Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (28 page)

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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Fiction, #Domestic Fiction, #General, #Sagas, #Women - South Carolina, #South Carolina, #Mothers and Daughters, #Women, #Sisters, #Sullivan's Island (S.C. : Island), #Sullivan's Island (S.C.: Island)

BOOK: Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1
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against the wall. I darn well knew it was the latter and I was glad

Daddy was still in the yard. He didn’t support Grandma Sophie’s

theatrics.

“Usually she only eats one piece of toast, no crust, light

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butter, not margarine, and a poached egg for breakfast,” I offered

as an explanation, meeting the surprised look on Livvie’s face.

“Same thing every day and only Tipa can fix it. If I fix it, she

knows if somebody else fixed it and don’t ask me how. Then

she pitches a huge fit. Lunch is tomato soup, with one piece of

toast cut in nine squares floating in it, and plain tea. It’s because

she’s a genius.”

“What kind of fool you talking, girl?” Livvie said.

“Momma says Grandma Sophie is a genius and geniuses

have weird little habits. Grandma Sophie has more than her

share, if you ask me,” I said, thinking that if she could tell Aunt

Carol to kiss off by drinking out of Momma’s best glass, then I

could throw a little dirt on old Sophie and Tipa.

“A genius? How is she a genius?” Livvie stood now drying

her hands on a dish towel.

“She does trigonometry in her head while she sleeps,” Maggie

said.

“I heard tell of that, but do y’all think she threw that plate?”

Livvie asked.

“Yep,” said Timmy.

“She does it all the time,” said Henry. “I’d get my butt

whipped for sure if I did that.”

“It’s how it is around here, Livvie,” Maggie said. “It’s so

embarrassing I don’t ever bring my friends here. Excuse me, I’m

going to get busy putting the porch back together.”

“I’ll come and help you in a minute,” I said to Maggie and

turned back to Livvie. “Yep, and she eats only Cream of Wheat

for supper. Same bowl, same spoon and if you switch it she can

tell.”

“Think she’s peculiar?”Timmy asked.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Henry, “I’d like to have pancakes

every day and spaghetti every night.”

“Yeah, sure, squirt, so would I but I don’t have a temper

tantrum if I don’t get it!”Timmy said.

“Don’t call me squirt or I’ll sock you one,” Henry said.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

183

Maggie got up and left the room.We were all quiet. Livvie

just kept standing there looking at us like we were a bunch of

escapees from the nuthouse. Finally she said, “Humph,” and

began fixing some food. She handed Timmy a banana and a

sandwich of bread and butter, then reached in the dark refriger-

ator for a Coke and gave it to Henry.

“Go on, now, take this to y’all’s Daddy. See iffin y’all can

help him clean up the yard,” Livvie said.“Don’t be opening the

refrigerator and especially the freezer until the power comes

back on!”

“Okay! Okay!” they said, slamming the back screen door

nearly off the hinges. A few seconds later we heard, “Sorry!”

Then a lot of giggling as they ran down the back steps.

“Them boys,” Livvie said.

She sat down at the table next to me. It was unusual for a

Negro housekeeper to sit next to anyone in the family, except a

baby. I didn’t mind a bit but at the same time I hoped no one

would catch us.

“You all right, Susan?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Humph.You’s a terrible liar.You ain’t fine. That’s all right.

Iffin you want to talk to Livvie, I’m ’eah. I just want to know

one thing and it ain’t about your aunt.”

“What’s that?”

“You think your grandmomma be right in the head?”

“I think she thinks she can do whatever she wants. I mean,

Daddy raises the devil about her sometimes, but then Momma

cries and Tipa gets mad and says it’s still his house and have some

respect for your elders and all that junk.Then Daddy goes over

to Uncle Louis’s, they drink a bunch of beer and Daddy comes

home and it’s okay for a while.”

“Humph,” she said.“Got a bad spirit in her. I gone fix it too.

