The Promised World (28 page)

“Oh my Lord,” Mrs. Lewis said, several times. “It pains me to hear that.” She looked at Lila. “Your family’s had so much trouble. First Willie, then Beth. I guess it’s lucky Maria don’t have to know about this.”

“Beth died, too?” Lila had always thought she didn’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins, as her mother was an only child. Now she’d discovered an aunt, only to find she was already gone.

Mrs. Lewis nodded. “Had a car accident right after she and her husband got transferred to the navy base in Florida. You and your brother were all that was left of Maria’s family. That’s why she never stopped writing them letters to your mama, begging to see you. Well, least she got to have her grandbabies with her when she died. That had to be a comfort to her.”

They all drank their lemonade in silence. Lila was wondering if they should go and leave this woman in peace when Mrs. Lewis said, “Wanna see a real nice picture of your daddy?” Lila nodded and Mrs. Lewis reached under the coffee table for a photo album. She flipped through it and held up a photo of two teenagers. “That handsome boy there is my son Darnell.” She smiled. “He and Willie were best buddies in high school. Your daddy was a good boy
and he grew up to be a mighty good man. Believe you me, he never would have left your side if he hadn’t been killed.”

Lila had always remembered her father’s sweetness in a vague way, like the glow of a happy book for which she could no longer recall the plot. In the hospital, whenever she’d tried to think about him—urged on by the psychologist, who hoped Lila would remember more—she was never able to get past her sudden panic, as though if she thought about him too much something terrible would happen. And now, sitting in Eunice Lewis’s sunny living room, she was feeling the panic again. She was hearing words, too, those random phrases that had plagued her since she quit reading, though they seemed to have disappeared while she was in the hospital. Except these words weren’t random, were they? At least some of them seemed to be variations of what Mrs. Lewis had just said.
He was a good man. He never would have left that way if you hadn’t told him. Don’t you see what you did? He was a good man and I loved him. I loved him, you stupid little—

The voice, though, was nothing like Mrs. Lewis’s kind southern drawl. It was her mother’s voice, Lila knew this even before she saw her mother standing in front of her, as real as anything in the room—more real, because she made everything else disappear.

Her mother was standing in the hall outside Lila’s bedroom screaming because Lila had opened her big mouth and told her father about Richard. And Lila knew
full well
that she wasn’t supposed to talk about Richard because her mother had said Richard was her mother’s
secret friend
a million times. And now her father was dead: shot when he wasn’t paying attention because he was so upset when he left for work.

Lila was sure she hadn’t told her father the secret, but the only thing she could say was, “I’m sorry, Mommy.” As she sat on her bed, pulling the ends of her hair so hard her scalp ached, she kept reminding herself that “dead” meant Daddy couldn’t walk in the
door and scoop her up in his arms and call her pretty pumpkin. “Dead” meant she couldn’t give him the pencil holder she was making for his Christmas present from twigs she’d gathered in the backyard. “Dead” meant he was white like a sheet and scared because he was going to be put in a box in the ground.

What kind of little girl would do such a horrible thing? You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to ruin my life!

“It’s a nice photo,” Patrick said. “Where is your son now?”

Lila glanced at her husband and then at Mrs. Lewis, who was answering Patrick’s question. They were both exactly as they had been, and no wonder, as this felt like it had come to her all at once. It was less like a dream than like a thought. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had all happened in the time it took for a single breath. It felt like a revelation, but also, strangely, like something she’d always known, but had just been too afraid to think about.

Now she understood why she’d destroyed all her dolls that night. It wasn’t just the loss of her father; it was the loss of her innocence. Because she was to blame, at least in her mother’s eyes. But had her father really been killed because he was upset and distracted? Had she really slipped up and told her mother’s secret? She felt guilty even thinking about it, though she also knew she’d been eight years old, the age of Billy’s little boy. Even Ashley at her worst would never say that to any of her children, Lila was sure. And Billy had been there, and he’d never blamed Lila. That same night, after her mother had taken to her bed wailing and howling, her brother had told her it wasn’t her fault and held her hands to stop her from slapping herself in the face.

