Tender Graces (24 page)

The yellow car rounded the corner and stopped at the curb in front. I stood up and shaded my eyes. Andy climbed out and Momma handed him a tan suitcase. I reached out a hand and began walking towards the car.

The top was down and Momma’s hair was very long again, tangled like blown branches after a storm. She was more beautiful than I ever remembered. She wore a dress like Marilyn Monroe—that white one that blew up around her—and lipstick the color of crushed plums. The man stared straight ahead, both hands holding the steering wheel.

Momma said something to Andy and he dropped the suitcase on the ground. I heard him holler out, “No, Momma! Wait!” The man said something to Andy. Andy shouted, “You shut up, you big fat idiot!” The man’s eyebrows shot together like two fighting caterpillars.

I screamed, “Andy! Andy!” and tore across the yard to him. He might have climbed back in that car and stayed there if I hadn’t of hollered his name.

When Andy turned to me, he looked as if he’d seen the headless horseman ride up and hand him his pumpkin head. “They’s leaving me, Sister!”

I ran into him hard and hugged on him so tight, it made his breath grunt out.

The man began to drive away, but Momma hit him on the arm with her fist and he stopped. Her plum mouth opened and closed, those turned up corners working. He said something back to her, stroking her hair, and then he put his arms around her. And stupid Andy and stupid me stood like rooted trees when we should have done something, anything. When he let her go, she turned to wave at us, her hand going back and forth real slow, then she turned her back and they flew off.

I pulled my roots out of the ground then and raced off after them. I hollered,  “Momma! Wait! Come back so I can talk to you.” I ran, but the car was soon out of sight. I stood in the middle of the street until I heard the car coming back. I waved my arms and yelled loud so Andy could hear me, “She’s coming back, Andy!” And around the corner came an old Ford with a whole family inside, grinning and laughing as they headed on down the road. I turned and trudged back to the house.

Andy sat on his suitcase, looking down at his feet. I saw a tear fall on the grass.

“Don’t cry, Andy.”

“She told me I’m living here now.” He dried his face with the bottom of his shirt. “She lied. She’s a liar.”

“It’s not so bad when you get sorter used to it.”

“She’s a big fat liar.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

“She’s not. She won’t.” He had mad-crabby eyes. “I don’t care. She can rot!”

Rebekha pulled up, slipped out of the car with a look that would’ve been funny if it had all been something to laugh over. I figured she’d be really mad with another one of us in the way. She stood by her car, shading her eyes. “What’s going on here?”

“Momma left off Andy for good.” I grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled him up.

Rebekha walked over, her high-heels sinking in the grass. She bent over to Andy. “What’s going on, Andy?” He wouldn’t look at her.

“Momma told him he’s got to live here, Ma’am.”

“She did what? Just now?”

“Yes Ma’am. Just now. She didn’t even stop so I could talk to her, or hug her or nothing.” I took breaths to dry up anything that wanted to come out of my eyes.

“I’m amazed, simply amazed.” And she looked amazed, too. Standing in her pretty black and white suit, her hair neat and shiny, her purse over her shoulder with a paisley scarf sticking out. “She just dropped him off?” She looked down the street as if she thought Momma might come back, too.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Andy squeezed my hand tighter, still looking down at the ground.

“Well I’ll be.”

We stood there for a spell. Rebekha looked down the street. Andy looked at his tenny shoes. I looked at Andy. Amy Campinelle came out the door looking at all of us looking. We didn’t know what else to do but stand around like looking-fools.

Rebekha smoothed Andy’s hair. “Come in the house. Let’s get you something to drink, poor little boy.”

He let go of my hand and walked with her up the stairs and into the house. Amy Campinelle went in with them.

I picked up his suitcase, and put on a hound dog face in case they came back by, so Momma would see me looking pitiful. When nothing happened, I went on into the house. Andy sat at the table between Rebekha and Amy Campinelle with a plate of cookies and a glass of chocolate milk. I noticed that with Rebekha there to help me know what to do, my head didn’t hurt so bad. I thought about that, and wondered on it, and decided to think about it later.

“Where should I put the suitcase?” I asked her.

