The Darkest Child Page 32

  “I need something to drink, Pearl,” she said.“I ain’t got nothing. Ain’t nobody left in this house to bring in no money, and I know that man gon’ put us out.”

  “You can get a job, Rosie,” Miss Pearl said. “Ain’t nothing to stop you from working. I don’t know why you ain’t married somebody by now.You oughta have a husband taking care of you.”

  “I’m going to bed,” Mama said, as though Miss Pearl had not spoken. She rose unsteadily from the chair and braced herself against the porch wall.“I can’t think, and I don’t know what to do.”

  I started to follow after her, but Miss Pearl hooked my arm with her own and guided me down the steps. When we were on the ground, she whispered, “Mushy’s in town. I heard it from Shirley that she’s staying at Skeeter’s house. I don’t know how Rosie gon’ act when she finds out.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.“Why wouldn’t she come home first?”

  “I don’t know, but Shirley ain’t got no reason to lie. I just wanted to let you know befo’ somebody ’round here lets it slip to Rosie.”

  I didn’t know what Miss Pearl expected me to do with the information, but I nodded, then watched her walk up Penyon Road in the heat of the midday sun, and I thought she had to be the best friend anyone could ask for. She was always there for Mama, but Mama never seemed to be there for her.

  Later, as I sat in the kitchen with my sisters forking through peas and rice, my mother called me into her room. She was no longer crying, but her gray eyes had darkened like storm clouds. She stared a me for a moment, then wrapped her arms around herself and began to shake.

  “Whose is it?” she asked. “Whose is it, Tangy Mae?”

  “What, Mama?” I asked in confusion.

  She snatched the pillow from beneath her head and held it to her chest, then she bounced her legs against the mattress. “I know you done got yo’self knocked up,” she said. “I went to see them school people this morning—just this very morning—and told them you can go to that white school.You can’t do this to me now, not when that school gon’ start next week.That Mr. Pace say they gon’ pay us what they call a stipend, baby.We need that money, you know we do. How can you do this to me now?”

  “I’m not pregnant, Mama.”

  “I done seen it,” she said, as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “What we gon’ do now?”

  The curse was with me as she spoke, and I tried to tell her, but she shoved me away.There were no changes in my body, or at least I didn’t think there were, but Mama had seen life in Martha Jean’s body long before anybody else had. Maybe she saw it in me, too. I sat beside her on the bed, a chasm between us, and my voice echoed in hollowness, “I’m sorry, Mama!”

  I did not know why I was apologizing, but it seemed the right thing to do, the only thing to do. She wouldn’t listen to me though, and because I could not console her, and she would not explain anything to me, I left her alone to rock the bed with worry.

  When the bed ceased to shake and the crying finally ended, I slipped into the hallway and peeked into her room. She was sitting on the side of her bed, her hands moving frantically, pulling at bugs, and I thought for a second that I could see them, too, dripping from her hair, covering her neck, and crawling up and down her arms.

  forty - eight

  Nobody expected integration to take place, considering the tension that hung over Pakersfield following the fires, but it did. Mama refused my transfer to Pakersfield High, giving up the much needed stipend to retain our dignity.Her reasoning: she would not allow me to parade my swollen belly in front of the town’s white folk (although my abdomen was as flat as a board). She had, however, permitted me to begin my junior year at the Plymouth School. For that I was grateful, but I knew the only reason I was in school was because Mama had not quite decided what to do with me.

  Every day I came straight home from school and did whatever she ordered. I cooked, I cleaned, I went to the farmhouse. It was in my best interest to abide by her ever-changing rules, and I obeyed them until one October afternoon when I felt an overwhelming desire to see my sister. I summoned up the courage to leave school and go to Motten Street.

  Mushy, wearing blue slacks and a sleeveless white blouse, opened the door for me.“Tan!” she said excitedly.“I was wondering when I was gon’ see you.Wallace been by, and Tara and Harvey. Harvey say he got him a house up there on Plymouth now.You the only one I ain’t seen, and it sho’ is good to see you.”