The phone rang again and this time Mrs. Lewis talked for a moment, obviously confirming plans for the afternoon. When she hung up, Lila said they really should get going now, and Patrick agreed. They both thanked Mrs. Lewis for all her help, but before Patrick could stand up, Lila said, “I do have one more question
before we go.” She inhaled. “It won’t take long. It’s just… you mentioned a lot of medicines I was taking. Can you tell me what they were for?”

The old woman looked into Lila’s eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t know this, honey. Your brother knew all about it. Didn’t y’all ever talk on this?”

“No,” Lila admitted. She felt her chest constricting as though her heart literally hurt, thinking of all the things her twin kept from her—and that she would never be able to ask him why.

“Well now, it’s been a long time so I don’t remember what the doctor told Maria all them medicines did. Lots of it was for sicknesses I’d never heard of, but I remember the thing about seizures ‘cause that was what Maria talked about the most. There were two or three drugs to keep you from having those seizures, and lots of other stuff that Billy said had no purpose at all but to make you behave.” She frowned. “I couldn’t understand giving any child medicines for that.”

Lila must have looked as stricken as she felt, because Mrs. Lewis shook her head sadly. “Your mama had problems, honey. It wasn’t anything you did.”

“Thank you,” Lila said, but she admitted she was too confused to make sense of any of this.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Lewis said, “let me tell you a little story about your mama. Maybe it will help.”

Lila nodded and hoped Patrick didn’t mind waiting another minute.

“This happened a long time ago,” Mrs. Lewis said, “back when Barbara and Willie were still here, but I’ll never forget it as long as I live. We were all over at Maria’s having dinner: the two of them and Beth and me. Maria was trying to get closer to your mama, ‘cause Barbara had stayed in town so long and Maria knew Willie was falling in love with her. So Maria decided to make a special
dinner, used her good china, had me over to help ‘cause she was so nervous that it all be perfect. I remember Willie was just beaming ‘cause he was so glad to have his family and his girlfriend together and things going so well. And he hugged Maria and his sister a lot, ‘cause that was his way.”

Lila smiled at this description of her father, which reminded her of Billy. Her brother had been so affectionate. Sometimes she woke herself up weeping that she would never feel his arms around her again.

“Now, I thought Barbara looked a little strange whenever he gave one of those hugs, almost like she was jealous, but I figured I was in no position to judge, not knowing her very well. But later on, when Maria was in the backyard giving scraps to her collie, I walked back in the living room just in time to hear Barbara telling Willie that Maria had insulted her. ‘She called me spoiled and said I needed to work for a living like everybody else,’ Barbara said. Then she let out a kind of phony-sounding cry and threw herself in Willie’s arms. ‘I love your mother, but she doesn’t like me.’ “

Mrs. Lewis sighed. “Naturally, Willie got very upset—so upset that Barbara ended up telling him not to worry, that she would go and talk to his mom and try to work things out. I don’t know where Beth was, but Maria was back in the kitchen, running water over the plates. Willie slumped down in a chair and I kind of followed a few steps behind Barbara, not trying to be nosy, just wondering what on earth was going on. Barbara came up to Maria and smiled just as sweet as she could be. Then she said, ‘I know you think I’m spoiled and I need to work for a living like everybody else. I’m sorry you feel that way. Unfortunately, this means that Willie and I can’t stay here any longer.’ She smiled again. ‘Thank you for the delicious meal.’ “

Mrs. Lewis paused to take a drink of her lemonade, and Lila glanced at her husband. He was leaning forward, as though he was
riveted by this story. So was she, but she was afraid of it, too, so she concentrated on the willow tree in the backyard, swaying in the breeze.

“Now, the thing you have to understand is your granny was the kind of woman who would have torn out her own tongue before she insulted anybody invited to her house. I watched as she stood there, struck dumb with horror that Barbara had figured out her private thoughts. ‘Cause the truth is, Maria did think it was kind of odd that Barbara didn’t work. Everybody in town thought that. Everybody thought she was kind of spoiled, too, ‘cause it was true, she was.

