Buy the book Growing Up Itchy

The shiny black propeller whirled like the misty dust devils out in the desert. Grey watched it spin and felt the vibrations travel up his arm. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the airplane’s round body.

“Don’t drop that, I won’t stop the car to pick it up!”

Grey looked over at Mom and nodded, fear in his eyes.

He enjoyed the magical buzz of the propeller and the exhilarating hot wind on his face. The risk of losing the plane out into the desert did not dampen the fun of flying it outside the window.

He pulled his hand in, just a little – but not too much. The propeller needed wind to spin.

It was 101 degrees in the shade that day. Mom was driving, and the sun was shining high in the sky as it always did. His airplane was new; a shiny blue and red one given to him by Grandma and Grandpa.

As Grey piloted his airplane out the window of the car, he remembered them waving goodbye from the porch. He could picture the white, curly metal bars along the front stairs. Arrow-shaped leaves crawled up the shady porch posts. Red bricks lined the gravel parking space. Some of the bricks had cowboys on them. Their house had a distinct clean smell and fluffy carpet. He remembered Grandma’s crinkly smile and felt a little guilty for wanting to get out of there.

Now Mom drove him home, back to the little apartment on the edge of the vast dry lake bed. Grey looked over at her in the driver’s seat. He was so happy to be back with with her, but it wasn’t the same, now. Concern wrinkled his brow, and he swung back and forth from joy to worry, fear to gladness. Mom seemed different. She was usually so solid and sure, but not as much now.

He craned to look into the back seat, at the thing. He knew his life would never be the same.

Almost a year had passed since he discovered that he could control his own fate, but he hadn’t been very good at it. Grey had been sent to live with Grandma and Grandpa. Mom wasn’t there, but Dad came by to visit sometimes. Time away from his mother had been arduous. As a rule, he liked going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house; but this time he was there alone, and for too long. As much as he loved them, even a single day apart from Mom was unbearable for him. It seemed he had been away for a lifetime! He ached desperately the whole time to get back home, to sleep on his own bed, to play with his own toys, to look out and see his own dry lake.

Just two days into the visit, Grey’s heart could bear it no longer. His desperate homesickness brought on fits of crying, and he remembered this with shame. Mom hadn’t come to pick him back up as he expected the first night, and she didn’t the second night either. He was unable to contain his sadness. Grandma and Grandpa tried to get him to settle down, but he was too sad to sleep or be consoled.

“Where’s Mom?” Grey often cried. “I want to go home!”

The first week dragged on, and despondency settled over him like a heavy fog. One week ended and the second one began. Time passed slow, and the dull painful ache of homesickness cemented in hard. Weeks turned to months, and eventually the ache faded to the point where he almost forgot about Mom. Strangeness settled down over him like an itchy blanket.

It was impossible to get comfortable, to feel normal. He had hated that feeling. It was like an itch – in the mind.

Grandma and Grandpa raised three children of their own, and were not completely ignorant of how to care for young children. They loved the opportunity to have their only grandchild visit their empty nest, but there were times when troubling circumstances overshadowed what would normally have been a treasured experience.

No one told Greyson any of this of course, he was much too young to understand the callous necessities that drive parents to make hard decisions. It would be years before he knew that his parents had gotten divorced during his stay with Grandma and Grandpa, and his future was very much uncertain.

A season passed, Mom and Dad patched things up. Dad made promises, Mom stopped crying, and they had been re-married without pomp or ceremony.

When Mom arrived to pick him up, his memory of her had bloomed large again. His feet tripped over themselves in his eager rush to meet her, and he fell; scraping his knees on the paving-stones. He remembered this with more shame. Mom swept him up before he could cry, and the hug she gave him drove all thoughts of sadness and pain away. Grandpa smiled and said they’d see him again soon, and Grey knew everything would be back to normal in no time.

“Dad’s coming home too,” Mom said.

Grey, still lost in his thoughts, wasn’t listening.

He looked ahead down the straight, black road that disappeared into the brilliant yellow desert ahead, heated by the sunshine. He felt the pull of the wind as it tried to coax the bright new airplane out of his hand, and the strange months living at Grandma and Grandpa’s house began to fall away behind him, but something was still amiss.

The thing in the back seat was a baby.

Grey didn’t know where the baby came from, but Mom said that it was here to stay. The baby was Grey’s brother, and its name was Asher. He had puffy red cheeks and his voice pierced the air like a mournful, wailing siren. Loud sounds came naturally to baby Ash, and Grey didn’t care for him one bit. The cries irritated him and made him want to get out of the car.