“Let’s see. Put it in Bobby’s room, will you, please?”

Amy Campinelle said, “I got to stir my pots at home. If you need me, Rebekha dear, just holler.”

“Thanks, Miss Amy. For dinner, too. I’ll walk you to the door.”  I heard them talking low. I figured Rebekha was telling Amy Campinelle what a bad momma we had and how she was stuck with all these kids that weren’t hers.

Andy started up again. “Momma didn’t tell me nothing. I didn’t get to tell Mrs. Mendel goodbye or nothing. I hate Momma’s stupid guts!”

“I didn’t get to tell her goodbye either. And I didn’t get to tell you goodbye.” I took one of his cookies so he wouldn’t feel so lonesome eating them.

Rebekha came back in and looked at me. “She didn’t stop and say anything to you?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“I see. Well, we’ll work all this out.” She stared out of the window, talking to the squirrel in the tree next door, instead of us. “Bobby’s room is plenty big enough. Oh, and there’s school to register and clothes and, well, so much to do.”

All this time I hadn’t seen my little brother and we were too sad to be happy. “Want to look around, Andy?”

He nodded his head. I showed him around the house, and then the yard and neighborhood, just as Micah had shown me. I told him about alligators, yawl, coke, parishes, po-boys, and Hey! He stopped carrying on, but he had far and away eyes. When we got back to the house, he laid down on the couch. I sat with him until he fell asleep, then I went to get my math book, still under the mimosa. The pages were flapping open like a bird too heavy to lift off.

Miss Darla came out swinging a bag in her hand. “Here, Girl, some candy for you and your brothers.”

“Thank you, Miss Darla.” I dug into the bag. There were three Zero’s, three bubble gum cigars, six fire balls, a Chick-o-Stick (which became my new favorite candy after Zeros), Micah’s favorite candy corn, and Andy’s favorite peanut bar. I looked up at her grinning at me and thought,
How’d you know? You’re weird, Miss Darla
. She just grinned bigger. When she went back inside, I took the candy to my room and sucked on a fire ball, letting it burn my tongue so things I didn’t want to say about Momma would burn right off.

Micah came into my room. “What’s Andy doing on our couch?”

I gave him his candy, told him the story, and we went to stare at Andy sleeping.

Micah opened his candy corn and popped a giant handful. I put Andy’s on the coffee table for him, whenever he woke up. With his mouth full up to the brim, Micah said, “Momma’sh losht her mind.”

I wanted to say, “Nuh uh.” But I didn’t.

Later, after we ate the shrimp Creole supper, Andy had two helpings and Micah had three, we sat in the living room to watch Red Skelton.

The phone rang and when Daddy answered and listened a bit, his mouth went into a straight line. He said, “Don’t give me that. You should have told him.” He jingled the change in his pocket. “Harold? Give me a break. You could’ve come in and talked to us about that.” He tapped his left foot on the floor. “He’s been crying since you left.” His mouth turned down. “I hope you and Harold will be happy.” Gulped down all his drink, said, “Ha. Well, did you get Mee Maw’s check?” When he said, “check” he had a smart-aleck look and his voice was even more smart-alecky. “What? Forget it. You’re too drunk to talk to. Goodbye.” He put down the phone, looked over at Rebekha, and shrugged.

I asked, “She didn’t want to talk to me, to us?”

Micah said, “Get in the real world, Vee. Geez.”

“She didn’t want to talk to me?” Andy looked like he might start up again.

Rebekha rubbed and patted him on the back.

“No, she didn’t want to talk. She and Harold are off to France for a month. She had to pack.”

I hated her. And I never wanted to see her again.

Before bedtime, I went to Andy and Bobby’s room to read
Tom Sawyer.
Rebekha had made Andy a pallet on the floor until she could buy him a bed. He was with Bobby on the piled up blankets, bedspreads, and sheets. I said, “Hey.”

“Is Bobby my brother?” Andy asked. Bobby giggled when Andy poked his stomach.

“I guess so. He’s like half of a brother.”

“What half’s our brother? I don’t want no poopy half.” He laughed and I liked how it sounded. Bobby laughed, too, pulling at Andy’s hair. “Ouch, he’s strong.”

