Chapter 8 - Tales of Uncle Ernest (Continued)

Chapter 8 - Tales of Uncle Ernest (Continued)

“Well Moose, my story has kind of a slow ending, because Chuck headed back to London to write about those animals, Al caught a bus to Jersey, and I hitch-hiked back to Wilmington to see if I could have better luck with the horses.” For a long while Uncle Ernest and I just sat there and watched the sights on the canal. He told me some stories about things that happened to him as a little boy.

One that he told me I still remember. "I have a vague memory of this, Moose," he said, "but mostly I think I recall my parents talking and laughing about it. It seems that when I was three or four years old we had goldfish, and one day, when my mother went down to the drug store, leaving me in the house along, I caught one of the fish and cooked him in the frying pan. When Mom came back I had the blackened fish on a plate ready to eat. 'Me tooked him, Mommy,' I said, as she yelled at me in disgust. Yeah, Moose, I've never been able to live that one down.

His glass empty again, Uncle Ernest made for the bar, but would be quick to return. He didn’t want to leave me alone in the dark for long and he was worried because my father hadn’t come to get me yet.

Did you ever watch the darkness set on the water, Nina? It’s an odd sensation if you catch it just right. As I sat there alone, waiting for Pop to pick me up, the current had started moving the other way, and the moonlight, pinch hitting for the sun, illuminated the surface, giving the colossal, living body of water an enchanting, silver glow. The vast giant was on the move again; the world was in motion, breathing once again. Everything was going to be all right.

Creeping up behind me and knuckling my head for the last time that evening, Uncle Ernest, probably thinking with pleasure about his imminent night on the town, turned on his heels and strode briskly back towards the Hole-in-the-Wall. When he got as far as the patio, I called out to him, “Hey, Unk, were you kidding me about any of the things you told me this evening?”

“Moose,” he called back, turning just his head in my direction, “may I be struck down if I did. Every word was the truth, so help me.”

I’ll tell you, I was startled out of my britches, because just as Uncle Ernest said that he tripped on a loose brick and fell flat on his face. I rushed over but he was all right, though, because when I started to help him up he winked at me and said, “You behave yourself now, Moose the Goose.” But, you know, Nina, I wonder. That fall was surely just a coincidence. Nobody in his right mind could make up the things he told me that evening. What do you think?

[To be continued Tuesday, 1/10/2012]