The Catch
For Frank
Eddie Franklin poked a stick into the hole in his front yard. Something had just wiggled down there. The stick broke in half, and he fell back on his bum. His mother would be upset, he was wearing his best pants, and they were going to church soon. Eddie got on his knees and stared at the hole. The thing was sure to make a run for it when it came out. He was ready.
As he watched, he hummed “God Sees the Little Sparrow Fall”, the hymn he’d learned in Fruitful Baptist’s Sunday School Choir. He watched patiently, biting his lower lip. He was just about to poke his finger in the hole when - Bam! - a mouse popped out and skittered past him down the street. He took off after it, past Old Man Angerelli’s place, past the vacant lot, past the Thompson house and across Saltzberg Street which he was forbidden to cross. Eddie saw the little thing disappear in the grass by Mrs. Koshkin’s house. Mrs. Koshkin was always on her porch, rocking in her creaky old chair knitting wool things. And there she was, creaking and clicking. Eddie knew he wasn’t supposed to be this far from home, but he was so close to his prize. This would be worth the trouble he’d be in at home.
Quick as a wink, the mouse darted across the sidewalk, Eddie pounced and caught its tail between his stubby thumb and pointer finger. It dangled mid-air, a failed escape artist, writhing and wriggling. Eddie could see its little teeth and whiskers. The feet had tiny pink pads on them. And claws. Eddie had never had a pet before. He’d take it home and keep it in a jar. He’d poke holes in the top so it could breathe. When he showed Ruth she’d scream. Ruth thought she could boss him because she was two years older. But now he had a secret weapon, and she wouldn’t boss him anymore.
The clicking and creaking had stopped. Mrs. Koshkin leaned on her porch railing, watching him. He had his catch tight in his fist, looking at its little eyes wide with terror. “Careful that doesn’t bite you, Edward.” she called down. “You can get sick from them.” He didn’t like people calling him Edward but he was five and she was old so he couldn’t correct her. Mrs. Koshkin would tell on him to his mother if he talked back.
Eddie squinted up at her ugly black shoes and her apron with big flowers. “What’re you gonna name it?” She asked. “Skitter” He said, “Because he’s skittery”. “I see”. Eddie turned to go but Mrs. Koshkin’s voice got syrupy. “It’s too bad about your parents Edward.” “What” He squinted up at her. “I was so sorry that happened to your father, what a thing.” “My Dad?” Eddie had no idea what she was talking about. “Yes, the war, his sickness. And your poor mother, passing just as you were born. What a thing.” Eddie’s head went hot. Obviously, the old lady was crazy. His mom and dad were home. He had porridge with them 35 minutes ago. They would all go to church when he got back.
Eddie stared at the porch railing. “OK then,” he said to it, turning toward home. He ran home faster than he’d ever run. He didn’t even look both ways at Saltzberg St. Before he knew it, he was climbing his front stairs. It didn’t matter right now he wasn’t supposed to use the front door. The black door handle was hard to open using just one hand. In the front hall, his mother was in her best blue coat, the one with the silver buttons down the front. She was looking in the hall mirror to put on her hat, when she saw him behind her. “Eddie, where have you been? I’ve -” her little boy was pale. His father appeared. “Well, I’ve looked everywhere for him but…“
“Mrs. Koshkin says my mother is dead and my father is sick from the war. But you’re both here. Why did she say that?”
“Oh, my Lord” His mother whispered. Her hand flew up to her neck. His father’s eyebrows shifted up and down as though they didn’t know where to be. His parents caught each other in the mirror. They thought their decision to adopt her sister’s newborn son was well in the past. Eddie had been theirs right from the start. Her poor sister Marion had never even gotten to hold his wriggling little body in her arms before she died.
His father coughed, something caught in his throat. “We’re late for church”. He said and reached around Eddie to pluck his hat from the coat stand.
The small grey tail hung lifeless from Eddie’s fist as he followed his father down the stairs to the car.
