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Melissa McEwen


JULY


The day Uncle Uncle left for good, Aunt Rosalee was sitting on the sofa resting her eyes, trying to cool off, holding their baby on her lap like he was a whole watermelon. I was on the floor by Aunt Rosalee's knee, tickling the baby. Cousin Honey was in the basement getting her clothes from the dryer. She moved out but still comes by the house to wash. I was sent here to stay with Aunt Rosalee after Cousin Honey left because there was no one to keep an eye on Uncle Uncle when Aunt Rosalee was at work. Uncle Uncle never had a job and when Aunt Rosalee would leave for work, especially during the summer months, Uncle Uncle would go visit one of his girlfriends or bring one of his girlfriends to the house. Aunt Rosalee even threatened to quit her job so she could keep an eye on him. But now I keep (well kept) an eye on him and I had both my eyes on him the day he left for good. I was the only one that saw Uncle Uncle leave. He tried to sneak out the kitchen door, but I looked up just in time from playing with the baby on Aunt Rosalee's lap. I knew he was sneaking because he was tiptoeing and he was definitely leaving for a while because he had a luggage. When I looked up Uncle Uncle hushed me with his index finger up to his lips and backed out the door. I don't know why I didn't say anything, maybe because I was tired of keeping an eye on him or maybe I was glad he was getting away; Aunt Rosalee isn't an easy woman to live with. I thought Aunt Rosalee would wake up and catch him as if on cue because this isn't the first time Uncle Uncle has left her. He always leaves in summer —just like how July weather makes Aunt Rosalee's hip hurt, July weather makes Uncle Uncle wander. Every July he goes and finds a new woman and it lasts as long as summer. But this new woman must be something because it's October and Uncle Uncle still hasn't come back.


And the men in the neighborhood that used to hang out with him come by and ask, "What happened to Uncle?"


They are not his nephews; everybody calls him Uncle. He's been called Uncle ever since he was a boy. When he was five his grandfather told him he already looked like somebody's uncle and everybody's been calling him Uncle ever since.


"What happened to Uncle?" They ask all the time. "I don't know," I say because I really don't know. They know as much as I do: Uncle Uncle left in July, like he usually does, but this time he never came back. And now I stay with Aunt Rosalee, not to keep an eye on Uncle Uncle, but to keep her company and to help with the baby since Cousin Honey only comes by when she has to wash. She'll call to check up on Aunt Rosalee and the baby, but she's not worried about Uncle Uncle because, as she says, "He's none-a my father," even though she calls him Papa Uncle. On the day Uncle Uncle left for good, Aunt Rosalee


woke up from resting her eyes and called for him. "Uncle," she hollered. She never calls him by his real name which is Pete. When she met him he introduced himself as Uncle. I didn't learn his real name until someone important called and asked for Pete. I told him he had the wrong number. And when Aunt Rosalee asked me who was on the phone I told her they asked for a Pete and she laughed and said, "Pete's your uncle's name." "Uncle," she hollered again, getting up from the sofa and handing me the baby. "Did he go somewhere? Did you see him leave?" "No," I lied.


"I didn't hear him come down the stairs," Aunt Rosalee said rushing up the steps.


"Maybe he climbed out the window," I said, but she didn't hear me.


When Aunt Rosalee came back downstairs she glanced at the calendar and she knew and she sighed and I knew in her mind she blamed July. But it's no longer July; it's October now and Uncle Uncle is nowhere to be found.


[17]


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