Waiting with Elmer. Deanna K. Klingel

I take my turn with scrubbing the pots and cleaning the sinks. That’s all the homework I know how. Oh, and sweeping off the porch, I forgot that.”

      Elmer laughed and pulled Willy down to his platform. “When the supper gets cleared away tonight, you and I will use the table and we’ll talk about the homework, okay? You’re a lucky man, Willy. You’ve got tutors all around you.”

      “Huh?” He looked around at the room full of hapless and homeless men. “What do I need a tu—whatever you said, for?”

      “Chicken and dumplings,” called Drum. “Willy, you had such a fine day today, I think you should ask the blessing tonight.”

      “Aw, no, Drum. Not me. I don’t know how to do prayin.’ I’m only good at the Amen part. I only know how to do our-father-who-are-in-the-heaven. Ask somebody else.”

      “I asked you.” The metal chairs scraped around the big table and Drum walked around behind the men, dropping heaps of chicken and dumplings onto their tin plates. The tray of bread and butter was passed around the table. Then it was quiet. All the men bowed their heads and waited. Willy peeked up and Drum had one eye open peeping at him; he nodded at Willy. Willy gulped.

      “Our Father who are in the heaven, thank you for being there in heaven where we can find you, and thank you for Drum knowing how to make chicken and dumplings, and for the bakery lady that brings our daily bread every morning, so she doesn’t have to throw it away. And she said to say thank you that her boy got a job driving a truck, so thank you for that. Thank you for Elmer getting me these pants, because one boy has holes in his and the kids made fun about that and it hurt his feelings pretty bad. His stomach hurt from being made fun of. Can you please fix that up for him, so he won’t have to miss school tomorrow? And that girl, Betsy, we need to thank you for Betsy who gave him a Kleenex and told him to forgive them and just waitnsee and everything would be fine. And I think we need to say thank you for all those teachers over there at that school, because, God, I found out they come to school earlier than we do, and they clean up their classroom, and they don’t even get to go home ’til suppertime. And then thank you for my lunch that Drum made for me. I blessed about that before I ate it, too, and I saw a couple of them thinking that was funny and I wanted to punch them, but Elmer told me that time when the paper boy got in a fight with another kid, that fighting wasn’t how you wanted me to take care of business, and I needed to fight the temptation instead, so I didn’t punch them; but maybe you could make them sick or something, and deliver us from their evil, and thank you for Elmer telling me all that.” Willy sucked in a little breath.

      One by one, men opened their eyes and looked at each other, but no one said anything. A few feet shuffled impatiently on the cement floor under the table. One man cleared a little tickle from his throat. Willy continued.

      “I didn’t know we should give thanks for the freight train, but when it rumbled past the school today the chalk in the tray bounced around and the ink bottles shook in their little holes and the teacher had to stop talking about diagramming sentences because we couldn’t hear her anyway, and she said, “God bless those trains to kingdom come!” so I reckon we should bless those trains, and…”

      “Amen,” shouted Drum, “amen.”

      “Yes, amen,” added the others, shaking their heads. “Yes, indeed, God bless those trains!” They dove into their chicken and dumplings and chewed slowly. Their supper had completely cooled; grease pooled around the edges of their plates.

      “Well, well, Willy, looks to me like you’ll do right well in recitation class.” The others laughed. Willy shrugged, unsure what was meant by that, and looked a bit disappointed.

      “I didn’t get to the part about thy will be done.”

      When the supper was cleaned up, Elmer, Rake, and Willy sat at the table and looked over Willy’s home work.

      “Charles,” Elmer called. “Looks like you got yourself a job. Willy’s got some algebra.” Old Charles hobbled off the swing and out to the table.

      Willy whispered to Elmer. “Charles? Him? But he’s just a—

      Elmer’s eyebrow shot up and Willy swallowed his words.

      “You know algebra, Charles?” Willy’s voice cracked with surprise.

      Elmer laid his arm over Charles’ shoulder. “Willy, my man, meet the math teacher of the year, in his heyday. Can you come out of retirement and help this man, Charles?”

      “Let’s get to it.” He rubbed his hands with enthusiasm. “Let’s get to it!” The evening went quickly as Willy soaked up the world of algebraic expressions from the old math teacher.

      “How come you know about algebra, Charles?”

      “Well, sir, I was a teacher, years back. My students turned out to be the finest in their field. Engineers, accountants, teachers, scientists… yes, sir, I was a good teacher, if I do say so myself.”

      “Why aren’t you a teacher anymore?”

      “Because they say I’m too old. Folks think if you get old you aren’t worth anything anymore.”

      “Well, you just taught me. I think you could teach our whole class. How come you live here? Don’t teachers have real houses?”

      “I did. Once.”

      “Lights out.”

      “Praise God.”

      Willy and Charles crept off to bed. Willy held on to his unanswered questions about Charles, who was much more than he seemed. Willy was well prepared for tomorrow, thanks to Old Charles.

      Charles smiled to himself as he snuggled beneath his blanket. “Thy will be done,” he whispered.

      Chapter Eight

      “Hey kid, what’s your name?”

      “Willy. Who wants to know?”

      “Really? That’s your real name?”

      “Yeah. Willy Sykes. So what?”

      “Nothing. I never knew anybody named Willy. No problem. I’m Kyle. My friend Jason is in your gym class. He says you’re pretty good. You going out for the baseball team?”

      “Going out where?”

      “Going out… you know, like tryouts. You know. Are you going to try out for the baseball team?”

      Like always when he wasn’t sure how he should answer, Willy shrugged off the question with one shoulder, and kept walking.

      “Were you on a team before? At your previous school, I mean. You’re new, right?” Kyle kept pace with Willy.

      Willy stopped walking and stared at Kyle.

      What’s he doing? Trying to aggravate me or something? Stupid white kid. I can’t believe him. He thinks I’m dumb or something.

      Willy looked around to see who might be witnessing Kyle’s behavior, waiting in ambush. Kyle followed Willy’s eyes.

      “You meeting someone?” Kyle asked.

      Willy started walking. He’d seen setups before. He figured before long a mob of white baseball players would be all over him.

      “Hey, wait up! You got a problem, Willy?”

      Willy stopped again and stared at Kyle. “You’re gonna be the problem if your friends see you talking to me. Unless you’re the one setting me up.”

      Yeah, that’s it. Distract me while they attack me.

      “Setting you up? What are you talking about? I just thought since you