workinprog

He lived in an obscure part of the city, in a little shotgun shack with his mother--a good Christian woman who openly complained of being burdened with the responsibility of having to take care of a child who could never leave home. "Lord," she said, straining to find God beyond her low-level shotgun shack ceiling, "I know not your reasons and I am day to day afflicted but I know it's for the best. I trust in your will. But I cannot pretend to understand it. You gave me this boy for a reason and you made him the way you did because that's the way you wanted it. I may never understand why you gave him to me but I will try to find the strength to accept it as the blessing that it is."

She never sent her son to school because she couldn't bear the thought of him being teased by other children for the way he was and the way he could not change. Whether it was for his benefit or hers is unclear because it seemed that even if she'd sent him to school--placed him in an environment where he may or may not be teased--he lacked the ability to comprehend that people were making fun of him. It was debatable whether or not she'd spared him any great pain. She instead took it upon herself to teach him little things when she thought he'd understand. Things like basic colors and basic shapes and simple math. But he had difficulty with these. What he really liked were animals.

In the alley behind their little house, stray cats and kittens often showed up. The son would wait all day in this alley for an opportunity to snatch one up. On a good day, he snatched up two, maybe more. He brought them home and fed them and gave them names--often biblical names like Jonah or Ezekiel, which he pronounced "Kiel." Because he was unable to differentiate between sex, girl cats were often given male names. And boy cats were called Jezebel (the only girl name he ever used). Sometimes: he got it right--matching name to sex. But more often than not a Jezebel was called a Jonah or a Kiel was called a Jezzy.