Mumma's House

by Ike Hamill

  “Sure,” Jules said.

  Auggie put a bag of flour next to the mixing bowl and nudged it towards his brother.

  “But when your smart little kid is sitting there, bored out of their mind because the other kids around her don’t know enough English to follow the lesson plan, it makes you wonder if maybe we’re not going about things the wrong way.”

  “Huh,” Jules said.

  When Auggie filled a measuring cup with water and put it next to Jules’s hand, Jules stood up and rolled his eyes. He took the cup and picked up the mixing bowl.

  “So, what’s the answer?” Jules asked.

  “There is no answer,” Deidra said. “That’s the problem. I’m trying to teach fourth grade and the first day of school when I hand out the pencils, I know there are going to be a handful of students who have never held one before.”

  “They’ve never held a pencil?”

  “They look down at the pencil and jibber-jabber to each other until one of them figures it out. They have no idea what to do. And don’t get me started on the back to school cookout. The parents show up with a dozen kids sometimes and we have to tell them that they’re only allowed one hamburger each. They storm the line like the supply helicopter has just dropped off the rations for the month.”

  Auggie and Jules were standing there, side by side, regarding their cousin. This was a new version of Deidra that they had never met before.

  She looked up and saw the way they were staring at her.

  “I’m not saying that I don’t welcome them. I love my kids—all my kids—but it’s tough. We’re considered a failing school. It is literally the designation that our school has been given. That’s why I was transferred over there. They turned over the whole staff. Then, when we still didn’t perform well enough on the standardized tests, we were given a new administrative coordinator. It’s insane.”

  “You should do something that makes you happy, Deidra,” Jules said. “Life’s too short.”

  Auggie shook his head. “Everything is hard in its own way. You can’t run from a challenge.”

  Jules moved towards the counter with his baking supplies. Auggie knelt in front of the oven and pulled the door open an inch or two.

  “It used to make me happy. If Sam or Penny ever land in a school like that… I won’t let them. I’ll move back here.”

  “One of us might have to,” Auggie said.

  Jules turned. “What does that mean?”

  “June is talking about moving. This could be her last year here.”

  “Get out,” Jules said. He studied his brother carefully. “You’re serious?”

  “That’s what she’s saying.”

  Deidra nodded too.

  “Good for her then,” Jules said. “After all these years. I always figured that she was going to take over the place for real. We were all just waiting on Tommy, but she was the real heir.”

  Jules noticed the glance he got from Deidra.

  “No offense,” he said. “I’m not casting any aspersions on anyone’s birthright or anything.”

  “None taken,” she said.

  “It’s a process that was born in darkness and not even sunlight can disinfect it,” Auggie said.

  “Is that a quote?” Jules asked. “What’s that from?”

  “No, it’s not a quote. It’s just the way I feel about it,” Auggie said. “The more we talk about it, the worse it becomes. I think it’s best to just sit back and let it happen. If June wants to walk away, I commend her for that decision. She’s probably the bravest of us all.”

  “Mom!” someone yelled from another room.

  Deidra sighed and started to push to her feet. Before she stood up all the way, she lifted her cup to her lips and muttered before she drained half the cup in a series of desperate gulps. As she left, she gave Auggie and Jules a wave over her shoulder.

  # # # #

  “This needs to rise for about an hour. Where’s a warm corner where it won’t be disturbed?” Jules asked as he held out the bowl draped with a towel.

  Auggie shook his head. “Someone else’s house, maybe? I don’t know. There won’t be a warm, undisturbed corner of this house for several days.”

  “Good point,” Jules said. “I’ll put it over here,” he slid the bowl to the far corner of the counter as Auggie checked his beans once more.

  Jules moved around, tidying things that weren’t out of place. Auggie eventually stopped what he was doing and stared at his brother.

  “You know, maybe I’ll move in here,” he said. “I don’t think Deidra was serious about it, you have your own life, and we’re going to need someone keeping an eye on the place.”

  “What about the coffee game?”

  “The coffee game doesn’t require any real day-to-day, hands-on attention, especially not this time of year,” Jules said. “Besides, that’s really Wendy’s game more than mine.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sometimes I think that a man really needs to have five spaces, you know?” Jules asked.

  “Five spaces?”

  “Sure. The primary space should be the home. Lots of men treat their work as their primary space, but that’s the wrong way of going about it.”

  Jules hopped up on the counter and then put out a protective hand in the direction of his rising bread.

  “The home has to be the primary space. Work—the office, or whatever—can be the secondary.”

  “The other three?” Auggie asked.

  “Number three should be the gym or the road. Wherever a man gets his physical workout done, that’s his third space. Even if he gets a lot of exercise as part of his job, like manufacturing or something, he needs to have a space where he goes to exhaust the rest of his energy. It’s like a heatsink for a computer chip, you know? You have to tap out all that excess power or else it will destroy the part that thinks.”

  “Uh-huh,” Auggie said.

  “I know, you probably think this is all a bunch of bullshit, but it’s real. I’m telling you—until you identify your spaces and get your proportions right, you’ll never be satisfied with your life,” Jules said.

