The Book of Bright Ideas (7 page)

I didn't think I was gonna see Winnalee again until Monday, but I ended up seeing her that very afternoon, because a phone call came in with a message for Freeda Malone. Ma got all huffy as she took the message. “Well, yes, Marty, I'll give her your message, but I don't see why she gave you
our
number. She's just renting Mae's place. I don't even know the woman.” Marty was the fat guy who owned Marty's Place. It was a real barn once, but after most of his cows died of something god-awful that made them diarrhea to death, he sold the cows he had left and ripped the whole insides of the barn out and built a dance hall inside instead. He served up food too. Fish and hamburgers, and things like that. Ma said she wouldn't even eat a soda cracker that was served in a barn, even if it was wrapped tight in cellophane, but Daddy and Uncle Rudy and Aunt Verdella ate there some Friday nights, because they said Marty fried the best fish in town.

“As if I don't have anything better to do with my time than running over there,” Ma said after she hung up the phone. She looked around the house, which was so clean you could eat off of the floor without using a plate and not pick up even one germ, and at the mixing bowl and strawberries thawing on the counter, and sighed.

Even though I was nine years old, Ma thought I was too young to stay home alone when she was gone, so she told me to get in the car.

When we got to the Malones', nobody answered the door even though their rusty truck was sitting in the driveway. Ma hollered through the screen, while I looked across the yard for Winnalee. A yell finally came. “It's open!”

I gulped hard and my legs got stiff when Freeda Malone walked out of the kitchen, her hair up in a towel, and naked but for her panties and a man's old work shirt. Her shirt was hanging wide open on one side, so that one of her bumps was showing all the way. The pinker part was puckered like the skin of a plucked chicken, and seeing that made me glad my Barbie didn't have nipple parts.

Ma stared like she'd never seen a boobie on a grown lady before either, and her cheeks got blotchy.

Freeda pulled her blouse back over her bump and closed it with one button and a laugh. “I was pulling weeds in the flower bed out front. Crissakes, it's early June and already it's hotter than the blazes. I had to take a bath to cool down. Good thing we're all girls here.”

Ma looked down and held her hands together, like she was trying to still them. “I'd be more careful if I were you, Freeda. Reece and Rudy, and that young farmhand, are always coming and going here.”

I listened closely for sounds of Winnalee upstairs, but I didn't hear any.

Ma looked above Freeda's head. “Marty Wilson called our place with a message for you. He said you have the job and that you should come in tonight around six-thirty, ready to work.”

Freeda laughed. “No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

Ma turned to go, and I followed, but we didn't get to the door before it opened. “Jewel!” Aunt Verdella said, like she couldn't believe she was seeing Ma standing in the Malones' living room. Aunt Verdella had a jar of strawberry jam in one hand and a loaf of still-warm bread in the other. The bread was wrapped in a white dish towel so I couldn't see it, but I could smell it.

Winnalee said hi to me, then lifted Aunt Verdella's elbow and slipped herself under it, cuddling her face to Aunt Verdella's fattest ball. I looked down, feeling a little sad, because it was Winnalee hugging Aunt Verdella's fat part, not me.

“Jewel came by to tell me Marty called,” Freeda explained. “I start work tonight.”

“Oh, honey,” Aunt Verdella said. “That's terrific! Why, let's celebrate with some warm jelly bread. You still have any of that yummy iced tea left you made yesterday?” Freeda told her she did.

Ma gave me a look, then scooted closer to the door. Aunt Verdella stopped her. “Oh, you can't go now, Jewel! Sit down with us and relax a minute.” Aunt Verdella handed Winnalee the jam jar, then grabbed Ma's arm and tugged her toward the kitchen.

“Verdella, I have work to do before Stella gets here.”

“Nonsense, Jewel. I saw your place, and it couldn't be more ready. And anyway, it's early. You don't have to stay long. Just long enough for a bite to eat and a little girl-talk.”

