Chapter 26 Chapter Twenty Six

We got off at the Savannah station.It was pouring rain, and Sue and I went into the station, and I bought a cup of coffee, and walked out, and stood under the eaves, thinking about what we were going to do next. I didn't have any plans, so after my coffee I took out my harmonica and started playing.I blew a couple of songs and, uh, a guy passing by the station dropped a quarter in my coffee mug.I played a few more songs, and after a while, the coffee cup was half full of change. The rain stopped, so Sue and I wandered a little way to a park downtown.I sat down on a long bench and played for a while, and sure enough, people dropped quarters and dimes into coffee mugs.Sue would take it easy and walk up to the house with a coffee mug when anyone passed by.At the end of the day, I made nearly five dollars.

We slept on a bench in the park that night, and it felt so good, the night was clear and the stars and the moon were out. In the morning, we had some breakfast, and when people were leaving for work, I started playing the harmonica again.We made eight dollars that day, nine dollars the next day, and we made pretty good money for the week.After the weekend, I found a small musical instrument store, so I went in to see if I could get a G major harmonica, because playing C major all the time was getting tedious.I saw a second-hand keyboard for sale in the corner.The violin looked exactly like the one George used to play at Crack the Egg, and he'd taught me a few chords on it.

I asked the shopkeeper how much the piano cost, and the guy said two hundred yuan, but he was willing to give me a little bit cheaper.So I bought an electric organ, and the guy even put a stand on it so I could play the harmonica at the same time.This has greatly increased our popularity.By the end of the second week, we were making almost ten bucks a day, so I went to the music store and bought a set of used drums.After a few days of practice, my drum skills are pretty good too.I pinched off the Styrofoam coffee mug and bought a pewter mug for Sue to hold, and it made a lot of money.I did everything from "That Night They Driven Dixie Down" to "Shake it, Limousine"; and I found a boarding house that would let Sue live and serve breakfast and dinner.

One morning when Sue and I were going to the park it started raining again.Savannah has a thing about it—every other day it rains like a torrent, and it feels like it.We were walking down the street across from an office building when suddenly I saw something very familiar. A man in a suit was standing on the sidewalk with an umbrella in front of a large plastic garbage bag.Someone was hiding from the rain under a garbage bag, only to see a hand sticking out from under the bag to shine the shoes of the man in a suit.I crossed the street and took a closer look, oh, I saw the kind of small wheels used for trolleys protruding from the bottom of the garbage bag.My chest was about to explode with joy.

I walked over and tossed off the trash bags, and sure enough, it was Dan, shoe-shine for a living! "Give me back the bag, you big fool," Dan said, "I'm soaked! Then he saw Sue. So you're married at last, huh," said Dan. "It's public," I told him. "You remember - I met in space." "Are you going to shine my shoes?" said the guy in the suit. "Go away," Dan said, "or I'll bite your heel in half." That guy, he walked away. "What are you doing here, Dan?" I asked. "What do you think I am doing?" he said, "I have become a Communist Party."

"Then why are you shining your shoes?" I said. "Shame on those servants of capitalism," he replied. "In my eyes, guys with shiny shoes are all trash, so the more shoes I shine, the more trash I send to hell." "Well, as you say," I said.Dan threw down the shoecloth and pushed himself under the awning for shelter. "Ah, well, Forrest Gump, I'm not some kind of Communist," he said, "after all, they wouldn't want someone with my morals." "Of course I will, Dan," I said. "You've always told me that no matter what I want to be or do, I can do it—and so do you."

"You still believe in that shit?" he asked. "I saw Marilyn Monroe naked," I said. "Really?" Dan said. "What does it look like?" Well, Dan and Sue and I kind of bonded after that, and Dan didn't want to live in a boarding house, so he slept outside at night under the cover of a garbage bag. "Building character," he describes it.He recounted his experience after leaving Indianapolis.He first used the money he earned from wrestling rubber to bet on greyhound racing, and almost lost it all. He used the rest to drink.Then he got a job at a garage repairing undercarriages because he was prone to slipping under them on a BMX, but he said he was tired of oil dripping on him all day. "Maybe I'm missing a leg, and I'm not a good guy, and a rogue drunk," he said, "but I'm never oily."

