Wild Swans (16 page)

“What makes you say a thing like that?” Ruby asked. “She has us doesn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” Althea said. It was hard sometimes to articulate things you feel, and Althea was having an especially difficult time trying to put into words that odd empty sensation she herself was experiencing.

“Death always makes everyone feel somewhat insecure,” Ruby said as if reading her daughter’s mind. “She might be feeling her mortality. It catches up to all of us sooner or later. That realization that we won’t be around forever.”

“That scares me, thinking that I won’t be with the two of you any more.”

“What makes you think that? I’m your mother, darling. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“Even if Hank takes me all the way to France?”

“Even then. I’m just a phone call away,
bay bay
, you know that.”

“Mom? Who was my daddy?” Althea asked abruptly. The question shocked her. She’d often wondered about it, especially when she was little. When the other children teased her about not having a father, she approached Ruby about it. She only received a tight lipped, “never you mind” response which caused little Althea to burst into tears. Although she never asked again until just now, the question haunted her throughout her life.

On this particular day, when the water was glistening as it sloshed against the blackened docks, and the sky was a strange cornflower blue, etched with contrails that came from B-52 bombers on patrol from Barksdale AFB, and a thin line of white smoke curled up from the crackling fire, it seemed like the perfect time to ask.

Althea cast her attention to the couple standing next to the burn pile. Mr. Lindt was wearing a t-shirt, khaki slacks and Hushpuppies. His small paunch and slightly flabby love handles came dangerously close to spilling over his belt, which was expected, Althea supposed, from a man of his age. Her aunt looked trim and neat in her denim blouse and red gingham skirt with the frilly pale yellow apron, the ties fluttering like ribbons behind her as she spoke to him.

Watching them made Althea feel strangely empty and somewhat nostalgic. She wanted to know—no—needed to know about her origins.
It’s time Mom let me know,
Althea thought.
Even if she gives me the never you mind answer, I won’t let it go. Not today.
She turned and stared frankly at her mother, her eyebrows raised, her body language demanding a response.

This time, however, Ruby didn’t balk. Althea watched as her mother regarded her, her face soft, her expression far away.

“You have his eyes,” she said softly. “They’re the same shape and color.” She frowned then, as if the memory disturbed her. “Maybe that’s why I can’t abide to look into them.”

Hurt and shocked Althea whispered, “Why do you hate me so?”

“I don’t hate you
bay-bay
. Not a bit in the world.” She regarded her daughter. “Now what brought all of this on? Why are you asking now after all these years?”

Althea’s turned her gaze on Mr. Lindt and Cally. “I think I feel like
Tante
Cal.”

“Well worry not, if that’s what you’re concerned about. You’ll have a man of your own soon enough.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Althea said. “I mean. I miss—”

“What? Your father?” Ruby made a rude sound. “How can you miss something you’ve never had? Now come and help me move this table a bit.”

Althea helped her mother shift the table. “But why won’t you talk about him?” She persisted. “Did he die in the war or something?”

“No.” Ruby grunted as she pulled the table towards her as Althea pushed. “He was just a boy I knew, that’s all.”

“What was his name?”

Ruby straightened, her face flushed from both exertion and annoyance. “Why do you need to know that?”

“Because maybe I want to go find him.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not?”

I need to stop now
, Althea thought, but she could not. Her mother was angry, the expression on her face dangerous. Nevertheless, Althea plowed on, her voice was so loud that Cally and Mr. Lindt paused in their conversation to look up at her.

“You don’t need to know him,” Ruby hissed. “He was bad. He was as bad as they get. He—”

Ruby uttered a sob, slammed the rag she was using to clean the table onto the polished surface, turned and ran into the house.

Two thoughts spun in Althea’s mind.
I’ve got his eyes, and he was as bad as they come.
She felt queasy, faint, as if all the air in the world had dissipated and she was left alone gasping for breath.

She was dimly aware of Cally and Mr. Lindt approaching from behind. She felt Cally’s arm around her shoulder and Althea leaned against her aunt for support.