Once we were in the kitchen, Aunt Verdella grabbed the breadboard hanging on the wall and set it on the counter. She put the bread on top of it and pulled the towel from it. She patted the bread a couple of times. “Maybe I should let this cool down just a bit more before I cut it,” she said. “Sit down, Jewel. Sit down! And, Button, where's Auntie's hug?” I went to her and she wrapped her arms around me and kissed the top of my head with warm, breathy lips.

Freeda wore a grin as she watched Ma sip her iced tea, though I didn't know what was supposed to be funny.

While Aunt Verdella jabbered and Freeda grinned, Winnalee examined the bread that was cooling on the breadboard. “Why can't we have it now?” she whined.

“In a bit, honey,” Aunt Verdella said. “If we cut it while it's too hot, it will flatten like a pancake.” Aunt Verdella ha-haed a bit, then turned to Freeda. “Stella is Jewel's sister. I've met her a few times over the years, and I don't want to say nothing bad about her, but she sure is critical of Jewel here. I just don't understand it. Jewel is just a peach. She keeps the cleanest house you'll ever see, and she can sew like a dream. Well, I know Stella is good at all those things too, but Jewel has nothin' to be ashamed of in the house department. Course, you'd never know that, listenin' to Stella.” Aunt Verdella stopped, then made one of those faces that people make when they just told a secret.

“That's why I don't give a damn for relatives,” Freeda said. “They're always ragging on you for something or other. Always quick to tell you you're not doing things the right way—which is their way, of course.”

Ma drank her tea fast, then stood up right while Aunt Verdella was talking. “Thank you for the iced tea,” she said politely to Freeda, “but we do have to be going. Evelyn?”

“Oh, Jewel, you can't go yet. You're always in such a hurry. Sit down with us girls and relax a little.”

Everybody was so busy fussing about us staying longer that nobody but me noticed that Winnalee had grabbed a giant knife from the block of wood the knives were poked in and that she was sawing on the bread. They noticed, though, when Winnalee let out a big scream.

Winnalee held up her chubby hand. Blood was running down from a gash sliced across the inside of her hand. Blood was splattering on the half-flattened bread and dripping to the floor.

“Owie! Owie! Owie!” she screamed, as she grabbed her cut hand at the wrist with her good hand and hopped around the kitchen.

“Stand still so I can see it!” Freeda yelled, as she hopped in circles to get in front of Winnalee. “Stand still, for crissakes, so I can look at it!” she yelled again.

“Bring her over here!” Aunt Verdella yelled from the sink, where she already had cold water running. They were all yelling so loud that I had to put my hands over my ears.

“Oh dear, I think she's going to need stitches,” Aunt Verdella said as she held Winnalee's hand under the faucet, while Freeda held Winnalee still. “It looks pretty deep. Jewel, come look at this!”

Ma went over to take a peek, while I scooted back to stand against the wall.

“I'm not going to no doctor!” Winnalee screamed. “I'm not!”

“Yes, I'd say she'll need stitches,” Ma said.

“I want my ma!” Winnalee cried, as Aunt Verdella tried to wrap her hand in a white dishcloth Freeda got from the drawer. “Mama! Mama!”

Aunt Verdella looked at me over the top of Winnalee's head. “Go get her ma,” she said.

“Upstairs, in her room,” Freeda yelled to me, then she yelled at Winnalee for not minding and not leaving the bread alone in the first place.

I ran up the stairs and there her ma was, sitting right on the window seat, where she always was when Winnalee wasn't lugging her around.

I had never touched Winnalee's ma before, and I didn't want to touch her now. But downstairs, Aunt Verdella was yelling at me to hurry because Winnalee was still screaming for her ma. I picked up the jar, and I hurried downstairs, holding it out so it wouldn't touch anything but my hands.

When I got back to the kitchen, I held out the jar and Aunt Verdella took it. There were tears in her eyes. “Here, honey. Here's your ma.” Maybe Winnalee's eyes were too teary to see through them right, because she pushed the jar away and kept right on crying for her ma, even though her ma was right there.