  Auggie didn’t respond.

  “Number four is a bit trickier. It can be a sub-space, but it has to be distinct. You can’t spread it around or ignore its significance. You know what it is?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “It’s your fertile valley. A man needs a place to plant his seed and watch it grow. He needs to conquer, create, nurture, and plow.”

  “Says the man without kids.”

  “That’s why I’m so attuned to it. Regular people just go out and procreate without a second thought. They’re satisfying these deep instincts without ever investigating. You spew your rotting sperm into your partner without a second thought about the ramifications and the lizard is subdued. I, on the other hand, have really given it thought and decided how to redirect that energy into a pursuit that will enhance the world instead of clutter it with more unwanted progeny.”

  Auggie blinked very slowly, staring at his brother and waiting for the apology.

  “I’m not trying to suggest that your kids are unwanted. I’m speaking metaphorically for the whole world, you know?”

  “As a representative for the whole world, why don’t you shut the fuck up?”

  Jules continued as if he hadn’t heard.

  “The fifth place is arguably one of the most important. A man needs a second home. He needs a place where he doesn’t have to be a leader, a conqueror, or a provider. It should be a place that reminds him that he was once a child. The place is, essentially, the man’s peer. It’s like when you see the cowboy out on his horse, standing at the edge of a mesa, looking across the plains at the herd. That horse is his fifth place.”

  Auggie leaned back against the counter. He appeared too mesmerized to stand up on his own, but didn’t want to commit to sitting down and actually devoting his full attention to his brother.

  “Are you making this up?”

>   “Aren’t we all making all of this up?”

  “I mean, are you making this up right now, on the spot?”

  “I would say that my whole life has built to this revelation. It is the sum total of all my wisdom gained from thirty years on this planet.”

  “You’re only twenty-nine,” Auggie said.

  “Oh? In times like these, it feels like so much more.”

  Auggie nodded and shot his brother with double finger guns.

  The door from the hall opened and Millie ran in.

  “Dad! We get to have New Year’s here,” Millie said.

  Auggie lifted her under her arms and she hung from his grip as he pulled her into a sweeping hug. “I’m so glad to see you, my unwanted progeny.”

  Millie pulled back to look at her father. “Unwanted what?”

  “Nothing,” Auggie said. “It was a joke from earlier. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He swept her around.

  “Look, it’s your Uncle Jules.”

  “Yay!” Millie said.

  Isla pushed through the door and let it swing shut behind herself.

  “Hey, Dad,” Isla said with a sigh. “Hey, Uncle Jules.”

  Jules waved to both girls.

  “You’re both here?” Auggie said with wide eyes and a gaping smile. “I thought just Millie would come, but you’re both here? Who is at home, watering your mom’s avocado tree?”

  “It’s snowing out,” Isla said.

  Auggie sat down with Millie on his knee. He gestured towards Isla but she shuffled towards the window so she could push aside the shade and look out.

  “And why is that a problem, Izla?”

  “It’s not, except we’re never getting out of here. Mom said that we’re going to be snowed in forever and we’re missing everything at Aunt Tria’s house.”

  “There’s always next year,” Auggie said.

  “They got a puppy,” Isla said.

  “Tell her about the five places, Jules. She needs some cheering up,” Auggie said.

  Jules slipped down from his seat on the counter and went to crouch next to his niece. He glanced at Auggie and then whispered something into Isla’s ear. As she listened, the scowl loosened from her face and then her eyebrows began to rise as her expression lifted into delight.

  When Jules pulled back and looked her in the eyes, Isla and he both nodded. She ran off through the door, giggling.

  Jules stood up, brushing his hands against each other, content with a job well done.

  “What the heck did you say to her?” Auggie asked.

  “I told her that her father is a first-class a-hole and I could prove it.”

  Auggie covered Millie’s ears as he shook his head.

  Chapter 6 : Allison

  JUNE HURRIED DOWN THE porch stairs sideways as she pulled her coat around herself. She shuffled down the walk, through a coating of fresh snow that was falling fast. As soon as Allison had stood up and shut her car door, June grabbed her into an enormous hug. Muffled by the collar of her coat, June mumbled, “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Allison laughed with a big smile.

  “Me too, honey. Get my bag from the back, would you?”

  June nodded. Allison hit the button to pop the trunk and June slung one bag over her shoulder so she could use both hands to lift the heavy one.

  “How did you even get this in here?” June asked as she grunted. “I can barely move it.”

  “I would demonstrate my secret powers, but they only work in the sunlight. I’m afraid we’re not going to get much of that around here today.”

  Allison looked up at the sky and squinted at the falling snow. She followed June up the walk as she struggled with the bag. Allison pulled her gloves out of her pocket and then changed her mind as she glanced at the house. June was already heaving the bag up the first step. Allison waited with a hand on the railing. She took several deep breaths before following her niece up to the door. June didn’t notice. Gus pushed open the storm door and June shouldered it aside, lugging the bags.

  Gus watched his mom as she lugged the things almost halfway up the stairs before she finally set them down.

  “Get your cousins and have them help you take these upstairs,” June said to Gus.