All right, enough of this long talk. I got to go clean up Mrs.Asalit’s

floor. I gone talk to her, don’t you worry.”

I didn’t tell her about how Daddy would give Momma the

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back of his hand and I didn’t tell her how Uncle Louis never did

anything to help Momma with Grandmomma. I watched her

take the paper towels, a grocery bag for the broken dish and the

container of salt. She probably already knew everything about

us anyway.

“What do you need salt for?” I asked.

“Humph,” she said, “
buckra
children don’t know nothing.

Come on, Livvie will show you.”

I went with her out of curiosity. Their room was empty.

Grandpa Tipa had taken Grandma out to the front porch to

calm her down. We could hear their voices through the open

French doors of their bedroom.Their bed was unmade only on

one side. Tipa had slept on top of the covers, probably dressed.

Sure enough, broken china covered the floor by the closet door.

Livvie began to pick it up and I helped her.

“Watch your feet, child.Why don’t you go put on shoes?”

I had a sudden thought that it had been ages since anybody

had cared whether or not I got hurt. The tears came rolling

down my cheeks and Livvie stood up and pulled me into her

arms.

“There, there now. It’s all right, chile, just cry it all out,” she

said softly to me.

I could feel my chest heaving with sobs but no noise came

out, just great sighs.

“I know,” she said quietly.

“How?” I said.

“Honey chile, when you’re an old woman like me, you’ll be

amazed at what you can know just by looking at someone, espe-

cially when they don’t want you to! Why don’t we pray together

about this a little bit?”

“Pray? Are you kidding me? I’d pray that they both go right

to hell,” I said.

“Susan, iffin you don’t want to pray, that’s all right, but

sooner or later, you got to give it over to the Lawd. It’s His busi-

ness to punish, not our business. And, honey, listen up to Livvie,

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

185

I gone tell you something. It don’t pay to hate nobody, ’cause

the only person who gets hurt is you.The person you hate, half

the time don’t know about it and the other half they don’t care.

So don’t hate them, just know they is stupid. Grown-up don’t

mean you can’t be stupid.”

“Boy, that’s for sure.”

“Ain’t got nothing to do with you. Don’t mean because

they is bad that you is bad. Just means they is stupid.They make

a crazy decision and didn’t expect to get caught.”

“How did you know?”

“Chile, all I had to do was look at your Aunt Carol and she

start to run her mouth a mile a minute, looking every which

way except at me. And your daddy? Normally he’d be cussing

up a blue streak. But he’s out there smiling and cleaning up he

yard. How did you get in their business anyway?”

“Went out to the shed to get a flashlight. Got locked out

and had to go to the front door. First, I heard them.Then I saw

Mrs. Simpson on her porch watching them and laughing. I had

to peek. I wish I hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I expect you do, but it’s natural to peek. That don’t

make you bad, just normal. Too bad that woman saw them. Har-

riet say she something terrible.”

“Yeah, you know she’ll tell the immediate world and then

Momma’s gonna die from the shame of it.”

“She ain’t gone tell a living soul nothing. I see to that.”

“What are you gonna do? Cut off her tongue?”

She giggled like I loved to hear.

“Yeah, Gawd. I gone to her house with your momma’s big

scissors hid in my apron and when she start yapping, I gone grab

it and snip!”

“That would be great! You’d be famous! Gosh, Livvie, when

I talk to you I feel normal.”

“You are normal. You is all normal. Your brothers is just

boys, that’s all.And Maggie’s a young lady trying to grow up and

dignify herself. Can’t blame her for that, can we? Now, your

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

grandmomma and granddaddy, they is old, honey, and old folks

got their ways. Can’t change them. Be a mistake to try. In fact,

it’s a mistake to try and change anybody.”

“Doesn’t work anyhow,” I said.

She looked at me, picked up the remaining pieces of

ceramic and put them in the bag.

“Umm-hmm,” she hummed,“no, we can’t change them, but

we can move they spirit! Yes, sir, we can do that sure enough!”