“We'll take my car,” Aunt Verdella shouted, as we all made our way across the living room.

“Oh Jesus!” Freeda said, stopping so quick that Aunt Verdella ran into her. “I ain't even dressed!” Freeda ran into her bedroom to change, while we waited and Winnalee screamed.

As we were all hurrying across the porch to leave—Winnalee, Freeda, and Aunt Verdella for the doctor's office, and Ma and me for home to clean some more—Uncle Rudy appeared at the bottom of the steps. “My, my,” he said. “I heard the commotion all the way from the oat field.” He looked at Winnalee, who was being dragged out the door by Freeda. “She cut herself with the bread knife!” Aunt Verdella explained. “It looks deep, Rudy. Jewel said it'll need stitches.”

“I'm not going!” Winnalee yelled. Her face was all blotched with fear, and tears were springing out of her eyes and dripping down her cheeks.

Uncle Rudy always had a quiet voice, but when he talked now it was even more quiet than usual. So quiet that everybody had to hush to hear what he was saying. “It's okay, little one. You just close your eyes, and let Uncle Rudy have a peek, okay?” Winnalee was gasping and hiccupping as Uncle Rudy crouched down and took her arm gently. I looked away as he pulled the bloody towel away from her hand.

“Why, no wonder you're scared, these women carrying on like you're dying. But it's just a little cut. The doctor will have you fixed up in no time.”

“No, no!” Winnalee pleaded. “I don't want to go to no doctor. He'll sew on me!”

“Aw, that's nothing. Lookie here.” Uncle Rudy stretched out the neckline of his work shirt and pointed to the wrinkly indent that circled his neck like a necklace. “You think your cut there is bad, then take a look at this one. A few years back, I cut my head clear off. I had to pick it up and carry it under my arm like a cabbage, all the way to Dr. Williams's office.” Winnalee giggled some while she sniffled. “Doc Williams stitched my whole head back on in just a few minutes, so it won't take him any time at all to stitch up a tiny cut like yours.” He cranked his head from side to side. “See? Good as new.”

“I'll get my purse!” Aunt Verdella said, as she bounced across the lawn toward her house.

Winnalee grinned a little, then the worried look crept back into her face. “Is it gonna hurt?” Fresh tears squeezed out of her eyes, which were already flag–red, white, and blue.

“I'm not gonna lie and say it won't,” Uncle Rudy said. “But it's not gonna hurt any worse than it's hurting right now,” he told her. “And if I'm lying about that, you can kick me right in the shin when you get back. Now, how about if Uncle Rudy carries you to the car?”

“Your back, Rudy!” Aunt Verdella yelled as she hurried across the lawn, her big purse banging against her belly, her white sweater flapping from her shoulders.

Uncle Rudy crouched down and scooped Winnalee up. “If she breaks my back in two, then the good doc will just have to sew me back together, ain't that right, Winnalee?” Winnalee giggled, her giggles sounding like little, quick chirps.

As Ma and I got into her car, I watched Uncle Rudy in their driveway, putting Winnalee into the Bel Air.

The driveways sat across from each other, and Ma pulled out first. Probably because she was in a hurry to get the food cooked before Aunt Stella came. I turned around in my seat and got on my knees. Aunt Verdella was pulling her car out slowly, while Uncle Rudy made waving signs with his hand. Once she got the car out, he waved good-bye. I waved bye to him too, but he was busy watching the Bel Air head in the opposite direction for the nearest dirt road that would take them to town, because Aunt Verdella wouldn't drive on the highway, so he didn't wave back at us.

“Turn around and sit down, Evelyn,” Ma said then, so I did, and the whole time I sat there, I worried that driving to town on those back roads might take so long that Winnalee would bleed to death, just like Aunt Betty did. “Maybe this will teach that child a lesson about listening to what she's told,” Ma said.

As we crossed the highway, then slipped into our driveway, I looked down at my hands. The skin on the backs of them were white, the skin on the inside, pinky. There wasn't a scratch or scrape on them. And for a little bit, I was sorry about that.