“Yeah, he gets sick lots though.”

“How come he gets sick lots?”

“Daddy said it was funny molecules or something. Want me to read to yaawwlll?”

“Naw. I don’t feel like it.”

I sat on the pallet with them. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“Not sad. Mad at Momma. She’s a goddammer.” Andy stood up and stomped his foot. “Stupid. Stupid.
Stupid goddammer
!”

Bobby giggled.

“I’m reading to Bobby, you can listen if you want to.” I opened the book and read, “Chapter one, A Young Battler. ‘ Tom!’ No answer, ‘Tom!’ No Answer. ‘What’s gone with that boy, I wonder?’” I looked up as Andy lay back on the pallet with Bobby, smiling just a little bit. So I read until I was sleepy.

I might have quit hating Momma if I hadn’t overheard Daddy talking to Rebekha the last day of fifth grade. I stood outside of the dining room in my blue dress with the white collar.

“I can’t believe she’s pregnant with Harold’s child,” Daddy said. “She gives up her children and then gets pregnant with a man who hates children.”

“She’s confused, Frederick. I feel sorry for her.”

I heard a cup hitting a saucer. “Harold won’t stick around. He’ll run off and find another easy target.”

“It’s a shame these children are in the middle of this.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“I’m not pointing a finger at you.”

“Yes you are.” A chair scraped against the floor. “This is all my fault, isn’t it Rebekha? You’re the saint and I’m the sinner. That it?”

“Don’t talk to me that way. I’m not some girl you can pull things over on and talk to as you please.”

Daddy sighed, said, “I’m trying, Bekha, really I am.”

“All I ask is that you pay attention to what’s happening around here.”

“What do you mean ‘what’s happening around here’?”

“Micah runs around like a wild boy. Andy needs us both to be strong. And I can’t reach Virginia Kate because she’s afraid she’ll get hurt. She walks around in her own world with her head in books or the clouds. I can’t hug her without her backing away. She’s hurting, they’re all hurting and I can’t stand it. I know about being a hurt child, I understand the pain. And, Bobby, what if Bobby has what my . . . god, I couldn’t.”

I backed up a step, feeling as if I was under Micah’s scientific microscope.

“Why are you so worried? You’ve cut back your hours and the children seem to be thriving. Why are you so damned negative?”

“Can’t you see, Frederick? If you’d just stop drinking so much, like when we were first together, remember how it was?”

“I’m going to campus. I’ll be late.” Daddy’s voice was chewing up nails.

“What else is new? How can you ignore me when I need your help? You live in some fantasyland—or maybe it’s Bourbon World. Do you have a Shakespeare quote for me? One that will make it all okay?”

I didn’t bother to hide myself when Daddy tore off by me. He saw me there and I sent him my most hateful ray beams out of my eyes. I felt bad when Daddy’s face turned inside out and he said, “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Then he was gone, out the door.

Rebekha went to Andy and Bobby’s room and shut the door.

Micah came to stand by me. “Hey, Veestor. What’s going on now?”

“I don’t know why grown-ups always fight. Why can’t things be good all the time?” I kicked the baseboard with the toe of my saddle oxford.

“You worry about stuff too much.” His satchel was over his shoulder and his hair was combed shiny. He looked too much like Daddy. “Just be a kid. Kids don’t have to worry about stuff. I don’t think you should get like you were before.”

“Before what?”

“When you walked around worse than whirly-brained. It was weird.”

I picked at my nails where dirt stayed packed away from my digging. “Don’t you wish about stuff sometimes?”

“Nope. I know what I want. I’m going to be famous and when I am, I’ll do whatever I want when I want.”

“You almost do that now.” I smiled a little.

“Ha! You wait, I have it planned out.”

“Like what?”

“Moving to New York and living in a building in the middle of the city. Lights will be spread out everywhere and I’ll look out of my big window and paint everything I see. The moon and stars if I want to.” His eyes shined like his lights and moon and stars. He grinned at me, said, “I got to flee, Vee. See?” And he was off, down the hall, and out the door.