What was she talking about? The next thing I knew she was

sweeping the floor.Then she stopped and opened the container

of salt, poured some in her hand and started humming “Go Tell

It on the Mountain.” She sprinkled some in each of the four

corners of the room and turned to me.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing,” I said,“nothing at all.”

“Gone clean up the spirits in this room, that’s all.You watch,

you’ll see. Gone cut me some roots and make a little cunja bag

and pin it to they mattress too. They don’t have to know, do

they?”

“Ain’t gonna hear it from me,” I said.

“Good. Humph. All this fool in this house is just that. I

gone take care of it.You watch. Gone fix that mirror too.You

believe me?”

“Yeah, I believe you.”

I did believe her and I didn’t know why. Except that since

she’d been here, things had, in fact, started to change.The house was

a lot cleaner, I always had underwear in my drawer, Sophie didn’t

stink anymore and Daddy hadn’t whipped anybody lately. But it

was more than that and her fried chicken. Her passion for righ-

teousness was stronger than our frenzy.

We went back to the kitchen to clean up the remains of our

makeshift breakfast.

“Where do you get your strength, Livvie?”

“What do you mean? Ain’t you heard nothing I ever say?”

“Yeah, of course, I listen to you, but still . . .”

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

187

“Ain’t no but. You wipe off the table and I gone tell you my

story. ’Eah, take this cloth and get busy.”

“Okay.”

She looked out the window remembering, shook her head

and started to talk.

“When I was a little girl we didn’t have nothing. I mean, we

was so poor that my momma lined my shoes in cardboard when

they got holes. I only had one pair and they was my treasure.

She stuffed the walls with newspaper when it got cold, and

Lawd, it got cold. But me and my brother knew we had love

and that was the most important thing to us. And we always had

plenty to eat. Cornbread, milk, field peas . . . something always

on the table.

“My daddy, he was born after the Yankees came, in about

1875, and oh, how he loved to tell the stories about the Yankees.

He was scared to death of them bluebellies because he believed

they would come and kill you or carry you off. Maybe he told

us that so’s we wouldn’t wander off down the road, like we liked

to do.

“His daddy and mammy was still living on the plantation

when he was born, even though they was free to go. His daddy

had been a slave and when Mr. Lincoln freed everybody, he say

where he gone go to? So, they stay and tend they own patch and

work for Mr. Archibald Barnes.

“My family lived in a little cabin on the plantation, the same

one where my daddy was born. All his life, my daddy was a

sharecropper to the same man’s family his daddy had belonged

to.The Barneses they owned a big plantation out on the Wando

River called Oakwood. My brother, Leroy, and me, there wasn’t

no school around there, so they put us in the field to work pick-

ing cotton. But I was a right smart little girl and in fact I can

read a little and do some numbers, but yes, ma’am, I was put out

in the field when I was only nine years old. Makes you grow up

quick. Hard work makes you strong. I work hard every day;

that’s where I get my strength.That and knowing who I am. You

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

children think you got it so bad, you wouldn’t know what trou-

ble looked like if he walked right up to you and shook your

hand!”

Livvie sighed and waited for me to say something.

“I know that, I mean, somebody’s always got it worse,” I

said.

“That’s exactly right.”

“I know, I agree, but Livvie, sometimes it’s so crazy around

here I think about running away. I mean, I’d never do it because

where would I go? But it’s too much, you know?”

“Yeah, chile, I know better than you can think I do, but you

belong right ’eah.You is a Hamilton and this is where they call

home. I know something else you ain’t learned yet.”

“You probably know plenty more than I ever will.”

She laughed a little at that and shook her head. “Mm-hm,

chile, these old eyes have seen it all, but what I want to tell you is

this.When folks around you do crazy things, it’s the devil trying

to distract you from your purpose.”

I just stared at her.

“That’s right. Old Beelzebub himself. That’s how the devil

works. He ain’t no fool with a red suit and a tail. No, he works

on your mind. When you let your mind dwell on trouble, you

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