1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE: THE PHONE BOOTH

Friday nights we called home. We looked forward to it. All five of us walked to the phone booth, which sat just outside Mrs. Bivens' office and home. She managed the place, but lived there too.

Mother always made sure we had plenty of dimes. Calling was expensive, so we knew we couldn't talk long, but if there was time, each one of us would try to talk to someone on the other end. It wasn't possible to get a one-to-one match, but if nothing else, if time was running short, Daddy would hold out the phone, and all of us would yell something. Usually, we all yelled something different, so it sounded like a big WAAAAH, but everyone felt they'd been heard and acknowledged, so we usually didn't complain about not getting to talk to Neila and Elton as long as we got to yell toward the phone receiver.

Tonight, the five of us trooped out to the phone booth, gravel crunching under our white leather sandals and Daddy's work boots. Stars shone clear and bright in the dark sky, and the air was one long warm breeze, flowing past us like a balmy ocean wave.

Daddy pushed the bifold door and it folded back against the right side of the booth, activating the little dome light in the interior. Stepping inside, he put some coins in the slots in the top of the phone, and dialed "O".

"Operator," he said. "I need to place a call to the Skinner residence, number 3, in Purdon, Texas". About a minute later, she told him how much money to put in the phone, and he dropped coin after coin into the machine. They clinked, metal against metal, each one clinking as it traveled down the crooked metal path from the top of the phone to the bottom.

Then he waited for the phone to ring at home, and Neila answered. She was there with one of her friends. Elton was on a date with Deanna, she told him. He was holding the receiver in one hand, turning toward Mother and whispering the information to her. Then, all of a sudden, his face turned solemn, and he said, "I'm going to let you tell all this to your mother."

Mother took the phone and put her ear to the receiver. Within seconds, she had a stricken look, mirroring that of our dad.

"Yes, yes," she said. "You're sure? Have you talked to Evelyn? Well, are you okay? How is Elton handling this?"

After each question, she paused, listening to the answer, and shaking her head noiselessly.

"All right, then. We'll call you back tomorrow to get more details," she said sadly. "Has Nettie been there today? Okay. Bye bye."

She hung up the phone, then cupped her face in her hands, and her shoulders started shaking. Daddy patted her shoulders and embraced her in a full hug, while Jan held onto her skirt, and Susan and I just looked up at her, worried, waiting to see what had happened.

We hadn't even gotten to shout out our hellos toward the receiver, so whatever it was, it caused Mother to forget we were even there.

She seemed to regain some control after a few minutes of being comforted by our dad.
"Girls," she said, her voice strained, "David, Evelyn's son, was killed last night. A car fell on him while he was working on it. He was so brilliant. It's just a real tragedy. He was one year older than Elton.
Neila had to call Evelyn because she wasn't home when it happened, and you know they don't have a phone. Anyway, we just have to pray for the entire family. It's a sad day, a very sad day." She started crying again, and all of us gathered around her like baby chicks around a hen, only we were trying to console her, not be protected.

I felt sorry for Boy, losing his older brother. David was always nice to Boy. I wondered who would help Boy with his homework now.

"Such a waste," Mother kept saying.

Mother called home the next day, I knew, because she went outside in the afternoon and didn't let any of us go with her. She told us to stay inside because it was so hot, but it was really because she didn't want us to hear the conversation. Daddy was watching television in their bedroom, and we were playing in ours with our dolls. When we heard the door shut, we immediately dropped the dolls and ran into their room to see who went out.
"Stay here," he said, not unkindly.
"We want to go with Mother," we whined.
"No, she'll be back in a few minutes. Go back and play with your dolls."
We did as he said. He didn't like a lot of whining, and even though we almost never received any punishment from him, we had a healthy respect and wouldn't argue with him like we would with her. Something in his voice caused us to obey with less wheedling.
When Mother came back in, she was sweating, and we could tell she'd been crying. But when we asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't talk about it.

She went in the kitchen and started preparing something that eventually became the smell of chicken fried steak. She peeled, cooked, and mashed potatoes, made gravy, heated canned green beans, and opened a package of rolls and placed them in the oven.

Then she set places for three people at the pygmy table and fixed individual plates for Susan and me to take to the small coffee table in our bedroom. We sat on the narrow brown leather couch and cut the steak into small pieces we could chew.

There was almost no conversation from the table where Mother, Daddy and Jan sat, except Jan asking for more mashed potatoes, please. Even Daddy, who was not usually quiet, especially at meals when he told stories and talked about work, had almost nothing to say.

Susan and I looked at each other, but taking their lead, ate in near silence. We offered to help with the dishes, but Mother said she'd do them. While she clattered around in the kitchen with the dishes, we played Battle quietly while sitting in the middle of the double bed on the thick brown and yellow quilted bedspread.

I'd never known anyone who died before, most especially not anyone young. I didn't know what to say, so for once in my life I didn't say anything.

I didn't ask Mother a million questions. I could tell I needed to leave her alone, but I didn't like the way it made me feel. I felt adrift, like I was on a boat floating out to the open ocean. Now that we had seen the ocean, I had more of an idea how vast it really was, so I hoped Mother would grab hold of the rope and pull my boat toward shore before it got too far away.

Tomorrow would be better. Things were always better after you had a while to get used to the idea.

"Let's go to bed," I suggested.

Susan looked shocked.

"You want to go to bed this early? Without anyone reminding you?"

"Yeah, I'm tired," I lied. "I won't kick you. You can have more legroom in the bed tonight if we can go ahead and go to sleep."

She looked at me suspiciously, pursing her lips, dipping her head and cutting her eyes up at me.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just want to go to sleep."

"Is it about David?" she said suddenly.

"No, I'm just tired. Now let's go to sleep."

"Okay, but if it's about David, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

"How do you know?" I asked, incredulous.

"God will help Evelyn."

"Ok, well, let's go to sleep. And turn the air conditioner down really cold. I want to get way down under the covers, ok?"

"OK," she said, sighing and shaking her head a little side to side.
"Get under the covers, and I'll go get an extra blanket for Jan."

I covered my head and embraced the darkness. It felt calm and controlled there. The boat floated slowly, rocking back and forth in the waves, its path moving gently in the direction of the shore.Installed