Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (7 page)

“Well, I know what those fancy folks on the television are predicting, but I'm tellin' you what my
bones
are sayin'! I have a bad feelin'.” Memaw set her dishtowel down and turned in a huff to face Mama.

I got a good look at her. I knew that look on Memaw's face. She was worried.

I stopped scrubbing.

Mama shook her head with a smile and kept on braiding. So I shook my head too, and went back to washing and scrubbing.

After supper, me and Daddy were sitting outside on the front porch steps when ol' Mr. Scott from down the road came over and told Daddy that the store was running out of water and we'd best hurry up and get some before it was gone.

After the man wandered off to go inform someone else about the disappearing water, I asked Daddy how come people were buying water when all they had to do was go to the faucet where, it seemed to me, there was plenty of water.

He took a deep breath, “We need to be prepared, Armani. Mother Nature can be unpredictable.”

“But Daddy, I thought you said that storm ain't comin' here.”

He looked up at the dusky sky for a minute, and I seen worry pass over his face like a dark cloud causing a shadow. Then he smiled his handsome smile and bumped his shoulder into mine. “We're going to be fine, Armani.”

I giggled and shoulder-bumped him back. He looked at me with his milk-chocolate-colored eyes and shook his head real slow. “I can't believe my little girl is having another birthday already.”

“I'm not little, Daddy. I'm fixin' to be ten.” I wished he would realize I was practically grown and
not
a little kid no more.

“You're growing up, all right.” He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close for a big bear hug. “Too fast, if you ask me.” It was one of them cozy hugs that last a long time.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Armani. Now, stop worrying about that storm. Let your Memaw do the worrying. She worries enough for all of us.”

“I'm not worried, Daddy.”

“Good,” he said, and stood up. He grabbed hold of my hand, helping me to my feet. “Now run along and tell your mama I'll meet her at the truck.”

“Yes, sir.” I headed for inside when Daddy called my name.

“Armani, you'll always be my little girl, you know.” He winked and walked off to his truck.

I folded my arms up across my chest and stomped off to go find Mama.

A hot breeze swirled through the air, strong enough to blow some Spanish moss off the neighbor's huge oak tree. It plopped right down on top of me and Memaw's bare feet that were pushing off the concrete, keeping the chair to swinging.

The moss was nasty and tickled. I kicked my feet in a hurry to get the stuff off me before a spider or some other creepy-crawly creature ran up my leg. Memaw didn't seem to care one way or the other that the spaghetti-looking weed had made itself comfortable sitting on top of her foot.

I laid my head on Memaw's shoulder and stared at the pillowy white clouds scooting across the blue-green sky, trying my best to ignore the kids running around the yard like fools.

“Memaw, can I ask you somethin'?”

“What's weighin' on your mind, baby?” She fanned herself with a flyer from the Pentecostals who'd come knocking earlier trying to sell us Jesus, not realizing we already had Him.

“Well, TayTay says that her daddy used to be nice before her mama turned him mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, is that true?” I raised my head up off her shoulder.

She reached up and pushed my head back down. “Alvin Brown was a good boy till the devil's juice took hold of him.”

“Yeah, but is it true that TayTay's mama was mean?”

The slap of Memaw's hand on the arm of the swing cut me off. She looked at the palm of her hand before wiping the bug guts on the bottom part of her housedress.

She stared at me over the top of her glasses, her eyebrows coming together in a perfect letter V in the center of all them wrinkles. “I'm gonna say this, and then I'm done.”

I sat on the edge of my seat.

A big ol' clump of Spanish moss landed up on top of Memaw's head. It took a seat up there like a cheap wig fell right out of the beauty shop in the sky.

Georgie went to hollerin' and pointed a finger at Memaw. “Look at Memaw, y'all!” The boy was so full of stupid, it wouldn't have surprised me none if he went and passed out just from being so full of it.

Sealy and Khayla were laughing and hopping and hopping and laughing. Memaw brushed a couple of the scraggly pieces of moss hanging in her eyes off to the side like she was adjusting her hairdo.

I stood up too fast and the swing went crooked, forcing Memaw to plant her feet down on the concrete.

“What is wrong with all of y'all?” I screamed and stomped my foot down. Both of my hands were knotted up in fists. “I am trying to have
a grown-up conversation with my own Memaw, and you're so pea-brained, Georgie!”

My brother was laughing harder than ever. I wanted to march over there and knock some sense into him. My sisters were acting about as simple as their big brother. “Y'all are so . . . so . . . 
immature
.”

I whipped around to face Memaw. She sat there blowing poofs of air out of the side of her mouth, making the stringy moss flop up, then settle back down in front of her eyes again.

“Do you like my hairdo?” Memaw couldn't keep a straight face.

“I like it, Memaw,” Georgie hollered from across the yard.

