Tender Graces (22 page)

“Can we put butter, salt, and sugar on it?”

“I don’t see why not.” She took out the oil, some butter, her big heavy pot, and a smaller one. She melted the butter in the small one first, and then put oil in the bigger one. The pots were heavy and shiny, with handles that weren’t burnt and melted. “Can you get one of those brown paper bags over there?” I did that while she put popcorn in the oil. She stood over it, waiting for the first kernel to explode. Then, she put the lid on and shook the pot to get them moving around. They popped slowly at first, then faster. It was a happy, fun sound.

With her back to me this time, she said, “I have some gossip about Mrs. McGrander, but you’re probably too young to hear it.” She cleared her throat, said, “Well, anyway, gossip isn’t nice. I don’t know why I said anything.”

I stood up straight to make myself look taller.

When the popping slowed up, she turned off the burner, gave the pot one more shake, and then poured the popcorn into the paper bag. She drizzled the butter in and shook it, then sprinkled in salt and shook it again. “How much sugar?”

“Can I do it?”

“Sure.”

I scooped sugar and slowly sprinkled it in, and then gave the bag another shake. I dumped the popcorn in the bowl.

“I’ve never had it this way,” she said.

I handed her three pieces to taste.

She chewed and swallowed. “Mmmm. Best popcorn I’ve ever had.” She took two Orange Crush from the icebox. “Let’s go sit in the living room.”

“What about the No Eating In The Living Room Rule?”

“I changed my mind, at least for tonight. That’ll be our secret, okay?”

“Okay.”

We settled ourselves on the couch; I put the bowl between us. She studied me and I remembered I still wore the lipstick. I wondered if it made me look old enough for gossip secrets. She looked around the room, even though nobody else was there and said almost in a whisper, “I heard this from Miss Amy, who knows everything about everyone.” She ate a handful of popcorn, said, “This is so delicious.”

I waited for secrets to be told, eating my popcorn like watching television.

“Oh dear. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” She swallowed some Crush and made a face. “This stuff is so tangy. Well, then, okay.” She looked around again. “Mrs. McGrander used to work as a dancer girl. She called herself ‘Miss Double-Dee-Light-Full the Reversible Stripper’.” Rebekha turned pinky-red, tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What’s a stripper?”

“Oh, I knew you were too young. I shouldn’t have said.”

I puffed my lips with the red lipstick.

She chewed and swallowed. “Okay, well, it’s when women take their clothes off and dance around in a room full of men.”

“Mrs. McGrander did that?” I remembered her dancing out in the yard. “She’s not a very good dancer.”

Rebekha put her hand over her mouth and laughed, then said, “Well, I suppose that doesn’t matter to the men.”

When I took a gulp of Orange Crush to wash down my popcorn, I noticed the bottle had a red stain from my lips.

Rebekha went on, “She did it differently than usual. She came out on the stage with no clothes on, danced around, and then put her clothes back on a little at a time. First her stockings, then comes the shoes, and so on. Oh, it was all the rage for a while at this little club across the river.” She cleared her throat again, said, “It was a long time ago, I’m sure.” She handed me a napkin. “Wipe that lipstick.”

I wiped it gone.

“I shouldn’t have told you, but I did. Miss Amy made me pinkie swear about it. So, now we have to pinkie swear.”

“What’s that?”

Rebekha looked at me as if I was behind the bars at a zoo. “You’ve never had a pinkie swear?”

“No, Ma’am.”

She stuck out her pinkie. “Stick out your pinkie.” I stuck it out and she hooked hers around mine. “Pinkie swear you won’t tell a soul that I told you something I shouldn’t have in a weak moment of silliness and popcorn.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“No, you have to say ‘pinkie swear’ back to me.”

“Pinkie swear.”

We shook pinkies.

“Now it’s sealed.” She got up to turn on the television. When she sat back down, she let out an old dog sigh. In Louisiana, there was color television, but some shows were still in black and white.
Flipper
was on—he was like a fish Lassie. Rebekha was asleep by the time
I Dream of Jeannie
came on. Jeannie crossed her arms and nodded her head whenever she wanted something. I daydreamed I could do that, and that I had a room like hers. Next came that
Get Smart
guy. I turned off the television the first time he answered his shoe. I left Rebekha sleeping on the couch and went to bed. I didn’t tell Rebekha why I wanted to know about Mrs. McGrander. I didn’t tell her about the time I saw Daddy giving her a ride in his silly car.