Then he went back to Washington, where there was a grand opening of some sort of memorial for those of us who fought in Vietnam, and when they saw him and knew who he was, they asked him to speak.But he got so drunk at some reception that he forgot all about his speech.So he stole an old testament from the hotel where they put him up, and when it was his turn to speak, he read the entire book of Genesis and was about to quote some lines from the Psalms when they turned off the microphone , and drag him away.After that, he tried begging for a while, but quit because it was "dignified".

I told him about the chess game I played with Mr. Tribble, and the success of the shrimp business, and about running for the U.S. Senate, but he seemed more interested in Marilyn Monroe. "You think her tits are real?" he asked. We've been in Savannah for about a month now, and life is going great.I played my one-man band, Sue collected the money, and Dance shined shoes in the crowd.One day, a news reporter came to take a picture of us and put it on the front page. "Abandoned People Wandering Park", the description of the picture says so. Then, one afternoon, I was sitting there performing, thinking maybe we should go up north to Charleston, when I noticed a little boy standing in front of the drums, staring straight at me.

I was playing "Wild New Orleans," and the little boy kept staring at me, not smiling or anything, but with a twinkle in his eye that vaguely reminded me of something.Then I looked up, and there was a lady standing at the edge of the crowd. When I saw her, I almost fainted. Oh, it was Jenny. She had permed her hair and looked older and gaunt, but it was Jenny.I was so shocked that I played a wrong note, but I finished the song, and Jenny came to hold the little boy's hand. With a twinkle in her eyes, she said, "Oh, Gump, I know it's you when I hear the harmonica. No one plays the harmonica like you."