  She made her way to the couch and stepped behind the coffee table where a opened bottle of gin and a single glass stood side by side.“I’m so bored, Tan.The dancing man still at work, Skeeter out chasing after Miss Shirley, and every time Mary Ann goes to sleep, Martha Jean think she gotta go, too.”

  “When are you coming out to the house to see Mama?” I asked.

  She picked up her glass and finished off the remaining swallow. “You act like you done forgot that Mama threw hot coffee in my face the last time I was here.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, but she’s not doing well. Now that Wallace and Tara are gone, and Laura and Edna are at school all day, the house is empty. I think it bothers her.”

  Mushy poured herself another drink, studied the glass for a few seconds, then glanced up at me and said, “Tan, please don’t start talking to me about Mama. Do you know y’all live in the only house in the world ain’t got electricity yet?”

  I nodded, although I knew it wasn’t true, then I eased down beside her on the couch.“Mushy, you do need to go see Mama.”

  “I done told you, Tan,” she warned. “Last time I came here, I didn’t know what I was doing. It was like I was running ’round chasing after my own tail. I wound up leaving here sick on rotgut and rain. Not this time, though.” She shook her head.“Not this time.”

  I studied her face, and beyond the mild intoxication I could see a quiet seriousness.“What are you planning to do, Mushy?” I asked.

  “I don’t want you to worry about it.You just leave things to me. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Mama thinks I’m pregnant,” I said. “She’s been asking Miss Pearl to get it out, but I don’t think there’s anything there.”

  We sat in silence until Mushy reached over and squeezed my hand. In an effort to comfort me, she said, “If you are, Tan, it ain’t the end of the world.”

  “It would be for me. I’d have to drop out of school, and Mr. Pace would hate me. I’d have to stay in Pakersfield for the rest of my life, feeling ashamed of myself. I’m embarrassed enough already, Mushy. I go out to that farmhouse at night and pretend to be a woman, then I go to school during the day and pretend to be a child. Sometimes I get confused.”

  Mushy brought her glass to her lips again. She swallowed hard, then said, “Whorehouse, Tan. Call it what it is. It’s a goddamn whorehouse, not a farmhouse.”

  “I don’t think I’m pregnant. I think Mama just said that to keep me from going to the Pakersfield High School. I don’t think she really cares, or she’d stop making me be with all those men.”

  Mushy was quiet, and seemed to be considering my statement when Velman came in from work. She abandoned the pain of thinking and offered him a drink, which he refused.

  “I’m hungry, not thirsty, ”Velman said.“What’s Martha Jean got fixed in there? I don’t smell nothing.”

  “That’s ’cause there ain’t nothing,” Mushy said. “Come on and have a drink.You gon’ need one. I know I do. I done quit my job and gave up my room so I could come back down here.Tan’s pregnant, and I believe to my soul Martha Jean is, too.Why couldn’t y’all just leave me alone? Why y’all have to keep writing them letters to me?”

  Velman bit down on his bottom lip and stared at Mushy.“Martha Jean can’t be pregnant,” he said.“Mary Ann ain’t five months old yet.”

  “Don’t be stupid, dancing man. She can be, and she probably is. She can’t stay woke long enough to wash her own face, and she can’t butter a piece of bread without puking all over the place. What you think it
is?”

  The answer to Mushy’s question seemed to wait in the bottle on the coffee table.Velman and Mushy reached for it simultaneously, but Mushy was quicker. “Get a glass,” she said. “I ain’t drinking behind nobody the way pregnancy catching ’round here.”

  Instead of going for a glass, Velman turned to his right, moved swiftly down the hallway, and entered his bedroom. He came out a few minutes later dragging Martha Jean with him. Her gray dress was wrinkled, her hair was tangled, and she appeared to be sleepwalking. Velman reached out and playfully stroked her abdomen, but she brushed his hand away. She opened her eyes with what seemed like great effort, then she gave him an angry glare and retraced her steps to the bedroom.

  “All day she wouldn’t talk to me or Skeeter,” Mushy said. “I think Martha Jean going through something she don’t know how to talk about. She’ll get over it, though.”

