Tender Graces (16 page)

She screamed, “Frederick, you’re a Fucklehead!” slammed the phone down, fixed herself a bam-boozeler with a cherry, and told me, “Your daddy won’t let Micah visit out of spite. He said to send you and Andy to him. I won’t. I won’t! He said Mee Maw would . . . ” She stopped, shook her head.

She called Daddy back with her cat’s purr voice. “My family’s all torn up, Frederick. I can’t stand looking at Virginia Kate’s face every time you send pictures of your new life. Don’t you want to come home?” She slammed the phone again and the kitty’s purr was a bobcat’s scream. “Selfish Bastard!”

I went to my room and pulled my Special Things Box from under my bed. I took out the picture of Daddy and Micah before they left, when they went fishing in the Greenbrier River. They held fishing poles in their left hands. Daddy wore rubber boots and Micah had some to match, but his were too big for his skinny legs. Micah held a trout like it was a whale. Later that day, Momma and Daddy kissed and she wrinkled her nose to the fishy smell, but she didn’t pull away from him. We ate the trout, fried potatoes, bread with butter, and for dessert, Daddy had chocolates from the five and dime. We stuffed the candy in our mouths, laughing at the good luck of it all.

I stared at the photo until their faces came clear to me again, then I put them back in the box. I went into the kitchen for two aspirin and went straight away to bed, even though it was hardly dark and I didn’t even hear frogs or night bugs singing. The aspirin pushed up from my belly and tried to spill out. My throat burned and my head pounded. I rode Fionadala up, up, up where we rested together until I fell asleep.

I woke up to someone in my room. I opened my eyes, but no one was there even though I knew I felt the bed sink. I heard breathing, soft and gentle like a summer wind. I said, “Grandma?” The curtains blew to me and I smelled good smells. I snuggled in, and next I knew, it was morning. On the windowsill sat a cardinal, peering in with its bright black eyes. When I sat up to get a better look, it flew off. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and the whole house was quiet. Into the kitchen I tiptoed to put the pot on to boil for Momma’s coffee. I knew she was going to need it since the bottle on the coffee table was almost empty.

When Momma woke, we sat at the table across from each other and sipped our coffees. I loved looking at her through the steam, how she looked like an angel in a cloud.

She eyed me over her cup. “I never meant for him to stay gone. You believe me, don’t you, Virginia Kate?” I didn’t know if she meant Micah or Daddy, or both. She pushed back her hair. “My family is torn right up. How’d it happen so fast?” After her second coffee, she dialed up Daddy and called him bastard and fucklehead until I thought I’d go crazy.

Andy came in and ate his toast, kicking at the table leg over and over, harder and harder.

To get some peace, I went outside with my camera. Daddy’d sent me a photography book and I’d read it cover to cover. I saved the money Mee Maw gave me and used it to buy more film. When I developed the pictures, I’d study them to figure out how to make my photos better. I took pictures of our house, of my bedroom, of Mrs. Mendel’s garden, the maple, the mountains, anything I could.

One special picture stayed wrapped in tissue. I was swinging on the swing in my favorite blue shorts and striped t-shirt. My mountain stood behind me and the wind blew in front of me. I grinned and preened, and Andy snapped the picture. After it was developed, Momma said she thought there was something wrong with the film. But I knew. A soft light glowed all behind me and around me. I knew it was Grandma Faith with me.

The next roll of film I started on, but it didn’t get used up before things changed again. I took a picture of the mountains shadowy in the sky during a big storm full of lightning and mists, Momma reading her romance books while pinkie-raised-sipping from her circle glass, Mrs. Mendel in her garden with her kitty, and of Andy acting silly. I didn’t see any of those pictures until I was away from everything my camera held inside it. When that June became the last Junetime in the holler.

Chapter 14

Life is too hard sometimes, daughter

The three of us were outside and I decided we didn’t have a care in the world just because I felt like it. It was warm and the sky matched Momma’s dress. I had my camera beside me, with six more pictures to take before the roll was gone. I leaned up against the old rough bark of the tree, while Andy rolled around in the grass.

“Want to play a game, Andy?”

“’kay.” He flopped beside me.

“Guess what I see?”

“A flying butt?” Andy pointed to the sky, snickering.

“No, it’s blue.”

“Oh, that there’s my butt.” He rolled up and did cartwheels.

“No. It’s blue with white dots.”