The next morning, I woke up to a thunderstorm and smelled bacon. I wrinkled my nose as I went down the hall and eased open Micah’s door. He was still asleep. I was going to throw something at him, when I heard Daddy and Rebekha in the kitchen talking in those loud-whisper voices, so I sneaked to listen.

“ . . . a little old to be acting that way,” she said.

“You were born old, that’s your problem. The bacon’s getting too crisp.”

“Thank you for that assessment of me. And the bacon is fine.”

“You’re two years older than me, don’t forget.”

“You didn’t get home until daylight. I was worried.”

The icebox opened and things rattled around. “What’s the harm?”

“You have children and they need you—that’s the harm. If you’re looking for the orange juice, we’re out.”

“Does that mean I have to sit around in a rocker and be wise?” The icebox closed. “Shoot, no orange juice?”

“It means you could stay around here more and help me with
your
children.” Something hit the counter hard.

I stared at my feet.

“If you don’t want my kids, just say so.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want them. I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“They’re just miniature adults with big eyes and funny ideas.” I heard ice falling into a glass. “What’s to do?”

“Are you doing that again already? My god, it’s eight in the morning.”

“Morning for you, I just got home a few hours ago. I’m still in yesterday.” Daddy laughed. Only
he
thought it was funny. The cabinet opened and shut, then another one. “Ah, there it is.”

“What’s happening to us, Frederick?”

“Nothing. You’re imagining things.”

Micah came out of his room. “Are you listening to people’s stuff again?” I gave him the hush-up look. He blew morning breath on me, then went into the bathroom, laughing as he shut the door.

A big thunderclap came and I didn’t hear what Rebekha said, but Daddy answered, “I thought this is what you wanted. To have a family. You said that’s all you ever wanted. Now you have one.”

“Yes. Well. I’m pregnant.”

For five blinks, all I heard was bacon crackling and rain hitting the roof. Then the sound of a glass hitting the counter. Daddy said, “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, and I’m scared. I didn’t plan for this.”

“We’re having a baby! How wonderful!”

“How could you brush off the possibility of—

Daddy didn’t let her finish, he was talking away, his voice all jittered up with happy. “Let’s tell the children. They’ll be excited. I’ll go get them.” I pushed myself from the wall and tiptoed towards my room.

Rebekha said, “Stop right where you are! I want to discuss this . . . this baby thing. It’s important.”

“What’s to discuss?”

“After breakfast we’re going to talk.”

Micah came out of the bathroom and hollered out, “Hey, what’re you doing in the hall? Huh? Huh?” He tore off to his room before I could clobber him one.

I went into the bathroom, shut the door, and waited a minute before I flushed the toilet. Then I went to the kitchen pretending I just woke up. Rebekha was pouring milk for everyone. She turned to me with her eyes red and puffed. I wanted to hug on her to make her feel better. I even felt my foot ready to step, but I didn’t do it.

“Good Morning, Virginia Kate.”

“Morning, Ma’am.” I thought about last night and how she was like a happy little girl, and now she wasn’t. “Can I help with stuff?”

“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

I helped her fix the plates, not touching the bacon, and took them to the table. Daddy drank his coffee with the newspaper in front of his face. Micah walked in scratching his head and yawning. When he saw me, he made a you-are-stooopid face. Both he and Daddy had messy hair and sleepy eyes. During breakfast, no one said three words, but a billion words were hanging right in the air all thick and dark. When we finished eating, Micah and Daddy scattered to the ends of the earth. Rebekha and I had to clean up all that mess they left behind.

I carried plates to the sink, poured in Joy dishwashing soap, let the sink fill up with hot bubbly water.

Rebekha brought in the rest. “Virginia Kate, you can go play.”

I shook my head.

“You wash, I dry?”

I stuck my hands in the soapy water and washed. The window in front of me faced the next-door neighbor’s house. An old woman stood in the rain with a dog. I wondered why I never saw her before. I liked how her hair was still long, even though it was Crayon gray and sopping. She looked like she was singing. I couldn’t hear her, but her mouth made Oh’s and Ah’s. Beside her, the little dog with a smushed-in face looked unhappy and wet. I’d look up that dog in my Dog Breeds of the World book later. I let myself pretend she was my grandma down to visit and that dog was mine.

