bike.
âMartin,â Daddy called.
Martin hopped off his bike and ran to Daddyâs side.
âMartin, take a sniff.â
Martin sniffed and frowned.
âSmells like something dead in here,â Daddy said, âand weâre going to find it.â He paused. âWell, start looking.â
We looked around for a good while and then Martin found my hatbox full of dead sparrows. âOver here, Daddy,â Martin cried.
Daddy looked at the decaying birds. âJesus. Put the lid back on the box.â He looked at the door to the house. âIf your mother put them there, we should leave them there.â
âMa?â Martin asked.
âYeah,â said Daddy. âIâd say thatâs pretty crazy.â
I didnât say anything.
âSo, you want me just to leave it here?â Martin asked.
âI suppose so.â Daddy scratched his head. âIâll drop a little charcoal in the box and try to soak up some of the stench.â
Martin pushed the box back behind the tires.
âYour mother must be pretty sick to keep stuff like this around. You boys stay away from this.â Daddy headed out of the garage. Martin followed him.
I stood there for a long time, smelling the stench of the birds, feeling afraid because I thought I was crazy. Daddy just assumed the birds were Maâs, so he must have thought putting the birds in the box was crazy. But I put the birds in the box, so I figured I was crazy.
I spend the next few days just sitting around the house listening to the song and watching my son walk from the front door to his bedroom without saying anything. Thelma is in a good mood and this bothers me, but I donât say nothing and I get to feeling a little ashamed for wanting her to feel bad. Peter walks out of his room and quietly toward the kitchen and I ask him if he wants to go to the game with me. He shakes his head and disappears into the kitchen. I walk into his room and get his portable phonograph and I grab my Charlie Parker record and leave for the game.
Iâm really early and I go up to Lou Tylerâs office and give a knock. Lou yells for me to come in and I open the door and walk over to his desk. I place the phonograph on the desk and start looking for a place to plug it in.
âWhat are you doing?â Lou wants to know.
âWhere can I plug this in?â
âBehind the goat.â
I walk to the corner and I get down on one knee and reach through the goatâs legs and push the plug into the outlet.
âWhat you got there?â Heâs standing at the bathroom door, buttoning his uniform shirt.
âI want you to hear something.â
âWhat is it?â
âA song. Sit down.â
He sits down and heâs looking at me funny. âYou feel okay? Your leg giving you trouble?â
âJust listen.â I put the needle down on the record and watch for Louâs reaction.
His face is blank at first and then he starts to frown. âAinât there no words?â
âNo, just music,â I tell him.
Heâs silent for a few seconds and then, âWell, thanks for letting me hear that, Suder.â And he gets up and walks into the bathroom, where he stands in front of the mirror combing the few strands of hair he has.
I pack up and walk out and down into the clubhouse.
âWhatâs up, Craig?â David greets me.
âDavid,â I says, âIâve got something I want you to hear.â
Heâs reaching into his locker for his shirt. âWhat is it?â
âA song by Charlie Parker.â
âThe saxophone player?â Heâs putting on his shirt.
âYeah.â I canât find an outlet, so I says, âCome on in here,â and I walk into the bathroom.
âCome on, Craig. I want to warm up.â
I balance the phonograph on one of the sinks in the long row of sinks. âThis wonât take but a minute.â I plug in the machine and drop the