Part 17

(Go to Part 1 for the beginning.)

(Continued from Part 16)

 After a back-breaking four hours of yard-work and scrubbing outdoor walls, Mrs. Wesley says, I need you to do extra housework today. No, I'm not going to hire a maid. We're not the Rockefellers and it wouldn't hurt you to pitch in a little more considering the fact that you have a free room. There's one more chore in the den and you're done. I follow her to my least favorite room, my eyes averting the judge's arsenal, a shrine to the NRA that includes a bastion of bullet-spraying assault weapons.

Mrs. Wesley fires three verbal bullets my way--Clean the toilet. I can't believe my ears but there's a toilet brush in a pail beside her. She shoves it in front of me. Take it. My survival instinct tells me to swallow my pride and clean the damn toilet. The handle of the pail is in my hand but it's like lead. I can't lift it. I won't.

All my life I've heard the labels and they come rushing back. Dad is saying, Compromise. You're not going to get anywhere being over-sensitive and stubborn; Mom is saying, Just once in my life I'd to see you do something with no questions asked. I'm wondering if they're right. I look up at Mrs. Wesley and a tight smile comes to her thin lips as if she enjoys my dilemma. Suddenly I shove the toilet pail across the parquet floor and it comes to rest at her feet. Only outside work. That's what I was hired for.

Her eyes narrow. I'll give you one more chance to change your mind. What notice? Now you listen here, you don't give me 30 day notice. I'm not here for your convenience. If that's the way it's going to be then I want you out first thing tomorrow morning. It's not my problem that you don't have a place to stay.

The next day I'm out on the street again. I'm feeling guilty and thinking that Mom and Dad are right - I'm too stubborn for my own good and constantly doing myself in by bucking The System. Out of desperation, I call my folks and Mom answers drunk, probably from too many of her usual drink, a lotta bourbon and a little Ginger Ale. Hi, lovie, she says. I'm sitting here in the living-room playing solitaire, winning a few, losing a few. Your father? Why do you want to speak to him? He's such a bomb but if that's what you want.... Lovie, giving birth to you and your brother was the best thing that ever happened to me. Hold on. I'll get your father if he's not out fooling around with one of his tomatoes, and the receiver falls to the floor with a Clunk.

I tell Dad what happened with Mrs. Wesley and he says, Of course I'm upset. You used terrible judgment. No, I'm not going to send any money. Not a dime. If you don't have a place to stay then check into a motel. Then fine, your car. Be sensible and forget photography. Get a regular job, Frank. I worked at a steady job before I went out on my own. You've got to put the horse before the cart. Write and let us know how you make out. Click.

(to be continued every Tuesday)