“Somehow by the time Barbara went back to Willie, she’d worked up a flood of tears that just melted him with worry. They ended up leaving a few minutes later, before Maria could figure out how to fix this or even serve the coconut pie she’d made for dessert. And it was only a few days later that Barbara convinced Willie to move to her grandpa’s house up north. Naturally, Maria was just heartbroken and she blamed herself for hurting that girl, even though she hadn’t done a thing. She told Willie she was sorry and he forgave her, but they never really talked like they had before, ‘cause Willie thought his mama didn’t like his girlfriend, and Maria thought his girlfriend didn’t want anything to do with her.”

Patrick said, “But why did she do it?”

Mrs. Lewis was silent for a moment. “I puzzled on that for a long time. Heck, it took me a while just to get how she did it. You see, there was this little piece of dinner table talk about how hard Maria had worked all her life. Barbara must have taken this talk as meaning that Maria wouldn’t approve of her—and that’s how she turned it into a lie that was kind of true, too. See, she was really smart, Barbara was, but it was like she used all her smarts to mess with other people, which I couldn’t understand.” Mrs. Lewis nodded at Patrick. “As to why, my guess is she wanted Willie all
to herself, but that still don’t explain why she didn’t even seem to feel bad being so mean to Maria. But that’s the way meanness is sometimes. There’s no more reason to it than why a snake bites you if you get close to it.”

Mrs. Lewis clasped her hands together; they were gnarled and covered with thick veins, but Lila wished she could hold them. She wished her own granny were still alive. Someone who could make this all right. Patrick was there, and he’d listened to everything as intently as she had, which she was grateful for, though she wished she’d thought to take him to a hotel first. All of this had to seem like an intractable mess to him, and he’d always hated intractable messes, especially when they were disturbing.

After they’d thanked Mrs. Lewis again and both been given onearm hugs as she steadied herself on her walker, Lila and Patrick made their way to the Subaru in silence. He started the car and turned on the air conditioner; it wasn’t that hot, but it was extremely humid. As he headed down the street, he said, “Where to now? Do you still want to stay here until tomorrow as we planned?”

“It’s not necessary,” she said evenly. “I know you need to get back to work. If you don’t get started soon, you won’t have a result by the end of the summer. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but we have promises to keep.”

For years, she’d been using this line from Frost’s poem with her husband: just her way of acknowledging that they didn’t have time for something or other. But it felt strange to be saying this now that she’d remembered the night she’d tried to use that same Frost poem to block out the things her mother and stepfather were saying about her at the dinner table. No wonder Billy was always telling her to read and keep reading, and helping her memorize lines by incessantly repeating them. Because art would never hurt her, he said, but also because she’d had some kind of memory problem, obviously. She vaguely remembered taking the pills that were sup-
posed to have caused this memory problem—if they really had—but her brother had always said they were like vitamins that she had to take because she got sick so often. Her mother hadn’t said anything about them, not that Lila could remember anyway.

“My work can wait,” Patrick said. “All I care about right now is you.” They were at a red light; he turned to face her. He took a breath and his eyes fluttered shut for a second, the way they always did when he was thinking hard about some problem. “I realized today that your life has been unimaginable to me… but I want to understand it.” He took another breath, and then he said something she never expected. “You can talk to me, Lila. And I promise, whatever you tell me, I won’t change the subject. I won’t turn away.”

She was deeply touched, but it wasn’t until they were on the highway, headed back home, that she finally felt brave enough to take him up on his offer. It must have been hard for him to drive and listen to her sobbing out the only part of the story that mattered now. She would never know the truth about her life. She’d lost the plot for good, but she couldn’t find reality, either. And everywhere she looked, she found more sorrow and confusion.

“I’m like a person without a past,” she cried, “without a self… with nothing I can hold on to to keep me on this earth.” She gulped when she realized how the last part sounded, and she quickly added that she didn’t mean it; she wasn’t going to try to harm herself again. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then she cried harder, knowing what that night must have done to him.

Through it all, her husband kept his promise. He never seemed afraid or nervous, and he never tried to change the subject. He just held her hand and listened so well that eventually she no longer felt like crying. Even in her gloom, she saw it as a great gift that Patrick truly seemed to want to stand with her in this.