“Me too,” giggled Sealy.

“Me too,” said Khayla.

Memaw looked at me with her bottom lip forced out in a pout. I rolled my eyes and curled up my lip. She blew out another loud poof and the moss-hair flew up again. It
was
funny the way she sat there with the gross clump on her head. I couldn't keep from smiling no more.

Memaw smiled with me and started pulling the mess of moss off her head. I helped her. I threw a handful of it into the air when the wind caught hold of it. The moss sailed up toward the roof and settled there. “This is nasty, Memaw.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said. I picked the last few strands of muck out of her hair. She reached up with her hand and refluffed her real hair till it looked normal. “Come sit back down,” Memaw said, tapping the seat beside her where Kheelin's name was carved in the wood.

“I want to sit with you too, Memaw.” Sealy came butting right in, like always. Memaw scooched over and made room.

Memaw leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “We'll talk about your cousin's mama later.” She rubbed my leg and pushed off with her feet, sending the chair into a swing. I let out a loud sigh. Memaw pushed Sealy's head down onto her other shoulder and went to waving her fan again.
Whatever
. Sometimes I hated having brothers and sisters.

I took my finger and traced the letters of my dead Uncle Shelton's name carved into the arm of the swing. S-H-E-L . . .

“How many hurricanes have you been in, Memaw?”

Sealy and her stupid questions
.

“Oh, my, more than I care to remember.”

“Really?” Sealy sat up and faced Memaw. “What's it like?”

I kept on tracing the letters, but I put my focus on my ears.

“Well, every storm is different,” Memaw said. “They've all got their own personality, I guess you could say. Some aren't so bad: Ya get some rain, some wind—might even lose electricity. And others, well, others you just get down on your knees and thank the good Lord ya came out on the other side alive.” Memaw had that faraway look in her eyes. Her body somehow got heavier on the swing.

“What kinda storm do you suppose Katrina's gonna be?” I asked. “You figure it'll be one of them get-down-on-your-knees storms?”

Memaw planted her feet so fast I had to grab hold of the arm of the chair to keep from flying out and landing on my head. “Child, don't you even
think
that!” Memaw looked straight into my eyes with her face all ugly-scrunched. She squeezed her eyes shut, mumbled some words to the Lord, took in a big suck of air, and pushed it out with such force it caused her lips to vibrate.

Then, just as quick as ice melts in August, she settled back in the chair. The fan went back to fanning, and her face smoothed out. She gave the concrete a nudge and we went to swinging again.

Memaw pushed my head down on her shoulder, forgetting to be gentle about it, and patted my leg. “We're gonna be fine. Yes, indeed. We're gonna be just fine.” I blinked about fifty times and breathed in some of that thick, muggy air.

After Mama and Daddy got back from the store, the sky felt alive. It had turned a dark, pink-orangey-brown color. It was pretty, but I got to thinking how I ain't never seen that color painted across the sky before. It was like God was right on the other side of them colors. I shivered.

Looking at the black of the night through my bedroom window made me worry about what might be out there that I
couldn't
see. Usually I don't like sharing the bed with Sealy, but right then, I was grateful to have the feel of her up next to me.

I was all but sound asleep when Sealy threw back the sheet, hopped out of bed, and grabbed her book sack off the stack of stuffed animals piled in the corner. She opened the sack, looked inside, zipped it up, put it on her back, then jumped back into bed.

“Sealy, what are you doin'?” I yelled in a whisper.

“Nothing, Armani, go to sleep.”

“What do you mean
nothing
? You can't be bringin' that ol' dirty bag of yours in my bed!” I started pulling back the sheet to make it easier for her to get up. But Sealy wasn't moving.

“First of all, my book sack isn't dirty, Armani. And, second, it's my bed too. Just go to sleep.”

Sealy must've bumped her head
. She took that bag with her everywhere, but she sure never brought it to bed. “As long as it don't come on my side. You hear me, Sealy?”

Sealy made a huge yawn sound, “Yes, I hear you. Good night, Armani. I love you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I flopped to the left, then flopped to the right, trying to find a comfortable position, making sure Sealy knew that dumb bag was making the whole bed uncomfortable. It didn't work, though, 'cause she fell asleep faster than Mama could fry an egg and I was left wide awake, listening to the sounds that were bringing in the storm.

I tried to force my brain to think about my party and what I might be getting for a present. But all I could do was think about the colors in the sky. Daddy buying water. The scrunched-up worried look on Memaw's face. Sealy sleeping with her stupid book sack.

The Babineauxes evacuating.

It was finally my birthday morning.

I ain't lying when I say my feelings were hurt when I realized Memaw didn't even seem to notice. But then I seen that Memaw wasn't noticing much of nothing. She acted like whatever the triflin' weather people were blabbing about was more important than acknowledging the fact that it was my birthday morning.