choking, and turning blue and all, and Mrs. Simmons was screaming for someone to do something. Billy stepped through the crowd, and picked up little Lester and gave his back a good whack. Doc Morgan was right behind, but it was Billy who got the  piece of plastic that had been stuck in little Lester’s throat,  to just fly out, and we was all happy. It was just then that Aunt Louella must have sensed an opportunity or something ,’cause next thing we knew, she was at Daddy’s casket, and neither Billy nor Randy was near enough to grab her.

Well, we also have a brother we call Buddy, except that’s not his real name. It’s Walter, but everyone just calls him “Buddy” and he seems to like it. He’s real little, and scrawny, and he’s got them same kind of icy eyes like Granny Alder and Aunt Louella had, and truth be told, maybe he’s got some of their crazy ways, ‘cause of the way he looked, right at Aunt Louella, and  real quietly, but powerful-like, he faced her and said, “I wouldn’t be doing that if I was you, Aunt Louella”, and she says, “No?” like it was a question, and real serious-like, he says, “No.”  Well, Aunt Louella backed off, totally walked backwards, too, to her seat in the back of the room, and the Parson went up front and took over and gave the sermon so we could bury Daddy.

And Aunt Louella seemed to like Buddy better after that day. She would sometimes let him eat some of the apple pie Mama sent her on Sundays, and she would let him tell all about Sunday service and everyone who asked about her as they ate their pie.  After that, we all started noticing changes in Buddy, more of that crazy look in his eyes just like Aunt Louella’s.   We started seeing him do odder and odder things, like talking to himself and killing bugs, and spending hours twirling as he sang.  We figured the next funeral we’d be having, we wouldn’t have to watch out for Aunt Louella anymore. Nope, it was Buddy we’d have to be watching. Seems some craziness can run in families, I reckon. Truth be told.

first publised in The Sidewalk's End 

Comments

[Matt]

I remember this one. Too cool, Rorie.