Free Spare Change by Bette Lee Crosby Page A

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some lamps and the house was still dark with no sign of anyone moving about. He
circled around the far end of the barn and came up on the side of the house
where he’d be able to see into her bedroom.  Stretching his neck, Ethan saw his
mama lying on the bed, still wearing the same shorts and halter she had on
earlier, not even starting to ready herself for work. “Shit fire!” he grumbled,
figuring this to be another of those situations when she’d promise to do
something and then forget about it. He stood and turned to walk away; then he
spotted Benjamin sitting at the foot of the bed, hunched over and slobbering a
string of words about how he was sorrier than he’d ever been in his whole
entire life. 
    For as long as he could remember Ethan Allan had known his parents to
do battle—scream and yell till a person in the next county could hear them;
cuss each other up one side and down the other; hurl heavy pots the full length
of the room—but never in all that time, had he seen a situation such as
this. Something was terribly wrong. He crept closer and closer to the house,
until finally his nose was pressed up against the bedroom window. He saw
Susanna’s head lolled off to the side like a broken arm.  “Mama,” he cried and
went running into the house. 
    “Get the hell out of here!” Benjamin snarled.
    “No!” Ethan Allen answered defiantly. “Something’s wrong with Mama!”
    “She’s sleeping. Nothing’s wrong.”
    “You blind, Daddy? She’s bleeding!”
    “A bonk on the head, that’s all. Now, get.”
    “It ain’t no bonk on the head, she’s bad hurt; can’t you see?”
    “Enough!” Benjamin grabbed hold of Ethan’s arm and dragged him across
the living room to the door. “You’re gonna be hurting a lot worse than your
mama, if you don’t get the hell out of here!” He pushed the boy out the doorway
with a shove that propelled him halfway to the gate.
    “Shithead!” Ethan Allen screamed as the door slammed shut. He scrambled
to his feet and headed back to the bedroom window, but by the time he got
there, the shade had been pulled tight against the sill and it was impossible
to see a thing. “Damn you, Daddy!” he yelled, “Damn you anyway!” 
    Ethan Allen turned and walked back through the trees. He couldn’t shake
the image of Susanna from his mind—she wasn’t sleeping, he was almost sure she
wasn’t. Her eyes were wide open. He tried telling himself everything was okay,
but it didn’t feel okay. It was true enough that Benjamin had a mean streak
wide as the Chesapeake Bay, but Ethan knew his mama was tough and could take
care of herself. She’d done it before and she’d do it again. He thought back to
the time she stayed gone for two whole days then when she finally did get home,
ended up with a broken arm. And there was another time, when Benjamin blackened
her eye for coming home stinking of whiskey. Even after she’d been knocked flat
on her back, Mama always got up. She’d say she was real sorry for carrying on
in such a manner; then things were alright. Mama had that way about her; no
matter how mad a person might get, they’d end up forgiving her and laughing
like they couldn’t ever remember being mad. 
    Edging through the open corner of the tarpaulin, Ethan Allen crawled
back inside his fort. Dog was still asleep. The game was over and Wild Joe
Bonomo was telling listeners that Jimmy Piersall’s ninth inning home run had
been a lousy break for the birds. Ethan snapped off the radio, he didn’t much
care if the Orioles lost another game, “The hell with you,” he grumbled and
curled up alongside Dog. Although he would have sworn he wasn’t the least bit
sleepy, Ethan’s eyelids drifted shut. Before long they were at Yankee Stadium,
him and Susanna, Mickey Mantle at the plate.  With a count of two and two,
Mickey swung and sent a home run ball rocketing into the stands; just as it was
about to land in Ethan’s fielder’s mitt, he woke to the