"Why are you here?" I asked. "We live here now," she said. "Donald works as an assistant sales manager for a company that makes roof tiles. We've lived here for three years." I stopped the show, the crowd dispersed, and Jenny sat next to me on the bench.The little boy was playing with Sue, and Sue actually flipped a fight and made the little boy laugh. "How did you start a one-man band?" Jenny asked. "Mum wrote me and said you've got such a big shrimp business in Beit River that you're a millionaire now." "It's a long story." "Aren't you in trouble again, Forrest?" she said. "No, not this time," I said, "And you? Are you okay?" "Oh, well," she said, "I think I got what I wanted." "Is that your son?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, "cute, isn't it?". "No—what's his name?"' "Forrest." "Forrest?" I said, "you named him after me?" "It should be," she said in a soft voice, "after all, half of him is yours." "Half of what?" "He's your son, Forrest Gump." "My what?" "Your son. Little Forrest." "I look over there and he's clapping and giggling because Sue's doing a handstand right now. "I think I should have told you," Jenny said, "I was pregnant when I left Indianapolis. I didn't want to say anything, and I didn't know why. I thought, oh, when you called yourself a 'dumb ’ or something, and I’m about to have a baby. Also, I’m kind of worried about what he’s going to be like.” "You mean, is he an idiot?" "Well, a little bit," she said, "but, Forrest, can't you see! He's not an idiot at all! He's as bright as hell--going to be a sophomore this year. Last year he got every subject." A'. Do you believe it?" "Are you sure he's mine?" I asked. "Without a doubt," she said, "he wants to grow up to be a football player—or an astronaut." I looked at the little guy again, he was a strong and beautiful kid.His eyes are clear, and he looks fearless.He and Sue were playing well on the dirt, "Well," I said, "then your, ah, your..." "Donal?" said Jenny. "Well, he doesn't know you. Well, I met him right after I left Indianapolis. I was on the verge of getting pregnant and I didn't know what to do. He was a kind man." A gentle man. He took good care of me and little Forrest. We have a house, two cars, and every Saturday he would take us to the beach or the countryside. We all go to church on Sunday, and Donal's saving up to send little Forrest to college or something. " "Can I see him—I mean, just for a minute or two?" I asked. "Of course you can," Jenny said.She called the little guy over. "Forrest," she said, "meet another Forrest. He's an old friend of mine—that's how you get your name." The little guy came and sat next to me and said, "Your monkey is so funny." "That's an ape," I said, "and his name's Sue." "Since he is a male, why is he called Su?" I knew immediately that my son was not an idiot. "Your mom said you'd grow up to be a football player, or an astronaut." I say. "Yeah," he said, "do you know football or the Astros?" "Yes," I said, "a little bit, but maybe you should ask your father about that. I'm sure he knows more than I do." Afterwards, he gave me a hug.Not a very warm hug, but enough. "I want to play with Sue a little longer," he said, jumping off his chair.Sue actually figured out a game where Little Foster threw a copper coin into a tin cup and he caught it mid-air. Jenny came back and sat down, sighed, and patted my leg. "It's unbelievable sometimes," she said, "we've known each other for almost thirty years now—since first grade." The sun shone through the treetops and shone on Jenny's face. There seemed to be a tear in her eye, but it never shed, but there was something, maybe an emotion, I really couldn't tell what it was, even though I knew it was there something like this. "I just can't believe it, nothing else," she said, and she leaned in and kissed my forehead. "What is this for?" I asked. "Idiot," said Jenny, her lips quivering. "Who isn't an idiot?" After she finished speaking, she left, she got up, went to hold Little Forrest's hand, and they left just like that. Sue came and sat down in front of me, and made a well in the dirt at my feet.I put an X in the upper right corner and Sue put a ○ in the middle, and I knew right away that no one was going to win. Well, after that, I did two things.One, I called Mr. Tribble and told him that no matter how much money I made in the shrimp business, he was going to send ten percent of my share to my mother, ten percent to Bob's father, and send the rest to Go to Jenny's for Little Forrest. After dinner, I stayed up all night thinking, and while it's not supposed to be my specialty, here's what I was thinking about: Now, after all these years, I've finally found Jenny again.And she gave birth to our son, and maybe, somehow, we can reconcile. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was impossible.At the same time, I can't confidently attribute this result to my being an idiot—although it's a comforting excuse to round it out.No, this result is human nature.That's the way things are sometimes, and besides, I think the little guy is better off with Jenny and her husband, and they'll give him a whole family and raise him so he doesn't have an idiot dad. After a few days, I left with Sue and Dan.We went to Charleston, then Richmond, Atlanta, Chattanooga, Memphis, Nashville, and finally New Orleans. People in New Orleans don't care what other people are doing, so the three of us had the time of our lives, performing in Jackson Square every day, watching other weirdos do their thing. I got a bicycle instead, with two little sidecars for Sue and Dan.Every Sunday we rode our bikes to the river and sat on the embankment to catch catfish.Jenny sent me a letter about once a month with a picture of little Forrest.There's a girl here who works as a waitress at a strip club, and we hang out every once in a while and hang out.Her name is Wanda.Sue and Dan and I just rode around the French Quarter most of the time, looking at the sights, and honestly, there were some weird-looking people in that area besides us—looked like they were from the Russian Revolution or something. down product. One day a reporter from the local paper came up and said he wanted to do a story on me because I was the "best one-man band" he had ever heard.The guy started asking a lot of questions about my life experience, so I just told him about it. But before I was halfway through, he turned around and said he couldn't publish a story like that because no one would believe it. But let me tell you, friend: sometimes at night I look up at the stars and see the whole sky just laying there, and don't think I remember anything.I still have dreams like everyone else, and occasionally I think about what life would be like in a different situation.And then, in the blink of an eye, I'm forty, fifty, sixty, you understand? ======End======