7

There were two reasons I hated having big ears. One, they looked ugly. And two, they sometimes heard things I didn't want to hear.

I opened my eyes in the night, not sure at first what had woken me, but then I heard Ma and Daddy arguing in their bedroom.

“Crissakes, Jewel, I told you! I worked on Ma's house for a couple of hours, then I went to Marty's for a few beers. I work my ass off all week long. I don't see what's so goddamn wrong about me having a few beers with the guys.”

“A couple of hours? Don't give me that, Reece. I saw your truck head to town at nine o'clock. You were at Freeda's earlier in the day, when Verdella came by to use the phone, but you weren't there when I ran over to tell Freeda about Marty's phone call. God knows where you were then, but you must have gone back before you went back to town.”

“What to hell's your point? And since when do I have to hand in a time card at the end of each day?”

I switched on the little lamp on my nightstand and tipped my head backward. Above me were the two white-framed pictures that hung on my pink wall. In one picture, Little Bo Peep looked for her sheep, her mouth a pink circle of worry. In the other frame were her sheep, all topsy-turvy too, as they ran away from her. I wondered if they were running away because she couldn't cook eggs without burning them and because she was always harping at them about where they were.

“I went to help Rudy with the tractor. For crissakes, Jewel. I wasn't at Ma's house the whole day, if that's what you're getting at.”

When Ma and Daddy argued, Ma's words were sharp like a crack of lightning, only not as loud. Daddy's were more like thunder, low and rumbly. I pulled the edges of my pillow up and folded them over my ears. It only helped a little, though, because Daddy got louder, and then Ma got louder.

“You weren't there this afternoon. But that's not even the point, Reece. The point is, you didn't come home, when I specifically asked you to. You knew Stella was coming. How do you think that looked to my sister, when you didn't bother to come home to say hello to her? I said you'd be here.”

“To tell you the truth, I really don't give a shit what it looks like to Stella, snooty bitch that she is.”

“I put up with your relatives, Reece. You could do me the same favor, instead of running off to chase anything in skirts.”

“Jesus,” Daddy said. “Here we go again! I've never had a thing to do with another woman since the day we got married, but you accuse me of it practically every goddamn day.”

“Lower your voice,” Ma snapped. “You'll wake Evelyn.” Then Ma went on and on about him not being home when Stella came, her voice quieter, so that I couldn't hear the words, just the rise and fall of them.

Daddy didn't say no more. Ma called his name when she was done harping, but he didn't answer her with words, only snores.

I heard their door open and close, so I took the pillow away from my ears and listened. The bathroom door opened and closed. I thought I heard Ma crying, but I told myself I was imagining that, because Ma never cried.

Before I'd gone to bed, I knew Ma was upset with Daddy. She kept looking at the clock as we ate the supper Aunt Stella hadn't eaten, and she hardly touched her plate. She was standing by the window when I went to bed, her long arms wrapped so tight around her middle that they could have gone around her twice.

After I heard Ma leave the bathroom, I waited for the sound of their bedroom door opening and closing, but it never came. I tried to get right back to sleep, but I couldn't. I couldn't seem to do nothing but think about the day.

Ma had left the clothes I was supposed to wear for Aunt Stella's visit on my bed. She'd told me to come show her once I was dressed.

She'd laid out my best dress. The pink one that was made of those kinds of material that make you feel sweaty and hot if you wear them in the summertime and sweaty and cold if you wear them in the winter. The one with a slippery, stuck-on pink slip underneath and that see-through stuff over it, the skirt pressed into wide pleats. Next to the dress was a pink bow with a bobby pin stuck through it, to slide into my knots. A pair of new white anklets with lace trim was laid next to the bow, and my black patent-leather shoes were on the floor next to my bed. I had dressed quickly, trying my best not to think of Winnalee in Dr. Williams's office, him sewing on her as if she was made of taffeta instead of skin.