Rebekha rinsed and dried the dishes I handed her. She said, “After this, I think I’ll go lie down.” She looked out the window at the neighbor. “That’s Miss Darla. She just got back from Egypt. She’s never been married. Maybe that’s why she’s so happy and singing out in the rain.”

After that, we finished the dishes without talking and Rebekha went to her room. I opened the cabinets and found two bottles. I poured them down the sink, every last stinky drop, and the smell stayed in the air, even after rinsing twice. I looked out the window again and stared at Miss Darla until she turned around and waved.

I waved back, then went into Micah’s room to snoop. There were lumps underneath his bedspread where he didn’t pull the sheets and blanket up all the way. His room was full of drawings, and model cars glued together that were painted colors cars never were, like a purple Ford, a polka dot Chevrolet. There were Superman and Spiderman comic books on the floor by his bed.

On his desk was an upside down piece of drawing paper. I flipped it over. Micah had erased and drawn Momma’s face enough times to thin the paper out. I turned it back over. Touching the top drawer to his desk, I sort of accidentally pulled on it too hard and it sort of accidentally slid open. There were paints, brushes, and charcoals inside. I peered to the back and saw a tin box. Inside were a lighter, a cigarette, a label off of a bottle of beer, and a stick of Juicy Fruit. I put the cigarette to my lips and pulled on it, but it was so nasty I wanted to vomit. I put everything back just as I found it.

Seems Daddy and Rebekha weren’t the only ones with secrets.

Chapter 19

Today

The storm is really blowing now. But I like it, like how the wind howls down from the mountain. I have to shut the window a little, but only to keep the rain from wetting everything up. I listen to the moans and groans the house makes, listen for secrets. The house is living, breathing as it sighs in and out. I look at the mess around me. I made a promise. I said I’d tell our story. That’s what I’m doing. Making it all real in the telling, just as Grandma said.

I say to the urn, “Momma, did you ever take out my things and look at them?” I’m trying to picture Momma coming in my room to sweep the floor and bumping the box under my bed. Pulling it out and going through the drawings, photos, and other mementos her little girl thought special. Maybe she’d wailed and bawled as she climbed up the attic steps to put my things out of her sight.

The wind rushes through the window and knocks photos and notes to the floor. I say, “Did you do that, Momma? You were always ornery, you know.” She won’t say a thing.

I look out the window and watch the rain, leaving the stuff on the floor right where it landed. I’ve spent hours upon hours drinking coffee and remembering, writing notes down, going back and forth between crazy, mad, and sad. I’m not finished yet.

I say to the room-spirits, “I’m tired. I need to rest a little while.”

I hear on the wind, “Rest, rest, rest, Virginia Kate.”

I begin to clear everything else off the bed. When I pick up the bit of Spanish moss, it’s like old witches hair, thick and wiry-soft. I think about Louisiana. The big daddy oaks, and the cypress with moss hanging down so mysterious. The egret, winter’s white pelican, and all the eerie strangeness. Micah always said I’d be trapped there if I didn’t watch it. My mountains had been calling me and I hadn’t been listening. Things had held me in Louisiana, but would they keep me there now?  Where would I end if not at my beginning? Maybe somewhere new?

I pull back Grandma’s quilt, and the white sheets with yellow flowers. When I lie down, I release a sigh like an old dog on a porch. The sheets smell as if they’ve just been tugged off the line. Still holding the moss, I whisper, “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” How many times did Daddy say that to me? And then I said it to Adin. I’m drifting off. I all a sudden think about little brother Bobby, and how I held him in my lap. That was after I fell into a waking sleep.

That day comes back clear. I can see the day behind my eyelids, like a movie. It was a good day. Andy wasn’t in Louisiana yet, that was the only sad part. I remember Rebekha standing in front of me, her face flushed from cooking and loving Thanksgiving. She took the picture of Bobby and me and I felt happy. I remember I hardly thought about Momma at all that day. Hardly at all.

I’m near asleep when I hear, “Virginia Kate, when’re you going to my room? What’re you a scaredy-cat about?”