  “I can do it.”

  “Get your cousins.”

  June flew back down the stairs and grabbed Allison into another hug as soon as she was through the door.

  “Help me to the kitchen, honey. I feel like I’ve been driving forever and I want to put my feet up while the teakettle boils.”

  For a moment, June stood perfectly still. Only her face moved, and that was simply a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Allison said. “Here is fine. Anywhere, really. Do you have a kettle for your hotplate?”

  “Of course,” June said. “Gus, go get everyone while Allison gets settled.”

  June looked towards the stairs. Gus had already hauled the bag up and around the corner.

  “Gus!” June shouted.

  # # # #

  They were settled in June’s little living space. Allison had her feet up on the coffee table, which was good enough. June draped a light blanket over her legs while the kettle ticked as it warmed up. From the chair across from Allison, June sat and looked at her aunt, smiling occasionally as they waited for Gus to send the others.

  “Allison! How was your trip?” Auggie asked. He was wiping his hands with a towel as he crossed the room. He bent to put an arm around Allison in a mini-hug. She smiled at him and then sighed.

  “Honestly, I need to close my eyes for a few minutes.”

  “Of course you do. You’re very, very old,” Auggie said. He beamed a big smile and folded his arms across his chest.

  June swatted at his back.

  “Listen,” Auggie said as Jules came in from the kitchen. “We all agreed—sixty is old. Aunt Allison is sixty. Aunt Allison is old. This is called the transitive property. I’ll get Deidra in here. She can explain it to you.”

  “Please don’t,” Jules said.

  June leaned forward. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Allison said. “Like Soggy Auggie said, I’m just old. It happens all at once for us, you know. Women of our family don’t fade away. We snap, like the pull cord on a closet light. Fine one day, and the next, snap!”

  June looked horrified as she contemplated that image.

  Auggie broke the silence. “Well, before you snap, could you settle an argument for us?”

  Allison’s eyes had drifted shut. She opened them and focused on Auggie.

  “Shoot.”

  “Who did Trudy belong to?” Auggie asked.

  “Belong to?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Allison took a deep breath and then sighed. “Trudy Sturtevant was the daughter of Phillip Sturtevant, of the Oxford County Sturtevants.”

  “How is she related to us?” June asked.

  “We may never know the answer to that,” Allison said. Auggie stepped over Allison’s legs and took a seat on the futon. “But I’ll tell you what I know about it.”

  “Aunt Allison!” Deidra said as she came down the stairs.

  Jules was taking the chair next to June. He looked up and put a finger to his lips, shushing his cousin. Still, Deidra came to Allison’s side and they exchanged a quick hug.

  “Some say that Mumma Claire was Trudy’s mom, but I’ve heard plenty of others disagree with that lineage.”

  “What did she say?” June asked. “She was your sister—didn’t she tell you?”

  “Your mother said precious little about Trudy. I barely knew of her existence until after your mother had died. Trudy was born in, what, seventy-five? At that point, Mumma Claire had been out of my life for a dozen years, and I didn’t really spend any time with her again until a few years before Foggy Auggie was born. I had heard about Mr. Sturtevant, but I never met him in person. Everyone who did meet him say that he w
as difficult to forget. I must have told you all of this before.”

  The kettle began to whistle as the water boiled.

  “I’m not sure you have,” June said. “Start from the beginning.”

  # # # #

  Allison stirred her tea and tasted a tiny sip from the spoon. Satisfied that the ratios of her additives were correct, she settled the mug down on her stomach, so it could cool. She slouched down when she sighed again. Under the thin blanket, her toes wiggled.

  Her nieces and nephews sat silently, waiting for her to start.

  “I was five or six when Poppa forced Mumma Claire out of the house. Of course, she wasn’t Mumma Claire at the time, she was just my sister, Claire. In fact, when I really think back, I thought that Poppa was my father back then. I remember when I went to school for the first time—Mumma Peggy called it Kinney Garden—our teacher had us draw a picture of our family. I started drawing pictures of Sophia, Vivian, Travis, Tommy, Momma Peggy, Claire, and Poppa, and everyone, but the teacher came by and scolded me. She told me to just draw my immediate family and then explained that it was just my brothers and sisters, mom and dad. I turned over my paper and drew Tommy, Claire, Andrew, Momma Peggy, and Poppa.”

  She sipped her tea and laughed.

  “My mother blushed so hard when I took home my picture. She told me that Poppa was her Poppa, not her husband. I was still confused because I didn’t know anything about my father. She told me that it was okay to be confused and didn’t explain anything else. But the other important thing about that drawing was how I depicted Mumma Claire. I hadn’t drawn her as my sister, I had drawn her as a second mother. She was seventeen years older than me, and she might as well have been a full adult. She had a job in Augusta and had friends she went to the movies with on Saturday nights. As far as I was concerned, Mumma Claire seemed more like an adult than Mumma Peggy. Claire was out and about. Mumma Peggy never left that back kitchen unless it was to zip outside to get eggs, or disappear into her chambers at bed time. She was more like a part of the house than a real person.”