  Velman’s shoulders visibly sagged as he turned his back to us and entered the kitchen. Moments later I could hear him opening and closing cabinet doors, and slamming pots against the tabletop. I pushed myself up from the couch.

  “Where you going?” Mushy asked.

  “He has to eat, Mushy, and somebody has to cook.”

  I found Velman standing at the sink doing nothing, except staring down into the dark, dry drain.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He stepped away from the sink and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s something, but I don’t know what it is. I think we missing too many words, little sister. I don’t know how to tell her to trust me. I mean, I can make the sign, but it’s like it don’t mean nothing. She never wants me to leave. I can’t go to the filling station or the store without her getting upset. All I can do is go to work, and even then I got a feeling she keeps her eyes on the clock. How do I tell her to trust me?”

  “She does,” I said.“She does trust you, Velman. She moved here with you, and she’s shared a bed with you and had your child. She does trust you.”

  “That’s not trust!” he said.“That’s called staying alive. She came out here with me to keep that crazy mother of hers from killing her.You think just ’cause she share a bed with me that she trust me? Don’t take this the wrong way, but how many men have you shared a bed with and thought you could trust?”

  Through the back door screen came the laughter of children playing outside, and a cool October breeze.Velman ran the palm of his hand across his face and moved slowly toward the door, keeping his back to me.

  “Little sister, I . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I know what you meant, but we both know that what you and Martha Jean have is different from what goes on at the farmhouse. She loves you, Velman.”

  He turned toward me, and the tight, angry expression on his face withered into one of helplessness.“I just wish I could hear her say it. Just once.”

  For his sake, I became my sister. At least, that’s what I told myself. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. Before I could lose my nerve or change my mind, I wrapped my arms around his neck, stood on my toes, and kissed his lips.“She loves you,” I whispered. “With all her heart, she loves you. She’d die for you, Velman.”

  As gracefully as he did everything, he peeled my arms from his neck and stepped away from me, his back pressing against the door frame.“Are those her words or yours, little sister?”

  The screen door banged, and I shuddered from the unexpected sound and from the realization of what I had just done. I started after him, but stopped when I saw that he had gone no farther than the pecan tree in his backyard. He leaned against the tree with his back to the house. He was thinking. Maybe he was thinking that he had made a mistake and that it should have been me he had rescued from Penyon Road.

  I sighed wistfully, feeling neither guilt nor shame, and stepped away from the door. As I turned, I saw bare feet and the skirt of a wrinkled, gray dress exit the kitchen. I sprinted across the kitchen floor and glanced down the hallway, but it was empty. I shrugged, took a glass from the kitchen cupboard, and returned to the living room.

  Mushy’s legs were stretched lengthwise on the couch and her back was propped against an armrest. Her eyes were closed. I thought she was asleep, but when I reached for the bottle of gin, she tapped the rim of her glass with a fingernail, and said, “Pour me one, Tan.”

  “How long have you been sitting here drinking?” I asked. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

  “I’m trying to work up the nerve to go see Mama. Everybody keeps telling me how I oughta go see my mother.” She gave a bitter laugh.“They don’t know I’m trying my best.”

  “She can’t do anything to you,” I said. “You’re grown, Mushy. Why are you still afraid of her?”

  “I’m not afraid of her; I’m afraid of becoming her.That’s the shit scares the hell outta me. Look at me, Tan. I’m starting to look like her. The other day I was looking in the mirror, and I hadn’t had nothing to drink. Not nothing. And it seemed like to me that my eyes was turning gray, and they was starting to slant at the corners. Sometimes I open my mouth and it’s her words that come out. I came back to save you, Tan. I’m gon’ get you away from her. I’m gon’ save you, and Laura, and little Edna.”

  Mushy babbled on for a long time, giving her drunken philosophy of life. She talked about how she was going to kidnap us when she had enough money. She talked about the sheriff and the FBI and how she was smarter than they were. I listened, but mostly I concentrated on the terrible-tasting liquid in my glass, wishing I had left it in the bottle.

