APRIL-MAY2008
Tommy of the Polio
By Jerry Vilhotti
The mother looked deeper into this polio infected son's eyes, whom she hadn't really wanted, what with a husband who resembled Rudolph Valentino but many thought was even better looking: standing five inches taller and the strength of ten men surging through his muscular body; always falling into the smiles of all women and staying away for days. Him forgetting about her and the four children, stuck in the grip of the Great Depression, and unable to control her smile, that went into all directions the night she discovered her naked husband entwined on the couch with a pretty bare bar maid, whom he had taken home the night she had hemorrhaged Tom out of her body, after seeing such a sight. And God would bestow upon this son that sin of the father's in the form of infantile paralyzes.
She whispered harshly: "So you spent it! Look into my eyes and tell me you didn't spend any money you got shining shoes - bum!"
Tommy Tom Tom tried to fix his afflicted leg steadier to the floor. He placed both his hands together behind his back and made his eyes fall deeply into his mother's eyes while shaking his head as his tongue secretly scraped away from his teeth the remains of the chocolate bars he had eaten while watching Tom Mix silently killing bad guys. Silently, steadily, invisibly the tongue did its work. He had to make very sure his mouth was totally cleaned for fear she would next ask him to open it wide to gather up any evidence of a spending.
"Leny One N and Flab dished me, Mama. They took away all my corners so got all the shoes!" Tom said, referring to a brother and a brother-cousin who laughingly did; able to outrun Tom easily.
She told him to go; appearing very dissatisfied
with his lack of giving. Tom went to his room to wait for
Leny's return. Alone in the darkness - hiding beside
their bed - he waited. He checked and rechecked to
see if the caps were properly in place inside the cap
pistol and after two hours the bedroom door opened,
silhouetting Leny to his sight, who had just moments
before poured noisily "tons of coins" into
their mother's quivering hands. And though Leny's
shoeshine box looked like a shield dangling from his
shoulder, Tom knew deep inside it would not repeal his
shots. "You're dead! You're dead! You're dead!" Tom shouted uncontrollably. Then, he cried.
END 3-13-08