The backyard made the biggest impression on me as a child.
Didn't matter how impeccable the house was, if the backyard was shit, then what was the point of the rest of the home? If you're thinking this story is about dead and buried bodies in my old backyard, it isn't. It's about a place where you can hang out, sit, and hide from the adult world and its adult concerns that seem to dominate everything in the house. Especially, holiday gatherings. The adults never make everything about the holiday in question, and us kids. It has to be about them, all the time. On a Labor Day weekend, the adults gathered in the home for yet another excuse to drink and talk above each other, while leering at each other's spouses. Sure, that kinda shit went on, and it always secretly spilled out into the back yard somewhere. That's where my oldest brother, Gary, snuck Uncle Pete's wife, Greta, out to; in the He-Man Castle that belonged to our little brother, Fry.Those two were fucking up a storm out there until Uncle Pete came outside for a smoke. He lit up, but he never got to puff because my oldest brother's wife was right behind him, stroking his dick while it was still in his pants. It's a great vantage point, this little dark corner of the backyard. No one knows you're there, but you are. You just can't be seen. Why the backyard of all places? Why not the basement, or the food pantry, or someone's car? Why the backyard where I play and try to get away from the adult shit in the house? Why is it spilling over into my world?
My Dad is smart. He knows the kinda shit that is going on, but he keeps it to himself and tells my Mom to stay out of it. They host a party, and they are good hosts. They keep everyone entertained and focused, so whoever is suddenly absent will soon make themselves known to my parents, as people come to my folks for everything.
At the next party, my oldest brother is there without his wife, who is now with Uncle Pete. Uncle Pete isn't there because, well, you know why. Greta and my brother were not compatible outside of the sex they were having together because it was all about the sex. Greta tried with my second and third oldest brothers, but they shooed her away like the plague. Like literally, threw a shoe at her. My Mom invited some of the younger girls from her job at the department store. They were Gary's age and single, but it was understood that they were there as guests, as they didn't have any family in Hawai'i.
"Mainland, girls," Gary laughed.
"Doesn't mean they're stupid girls," Malt was trying to make Gary see reason.
"Doesn't mean you're smart," Gary countered.
"How dumb do you have to be to fuck your uncle's wife?" Malt blustered.
Malt was the second oldest and the most practical of us all.
"Where's the loyalty?" Keanan agreed.
Fry played in the corner with his He-Man toys while I finished off a plate of our Mom's best pumpkin pie. I didn't say a word about what I saw. "You're actually calling me dumb?" Gary raised his voice and took a step toward Malt. Before anything could escalate, I spoke up. "I saw you and Aunty Greta in Fry's toy castle."
"What?" Gary threw a stuffed Pokémon at me.
"Then uncle Pete came out, and aunty Lisa had her hand in his pants, so neither one of you is perfect," I said.
Gary was on top of me in one step and had me off the ground in a chokehold. Malt and Keanan pulled him off. Fry was screaming, which brought my parents upstairs. My Mom gathered Fry in her arms and yelled at us. "Whatever the hell this is, stop it now, do you hear me?"
We could never say no to our mother. It was a cardinal sin. "Sorry, ma. Our fault." We all said.
"Dinner table now, all of you," my father pointed toward the open door. Then he smacked us all on the side of the head. Not in an abusive way, but to make his point. Which he did. Then he made Gary carry Fry to the dinner table.
***
That's the last time we were all a family. Dad died the next year, and Mom followed him soon after. We collectively maintained the house and kept it in the family. Gary, despite his wandering penis, finally settled down with Cynthia, whose family owned a fish and tackle shop in Kaimuki. Mal and his girlfriend also lived in the house, and poor thing, that girl - her parents had named her She-Ra. Fry loved it. Keanan married the girl who worked the booth at the park where he fished. She was tough like him, so they were meant for one another. I dated, but I didn't want to get serious with anyone. Fry didn't care about that kinda stuff yet. He was at the precipice of childhood and adolescence. We tried to keep Fry there as long as possible before puberty kicked in. Eventually, we all grew up and became like our folks. Hosting the kinds of adults at parties that our parents hosted. I guess Fry realized this was happening. Which is why he locked all the doors and windows from the outside and set the house on fire with us in it. Here we were, trying to keep Fry from growing up. Yet, here Fry was making sure that we don't turn into the kinds of adults he hated growing up.
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