The Queen of Palmyra (24 page)

So between Mimi’s too-loud hats and the Greats’ peppermints, I’d had practice in acting enthused when there was nothing to be enthused about.

“Hold up now. You don’t sound too happy.” It was a warning. I looked up at Daddy, but I couldn’t quite see him the way I used to. It was odd, but as time went on without Mama in the house, I was beginning to see him as if he were a ways away. Even if he were right in my face, which he was most nights, he seemed far away. The sheets and pillowcases had slicked up with the shape of us, but seeing him was another story. He was like the little letters at the bottom of the eye chart. You could make out their shapes enough to say one was E and the other F, but you couldn’t really see them well enough to know them truly.

“Oh boy.” I wanted my words to fly. Instead they hopped around on the ground like a pair of fat lazy doves.

“Get some shoes on.” He eyed me up and down. “And go get on a better shirt.” He took the box and stick out of my hands and put them down on the coffee table. “Make it fast. I’m going to wash up. We got to get a move on.”

He went on into the bathroom. I heard the water. When Daddy washed up, he splashed up a storm. It made puddles on the sides of the lavatory and puddles on the floor since Mama
wasn’t there anymore to mop up his splashes. When he came out, I could see the grooves of the comb in his hair running in little lines across and down. He’d made a line part on the left side. Not a hair on the wrong side of the line. I’d put on my best everyday shirt, though it was getting too little in the shoulders and chest. It was blue with little pearl buttons and eyelet around the neck and sleeves. “Nice and cool,” Mama said when she brought it home all new and fresh last summer. Now it was faded and soft and wrinkled, though Mama would have ironed it if she’d been here. Not that I’d be going at all if she’d been there. The little pearl buttons were pulled tight.

We went along the stepping-stone path to the car, me bringing up the rear. I carried the box and the stick, Daddy’s lady slave. By then it was just about dark and Miss Kay Linda’s night jasmine was revving up. Some of it brushed my face. I took a big whiff. It was so sweet it made me want to suck it like you suck honeysuckle. I was starting to feel not altogether bad to be going out with Daddy on a summer night, instead of getting left behind in a hot dark house all by myself. Enjoyable once I got into the spirit of it. Uncle Wiggily heading out on another adventure. The box was my valise. The headache stick my crutch. In my mind, I hopped up and down.

When we got to the car, Daddy came around to my side to open the door for me. Just as I was getting in, he touched my shoulder. When I turned around, he was standing there with his finger under his nose again. “Do you remember what this means?”

“Don’t tell?”

He nodded. “Everything’s a secret from now on, Sister. Lips sealed.”

I didn’t say anything, just nodded in a serious way.

“Show me.”

I put the box down on the seat, and put the first finger on my left hand up under my nose in the sign.

He shook his head no. “Wrong hand.”

I changed to my right and made the sign again.

“Good. Now it’s a promise you can’t break. Nigh unto death. Swear it.”

“I swear.”

The dark was crowding Daddy’s face, drawing a veil across the little space between us. I tried to see into his eyes to tell whether they were smiling. His mouth wasn’t. I couldn’t see his eyes. I stood there and waited for what was next. I didn’t see him move, but he must have because then he was opening the door on his side. I picked up the box and got in the car, closed the door. The box was riding in my lap. I had a good strong grip on the headache stick.

I thought we’d have to ride a long way and end up out in the country on dirt roads, like when Mama took me to the boot legger, but we just bumped across town on regular streets. Daddy pulled into the Phillips 66 where he always bought gas. It was dark, closed for the night. There weren’t any other cars around. Next door was a big garage. When he turned off the engine, everything seemed quiet for a minute and then the night sounds came rushing in, nearly as loud as Daddy’s muffler but peaceful and settled. Daddy got out on his side and came around. When I handed him the box, he reached down and got the stick too. Then I got out. The back of my shirt was already wet with sweat and sticking to my back.

“Come on,” he said, and started toward the garage. “I got stuff to do. Got to open this place up.” There was a door on the side with a padlock. He pulled a key out of his key chain and opened it. The door was big and heavy and had a spring on it that made it swing shut if you didn’t hold on to it. He backed up against it to hold it open for me. “Get on in.”