  Velman eased back into the room during Mushy’s slurred commentary on women. “Just like Lake Erie,” she was saying. “It just stretches on and on, seems like forever. Curtis used to take me down to the lake, and I’d study that water. It came to me that women are just like that lake.They do everything to it, but it’s still beautiful. I wish you could see it, Tan. They fish from it, throw garbage in it, and sail boats in it, but it’s still just as wide and beautiful as ever.That’s what women are like, and we ain’t gon’ run dry. Sell a bit, and five minutes later we just as deep and wet and full as we was before. So what the hell?”

  “Damn!”Velman whistled.“What did I walk in on?”

  I was relieved that he was able to look at me, and to make eye contact. “Little sister, you mind scrambling me up a couple of eggs?” he asked.

  For you, I’d walk on water.

  “I don’t mind,” I answered.

  The aroma of sausage and eggs brought Martha Jean out of her bedroom. Mary Ann was cradled in one arm as Martha Jean stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She glanced toward Velman, then stepped into the kitchen and faced me with a cold stare.With one hand, she shoved the handle of the skillet. It crashed to the floor and lay upside down, smothering the eggs. She spotted the plate of sausages on the table, and that, too, went clattering to the floor.

  I skirted past her and stepped out of the kitchen.Velman sprang from his chair, and even Mushy brought her feet to the floor and sat in an upright position.The three of us stared through the doorway at Martha Jean as she held Mary Ann in her arms and kicked the shattered pieces of the plate with her bare feet.When she was done, she turned and brushed past me, purposely ramming her elbow against my chest. She returned to her bedroom and slammed the door, shutting us out.

  Velman slumped back onto his chair and held his head with both hands, and I could hear Mushy mumbling something to him as I cleaned the mess from the kitchen floor. I could not worry about what they were saying. Martha Jean had witnessed my betrayal. She had seen me wrap my arms around her husband, had watched me taste and inhale him. She had looked inside of me and seen the wanting in my heart. But Martha Jean would have to understand that I needed Velman more than I had ever needed anything else in my life. I would have to make her understand.

  “Where did he go?” I asked Mushy when I walked into the front room and did not see Velman.


  “He went to get Wallace, and I done called Harvey and Tara-belle to come over.We a mess, Tan.We need to be all of us together. We gon’ sit down, and talk, and heal. And maybe have a drink or two.”

  “Mushy, I can’t stay over here. I should’ve been home by now.”

  “You can stay. Ain’t gon’ hurt nobody for you to be wit’ us for awhile.When you go home, I’m going wit’ you. Mama gon’ be so happy to see me she won’t even know how late it is,” Mushy said with mock cheerfulness.

  forty - nine

  At Mushy’s bidding, we all convened at Skeeter’s house, but we did not heal.We bickered over insignificant things.We witnessed the cruelest side of Harvey as he berated his wife and drove the joy from her eyes.

  Tarabelle puffed on a cigarette, put it out, and lit another. She sighed, shifted on her chair, then finally said, “Carol Sue, you know you ain’t gotta take that shit.You got a mama and a daddy you can go home to.”

  “This my wife, Tarabelle!” Harvey snapped. “What we do ain’t got a damn thing to do wit’ you.”

  “That’s right, ”Tarabelle agreed.“It ain’t got a damn thing to do wit’ me. She the fool ’cause I’d cut yo’ motherfuckin’ throat if you made my face look like that.”

  Harvey started to say something else but Tarabelle-the-brave turned her back to him, ignoring him, and said to me, “Did you hear about Mattie?”

  “What about her?” I asked, as I kept watch on Harvey from the corner of my eye.

  “She got married. Married one of her daddy’s friends.A drunk. He done moved her out there in the country. Next thing you know, she’ll probably have fifteen babies and be cockeyed and white-mouthed like her Mama.”

  “I didn’t know,” I said.We all fell silent again.

  Mushy drank. She sat in a very unladylike manner with her forearms resting against the edge of the coffee table, and her shoulders hunched. She had not spoken a word since Harvey’s initial blow to Carol Sue’s face.Velman and Martha Jean sat side by side like strangers, neither touching nor acknowledging each other.