Brogue 2007 - Belhaven College

t h e b r o g u e
and sighed. It was ironic what could not keep him in Corinth, now brought
him back home, striving for proper honor, albeit for his dead mother. He put
his coat back on and knocked on the door; he had long since lost his key.
Jacob’s father came to the door carrying a cane and looking frail, but still
intimidating; he gave Jacob a long, hard look. Jacob’s father looked at his
full, red beard and academic tweed-suit with leather patches on the elbows.
“You. You son-of-a-bitch.Come in, why don’t you?” Jacob’s father was
always a terribly profane man for a god-fearing, foot-washing Baptist. His
foul language was no litmus test for his anger. Actually, Jacob was glad he was
let in the house at all.
It was already five o’clock by the time Jacob arrived at the family estate.
That meant it was already supper time in the Saunders home. Jacob had been
sending some of his salary back home to his aged and infirmed parents to pay
the bills for quite some time. Mrs. Saunders’s disability checks, Medicare,
and Social Security got the Saunders through the monthly money-changers.
The dinner was awkward as Jacob and his father sat on opposite ends
of the great elliptical wooden table eating their pork and beans, cornbread,
and turnip greens in relative silence, grunting when either needed something
passed to him. Jacob was sure by the way his father was assessing him with
his eyes, that his mood was somewhere between anger and contempt. Jacob
thought briefly about taking the Civil War saber down from its place above
the mantle and slaying himself as penance, right in front of his father. But
below the sword were the fallen heroes of the Saunders family, Eli among
them. This was the final blow to Jacob’s conscience.
“Daddy, I get the impression that you don’t want me here. I’ll see if I
can’t rent a car and drive to Memphis for a late train back to Toronto,” Jacob
put down his napkin and rose to leave.
“Goddamit, son, sit down! You think I’m some sort of monster, don’t
you? You think I want to sit here and stew in my anger? Well, dammit, I
wouldn’t have run like you, but you must think I’m one hard son-of-a-bitch
to wish you gone again after eighteen years.”
Jacob didn’t know what to do with this new-found forgiveness. He
could scarcely believe it, so he went on the defensive. “The only person I had
contact with in this family was Momma. You didn’t visit, or call, or write, or
do a goddamn thing, Daddy. I couldn’t be the hero Eli was and it haunts me
everyday of my life. Why wasn’t I supposed to think you didn’t care?”
“Well, I had a job. I couldn’t just take off work to go see my ex-patriot
son.” His father had meant expatriate. Malapropisms ran in the family. “Also,
I guess I’m still just
a hard, stubborn old man. Did you think your Momma was just making
that stuff up about me missing you? You’re my—first-born son.”
Jacob and his father stood motionless for a second, staring each down.
When Jacob’s father didn’t hear an affirmation, he spoke up again.
“Jesus H. Christ, you’re still a-doubtin’ me, ain’t ya? Well, get the keys
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