Tender Graces (5 page)

At supper, Mee Maw opened her lips and flapped them stupid with all her silliness.

Andy asked, “MeeMer, why’re you so fat?” He was so cute that Momma laughed and snorted during the rest of supper.

The day Mee Maw was to leave for home, Runt cooked a big breakfast. I went in to watch him, since he didn’t fuss, and didn’t ask me all kinds of questions. He said, “I’m making you a big cat-head biscuit, with a little extra sugar in it.” He grinned that wrinkly grin again, handed me a lump of white, said, “Here. Nothing better than a little dough.”

It tasted spongy, but sweet.

He patted my head. “You’re not loud like most young’uns. I like that in a person.”

Mee Maw came in. She shook her wiggy head towards the food. “Can’t believe my son’s wife won’t eat bacon, or pork roast, or any kind of pig. Not natural at-tall. She’d never survive in Texas, not one whit.”

“It’s cause of Petal Puss,” I said. But she didn’t let me tell the story of Momma’s pet pig that got eaten.

“Not natural,” was all Mee Maw answered.

After breakfast, Mee Maw, the Queen of Everything, carried two bags in front of her with her head held high and a bit to the left, as if she really did wear a crown. She set a brown paper bag, and a smaller white one with toilet paper sticking out of the top, on the coffee table and
oh me
’d herself down on the couch. Momma scooted away from her.

From the brown bag, Mee Maw handed Micah a pack of paintbrushes and a tray to mix his paints. “Micah, one day you’ll paint your Mee Maw and keep it where y’all can see me every day.”

“Thanks, Grandmother Moo Moo,” Micah said.

She gave Andy a stuffed rabbit with sewn-in eyes and a pink whiskered nose. “Don’t that look sweet? And I’m not fat, I’m healthy.”

“Thank yew, Meemer.” Andy hugged the rabbit.

Next was Daddy’s turn. “For my son, I hope for the day you’ll come home where your own people are.”

Daddy opened a box with cuff links shaped like the state of Texas. He said, “‘The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn no traveler returns’.”

Momma snorted into her special tea.

My present was a soft purse with a quarter inside. I petted it, said, “Thank you, Mee Maw.”

“That’s real Texas cowhide there, Virginia Laudine Kate.”

“Would you quit calling her Laudine?” Momma’s face was red.

Mee Maw held out the white bag to Momma. “This is for the woman who married my son away from his people. But I forgive her for it.”

Runt left the room.

“I’m happy you’ve forgiven me, Laudine. My heart’s going pitty patter thump over it.” She stared at the present as if it was a rattlesnake. Mee Maw shook it in Momma’s face until she finally grabbed it from her. When she pulled out the toilet paper and looked at what was inside, Momma’s eyes slit up. “You can kiss my West Virginia ass, Laudine.” She jumped up and threw the whole bag in the garbage.

“Why I never—”

“Oh, you do, and all the time.” Momma left the room.

Mee Maw stomped out the door with Daddy ‘I’m sorrying’ her all the way. I heard the truck fly off down the road.

Later, when Momma went to bed with a headache, I fished the sack out of the garbage. Inside was a picture of hyena-grinning Mee Maw, and two books—one on how to be a lady with good manners and the other on how to cook when you didn’t know a thing about cooking. I hid Momma’s presents under my bed until I could think of another hidey-place.

Poor Momma had a headache because she knew Mee Maw liked to make deals that changed things. I guessed we’d have to find out what her deal was when she was ready to make it.

Chapter 4

To flea or not to flea, that’s just a suggestion.

“I don’t need my husband climbing up some other woman’s mountain, you hear?”

“I don’t climb mountains anymore, Katie.”

“I expect you might if it suits you.”

Daddy wore his snarky grin.

Momma stared at him, tapping her foot.

“Katie, I sell things. I do okay for us, don’t I?”

“There’s other jobs you can do. Ones that don’t take you away from your family.”

She didn’t give up because she knew he would. Sure enough, Daddy found a job as manager of the five and dime. He said we’d go to a restaurant in Charleston to make merry over it. It was the first time ever we kids left the holler that far. Momma wore a pencil skirt and a sweater that hugged on her tight. She said I had to wear a dress even though Micah and Andy didn’t have to spruce up.

I asked, “Why can’t I wear Micah’s old britches?”

She brushed out my hair too hard. “You don’t have a lick of sense. Go put on your dress and quit whining.”

In Charleston, men turned their heads to watch Momma.

“I told you all the men would notice my gals.” Daddy winked at me, even though they never looked at me.

Momma patted her teased-up hair. “Oh? They noticed? I didn’t see them looking at me one speck.”

We kids ate fried chicken and smashed potatoes with gravy. Daddy and Momma ate steaks like queens and kings. For dessert, we had chocolate cake.

After, at home, I tore off my dress and shoes and put on my white gown with the lace that scratched my neck. I was working on getting the lace off, bit by bit. It was halfway gone and Momma hadn’t noticed. I hurried to the television so I wouldn’t miss Beaver doing something funny, but all that was on was that gum commercial.

