“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say, my head is so fuzzy.
“I just wanted to let you know how much I love you, Lola. I wish you were still here. The girls missed you all day today.”
“Really?” I know Mellie was glad I’d left and she didn’t have to see me again. “Was Birdie too disappointed about not getting a ride in the convertible?”
Norah manages a bit of a laugh. “What do you think? She was convinced someone stole your car until she found the note in your room.”
“I’m sorry, Norah. I’m so sorry for…” I swallow back the sob pushing up through me. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. We’re sisters. We love each other, no matter what.”
I put my hand over the receiver so she won’t hear the sob I can’t keep back any longer.
“Lola? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Well, I just wanted to talk to you. You know, before everything gets too crazy with the Mayfields here. I wanted you to know how much I love you.”
“Oh, Norah. I love you, too. You and your family, you’re all I’ve got.”
Norah is crying now. “If—you know—if things get out of hand, with…”
“Kennedy is going to take care of it. We shouldn’t worry.”
“I just wanted you to know, in case we don’t get a chance to talk again.”
I hear Clay’s voice in the background. Norah says, “I need to go now. Birdie is upset about something, and you need to get to bed.”
“Yes, I do. Bye, Norah.”
“Bye, Lola.”
I sit on the floor for several more minutes, letting my thoughts—not quite so drunken anymore— ramble. Thoughts of weighty things like love and whether it can stand some of the awful things people can do to each other. Finally, I lay down on the cool, wood floor of the living room. My eyes won’t stay open any longer.
Monday, October 22,1962
Jacksonville, Florida
MELANIE
Everybody’s edgy this morning. I still feel sick when I think about what Aunt Lola and Daddy did, so I try not to think about it.
Birdie’s baby-talking to DC in the living room, while I’m trying to fix my hair for school. Birdie and DC seem to be the only ones in a good mood. Mama and Daddy are discussing the arrival of the Mayfields. Loudly.
Daddy’s voice sounds clearly all the way from the dining room. “It’s just too much for you. Why don’t you give yourself a chance to rest and recover? DC is only two weeks old.” I hear Daddy’s coffee cup land in the saucer harder than usual.
“I’m fine. Besides, Myra and the kids need someplace to stay. She said Brooke and Kevin are really looking forward to seeing their old friends again.”
“I’m sure they are. But we need to think about our own family.”
Yeah, Daddy. You should’ve thought about your family on Saturday.
I hate it that I feel that way about my father. When will I ever be able to think of him as my good old Daddy again?
He continues, “How will our kids feel about it?”
I hear Mama’s chair scrape. “They’re looking forward to it. Melanie and Kevin were practically best friends. And Brooke is so sweet, she’ll be a big help with DC.”
“What about feeding everyone?” It sounds like Daddy slid his plate into the sink. I stand quietly in the bathroom, waiting for this discussion to end. I don’t like the way the tension is building.
Daddy’s voice continues over the sound of running water in the kitchen. “How are you going to take care of DC, do the wash, and cook for three extra people? Just think about it.”
“Myra will help me out, you know that. Stop worrying.”
“I’m afraid it’ll be too much for you. And the minute it is, I’ll have to tell them to leave.”
“Just like whatever you said to make Lola leave here before dawn?”
“What did she say?” Daddy’s voice sounds even more harsh. It doesn’t sound like Aunt Lola told Mama what happened. I can’t imagine Mama being this calm and only arguing about the Mayfields if Lola had told what she did, what I saw. After I fumed for a while, what Daddy said about not telling Mama made some sense to me. I don’t want Mama to be hurt.
“All Lola said was that she had a union meeting to attend and that she couldn’t sleep. She thought she’d get a head start. Not sleeping took its toll on her. She sounded so tired last night. She could barely talk.”
The refrigerator opens and closes. More dishes clink against the sink.
Daddy shouts good-bye to us, then slams the front door.
“Mama, DC stinks,” Birdie sings.
I creep out of the bathroom, and peek around the kitchen wall to see Mama. Her shoulders are shaking. She’s crying.
This morning, the dark circles under her eyes look like bruises. “I’m coming,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m coming.”
I feel so sorry for her. She’s tired and sad and I don’t know how to help her. But I can change DC’s diaper.
“Mama, I’ll change him. I’ve got time.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
Distracted, Mama says, “How about corn flakes for breakfast this morning?”
“Goody. I love cereal for breakfast.” Birdie dances around the playpen when I put a fresh-smelling DC in it, placing him on his back, like I’m supposed to. He watches her with big eyes. I wonder when he’ll understand that he has his own personal circus.
I open the cabinet and get two bowls. “I’ll fix it.”
Mama stands behind me and kisses the top of my head. “You’re a big help, you know that?”
She walks out of the kitchen before I can answer.
There’s a knock on the door.
Thank goodness. Flossie is here.
FLOSSIE
Birdie runs to meet me at the door and hugs me around my legs, just like she’s done every time she’s seen me since that awful first day of school. Melanie stands in the kitchen with two bowls in her hands. The baby’s lying in the playpen. I don’t see Miz Adams anywhere.
“Hey, Flossie,” Birdie says. “We’re having cereal for breakfast this morning. We never get to have cereal on school mornings.”
“I’m guessing Miss Birdie likes cereal?” I laugh as I take off my hat and put it in my shopping bag. “How about you, Melanie? Do you like cereal?”
She shrugs. “Mama’s really tired today.” Her expression says a whole lot more.
“Well, I can cook some breakfast for you girls. Want some bacon and eggs?”
