Birch and Lawrence **OLD**

Birch & His Father

It was mid-April in the small town of Lael, Mississippi. The sky was blue, trees were lush, and the Southern air smelled natural and delicate. Birch Kelton sat on his front porch and admired the beauty of nature that surrounded him. He picked up his violin, rested its delicate head on his shoulder, and played wonderous music. He poured his very heart and soul into the song, letting the horsehair bow glide freely across the strings. Just as he finished, his father appeared by his side. "Birch," he said. "there's work to do in the shop. C'mon." With that, Birch sighed and carefully placed the violin back in its case. After putting the case back under his bed where it belonged, he hurried to the taxidermy shop across the road from the family's home.

The fragrant, springy scent was diminished by an awful cloud of chemical fumes and the stench musty decay as Birch opened the shop door. Mr Kelton, seated at his workbench across the room, looked up. "C'mere," he said. He was just about to disect the corpse of a squirrel. "And pay attention. When you're gonna be a critter stuffer, you're gonna be seein' this on a daily basis." Birch tried to look, but that first sight of blood made his eyes grain over and his cheeks scalding hot. He immediatley sat down on the floor to keep himself from fainting. "Birch, what're ya doin'?" Mr Kelton snapped. "Git back up. We gotta get you used to this, son, so that you can be a critter stuffer." Birch's ears rang, although the ringing sounded more like white noise than actual ringing. I don't want to be a critter stuffer, he replied in his mind. I want to be a musician. He tried to tell that to his father multiple times over the years. But those confessions often ended in Birch being scolded for trying to break the family tradition. Birch's grandmother had been a taxidermist, his father had been a taxidermist, and Birch was next in line for the position.

Birch slowly got to his feet, his face ghostly and his eyes were matte. "You know how bad our shop's doin' nowadays," Mr Kelton told him. "I need you to take over this shop, or else it's gonna go out of business." The taxidermy shop one of the few businesses left in the tiny Mississippi town, but it was dying. The stock market crash of the Great Depression had sent many businesses over the cliff, and the shop was hanging on the edge of it.

"Keep in mind that it ain't easy runnin' this place alone," Mr Kelton told Birch. "Find yourself a wife who's gon' help you keep this place standin'. Remember what I said about your momma."

Mr and Mrs Kelton ran the taxidermy shop together when it opened in 1908. During the first few years, the shop thrived. It wasn't long before the young couple were listening to radios, driving automobiles, and drinking the finest of wine. However, business was put on hold when Mrs Kelton found out that she was pregnant. During her pregnancy, they noticed her bump was rather large, much larger than usual, but didn't think anything of it until the day she went into labor in 1917. The doctor arrived at their house and delivered Mary, Birch's sister, with little complications. But Mrs Kelton was still in excrutiating pain. It was then the doctor realized she was carrying twins.

Birch was not as healthy as his sister had been. He was breech, his umbilical cord was coiled around his neck, and he weighed only four and a half pounds. Miraculously, with much work and medicine, Birch survived. But his mother did not.

Mrs Kelton had lost too much blood giving birth to her twins. At the timid age of 32, she held them in her arms as she took her last breath.

Overwhelmed by the grief, the absence of his wife, and the incredible responsibility of raising two babies on his own, Mr Kelton couldn't bear to work. He closed the taxidermy shop for nearly a decade, slowly losing all of his luxuries as he traveled further into debt. But when Birch and Mary became old enough to care for themselves, he decided to reopen the shop and teach Birch everything there was to know about taxidermy.

Mr Kelton was still angry about his wife's death, and the debt he was in did nothing to help. He often unintentionally took it out on Birch, who tried to act strong as he took the force. But every time his father cursed at him, yelled at him, struck him for saying the wrong thing, Birch was deeply pained. He never cried though, because he didn't want to make himself more weak than he already was.

"A wife?" Birch repeated, taking a sip of water from a cup nearby.

"Yeah. With your looks, it shouldn't be too hard to find one."

That was true. Birch was rather pleasing to look at. He was 18, 5'11, and 137 pounds. His skin was frail and rarely blemished, and his nose and jawline were handsomely defined. His hair was platinum blonde and sleek as glass, hanging just above his brown eyes, and his face was neatly shaved.  Every girl in Lael adored him. But Birch just didn't feel a connection with any of them.

"I dunno, Pa. I haven't found any girls that I like yet."

"It'll take some time," Mr Kelton replied, "but I can assure you that a wife will come your way."

Birch didn't know how to respond. So, he just said nothing and assisted his father with his work.