She cried and rubbed his arms, wanting him to feel the same sense of loss for the same man petrified in his casket. He left her arm on his arm, thinking that it would be most appropriate if he comforted his mother rather than give in to his fierce desire to think aimlessly. He listened to the echoes of his father’s pedagogy: ‘remain focused always.’ ‘Put in the hard work regardless of the result.’ ‘Always look presentable no matter how servile the task.’ At best, it was a life under the gun, under some overseer who would whip the Carolina boys into shape, because ultimately that’s what life did no matter how far he strayed from the straight and narrow. Claude figured that every man, woman, and child were under the same constraints—do the job, get paid, think smart, go back home, and tend to your family. This became his father’s equation, and any farcical deviation became a blunder within the slim, unconquerable paradigm of what a good life ought to be. Claude understood his father’s. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the conversation was in whispered tones.When I had dressed, I knocked on the door. “Come in.” it was Aunt Dorrie’s voice. I entered and there was no sign of Uncle Jimmy. I assume he had gone upstairs as his clothes were still on the floor.“Listen Barry, I want you to promise that you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” I promised. “You must also promise that you won’t ever do this again with Jimmy.” I reluctantly agreed.Whenever I saw Uncle Jimmy, it was always with Aunt Dorrie or at a family gathering. Sadly a year later, he passed away.Part two: Dorrie.Aunt Dorrie changed when Jimmy died. Gone was the full of life person I used to know. My visits were less frequent. I was rarely invited in to the house. Then one day mum asked me if I would go and replace the washer on Dorrie’s kitchen tap. Of course I agreed. I took some tools as I was uncertain if she had any. I arrived and when she opened the door, she smiled. “Hello Barry, have.
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