The Truth
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen

The Mostly True: IV.

I have a baby sister. I am officially a middle child...

The birth belongs earlier in my narration ... somewhere during the voyage is the conception. Grace was born in the USA after the return.

I was probably between nine and ten when I set her on fire. I think she was three or nearly four.

It's fuzzy ... traumatic ... heart rending ... and. not. my. fault!

The Catholic Nuns were burning the past years student homework paper. The burning barrel was up against our woven wire fence. I was out watching when the wind came up and burning papers began blowing into our trees and all over the yard. I started stomping out the fires.

Tiny Grace ran to the back yard.

"Whatcha doin, Daba?" she asked in her little girl voice. When she spoke to me she never got my name right.

"Stomping out fires," I explained.

"I wanna help," she said.

"No ... it's dangerous," I said. Although my voice may have held a bit of brag in it ... I am unsure. I didn't like being the middle and she was a pest.

Be that as it may, Grace objected.

"Momma," she screeched, "David won't let me play!" When she tattled she pronounced David to perfection.

From the back porch screen door, "David, let your sister play."

"Mom?!?"

"David, what did I say," the back porch hollered. Not a question ... a command.

Grace had that little girl satisfaction look ... I got my way again...

I hated that.

She started stomping out fires and laughing ... it was a nya-nya-nya laugh.

'Brat, ' I thought.

She was wearing frayed leg jeans and suddenly she was burning, screaming, running, screaming, burning ... and I had no idea what to do ... except...

I distinctly remember thinking ... well ... you probably know. I was pretty smug about it.

The across the fence neighbor was an old man ... a first world war vet I think ... he was gardening next to the fence. Standing flat footed he cleared that fence and had Grace rolling on the ground putting the fire out.

No matter how I complained..."It's not my fault," nobody ever believed I hadn't done it on purpose.

And mother never admitted she MADE me let Grace play.

The next-door neighbor didn't survive the adrenaline rush ... he died in the hospital two weeks later. I got blamed for that too.

Grace spent a year and a half in the University of Michigan Hospital Children's Burn Center getting skin grafts. My weekends were spent under the hawk eye of Grandmother Austin.

CharlesB got to go to Ann Arbor and eat restaurant food Friday night, all day Saturday and Sunday. I had grandmaw food.

For a year and a half.

Grace missed kindergarten ... because I burned her.

Grace was always sickly ... because I burned her.

Grace never grew boobs ... because I burned her.

Grace was always right ... because I burned her.

Grace could never wear shorts ... or go swimming ... or do anything fun ... because I burned her.

Grace's husband committed suicide ... because I burned her.

I should have done a better job.

 
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