THE BOY WHO BIT HIS LIP my favorite thing that I've ever written

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The Boy Who Bit His Lip

He was never big

Not even when he was full grown

He was small in stature

But had the biggest heart you ever saw.

I first met him

When I was nine 

And he was seven

And he had moved in next door.

He wore overalls

And had tousled hair

That fell in his eyes

And kept you from seeing inside.

I went over to help them move in

Cause I was a curious girl

And it was a long, boring summer

And I was tired of sitting round, grumbling.

"Ya'll need some help?" I asked

And the mama and the daddy just looked at me

And the boy and his baby sister smiled shyly

And kicked at the ground.

They didn't say much

But I dug in and helped carry boxes

Out of the back of the truck and into the house

And worked me up quite a sweat.

Later on, we all had root beer

And baloney sandwiches

And I learned their names

And where they had come from.

Me and the boy passed the summer

Fishing down at the creek

And climbing the hills and such

But he didn't open up much.

He had a sense of humor

Not like most people

His was quiet and dry

And found in the oddest places.

I never really felt at ease

At his house and neither did he

After a month or two in residence

We all started hearing shouting coming from next door.

Sometimes I'd be met on the porch

And told to go home

Sometimes his mother would pass the window

And I'd see bruises on her pale face.

School started and that is where

This story really begins

I loved school cause I was smart

But that school became a hell for my new friend.

Jimmy tried to blend in

Not in to the cliques

But in to the walls like a ghost

He tried to be invisible but he stuck out like a sore thumb.

They picked on him cause he was "country"

Cause he wore patched clothes and old shoes

Cause he looked different and talked different

And was different but I was sure glad he was.

Sometimes on the play ground

I'd see the bullies taunting him

And I'd walk over to eavesdrop

And be close by if he needed help.

Terrible things, they said to him

Made up insults that only bad children can say

Circling round him like little vultures

Picking on him like he was dirt.

But Jimmy never said a word

He just looked at the ground

And shuffled his shoes and waited

Till they got tired and walked away.

"Why do you take that mess?"

I asked him one day when I couldn't stand it anymore

"Fools will always be fools." he answered quietly

With more wisdom than most grown folks.

And years passed

And he grew stronger but not much taller

Sometimes he came to school with a black eye

And he trembled when I sat with him on the bus.

Sometimes, I reached over

And held his hand and he tightened his grip

In a grateful way and I let him know

I'd come over and beat me some butt if he needed me to.

His daddy drank, we found out

Had lost the family farm and all they had

Loved to beat up on weaker folks, like women and children

And was just meaner than a junk yard dog.

My daddy wanted to go over sometimes

And beat the hell outta him when we heard the yelling

But my mama was scared and wouldn't let him

But later on, she wished to God she had.

When I was thirteen and he was eleven

We came home from school one day

To see the sheriff's car parked out front

And the coroner's wagon loading up the baby sister.

Oh, God, it was awful

That poor, sweet little towhead

Her daddy had wrung her neck

And her mama was screaming like she would never stop.

The sheriff couldn't find him

Cause he had jumped into his old Chevy

And hightailed it out of the state

Drunk and swerving and running like the coward that he was.

Jimmy tried to console his mama the best he could

But he took it hard in his heart

And down by the creek, I'd put my arms around him

And he'd cry like a baby.

When he graduated with honors

I was so proud of him, sitting beside his frail mother

But she was worried, I could tell

And later on, when the draft board papers came, I understood.

Just before he left for Vietnam

We were lying on a blanket down by the water

Eating hot dogs and drinking cherry wine

And trying to hold on to childhood.

"I'll never love no other girl but you." he said softly

Touching my face and brushing back my hair

"You're the kindest, sweetest person in the whole world."

And I blushed, knowing it wasn't true but glad he thought so.

I was a grown woman and I had a job

But I knew I loved that boy by the time I was eighteen

And he was sixteen

And I knew I always would.

The bullies had grown up

But they still picked on him

Started fights and played dirty tricks

But Jimmy never said a mumbling word.

