Broken Wings
“Keefer sat drinking hard liquor instead of beer. Izzy kept a bottle of bourbon in his office, and Keefer brought it back to his one-room apartment. I sat on the sofa bed, and he sat on the floor and talked about his early life, the happier days when he was too young to realize how bad things were for both his mother and his older sister.
“It wasn’t until I was about nine,” he continued, lying back on the floor and looking up at the cracked and pealed ceiling, “that I understood how horrible it ...was for Sally Jean. I came into her bedroom one night because I heard her sobbin‘. My mother drank with my father often those days, and they were both sunk in a stupor. Only before he had collapsed, he had gone into Sally Jean’s bedroom to tell her one of his bedtime stories. That’s what she said he pretended to be doin’.”
Keefer formed a wry smile.
“It began with that ‘Three Little Pigs,’ ” he said. “You know, where he would run his fingers up her side to tickle her.”MoreLess
“It wasn’t until I was about nine,” he continued, lying back on the floor and looking up at the cracked and pealed ceiling, “that I understood how horrible it ...was for Sally Jean. I came into her bedroom one night because I heard her sobbin‘. My mother drank with my father often those days, and they were both sunk in a stupor. Only before he had collapsed, he had gone into Sally Jean’s bedroom to tell her one of his bedtime stories. That’s what she said he pretended to be doin’.”
Keefer formed a wry smile.
“It began with that ‘Three Little Pigs,’ ” he said. “You know, where he would run his fingers up her side to tickle her.”MoreLess
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