After I went through, Daddy let go of the door and left us in pitch black. Then he reached up and pulled a chain. A bare bulb shot up light and there we were, in a little room with another big door. It had a peephole on it. That door was locked too, but Daddy used another key to get it open. “There’re only two people in the whole world who have this key,” he said, “and I’m one of them.” Then we went into a big room. The place was swampy and close. Daddy turned on a switch and a big attic fan started up so that the night air, which had seemed so hot outside, came rushing in sweet and cool.

The room looked like a Sunday school class getting ready to commence. It had a gold shag rug that felt soft the way grass feels soft. Folding chairs arranged in a neat square all facing the middle raised-up part, which had a cross that stood up taller than me. It was made out of two pieces of wood and a whole bunch of red lightbulbs. There was a poster tacked up on the wall of somebody in a white hood and robe on a rearing up-horse that was wearing a skirt and a hood too, which was probably why it was rearing up, it couldn’t see where it was going. The horse person reminded me of the Queen of Palmyra heading into battle, except she was covered up in the white robe, with two crosses on its front where the queen’s bosoms would have been. At first I thought I saw the moon curve of those bosoms under the white, but when I looked again, I could see it was not a woman but a man, with a look on his face that said I’m as pure as the driven snow, don’t mess with me.

Daddy fished the little key to his box out of his shirt pocket. He unlocked the box and pulled out the Bible, the little sword, the vase, and his two flags. He handed me the Bible. “Find Romans,” he said. “It’s in the New Testament.”

Of course I knew Romans was in the New Testament. Right before Daddy’d absconded with us, I’d dedicated my life to Jesus
at the First Methodist Church, along with a bunch of other children. The preacher had given each one of us our own King James Bible. After the service he had gathered the children together and got us to open our Bibles to the first page. Each one had: I, [YOUR NAME], took Jesus Christ as my savior and Lord on March 2, 1961, and I am saved. He told us to write in our names, and the deed would be done. When I wrote in
Florence Irene Forrest
, I felt a fluttering inside my chest and I figured it was the Holy Ghost coming in for a landing.

Later, when I got home, I added my own personal PS, which said, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” On the facing page, I drew the outline of my own hand and wrote inside it THE FINGERS OF GOD. I’d labeled each finger the way we’d been taught in Sunday school. The thumb was the saving finger, the pointer the warning finger; then there were the guiding finger, the judging finger, and the keeping finger. I wondered which finger had tabs on me tonight.

I was glad to have something to do while Daddy was getting the place set up. While I was pouring through the Bible looking for Romans, he went over and plugged in the cross. A few of the bulbs were gone, but it looked pretty anyway, Christmas and Easter all rolled into one, though witchy. Daddy put the two flags into pole holders on either side of the cross so that they draped down on it. It made a pretty sight. Each flag hung over one arm of the cross so it seemed safe and at home underneath them. Then he went over to a sink and filled up the vase with some water. I was thinking this was going to be some kind of party, with flowers no less, but then he just put the vase on a tall table next to the cross and laid the sword next to the vase. He turned off the overhead light and looked over at me. “Did you find Romans, honey?”

I hadn’t found it. It was now dark in the room except for the
lit-up cross, which was red, in any case. I’d started singing in my head the books of the Bible so I’d know where to look, but when I got to Romans I didn’t see it in my head because the song went “Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Actsandepistlestotheromans, so I didn’t catch the Romans part of it. I was almost to Revelations.

“No, no, you passed it up.” Daddy grabbed the Bible out of my hands. He was in a hurry. “Here, right here. Now Chapter Twelve. Right here.” He put the Bible on the table too and then took a quick look around. He was sweating, but he pulled his black robe and hood out of the box and put them on. In the witchy red glow it seemed as if he’d just left the room he was so invisible under all that black. When he spoke to me from behind the hood, it didn’t sound like him, but just a muffled voice from way out yonder. “Come here,” the voice said and Daddy’s arm reached out and took my elbow and pulled, which hurt on account of my scars. He corralled me over beside the front door just as there was a bang on it. Then a scratching sound.

“Who is it and what is your business?” The question came from behind Daddy’s hood, but it didn’t sound anything like him.

From behind the door came “I am Klansman Chisholm. I seek entrance to the Klavern to meet with my fellows.”

