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CHAPTER 31

Not Much Christmas

      CHRISTMAS CAME and went, and it was not very different from any other day.

      Miss Peaches fixed a big family dinner at her place, but nobody attended it except Bobby and Normalade and the baby. Lucy had intended to go, although she still had the remains of her black eye. But on Christmas morning, something bad happened: when she went in to rouse Uncle Bob, she found poor Rooster curled up on the floor rug, dead as a stone. After that, Uncle Bob refused to celebrate Christmas. He wouldn't get out of bed to eat breakfast, and he wouldn't even look at his presents — a nice shirt Lucy had bought him, and a box of candy from Bobby. Even Normalade had gotten him something: a pair of red-and-white striped pajamas. But he wouldn't even untie the ribbons.

      So Lucy stayed home with him, not wanting to leave him. She didn't know whether Swan was there or not. She never asked.

      After Christmas, Uncle Bob stayed in bed most of the day every day. He had very little to say to anybody now. He was increasingly fussy about what he would and wouldn't eat. He quit reading the papers, and he even gave up watching TV — although sometimes he'd go in and watch Normalade's women's programs with her.

      And Bertie quit coming to see them. Whether it was because he and Uncle Bob had had some kind of fight, or because Bertie knew he'd done too much mischief, Lucy never knew.

      Lucy was anxious about the change, but nobody else seemed concerned. Normalade, of course, had never had much to do with Uncle Bob anyway. And Bobby said he thought there was nothing to worry about. Lucy had discussed it with Bobby two days after Christmas. They were alone at the breakfast table, and neither Normalade nor Uncle Bob was up yet. "Bobby, Uncle Bob won't talk to me any more."

      "Sure he talks. Just yesterday I asked him if he knew where the hammer was, and he said no."

      "That's not talking," she answered crossly. "And don't try to say you don't know he's been acting funny. He takes no interest in anything, and he barely eats enough to keep a bird alive."

      Bobby reached for the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. Put two spoons of sugar in it, stirred it, tasted it, and added one more spoon. "You worry too much."

      She poured a cup for herself. "Don't be like that. I know you care about him too — and I think there's something really wrong. I even talked to the doctor about it."

      "What did he say?"

      Lucy felt impatience boiling up in her like coffee perking in a pot. "He said nothing. That Uncle Bob's old. That we can't expect him to be the same. And I hate that — he's not just some old dog that we can let die. And I have this bad feeling that this time, he really could be . . ." She didn't finish, silenced by what she thought.

      This time, at last, Bobby met her eyes. It was a real look, with almost the patient expression Mama used to have.

      "Take it easy," he said gently , pushing aside his empty cup. "You got to try being realistic about Uncle Bob. After all, he's had an unusual life. And I don't like to say it, but he's always been . . . temperamental. And it's not like he's never acted strange before."

      Lucy got up and ran fresh water into the kettle and put it on the stove. "This time it's different."

      "No it's not!" Bobby contradicted, kind but firm. "All you have to do is think back to when Mama died. He was so depressed and mean that I was afraid to so much as make a noise. It took him months to get back to normal — and in the meantime, you and I sneaked around here like criminals. Remember that? I was scared shitless the whole time and you were, too — weren't you."

      Lucy nodded, not really wanting to admit it.

      "Okay. And he got over it finally, didn't he?"

      In all honesty, Lucy had to nod and admit that he had.

      "And that's not the only time, either. There was the time he got into the fistfight with the tax man, and the time the rector at First Baptist was preaching against the evils of drink, and Uncle Bob went in there during their services and made a commotion. Remember?"

      Yes, Lucy remembered that.

      "All right then. Every time he does something like this — afterwards he's depressed a while, just like now. But he always snaps out of it. Every time."

      "Maybe so," Lucy agreed, "But I still think . . ."

      "Well quit thinking." Bobby gave a snort. "Uncle Bob's just a moody person, that's all. And we overlook it, just like Mama always did, because he's our Uncle Bob and that's how he is. So don't go making something big out of it all of a sudden."

      So that was that. She got up and cleared the table and started on the dishes. "I don't know why you want to do that before Normalade comes down," Bobby said irritably, to her back. "You'll just have it all to do again."

      Lucy didn't answer. She was miffed at having been talked out of what she really believed.

      Bobby remained silent for a little, watching as she scrubbed and rinsed the plates and put them in the drainer. After a while, he muttered, "I'll tell you, Normalade's going to drive me crazy one of these days . . ."

      Lucy glanced at him over her shoulder. Bobby might not be too worried over Uncle Bob, she thought unkindly, but he always had plenty of sympathy for his own troubles.

      "All the time I stayed away, she was sweet to me as sugar," Bobby continued in a glum voice. "But now I'm home again, she's at me every minute — complaining and wanting money. And she won't let me out of her sight for a minute."

      Lucy came for his empty cup and took it over to wash it. "She's your wife, and she's got a right to spend time with you."

      "Maybe so. But do I have to be around her twenty-four hours a day? I can't even step out the door by myself" Saying this, he got up and went to the back door and looked out like a prisoner. "Maybe you don't know that ever since she gave in on the baby's name, she's been saying that now it's my turn, and I've got to do everything she wants."

      "That doesn't sound unreasonable," Lucy muttered.

      "Well you know what she's come up with? I'm supposed to stay home every night. How about that! And when I said I had to work, she said well then, she'll just come to work with me, instead. Every day." He roamed up to the sink and reclaimed the coffee cup which Lucy had just washed. "And if she does that . . . it'll drive me crazy, that's all."

      Lucy said nothing. She didn't want to add fuel to the fire by saying so, but the thought of Normalade coming to work with them every day was certainly depressing.

      "And then there's Swan," Bobby said, pouring more coffee into the clean cup. "She lets on that nothing ever happened between us. Do you know she's never even mentioned my coming home again? But Sis, she's getting so thin!"

      Normalade came down at that point, and the conversation ended. But Lucy continued thinking about what Bobby had said. Because she had not been to work these few days, she hadn't seen Swan since the day they went to the doctor. Yes, Lucy thought, Swan would be suffering now.

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