“Your butt.” Andy fell backward on the ground, kicking up his feet and laughing.

“It’s Momma’s dress, dummy.”

“I’m bored.” He dug around in the grass for bugs.

“What do you want to do then?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.” He jumped up and ran about the yard, waving his arms around.

“Stop acting stooopid, Andy.”

“Nanner Nanner Nanner, sister can’t catch me.” He ran around the tree, but I stayed right where I was.

“You two stop all that racket.” Momma finished hanging out the clothes on the old rusty clothesline and looked at us with her hands on her hips. Her hair was up in a ponytail and the end of it was over her right shoulder, curling up in a C. The way she watched us, I knew something was swirling around in her head. She went into the house, and came back with a full glass in one hand, the blue blanket in the other. After spreading the blanket under the tree, she settled on it with her legs tucked under her. Andy and I ran to sit on either side of her. Momma slupped up her Coke-a-Whoopsie, and said, “Ahhhh. How relaxing.”

“Can we have a picnic, Momma?” I asked.

“I want a worm sandwich,” Andy sometimes said want like
ownt
. “And dirt brownies.”

“That’s nasty, Andy.” But I laughed.

Momma took another sip and her eyes went soft. “It’s so pretty here. I could never leave West Virginia.”

“Me either.” I almost leaned my head on her shoulder.

“Me either!” Andy jumped up and tried to grab leaves from the tree.

“What can we have for a picnic, kids? Besides worms and dirt.”

“Hamburgers and french fries?” I asked.

“Or hot digity dawgs.” Andy flopped back down.

I didn’t want even a wind to come and bother us, right then things felt so happy. I knew Momma wasn’t feeling the same thing when she said, “How could I of sent Micah away?” She brushed her ponytail back and took three swallows from her glass. She said, “Groceries have got so expensive.”

“I won’t eat much, Momma. I can skip breakfast.”

“Me, too,” Andy said.

“I’m losing everything. It’s all falling apart.” Momma stared at the bottom of the glass for magic answers.

“No it’s not, Momma, it’s not.” But my stomach did a double ferris wheel.

I knew Momma missed shopping at the big fancy store in Charleston where she’d come home and press cotton balls full of spicy perfumes onto my wrists. I’d kept my arm held out of the bathtub so the smell would stay put all night. She’d tease up her hair big and high, put on a nice dress, and color in her lips, smacking them together to even them out, but even then she said sometimes the other women gave her mean looks like she didn’t belong there.

Momma stuck her legs out in front of her on the blanket and wiggled her red-painted toes. “Look at these toesies, you two. How do you think plain old toes’ll look on me?” She held her hands out for us. “And plain fingernails. I can’t imagine.”

“You’ll be pretty forever, Momma,” Andy said. “Are we still gonna have the pic-a-nic basket, Boo-Boo?”

I didn’t say anything.

Momma had on a spooked look. Getting up as ladylike as she could, she rattled the ice in her glass. “I need another one of these.” She put the clothesbasket on her hip, went into the house, and came back out with an empty cup instead of her glass. Handing it to me, she said, “Go over to Mrs. Mendel’s and borrow a cup of flour.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I need to bake some bread. Andy, you go with her.”

I walked with my head down, thinking about Momma’s eyes, watching my dirty feet slap on the ground. I knocked on Mrs. Mendel’s door, and when she answered, Andy and I went into her little house. She had doilies everywhere and she even had pictures of us kids setting around. Mrs. Mendel gave me the flour and Andy a plate of cookies to take back. Andy took up to eating them as soon as she closed the door behind us. I walked slow as I could trying to figure stuff out.

When I went inside to give Momma the flour, she was hanging up the phone. She grabbed a bottle and a glass, then turned to me. “I’m going to my room awhile. I’m not feeling so good.”

“Momma?”

She went into her room, locked her door, and didn’t come out for supper. Andy and I ate tomato soup and watched television until late, but she still didn’t come out.

Next morning, Momma made a breakfast of toast and peanut butter, with eggs on the side. The phone rang. Momma answered it, then said, “What else do you want from me, Laudine? My blood?”

At lunch, she made grilled cheese sandwiches, with chocolate chip cookies for dessert. We never had dessert at lunch. Momma ate crackers and milk, dipping each cracker into her cup of milk, then chewing while she stared at a spot on the wall. She acted strange the whole day. To stay out of her way, Andy and I went down to the creek and looked for special stones.