He was eighteen and a half

When that bus pulled up on the town square

And he set down his old suitcase and kissed his mama

And held me so tightly in his arms that I became part of him.

"You come back to me, you hear?" I whispered in his ear

"Don't you go and get yourself killed or maimed." I warned him

"And don't you go and get yourself married to some body else." he pleaded

"I wouldn't do that." I promised "I love you, Jimmy. I always will."

It was three years before we saw him again

We had written letters back and forth

And kept my mailman so busy he was threatening to retire

"Here's one from your boy!" he'd say and grin a big grin.

I lived for those letters

I lived to touch something that he had touched

And read them over and over trying to feel what he was feeling

And see what he was seeing.

He didn't describe the horrors of war

Instead, he told funny stories about the guys he knew

About how lush and green it was over there

And how he couldn't wait to see my face again.

One evening I came home from work

And my mama and daddy and his mama

Was standing on my front porch talking quietly

And my heart just jumped up into my throat.

"Hurry up and turn on the television!" they cried

And I unlocked the door and threw my purse on the floor,

Turned on the tv and yelled, "What channel? What channel?"

And we all gathered round the set and waited till the tubes lit up.

"This is a special presentation from CBS News." Walter Cronkite intoned

And a fuzzy black and white film came on and there he was, my Jimmy

He was battered and bruised, surrounded by enemy soldiers, yelling at him

Threatening him with guns and knives and smiling with their mean mouths.

He had been captured, Cronkite said

While leading the Viet Cong away from the survivors of his platoon

They had tortured him, almost killed him

But he had said nothing and given them no information.

"That boy always did bite his lip." his mother said, crying

"Even when he was a little bitty thing, he was always brave like that."

And I put my arm around her and held her

As the news story continued and we held on to every word.

The film had been eleven days old then

Sent in to show what happened to soldiers that wouldn't cooperate

Sent in to instill fear and make our enemies look big and strong

But they were just the same old bullies on the school yard.

Just before the bulletin ended and Cronkite faded away

I saw a soldier hit Jimmy across the face, hard

"You tell us! You tell us now!" he screamed in his Asian accent

And Jimmy raised his head and I swear he looked straight into my eyes.

We never saw Jimmy again

Not alive, not dead in a casket, not ever

He was called a hero in the papers, a song was written about him

Medals were sent to his mother and letters from the President.

But my shy sweet boy never came home

He was a POW and an MIA

He never again held my hand or touched my face

And he never grew older like the rest of us.

Three years later, the news came

They had found his no account daddy dead in a car crash

Drunk and skinny, looking like a haint in a graveyard

There was a newspaper in the car with the headline and picture of his boy.

I went with his mom to the funeral

Not cause I had any respects to pay

But because I wanted to make sure it was him in that coffin

And I had to hold myself back from screaming in his face.

Later, at the graveside

Jimmy's mother took herself two big ole handfuls of dirt

And flung 'em just as hard as she could on top of that casket

"That's for my baby girl, " she shouted, "And this is for your son!"

"I don't reckon you'll ever see either one of them again,

Cause there ain't no way the Lord will let you into heaven

And I know neither one of them are there in hell!"

And I held her while the grave diggers waited and I spit on that old man's grave.

Life went on, like it always does

But the sweetness had faded and the sun didn't seem as bright

People came, people went and the war ended

But all I could taste was bittersweet and hopeless grief.

I often think, "I wish I could go back."

Go back to those days when eternity was just a word in a hymn book

Go back and let my daddy beat the stuffin' outta that old drunk

Go back and take that little girl and hide her somewhere so she would be safe.

Go back to that creek

And drink my fill of the sweetness of those shy lips

Hold that body in my arms so tight he couldn't get loose

And go off and be a hero in that old war.

The only time Jimmy never bit his lip

Was when I told him I loved him

He always lit up like a Christmas tree when he heard that

And he always said, "Say it again, girl! Say it again!" and I would. 

©by Voo Shining Stone

Nov 16, 08

5:30 p.m.