Part V: Snakes – (Chapter 89)

The double Bing, two mounds of milk chocolate and crushed peanuts over a cherry nougat, feels heavy and warm in my pocket.

It’s not a matter of whether I’m going to eat the candy, but when and where I’ll do the dirty deed.

I’m beyond the simple concept of fighting temptation, having accepted long ago my fate as a fat person.

It’s a lot less complicated if I do my serious eating in private, away from those who would judge me by the food I dump into my body.

And in this family, a stampede to cast the first stone.

I stick my hand in my pocket and fondle the wrapper, shiny and stiff.

Does the red wrapper bleed through my white shorts?

My stomach growls, but I’ll just have to wait until I can sneak away from Nana, who slips in and out of consciousness beside Shel and me in her wheelchair.

If I try slipping away, she’ll jerk awake and make a big deal about my abandoning her.

Nana’s revenge.

At age four, I did the same to her when she tried tiptoeing away from my bed after she thought I was asleep.

Meanwhile, we go through Uncle Joe’s Treasure Chest.

It’s amazing what he’s managed to collect over the years or how he even acquired some of this stuff, except that maybe Nana finds photographs she can’t identify and simply assumes Uncle Joe will know. Sometimes he does.

But mostly, the pictures and letters simply end up in the box, unidentified and forgotten.

Still, Uncle Joe must rank as the top family archivist in history ‒ if something is worth knowing, he’ll research it.

Most things are not, however.

Most family business deserves to be forgotten.

Shel rifles through a pile of “unknowns” when he stops and shoves a photograph in front of my face. “Who’s this?”

My heart just about stops when I see Snake Bodine smiling at me, his blue/green eyes twinkling, his wild salt and pepper hair flying in the wind, his beard shaggier than I remembered. I take the picture from Shel and study it closer.

He’s wearing a pair of tight shorts ‒ white, of course, the color that best set off his bronze thighs.

Oh, those thighs. He’s wearing a tee-shirt I had bought for him, a Prussian Blue.

My first lover.

My Svengali.

Do all first lovers elicit a cream-in-your-pants response like Snake Bodine has for me?

What would I do if I met him right now?

Would I whisk him away to a motel and rip his clothes off and...

He’d be a year older than my mother if she were still alive ‒ maybe he’s even dead, with all this AIDS business.

Snake lived for two things: dope and sex. It didn’t matter if the dope was snorted, smoked, dropped, eaten, or injected, he’d do it.

He especially liked speed.

As for sex...well, let’s just say he was willing and able, even when I wasn’t.

No problem. In those Free Love days, L.A. was filled with horny young chicks.

“Well, do you know him?” Shel asks again.

I slip the photograph into my purse. “Just a friend of my mother’s.”

“I see. Then why are you hiding the damn thing?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want to put together a small album in honor of my mother.”

“Bullshit. I saw the look on your face.”

“Well, he was a friend of Mother’s. That’s not a lie.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing, really.”

It was a long time ago.

“But your taking the picture has meaning. Could have serious repercussions for us.”

“Go to Hell, Sheldon Weiss, and stop analyzing me.”

By now, Nana has awakened. “What are you two lovebirds arguing about?”

“Nothing!” I snap.

Nana shakes her finger at me. “You watch your tongue, young lady.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just....”

“No excuses. I’m a sick old woman.”

“Yes, Nana.”

Shel goes through my purse and digs out Snake’s photograph. “Sam doesn’t seem to know much about this man.”

I’m just relieved that he hasn’t found the letter about the French grant.

Nana snatches the picture from Shel. “Yeah, I remember this man. Hummm, now what was his name? Oh, yes, Tony Bohunk ‒ no, that’s not right.”

“Bodine.”

“That’s it. He was at your mother’s funeral. Very pleasant fellow. Treated me like a queen, very sympathetic. Took us all around to try and get our minds off the funeral. Looks a lot younger here. He looked bad at your mom’s funeral, like an old, old man. All bent over. Had a cane and his hair was almost white ‒” Nana looks at me with slitty eyes ‒ “What are you doing with this, Samantha Anne Weiss?”

“It’s Mallory, Nana. You know I’ve kept my maiden name.”

“Well, you know what I think about that, young lady. A woman should always take her man’s name. Anyway, you’re getting off the subject.”

“I knew him,” I say. “I met him once or twice. I just want the picture for my album, especially now, since he was so kind to you.” I take the picture from Nana and run my fingertip around the edge. I can almost feel his presence....

“There’s so many secrets in this family....,” Nana mumbles.

“Yeah.” I sniffle. “Tell me about it.”

And Snake is a major secret, one that will die with me when I go to my grave.

Still, I can’t help thinking about the chain of events that led to my meeting Snake Bodine.