Tim
didn’t understand about such things as love at first
sight, but that was what it was¾the red bicycle in Farnham’s Hardware Store window.
He first spied it from across the street. This fairy
princess of pure beauty sat proudly on its brightly lit
throne in the window. White light radiated from the
window and held off the wintry dusk like a beacon. Tim
ran to embrace the moment, at as close as the glass
would permit. He shuddered as uncontrolled emotion
bathed him like the warmth of an open fire. Such
unabashed beauty, such perfection; red enamel tube
frame with tiny white strips, balloon tires with
gorgeous deep treads, dazzling chrome fenders, a
headlight mounted on the shiny handle bars, and a
rubber bulb horn. Tim squeezed the air with his fingers
and it was clear as a goose in his head, “HONK!”
He tried to ignore the wind slicing at his slender
wrists and ankles because his outgrown clothes could no
longer protect all of him. Snowflakes swirled at
intervals, but never mind, this bewitching machine had
him in its spell. Beauty and happiness were one and the
same.
Spasms of snowflakes swirled about him. Unmanageable
shivering and teeth chattering finally tore Tim loose
from his newfound love. He ran the four blocks to his
home. Partly to keep warm, and partly so that he could
sit beside the kitchen stove and reconstruct the vision
of “The Red Bicycle” in his mind. This had to be
done with haste so as not lose anything, not even the
tread pattern on those magnificent balloon tires.
He raced up
the six wooden steps and slammed the kitchen door as he
entered the drafty three-room row house that was home
for him, his parents, and Little Sue.
Tim’s Momma asked in her usual monotone voice.
“Where you been, Timothy?” Her hair was pulled
tight and bundled with a large rubber band behind her
narrow head. A rebel bundle of hair had escaped the
band and flopped annoyingly against her cheek. She was
holding Little Sue with one arm on an extended hip
while she stirred a pot on the coal fired stove with a
wooden spoon. A gray sweater hung loosely down her
gaunt frame like a limp curtain. Her straight faded
skirt seemed oversized for her stick-like legs that
disappeared into flat scuffed shoes.
I was just
out, Momma.”
“Well warm up, and then I need you to take the coal
scuttle to see if you can find some coal lumps beside
the tracks.”
Tim looked at the floor and murmured, “Yes, Momma.”
He would have a few minutes to think of his brand new
unrequited love. He retreated to his private wintertime
spot, a large feather pillow in the corner behind the
stove. This spot he loved. It was too small for his
Momma or Daddy, so it was all his. Someday, when Little
Sue would be older, he would share it with her. An
anemic light bulb hanging from overhead on three feet
of twisted wire was the source of shadows for all the
objects in the room. The stove’s heat and its shadow
softened Tim’s private domain making it cozy and
toasty warm. His pillow and even the walls were robbed
of chill when the fire was blazing. On cold nights he
would go to sleep there until the fire died down and
then he would race to his cot and dive under ragged
quilts.
The kitchen door slammed when his Daddy came in. Tim
felt one blast of cold air in his corner, then warm
again. He wondered what mood his Daddy would be in
tonight. Would he be tender and loving, or would he
slur silly nonsense and swagger and reek with the smell
of alcohol.
“Hi sweetheart.” Ray kissed his wife on the back of
the neck. She yielded by leaning her head slightly
downward.
She looked
so sad to Tim. He wished he could see her smile once,
but it was nice that his Dad seemed to be his old self
tonight.
Little Sue grinned broadly when Ray stroked her under
the chin. “You’re the brightest star in the sky,
little darling.”
Ray shucked his rumpled plaid jacket with its frayed
holes in the elbows, and threw it toward a straight
back kitchen chair. It slowly flowed into the floor. He
pretended that he hadn’t seen Tim sitting behind the
stove. “Where’s that boy of mine?” Ray whirled
around once as though faking a search and then looked
at Tim, “There he is. How are you, boy?”
Tim grinned,
“I’m fine Daddy.”
“Come out here and sit in my lap.”
Tim was in his lap almost before Ray had a chance to
sit.
“Day after tomorrow’ll be Christmas. Did you know
that?”
“Un-huh.”
Tim’s
Momma interrupted, “Ray, don’t you make no promises
you can’t keep.”
“Aw Hanna, I ain’t gonna do that. I hadn’t had a
chance to tell you that the lumber yard’s said that I
could relocate a load of 2ber6’s tomorrow.”
“If we buy anything, we need food and that won’t
leave anything left for…”
“Come on now, Honey. Sometimes you just gotta
sacrifice when you got a good boy like Tim here. You
been good, ain’t you, Tim?”
“Un-huh.” Tim beamed.
Hanna looked at Ray, and then she looked at Tim. Tim
was sure she moved her head slightly in approval and
pursed her lips before turning back to stirring the pot
on the stove.
Ray asked, “Tell me Tim. If Santa Clause brought you
something, what would you want most in all the
world?”
