Mr. Tan

Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home

 I don't know how long the ride to my new home and life with my mom was, but the streets went from neatly paved suburban streets with neat little houses to rough looking and run down homes and cracked streets and sidewalks. All my thirteen years with my grandma were spent in a big old plantation style house with a big green front lawn and a porch that wrapped around the entire house. Before Eden was diagnosed with cancer, she was the head nurse at a children's hospital and every dime she made went towards that house and upkeep. My grandmother always made sure the lawns were mowed, weeds pulled, hedges trimmed, walkways free of debris, paint jobs. Everything inside the house was always fresh, clean, polished and dusted. She loved fresh flowers. She'd always cut fresh flowers in the morning and carefully arrange them in a shiny vase for the front room and the kitchen. My grandma was also a nurse during WWII, during that time she was stationed in Japan and learned about tea ceremonies, flower arrangements and poetry. She was also a big fan of Japanese art work. I already missed her stories about her years spent in the Pacific.

 She once told me the story about how a young Japanese man that owned a restaurant in Tokyo proposed to her. She had to kindly turn him down because she had someone waiting for her already. A sailor that went by the name of Phillip Roger Hathaway (my grand pappy). She damned near blushed when she told me how one night her heart got the best of her and she spent the night with Hiroshi, they made love on a warm summer night. Hiroshi lived in a tiny apartment above the restaurant. They made love but that's as far as that went. All of this happened after Eden became a regular in his establishment off base. Grandma said that would be a secret that she would take to her grave. I had a sudden moment of sadness when I realized I would never see her and hear her stories, again. I silently cried as I sat in the back of that red pick up waiting for what else laid ahead of me. Soon, we pulled up in front of a shabby looking powder blue ranch style house with a lawn that was chocked with weeds and an old white car on cinder blocks that sat on the cracked driveway in front of a garage. This house was nothing like Grandma's. Instead of it being grand and beautiful, it was suffering from years of neglect. On the way here we passed by numerous liquor stores, some juke joints, and check cashing places. It was 4:00 after school and most kids could be seen riding bikes and running up and down the streets. My new home was right in the middle of the block on a small side street. First Clyde got out of the truck, then mom, then me. I stood on the sidewalk staring at the gloomy dwelling that is now my permanent home. There were no lights on and even the front concrete steps that led to front porch seemed to sag.

 "Well, here we are, your new home. 1407 Cottonblossom Road", my mamma said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "C'mon, let's get your things inside.

 My mamma grabbed my two heavy luggage out of the truck bed, while I grabbed my two light ones. Without a word Clyde disappeared into the dark corridors of my new home. At lease he had the audacity to leave the front door open.

 I followed my mom up the crumbling front steps into the dimly lit entrance. The first thing that I noticed was the smell. It was strong, pungent and sweet, a smell that I never smelled before. The smell almost made my eyes water. I looked around at the pale green painted walls with some of the paint peeling away in the corners. The living room was small with a large television set that sat in the corner. A cracked black leather couch and a matching recliner sat opposite sides of the television. Heavy blue curtains decorated the windows. The glass coffee table was littered with half empty liquor bottles and a few crushed beer cans littered the hard wood floor. A dusty floor lamp was on and the waste basket beside the couch was over flowing. The dining room table was clean all except for a crystal ash tray that was overflowing with cigarette butts and some leafy little chunks of green stuff. Grandma didn't smoke because she felt it was nasty habit. Clyde emerged from the back of the house in black denim jeans, a flannel shirt and a white wife beater underneath. His sleeves were rolled up and I caught a glimpse of a gold watch he wore on his left wrist. Now that his hat was off I could see that his head was bald and shiny. He looked much taller in up close, at lease "6'2". His dark eyes looked harsh and unfeeling. He grabbed his brown leather jacket off the back of the couch.