Troy Neely, my Mommie's cousin, was one of Daddy's best friends. He came to visit. They had been close since the time they learned to walk. All they had shared, all they felt I never knew. But I knew a little. I was a kid, and we kids knew our place. "To be seen but not heard".
We kids were there-- in our place-- in our beds while our elders talked into the night. In our place when adult things were going on.
But we were not always asleep as we were told to be. We were not always in our beds as we were ordered to be. We were in the background, in the shadows watching and listening.
So it was when Troy came from Tazewell to Crab Orchard to see us. Back slapping, wide grins, tall tales, news sharing, shared friend chicken with the fixins', Then it was late. All us kids and Mommie were in bed. Daddy and Troy sat in the living room. I remember the day. It was in November. The temperature had dropped; Daddy and Troy say in front of the fireplace, sharing intimate men things. Nosy and so not obedient, I crept through the pass through from the bedrooms to the dining room. I sat crouched behind the wall into the living room. I listened as Daddy and Troy talked.
Then Daddy was crying. He just couldn't go on, he said. "I never knowed it would be like this. Ruthie is so hard." Daddy sobbed. I wanted to get up and look around the doorway, but I feared the consequences. I crept back to my bed.
I knew that minute, that night that I really loved my Daddy and could never love my mother as a daughter ought.