That night, I woke up smelling smoke. When I opened my eyes, Momma stood at the foot of my bed. She sipped her drink and then took a big puff of her cigarette. I didn’t even know she smoked until then.

“Momma? What’s wrong?”

“Virginia Kate, do you remember that birthday picnic we had when you turned four years old?”

“I don’t know, Momma.”

“You wore a flowered dress without even fussing, and I brushed out your hair until it shined.” She sipped, swallowed, took another pull, let the smoke come out slow, and said, “Your shoulders got sunburned, so I put salve on them.”

“I think I remember.”

“Your toes were like corn niblets.” Another sip, another pull and blow. “You jumped right in my lap and your hair smelled like warm vanilla.”

I was hypnotized by her voice. The moon through the window lit her up. Her white cotton gown glowing. The lit cigarette glowing. Her teeth glowing.

She stabbed the cigarette on the windowsill, and with her thumb and forefinger, flicked it into the yard. “You had ribbons in your hair.” She leaned, kissed me, her hair tickled my face, and she said, “Life is too hard sometimes, daughter.” She turned and left my room.

I lay awake a long time.

Next day was the same strange momma. She made pancakes and chocolate milk for breakfast. She smoked, drank her coffee, looked out the window towards the road.

When Andy finished eating, she took him by the hand. “Come on Andy, time to go to Mrs. Mendel’s for a spell.”

Andy had chocolate milk spilled on his shirt and his hair stuck up from sleeping.

When she came back, she went straight to the cedar robe and pulled out my yellow suitcase. She next went into her room and got Daddy’s old burlap bag with the drawstring at the top.

“Pack your clothes. You can take this bag and put whatever toys and books you want.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me questions right now. My head’s about to bust open.”

“But Momma . . . ”

She grabbed my shirtsleeve and pulled me to my room. Pointing, she said, “Pack, Virginia Kate Carey.”

I stuffed clothes into the suitcase, wrapped my camera in a t-shirt to protect it, and put it on top of the clothes. I turned in a circle, and then went back to see what Momma was doing.

She was on the couch, smoking, a washrag on her head, a full glass on the coffee table. Her eyes were puffy, but there was fire in them. “Did you pack?”

“Am I going back to Aunt Ruby’s?”

“No.”

“Then where?” I shot a fiery look right back at her.

She blew smoke in a long puff, then said, “Your daddy’s coming to get you.”

“I’m visiting Daddy and Micah!” I almost danced. “Is Andy coming, too?”

She stood, and picked up her drink. “Not visiting. He’s coming to get you to live with him and that woman.”

I stared at her. “Live with them? You mean forever?”

“I don’t know.” She rubbed her neck, sighed. “I just don’t know, Virginia Kate.”

“What about Andy?”

“What about him? He’s staying with me.” Momma looked at me then, full in my face with that pointy chin.

“I don’t want to leave Andy.”

“Your daddy will be here soon and you’re getting in that car without a fuss, you hear?”

“I can’t leave Andy.” The buzzing came loud and mean.

“I thought you wanted to be with Micah? I thought you missed your daddy, too.”

“I do! But why can’t we all be together like it was?” I sat on the couch and pressed my arms over my chest. “Andy gets scared at night, he needs me.”

“You don’t know nothing about nothing.” Momma tipped her glass and gulped it all.

“Did Andy cry when you told him?”

“I didn’t tell him yet.” Momma crossed her arms over her chest, too.

“He’ll think I don’t love him.”

“I expect he’ll get over it after things settle down.”

“Please, Momma, please.” I didn’t care if I was begging. I ran and grabbed her, pushing my face into her dress.

She pushed me away. “All you’re doing is upsettling me. You think it’s easy handing over your kids one by one? I don’t have any choice.” She went into the kitchen and I heard the ice noises. When she came back, her face was set hard. “I’ll keep Andy and at least I’ll have that.” She went to my bedroom and I followed her. She grabbed the suitcase and walked out, saying over her shoulder, “Your daddy’s got that silly toy car. I reckon I’ll have to send your other things.”

When I didn’t leave my room, Momma came back in, took my hand, led me to the front door, held the screen door open for me to go through, and then stepped out after me. I stared at her, but she looked away, running her hand through her hair. “You stay right there and watch for your daddy. I’m going to talk to Mrs. Mendel.” She eyed me and I thought she was ugly, even though I knew she wasn’t really.