Tim didn’t have to think about that, but he
hesitated. He understood the needs for his family. A
bicycle is only something you ride in your dreams and
you don’t ever really own one. He finally said,
“I’d like for Momma and Little Sue to have new
dresses.”
Ray leaned way back. “Naw, Tim. I mean if Santa could
bring something just for you, and nobody else, just
you.”
“Luke Hensley said that his folks were going to get
him some roller skates. If I had some skates, I could
skate with Luke.”
“Aw, skates ain’t much, boy. Ain’t there anything
more’n that you’d like to have?”
Tim’s vision of the red bicycle flashed in front of
him. It was real enough; he could’ve reached out and
touched it. “Well ¾
there is a bicycle in Farnham’s window that looks
right nice.”
“Ha! I knew there’d be something. By George, I’m
going to talk to Santa tomorrow, just as soon as I get
through stacking them 2ber6s’.”
Hanna turned around. “Now Ray …”
“No Hanna, Tim here is eight years old, and he
ain’t never give us a moment’s cause to worry.
It’s time Santa knew that. Yes sir, that’s what
I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell Santa that Tim needs
that bicycle in Farnham’s window. What’cha fixing
in that pot, Hanna?”
Tim could hardly wait to get back to his private world.
His heart was thumping its way up into his throat. This
time the bicycle wasn’t a vision; he was in its
saddle going like the wind. Honk! Honk! He just passed
Luke on his skates, like nothing to nothing. Suddenly,
his visions were simply a coalscuttle that his Momma
sat down in front of him. He knew that was her way of
reminding him that he still had to go search for coal
besides the tracks.
Sleep came
in fits that night. He might be riding down Morrison
Hill, passing cars even. Or, he would he would be
holding his cane pole in one hand while on the way to
the fishing hole. Once he was just standing beside it
explaining features while all his speechless buddies
stared at it, all wide eyed and open mouthed.
All the next
day was no different. Tim sat on his private pillow and
his Momma didn’t asked him to do much, more than
watch over Little Sue a few times. Fantastic scenes
marched through his mind one by one. More than once he
fell into depression when he speculated on how much the
price of a bicycle would buy things the family
desperately needed.
Daddy had been gone all day to stack lumber and Tim
wished he could have gone with him to help. He could
stack 2x6’s. The short winter day finally came to an
end and it was dark. Daddy had not come home, but of
course it would take a little time to buy something
like “The Red Bicycle.”
Momma picked up Little Sue and sat in a kitchen chair.
Sighing big, she began opening up her blouse preparing
to nurse Little Sue. She looked at Tim for a minute and
her eyes looked glassy. “Tim, don’t you go building
up your hopes too much son.” Her lips quivered and
she looked away.
“I know Momma.”
Hanna winced, “Oh Sue honey, that hurts.”
The hours
dragged by and still Daddy hadn’t come home. Of
course it would take time to load a bicycle and find a
place to hide it until morning. Tim vowed that he
wouldn’t go to sleep that night, but fatigue
eventually overwhelmed him and he collapsed on his
feather pillow. Hanna covered him with a quilt before
she went to bed.
Tim woke and
sat up at once. He’d gone to sleep in spite of his
vow, and he could see through the kitchen window that
the sky was showing a glimmer of light. He jerked his
head around the kitchen. Nothing there, it was the same
as the night before. Maybe in the room he shared with
Little Sue.
On the way, he glanced in Ray and Hanna’s room. What
he saw in the darkened room told him in an instant much
more than he wanted to know. Hanna was in bed alone. On
the opposite side of the room a hand lay outstretched
in the dimness. Looking in, Tim could make out his
Daddy lying on his back in an old mohair chair with his
feet sprawled across the floor. His plaid jacket still
on, mouth wide open, and his arm stretched out over the
chair arm with his hand open as if he was pleading for
help. A wave of booze vapors surrounded Tim.
It hurt, it hurt worse than anything Tim had ever
known. He couldn’t cry out, he wouldn’t let
himself. He knew he would never let them know how
disappointed he was. He studied his Daddy for a long
time. Why did why he love that man so? He couldn’t
explain it. Sometimes he just wanted to pound on him
with his fists, but of course that wouldn’t change
anything.
The house was cold. Tim
turned to go back to his quilt and his feather pillow.
A beam of light flashed in the window and then it was
gone. Tim looked out across the alley. The light had
come from opening and closing of Luke Hensley’s back
door. It was still dark, but Tim could see Luke sitting
on the bottom step strapping on his new skates. He
could make out him twisting a key to clamp the toes of
his shoes to the skates. Maybe if he’d just asked for
skates? He watched Luke wobbling unsteadily down the
alley and holding on to a floppy picket fence. The
vision of the red bicycle was very blurred now. Anyway,
he wouldn’t have had anyplace to go, if he had it.
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