When I was dressed, I went to show Ma, like she told me to. She was at the table, moving the centerpiece—a basket of wax fruit—a bit more in the middle. “Just a minute,” she said. Ma was wearing her best dress too. One she sewed herself. It looked pretty much like all the other dresses she wore, but it was made of softer, nicer material. Ma put two stubby candles on each side of the fruit bowl, then cocked her head all over again. “There!” she said, when she got it just right.

Ma looked at me and cocked her head some more. Then she swirled her finger, so I'd turn in circles. When I got all the way around, she came to me and retucked the bow into my knots. She smiled—as if she thought I looked pretty—then she told me to go sit down and wait.

The whole house had too many smells: Pine-Sol, Pledge, shortcake, garlic, and a bunch more I couldn't name. The smells were so strong they made my nose sting inside.

By the time Aunt Stella pulled into the driveway, my belly was hungry, and I was sweaty and itchy. Ma tugged her apron off and dashed into the kitchen to put it away. She was back by the time the doorbell rang. Ma blew out air, patted her hair in place, and put a smile on her face. “Stella!” she said as she swung the door open. They kissed each other on the cheek.

Ma talked fast as she led Aunt Stella into the living room. She looked at me, and I knew it was time to stand up. “Hello, Aunt Stella.”

“Hello, Evelyn.” Aunt Stella's eyes raked over me, from the top of my ugly head to the tip of my glossy shoes. “My, look at how dressed up you two are. Do you have a program of some kind today, Evelyn?” I bit at the inside of my mouth and shook my head.

She turned back to Ma. “My Cindy never went through an awkward age. Isn't that amazing?”

“How are Cindy and Judy, anyway?” Ma asked in a voice that sounded more like a little girl's voice than my ma's voice. “Here, have a seat,” Ma said, motioning to our best chair.

Aunt Stella sat down and set her purse down next to her feet. “Oh, marvelous! They're both still in dance class. Still both straight-A students. Judy just finished the tenth grade, and Cindy will be a freshman next fall. Oh, I think I brought pictures along. Let me see.” Aunt Stella always wondered if she'd brought pictures along, even though she hadn't ever forgotten them. Aunt Stella scooped up her purse and rummaged through it.

“I'll go check on our dinner while you look,” Ma said. “I found a wonderful recipe in
Good Housekeeping
. I hope it tastes as good as it looks! Reece should be home any minute. Coffee?”

“Oh, don't set a place for me, Jewel,” Aunt Stella called out. “Martha is expecting me, and knowing her, she spent the whole day cooking. She'd be hurt if I didn't eat. I'll have coffee, though.”

Aunt Stella handed me the pictures since Ma was still in the kitchen.

Even though the pictures were black and white, I could tell that their dancing dresses were as pretty as their faces. Judy's long hair had a cloth headband in it, and it curled up at her shoulders. Cindy's hair was braided on the sides, and two long curls hung from a bow behind each ear. They were fake curls, I knew, because I'd seen Aunt Stella make them when they spent the night at our house once, a long, long time ago. She had pressed long strips of torn bedsheets along her finger, then wound the hair around it and tied the rag to keep the hair in a loop. The hair looked real pretty when she first took out the rag curlers, but by afternoon the curls were drooping down their backs. I remembered too, that Cindy and Judy spent most of the day sitting on the steps, whispering into each other's ears.

When Ma looked at their pictures, Aunt Stella said, “These were taken at their dance recital in May. Can you imagine how proud Ma would have been of them both? Remember how she always said that I should have been a dancer? Of course, there weren't dance classes in town then, which was probably good for you. Remember how klutzy you were as a girl, Jewel? All legs and arms. Twenty feet of them!” She stopped to laugh. “Good heavens, you were at your adult height by what? Eleven years old? Of course, not that you would have taken a dance class had there been one in town anyway, being the tomboy you were. Even into your teens.” Aunt Stella looked over at me. “Poor Ma used to worry about you so! I always said I'd marry a Baptist minister, just like Daddy, and Ma was sure happy as could be when I did. But you, she didn't care who you married, as long as you found someone! I think she was afraid you'd be an old maid all your life. Remember when she told you that you'd better learn to be nice if you ever hoped to find a husband, since you didn't have much in the looks department?”