“Now what was all that about?” Cally asked as she led Althea to a seat. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I asked her about my daddy,” Althea said as she sat down and placed her hands over her eyes. She paused, thinking, her head spinning. “
Tante
, did you know my father? I want to go find him. I want to hear what he has to say, why he and Mom never got along.” She swallowed hard. “It’s my right ain’t it? No offense, Mr. Lindt, but since I’m getting married whether I want to or not, the least I can ask for is to have my father walk me down the aisle.”

Looking flustered, Cally said, “I need to see if Sister is okay.” Without waiting for a response she went inside, the recently repaired screen door squeaking as it swung shut.

Mr. Lindt was looking out at the lawn, at the small fire now smoldering beside the docks.
He’s deliberately not looking at me,
Althea thought.
Why is he doing that? What does he know?

“Mr. Lindt, why won’t anyone talk to me about my father?” Althea asked again. When she got no response, Althea laughed harshly. “The way everyone goes on you’d think he was in prison.”

Mr. Lindt flinched.

“You know, don’t you?” Althea asked. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, he really is in prison, isn’t he? What did he do? Did he knock over a bank or kill someone? Did
Tante
Cal tell you, or did you just read my mother’s mind? Where’s he at, Angola?”

“Angola,” Lindt whispered. He looked at her and said, “Some things are best left alone. This is one of those things.”

“Don’t I have a right to know who my father was?”

“It’s not a matter of rights,” Lindt replied as he pulled his shirt on, buttoning it as he spoke. “It’s about respect. Respecting your mother’s privacy most of all.”

“But—”

“—No buts. It’s best that you don’t know. You’ll be much happier if you do not know.”

“Who told you?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“
Tante
did tell you didn’t she?” Althea said feeling deeply hurt and angry. “Why is it they’ll tell the whole world and not me? Don’t I matter at all? ”

“Of course you do
, mon chere
,
it’s just that—”

“—That what? My mother was some kind of whore who couldn’t keep her legs together? That she slept with a crook and spawned me? Is that what the big secret is?”

“Althea,” Mr. Lindt said, looking helpless.

“Oh my God, it’s worse than that ain’t it? My mother doesn’t have a clue as to who my father is.”

“That is not true,” Lindt said, rising, reaching out to grasp her hand. Althea flinched. His eyes were kind, his lined face looking old and tired, and now he looked somewhat hurt that she would not allow him to touch her. “Your mother went through a terrible ordeal,” he whispered, glancing at the screen door. “More terrible than you can imagine. You must not think ill of her or of any decisions she’s made in the past, especially decisions she made on your behalf.”

“Why shouldn’t I when my whole life has been a lie?” Althea shouted. “How bad could it have been if she can’t even tell me his name? It’s because she doesn’t know. She has no idea.”

Mr. Lindt dropped his hand and flopped back into his seat. He looked as if he were about to be overcome by grief. “She knows, pretty girl. She knows oh too well.”

Heartbroken, Althea rushed upstairs, pushing past Cally and Ruby who were speaking Cajun in the hallway. She ran to her room and slammed the door. She leaned against it, her heart pounding, as she tried not to allow sorrow and angst to overtake her. Anger, mixed in and then replaced grief, burning sharp and bitter. “If nobody will tell me then I’ll find out for myself,” Althea grumbled. She flounced into her mother’s room, ignoring the white wedding dress spread out on the foot of the bed. She opened the closet door, and rummaged around in the top shelf, dumping antiquated hat boxes and cardboard cartons stuffed with flotsam from her mother’s past. Standing on tiptoe, her fingers reached the old yellow silverware box that contained her mother’s important papers. The box was made from solid wood and was quite heavy. She struggled to take it down. The weight yanked her arms downward as she turned to dump it onto the bed.

The answer must be in here somewhere, Althea told herself as she opened the chest. She found old papers, car titles to vehicles Ruby long since disposed of. She found a deed to some land in Saint Bernard Parish, a will allocating Althea twenty-five dollars to be added to her dowry upon marriage, old receipts, and pictures of people she never knew. She tossed them aside.