“Password?”

“Rose.”

“Pass, Klansman.” Daddy opened the door. “Hey Big Dan, you’re the first.” Daddy’s voice was back to normal. “Here, take her till I get everybody in.” He shoved me at Big Dan like I was a plate of cookies.

That’s when I got it. Daddy was in a club, like Eva’s girl club except it had a clubhouse and a password, and he’d asked me to join. Suddenly I felt like a queen. You didn’t see Little Dan or May here. Just me.

I was relieved to see Big Dan looking like his normal ugly old bald self, no robe or hat or hood. Between the red glow the cross made and Daddy in the black, I had been feeling a little put off.

“Sure, Win, plus I got a surprise for her. Look honey, Miss Kay Linda made it for you.” Big Dan pulled out what looked like a white brunch coat with long sleeves and a tassel tie and a little pointy hat made out of a white paper sack. “Come on, let’s put it on.”

Daddy’s voice came back again. He sounded choked up he was so happy. “Look at that, Sister. Miss Kay Linda made you your own robe. How sweet is that? Say thank you to Big Dan, Sister.”

“Thank you.” I said it but I didn’t mean it. The last thing I wanted was something else to put on. I’d already sweated through my nice blue shirt, plus I’d popped a button and lost it to boot. If Mama ever came back, she was going to be aggravated. “I’m hot as fire.” It came out whinier that it should have.

“I’ll take care of Little Bit here. Come on, honey.” Big Dan took my hand. His hand was squishy. I felt like I was holding on to a piece of raw beef liver. It was sticky too, and wherever you pushed, it gave. He took me over into a far corner of the room where it was dark. He squatted down in front of me. “Let’s take off your shirt,” he said. “That way you won’t be so hot underneath.”

I was counting my blessings not to have to wear the thing like a choir robe over my clothes. I was going to unbutton myself, but he reached over and started on the buttons. I could have done them faster. I didn’t like him doing them, but I didn’t worry he could see me because it was dark except for the glow of the Christmas-lit cross, which his back hid. He was slow as Christmas himself, taking his time with each one. Fumbling around because it was so dark. Once he tickled me in fun, which reminded me of Mama’s electric shock treatments in Jackson. Finally, my
blouse was open and he drew it slow over each arm. He was nice and careful. “Do you want to keep it off for a minute, just to cool off?” His question was a nice little breeze blowing over my front. “I can fan you with it.”

He was already fanning my front. It felt cool and refreshing. I was the queen and he was my slave with a palm.

Meanwhile, men galore were piling on in. It was old home week. I could see them over Big Dan’s shoulder, but they couldn’t see me. They were having themselves a good time jawing and patting this one and that one on the shoulder. Some of them I knew. Mr. Jenkins, who owned the drugstore. The little man in a neat uniform who filled us up at the Phillips 66, Daddy called him Sam. Daddy was the only one dressed up in an outfit. He was still at the door taking the password. In the dark I didn’t recognize anyone else. They were all ages and shapes, but they had the same glad look on their faces, as if this party was the highlight of their year. They were milling around. There was a little table over the side, and one man was pouring out of a jug into paper cups.

A few of them noticed me and Big Dan and started over. I was feeling less than private. I grabbed the sack out of Big Dan’s hand. “Let’s get me dressed now.”

“Sure, honey. You cooled off?”

I looked down at myself. My chest was glowing red from the cross. I looked like a piece of raw meat. “Yessir.” I crossed my hands over my chest.

“All right then. Let’s see. Miss Kay Linda said she made it up a little large so you wouldn’t outgrow it so fast, but whoa, looks just right.” He held up the white robe. It had two ties in the front, one at the neck and one at the waist. He helped me put one arm in, then the other. Then he tied the ties in little bows, his fingers busy little butterflies. He pulled out the pointed hat. “Let’s see now. How does this work?” It had a pretty little white satin
ribbon that tied under the chin. He put it on my head and tied the ribbon. “Oh, look at
you
!” Then he gathered me in his arms and gave me a big bear hug. I hugged him back because I could tell how much he liked me. Which is not something I took for granted in my situation. I couldn’t remember the last time I got hugged, much less bear-hugged. I hugged him hard. I didn’t want to let him go.