Aunt Stella took some more pictures out of her purse. “Oh, and here's pictures of the house. It has a greenhouse! Oh, and here's one of me at the ladies' social where I spoke in December. I got that dress in Chicago. I got more compliments on that thing!”

I felt sorry for Ma, looking at that stack of pictures. It seemed that no matter how much Ma scrubbed or fixed up our place, Aunt Stella never noticed. Like the sunburst clock hanging right above her head, or the new white trellis Ma had put up right next to the front door so flowers could creep up it.

“Did you make that dress, Jewel?” I smiled inside, because Aunt Stella noticed something. I held my breath, hoping she'd say it was nice. Instead, she said, “I suppose, you being so tall and long-armed, you pretty much have to make your own clothes.” She looked over at me and added, “At least your Evelyn isn't too tall. She doesn't look like a tomboy either…or is she?”

Ma's face had funny blotches on it. She set her coffee cup back on its saucer hard enough for it to make a rattly sound. I tried to imagine Ma as a girl. A tomboy girl. But I couldn't see that in my head any more than I could see Daddy as a cute-as-a-bug's-ear boy. All I could see when I tried to picture Ma as a girl was a girl as tall as a man, with shoulders pinched forward and a head with nothing pretty on it.

“Evelyn is a perfect little lady,” Ma said. “And she's a straight-A student too. Her fourth-grade teacher told me that if all her students were as well behaved as Evelyn, she'd pay
them
to let her teach. She earned the most patches in Girl Scouts this year too. Evelyn, go get your sash, and show Aunt Stella.” I hated Girl Scouts, where none of the girls saved me a seat at the table. And I didn't want to show Aunt Stella my sash—even if it did have lots of patches on it. Still, I got up to go fetch it.

I didn't have to show it to Aunt Stella, though, because she stopped me before I could reach my doorway, saying maybe we could save that for next time because she had to get going. “You haven't even finished your coffee,” Ma said, and Aunt Stella told her that that was for the best, since she still had another two hours to drive and there weren't any clean restrooms along the way. “I'm sorry this visit is so short, Jewel, but I got a late start. Maybe I'll stop on my way back.”

After Aunt Stella used our bathroom, Ma and I walked her to her car. “Well, tell Reece I'm sorry I missed him again. Is that man ever home?” Aunt Stella opened her car door and slipped her purse inside. Ma leaned over to give her a kiss good-bye, then told me to give her a kiss good-bye too. Aunt Stella leaned over and turned her rouged cheek to me. I kissed it quick, because her perfume was so strong that my eyes were stinging.

And that was it. That was my whole day. Cleaning, then running over to Winnalee's to watch her bleed, then getting gussied up for Aunt Stella's little bitty visit. Then falling asleep so I could get closer to morning and go by Winnalee and Aunt Verdella, only to get woken up by Ma and Daddy's fight.

I lay awake and thought about Aunt Stella's visit, and I thought about how I hated my ears that heard too much. I wondered if it was true, what Aunt Verdella said once—that if you put gum behind big ears and press them flat against your head, they'd learn to stay down like they're supposed to. And I thought about how I'd never know if it worked because Ma wouldn't let me chew gum, because Dr. Wagner said it wasn't good for a kid's teeth, but if I could, I'd stuff some in my ears too, just so I'd stop hearing bad things.

After I thought those things, then I thought about how, if I had my own Book of Bright Ideas, I'd write
Bright Idea #1: If you take an ugly girl and you dress her up in a pretty pink dress, lacy anklets, and plunk a homemade bow on her head, you're not going to get a pretty girl. All you're going to get is an ugly girl in a pretty dress, lacy anklets, with a bow plunked on her head.