Below the loose floorboard in the attic was space. Lots of space for me. I’m only six and can fit in there and even move around some. Mostly I go to a smaller space over Mom and Dad’s bedroom. I can’t go at night when they are sleeping, ’cause I can’t get caught out of bed at night. But during the day, when I’m supposed to be outside, I slide over to the peep hole between the cracks and look down at the bedroom.
Usually it’s boring, nothing going on, nobody even there. But sometimes Mom comes in to sleep. And sometimes the man from down the road a piece — Jessie, his name is — comes in to help. He helps Mom off with her dress and then does his own so’s she won’t feel bad being the only naked one in the room. And then they roll around under the covers, gettin’ comfortable, I guess, and then they talk too soft for me to hear. I fall asleep watching them, most times.
I’d been wantin’ to tell Mom that I’d seen them, how nice it was what she was doing, but I’d get whupped for being where I wasn’t supposed to be. I just didn’t dare tell Mom. So I told Dad.