***

They returned at last to their small desert home, but life refused to settle down. The baby made Grey feel jittery, he went out to play more often now, to be with the wind’s dusty song and silence of the desert. Ash was easy to be with during his quieter moments, like when Mom was busy with housework – but those moments were few.

Ash kicked, waved his arms, and did interesting baby things, but Grey had no care for his little brother’s antics.

Today something even more interesting could be seen – just outside their little apartment. It filled the view with its massive bulk. It was the biggest thing Grey ever saw out that window!

“What’s that truck?” Grey asked.

“That’s Dad’s dump truck,”Mom said.

“It’s a huuuuge whale! Can I ride in it?”

“It doesn’t work yet. Dad’s going to fix it.”

Sure enough, Dad began to lay under the big truck after he came home. Grey would crouch down, looking under as Dad made the dump truck work again. Dad said that the truck would be perfect for the big move when it was all done and running.

Grey watched Dad work on the whale, and wondered what a “big move” was. It sounded a bit ominous, but Grey crawled under the truck and lay on his back in the dust beside Dad.

“What’s that?” Grey asked, touching something.

“That’s a driveshaft.”

“What’s that?” Grey asked, touching another thing.

“That’s a bolt.”

“What’s that over there?”

“Grey, go inside and see if Mom needs help with your little brother. You’re getting all greasy.”

Grey crawled out from underneath the big whale and brushed off his arms. He did have little rocks and dirt sticking to him, and his fingers were black, now that he looked. Dirt and grime never crossed his mind unless Mom or Dad reminded him of it. It was utterly beneath his notice.

Dad crawled under and over that truck for a long time, and eventually Grey grew tired of it. He knew what most of the parts were by now, and Dad didn’t seem to need his help anymore.

Some days Dad would drive away, and Grey would watch for his return. He knew Dad would come back with metal parts for the whale, and he always did.

Months passed while Dad worked on the whale. One day when Grey was eating lunch, Dad called for him.

“Grey, come on out, it’s time to start the Whale!”

It was the truck’s nickname now, and they all used it. Grey looked at Mom – he wasn’t done eating yet. She had made him a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. Ash sat in his high chair, his own peanut butter sandwich smashed all over his arms and legs.

“Go ahead,” Mom said. She knew Grey would come back later when he grew hungry enough.

Grey hopped down and wiped his jelly-covered hands on his pants. Running outside, he could hear the slam of the whale’s big round hood.

Dad looked down at Grey.

“Let’s see if it’ll start!” he said.

Grey nodded, watching Dad climb up into the high cab. Soon Grey heard a rattle, then a grinding sound.

BAM! The big whale made a sudden sound like a gun.

Grey jumped, and turned to run inside, but then the old whale roared and black smoke poured out from underneath. He couldn’t look away just yet, and Dad’s big smile reassured him that everything was fine, there was nothing to be afraid of. So Grey watched, wide-eyed. The strong acrid clouds of the smoke burned his eyes, but he liked the way it smelled, somehow. Something about it was fascinating. The oily, greasy smell of all that metal was what made the whale move.

Grey took a deep breath, and coughed a little from the fumes. He knew he would get to ride in this big truck eventually, and he couldn’t wait.

“Can I have a ride?” He asked.

“Not yet,” Dad smiled. “But soon.”

Dad worked on the truck for a few more days, and then Grey noticed something new.

Boxes. Big brown boxes appeared everywhere, and Mom started putting their things into those boxes.

Dad was loading them into the back of the dump truck.

Their tiny apartment seemed to grow bigger and bigger inside, as everything was moved out. Asher’s cries changed, taking on a hollow timbre in the emptying apartment. Voices echoed in the bared rooms, and Grey anxiously ran in and out of them, searching for something. He was unable to recapture the comforting feeling of home – of being indoors with Mom. He didn’t like the missing things, he didn’t like – something. It was lonely and frightening. It was out of his control completely, like the runaway wind.

Finally, nothing remained inside but a thin layer of desert dust. Mom’s house was empty. Grey finally flung himself onto the hard floor and joined his baby brother, loudly shedding tears. Their home had been destroyed, and it was all Dad’s fault.

They were leaving the little house in the desert. Dad and the great whale would take them far away, and there was nothing he could do about it.