Further down she found a baby picture of herself and of her mother holding her in her lap. They were living in what appeared to be a tiny apartment. Ruby was sitting propped up in bed with the tiny bundle in her arms. The paneled walls were peeling, she noticed, and she could see a bathroom sink peeking out from around an old curtain.

**
Please don’t do this,
** Mr. Lindt pleaded.

She shut him out. Althea bit her lip, looking at the young face with the old and sad eyes, at the baby, just born and wrapped in a blanket.
Tante
Cal must have taken the picture since she wasn’t in it, Althea reasoned.

Althea studied the photograph.
I don’t see any grandparents or friends or aunts or uncles in the picture. Where are they? Why is Mom and Cal alone?
If, that is, Cal took the picture, but surely she must have; she and Mom have been inseparable.

She scowled as she put the picture in her lap and contemplated. A new baby is cause for celebration, and yet her mother is alone, propped up on a bed in a seedy looking apartment with a tiny baby in her arms. And no father, and no family from his side either. Nothing.

Althea bit her lower lip.
And why hadn’t Mom ever mentioned them? Surely she had parents too. Why weren’t they in my life either?

“None of this makes sense,” Althea told the empty room. “Where is the rest of the family?”

**
Please, let it go
.**

**
No, I won’t
.**

She was so young when she had me
, Althea thought.
She looks so small and scared. She couldn’t be more than sixteen in this picture.

That means Mom can’t be more than, what thirty-four?
Why that’s not old at all. Not really. Not when you sit down and really think about it.

Tossing the picture aside, Althea flipped through some old empty envelopes until she came to a letter embossed with gold and black. She opened it and her birth certificate tumbled onto the pile on the bed. Her heart pounding, the blood swooshing in her ears so loudly she could barely hear, she opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

Her heart plummeted.

The birth certificate showed her name, date of birth, weight and length, all the standard things you’d expect to find on a birth certificate. She saw her mother’s name listed, but her father’s name was not on the certificate. It was blank.

Stunned, feeling empty, sad and utterly alone, Althea sat on the edge of the bed and watched as shadows retreated from the room, as if they were offended by her very presence.
Oh my god, she thought. It’s true. It’s true. She didn’t even know my father’s name.

****

The sun had set when Althea awoke to the sound of voices outside. Her nose was stuffy and her head felt dull and achy. It took her a few moments to realize that she had cried herself to sleep on her mother’s bed, with her head on the wedding dress. It was rumpled and stained with her tears. She didn’t care. She sat up, listening intently. She heard more laughter coming from outside.
Me, she
thought listlessly, they’re laughing at me, and why not? I am a bastard. I’m not worth respecting.
She pulled her knees up against her chest.
I’m illegitimate so I don’t amount to anything. I’m an accident probably conceived at some skanky drive-in...in the back seat of a Desoto. For all I know Ruby must have fucked the entire football team. I wonder what the prize was. To wear some jock’s letter jacket? But no. All she got was the consolation prize. Me. And that’s no consolation at all. No wonder she hates me. No wonder she’s in such a hurry to get rid of me. The sooner I’m gone the quicker she can go back to whoring.

She sniffed.
I’m not even good enough for heaven, she realized with a sudden sickening dread. I’m a bastard, which means I’ll be stuck in purgatory at best. At worst? I get the express elevator straight to hell. So I guess it doesn’t matter what I do at this point. I was born on the road to hell.

Althea eased back down on the bed, stretching out her arms, feeling spiritually crucified. She sensed Mr. Lindt’s muffled protest in the back of her mind. She shut him out.

Why bother being a good girl if I’m going to hell anyway? Why should I be obedient to her, when she brought me into this life knowing that I’m doomed?
She wondered.
Why should I do anything anyone tells me? What’s the point of it all?

That’s why she had to go outside the community to find me a husband
, she thought
. It’s because everyone knows I’m tainted and nobody would want me, except for sex.

Now I know why all those men came sniffing around the house and why Mom ran them off. They’re just jackals that’ll tear me apart because they can sense that I’m like her, thinking I’m just as free with my body as she was.