Daddy whistled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, those Doublemint Troublemint Twins.” Then he tore into a yappity-booze-lips mood. “Well, the sales life is over, end of an era. I’ve sold kitchen utensils, Electrolux vacuum cleaners, encyclopedias, life insurance. I was even a Fuller Brush Man. It was a fine ride. But, what’s done is done. ” He raised up his glass, sipped a bit, and then bowed. We laughed and pointed at him. It was better than television when he mixed his Peck Voice with booze.

Momma gulped her drink, then mouthed off. “Maybe one of those men in the restaurant wouldn’t be whistling at anyone but me.”

“For Pete’s sake, Katie. I was just kidding around. It’s a commercial.” Daddy pulled Momma off the couch and gave her a big smooch. Micah pretended he was throwing up. Andy clapped his hands. I laughed loud and happy. Lots of times I felt happy, unless I counted up too many ice sounds dropping in Momma’s circle glasses. The ice sounds told me how much laughing or how much fussing there’d be.

While Daddy was at his new  work, Momma did chores and we helped. After, she’d lie back on the couch and read
Vogue
magazines full of models prissing around in fashion clothes she said she’d soon buy. She blabbervated to Aunt Ruby on the phone about her favorite perfumes: Shalimar, Tabu, Je Reviens, Blue Grass, Joy, and Miss Dior. She’d tack up her favorite magazine dresses and perfumes to the living room wall and touch them when she passed. Momma said things were going to be better with Daddy making steady money and coming home every night.

I’d wait for Daddy’s Rambler lights to come shining down the road, then I’d run out to him and he’d pick me up and twirl me around. Momma said I was spoilt rotten. When he walked in the door, loosening up his tie and smiling, Momma popped in some ice, poured them drinks, and they’d say, “To us!” Then they’d touch their glasses together. That was one. With supper, that was two.

At first everybody looked smiley and happy when I’d count one, two, three, and just every now and then, four.

For my sixth birthday, Momma baked a chocolate cake, and put a sweet carriage and horse on top, with a Cinderella doll beside it. But Momma said she didn’t believe in fairy godmothers coming along and doing sparkly magic stuff. She said it was all wishy thinking. She pointed to the doll. “Look at that silly stupid grin on that blond fool. Look at her pink skin.” I couldn’t figure why she put it there if it made her mad.

All I wanted was my present. I was about to bust wondering what was in the box setting on the coffee table. Momma turned on her orange radio, the candles burned and dripped, supper was on the stove. I thought it was going to be the best birthday ever. But Daddy ruined it. He came home later than he promised and set Momma off to slamming doors and hollering, and Andy to bawling.

I ran outside to sit under the maple that shaded me green. In the fall, the leaves turned into flames, like a house on fire. I wondered about being inside the fire, the skin burning off my bones. I couldn’t stand to think about Grandma Faith eaten up like that. I dreamed about her all the time and in all my dreams she never said why she died. She never said she was sorry she burned.

Micah came out and flopped his arm over my shoulder hard enough to make me fall over. He handed me my present with a look that said he was the best brother in the world.

Inside the box was a dark horse with a silky soft mane and tail. I knew it was a little-girl gift, but I didn’t care. I’d seen it in the five and dime and I’d wanted it ever since. “Thanks, Micah.”

He punched me on the arm. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“You did, too.”

He shrugged.

“Are they still fussing?”

He rolled onto his stomach and pulled up grass into a pile. “I dunno.”

“Micah, how come Grandma burned herself up?”

“Huh?”

“I was just thinking stuff.”

“Quit doing that.”

“Momma won’t let me talk about her. But I got to.”

He put his finger on his chin. “Well, Momma said some things hurt worse than living.”

“What hurt her worser than being dead and burned?”

He shrugged, and then threw pebbles at me.

I threw pebbles back. “Sometimes I see her.”

“See who?”

“Grandma Faith.” I stroked my horse’s head and decided to name her Fionadala. “She comes to me. I smell the apples and bread.”

“Nuh uh. Liar.”

“Am not.” I put my face in Fionadala’s fur.

“It’s all dreams. Your head is full of cotton clouds.”

“Is not.”

“I bet they quit fussing. Let’s get cake.” He pulled me up and we ran inside.

Later, Daddy said Micah was a prodigy because of how he drew things so strange. He looked at Micah proud. I decided to find my own prodigal, if I had one to find.

Soon after my birthday, Momma and Daddy started up Friday Night Supper Dates. They said it’d help them stop fussing so much.

We kids ate chicken pot pie early and were sent off so we didn’t even get to watch
The Flintstones
. Daddy gave us Zeros from the five and dime and we ate them fast, the sticky white all over our faces and hands. I was in Micah and Andy’s room so we could play
Go Fish
and listen to Momma and Daddy’s date.

While their casserole cooked in the oven, Momma and Daddy watched television. By the end of
Rawhide
, both were drunker than the town drunk, and their fight was louder than the bad guys having a shoot-out with the good guys.

Momma said, “Gregory Peck? Who told you that?”

“Every skirt from coast to coast, is who.”

“Ha! They’d tell you anything so’s you’d stop flapping that yap about Flakesbeard.”

“You’d argue the bark from a dog.”

“To flea or not to flea, that’s just a suggestion.”

“Get down, Katie, you’ll break the table.”