Birdie jumps up and down, making her full skirt flounce. “No! I want cereal. I want cereal.”
“Cereal’s fine with me, too,” Melanie says. She walks over to stand real close to me. “Try to help Mama rest today if you can, Flossie.” Her voice is low and so grown up. “We had a busy weekend and company is coming tomorrow.”
“More company? I don’t understand why folks think a new mama and baby need visitors all the time.”
“Not that kind of company. The Mayfields are leaving Guantanamo Navy Base because of all the Cuban stuff. They don’t have any place else to stay.”
“Well, now, isn’t that something? I’ll do my best to get your mama to rest some. It does sound like she’s gonna need it.”
I can’t help but think how odd it is that Miz Adams hasn’t come back to the kitchen. It’s not like her to leave her children to get ready for school by themselves. I haven’t been working here for long, but it doesn’t take all that long to understand how a family does things.
Cleaning folks’ houses is a quick way to get know people real well. I see their dirty laundry, the dust under their beds, and bills left lying around. And I know this isn’t the way Miz Adams usually does things.
I also understand that Melanie is feeling bad about something.
When I started this job, I knew it was short term. I swore I wasn’t going to get attached. Honestly, with some families there’s no temptation to think of them as any more than a job. But the Adams’ aren’t that kind of family.
I’m near to lovin’ these girls, whether I want to or not.
The baby starts to cry, and I lean over to lift him out of the playpen. Miz Adams comes up behind me.
“Good morning, Flossie.” She sounds like she’s struggling just to get the words out. “I’ll take him. He’s ready for a bottle.”
“You got him started on formula?”
Birdie pauses, before spooning cereal into her mouth. “DC had bottles this weekend. I gave him part of one. He really liked it.”
Studying Miz Adams, I notice that her skin is pale and she has dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is kinda lank. Mellie’s right, this woman is plum wore out.
“Miz Adams, why don’t we rearrange our work schedule a bit? I’m all caught up on the dusting and such. Let me take care of feeding the baby this morning while you take a shower. Then he’ll be ready for a nap, and you can lie down with him and rest while I take care of the laundry and the kitchen. How does that sound?”
“That sounds like a really good idea, Mama,” Melanie says.
Mis Adams shakes her head. “I don’t need to sleep.”
Melanie gets up from the table and puts her arms around her mama. “Please, Mama. You need to rest up before the Mayfields get here. Please.” The poor girl sounds like she’s ‘bout to cry. I can’t help but wonder what went on this weekend.
Miz Adams pats Mellie on the back, and clears her throat. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to have an extra nap today. But it’s time for you girls to get going. Birdie, do you have your lunch box?”
Birdie jumps up. “Yes, ma’am. I just need to brush my teeth.”
I pat the baby’s back. “You go ahead and take your shower. I’ll make sure they get going. Miss Mellie and I have things under control, don’t we?”
Pure thankfulness wells up in Mellie’s face. She kisses her mama’s cheek. “Bye, Mama. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Miz Adams walks down the hall, her shoulders slumped with tiredness. Poor thing. And company coming, too.
“Flossie,” Melanie says.
Her voice is soft and strained. “What’s on your mind, honey?”
“Just,” Melanie looks down at the floor and then up to my face. Her eyes are filling with tears, but she blinks them back. "I just want to say thank you.”
I pat the baby and sway back and forth with him, wishing I could do the same with Melanie to make her feel better. “You know I’m here to help out however I can.”
“I know.”
Then Melanie throws her arms around my neck, squeezing her baby brother between us in a fierce hug. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Birdie grabs my legs in a hug like she usually does. “Bye, Flossie.”
Then both girls are out the door and the house feels so empty. I get the baby’s bottle from the warmer and we settle in the rocking chair. He latches onto that bottle like he’s been starving for days on end.
Sometimes I can feel when things are out of kilter and it sure feels like something’s out of kilter here. I can’t help but wonder what happened in this house since I was here on Thursday.
Atlanta, Georgia
LOLA
The damn phone is ringing again. Why can’t they just leave me alone?
My eyelids feel like they’ve got weights on them, and I hurt all over, like I’ve been beat up. Slowly it comes to me that I’m still lying on the kitchen floor.
I haven’t moved since I talked to Norah on the phone. Is she calling me again so soon?
My eyes open and it’s daylight. I slept on the floor the whole night. Shit. No wonder I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
My stomach churns and I lurch toward the bathroom. I’ve got the mother of all hangovers. After retching myself inside out, I rinse my face with cold water. Then it comes to me.
The pills.
The booze.
The knife.
Norah’s phone call kept me from taking the rest of the pills. I fell asleep as soon as we hung up.
Of course, now I remember
why
I had counted out the pills.
Why
I’d put the knife on the counter.
The shame remains, like a stone pressing on my heart.
Even though I wanted to, I didn’t sleep with Clay. Melanie saved Clay and me from hurting the person we love most in the world.
I’ll always regret what happened while we danced on Saturday night. It will never happen again, but in the light of day, without the fog of drunkenness, it seems that I may be able to live with myself.
Now that I’m seeing clearly, it occurs to me that the light isn’t right for early in the morning. I check the clock.
Oh, my God! It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. That must have been my foreman calling. I grab the phone and dial.
“This is Lola Carter.” My voice sounds like a cement mixer. When I tell the foreman I’m sick, he won’t have any doubts. “I caught a terrible bug over the weekend. I’m running a fever and that’s why I didn’t call in before this. If I’m not able to come in tomorrow, I’ll get a doctor’s excuse.”