The Darkest Child

by Delores Phillips

  “Her name is Judy,” she said, as the driver shifted gears and the car sped off.

  The bag Harlell had given me contained a blanket, four diapers, a card with two safety pins attached and two missing, two cans of Carnation milk, and a bottle of Karo syrup. I gave the bag to Laura and, without a coat or a clue, went in search of my brothers to warn them that our mother had been home, but I couldn’t find them.

  Footsteps disturbed my nightmare. I lay in darkness with my eyes closed, listening to my brothers sneak into the house, though there was no need for caution.

  Less than an hour later, Tarabelle and Mama came home and undressed without a light.Tarabelle, after three weeks of sleeping on a bed, was back to her old spot on the floor; I had already prepared her pallet. She settled down, and I listened as her soft breathing changed to muffled sobs. In the distance, over on Fife or Canyon Street, someone’s dog grieved with my sister.

  When it seemed she would never stop, I tossed my blanket aside and stretched a hand across the inches that separated us.Tarabelle’s back shuddered beneath my palm, but she did not pull away. I moved closer until I was sitting next to her. She raised her head and settled it on my lap, and I stroked her hair as tears rolled down my cheeks.

  From the straw basket beside Martha Jean, little Judy pledged her solidarity by issuing a cry of her own, and in midnight darkness, I swam the stream of tears that connected me to my sisters, my ears ringing from the first cry I had ever heard from either.

  twelve

  Pots, pans, and bowls had been arranged throughout the house to catch the flow of a cold, steady rainfall. The rain had brought Sam and Harvey home early, just behind me and Wallace. Tarabelle was already in, her white dress soaked and her hair plastered to her head.

  Someone, Martha Jean I assumed, had placed the three kitchen chairs and four of the milk-crate seats in the front room, making it almost impossible for us to stand by the stove to warm and dry ourselves.

  Our mother, in a faded pink housedress, sat in an armchair, her feet bare and her legs crossed, a startling contrast from the day before. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her lipstick was smeared across her left cheek. She held the wind-up clock that usually stood on a shelf in her room. She wound it and placed it on the round table beside the kerosene lamp, then she told us to be quiet and to sit down.

  “Satan’s in here,” she said in a hollow voice, her gaze darting about the room. “While I was gone, one of y’all let Satan in my house.Who was it?”

  No one spoke.

  “Don’t sit there like idiots. I wanna know who did it. Ask the dummy if she let him in here.”

  Harvey, who was sitting closest to Martha Jean, moved his fingers before her face, and she shook her head in fear and denial.

  Mama rose from the chair, walked over to the wall of coats, and took down the one Velman Cooper had bought for Martha Jean. She flung it through the air and it landed on the floor in front of the armchair where Martha Jean sat holding Judy. Martha Jean curled over, shielding the baby with her upper torso.

  “Satan’s in here,” Mama repeated with mounting fear in her voice.

  Edna started to cry, and Mama spun around to face her. “Shut up.You want him to hear you?” she whispered, easing back to her armchair, glancing over one shoulder, and then the other.

  She sat on the edge of the chair, poised to move quickly, and we followed her gaze to the leaking ceiling, to the corners of the room, and to the doorway that led into the hall.

  “Mama, you awright?” Harvey asked.

  “Shut up,” she whispered, tilting an ear toward the hall. “Y’all done let Satan in here. I can’t trust none of y’all.” Her back stiffened, and she stared around the room at each of us. “What the Bible say, Harvey?”

  “Honor thy mother.” Automatically, Harvey gave the correct response. It had been instilled in him.

  “What it say, Edna Pearl?” Mama asked.

  “Honor thy mother,” Edna whimpered.

  “That’s right, and y’all don’t honor me.Y’all done brought Satan in my house just as sho’ as I’m sitting here, and we gotta get rid of ’im.” Her voice became conspiratorial.“We gon’ sit here real quiet so he’ll think there ain’t no bodies to get into.”

  And the silence began.

  And the sound of silence was frightening. Rain pounded the tin roof like a thousand demons marching for their master, and the roof yielded. Liquid curses splashed down upon our heads and into the waiting vessels. In the gray shadows of a rainy dusk, the clock on the table ticked rhythmically, but the hands never moved.They were stuck.

  The angel Gabriel called to me, “Tangy, Tangy.” His voice rattled the windowpanes. It whispered above and below the doorframes and through cracks in the walls. I could not answer him aloud but I thought, Satan is not going to leave.The only way to get him out is to invite God in, and God is not welcome in my mother’s house. I am going to die sitting on this milk crate in wet socks and slushy shoes.

  We shifted slightly and silently on our seats, we sighed, we sat. Darkness filled the room until I could no longer see Sam or Tarabelle sitting on their chairs. It fell heavily over Wallace, Laura, and Edna.

  Tick . . . tick.

  My fingertips vanished.

  The coal stove belched to the grumble of my empty belly and digested the last of its evening meal, then from the darkness came an angry voice that I recognized as Sam’s.“Look here, Mama . . .”

  There followed the sound of an object sailing through the air. It crashed against the back wall and shattered. And the sound of silence was missing a tick.

  For hours we sat, until the beam of headlights rounded the bend down on the road. Judy began to cry, and suddenly the kerosene lamp illuminated the room. I blinked and saw my mother, milky-wet stains encircling her breast, glaring at the baby with pure hatred.

  “Satan,” Mama hissed.“He done crawled in that baby. Gotta get ’im out my house.”

  It was then that the front door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and the angel of mercy appeared, wearing a wet, beige halo on her head, and carrying a dripping suitcase in her hand. She dropped the suitcase and leaned against the door frame, then shook her head, making no attempt to conceal her disappointment.

  “Mama, you ain’t dead yet?” Mushy asked.

  Mushy removed her coat and searched along the wall for a place to hang it. She was wearing a light brown, tight-fitting skirt with a matching sweater, and a beige scarf tied around her neck. Her sandy-brown hair was tucked beneath a beige tam, and she wore small, white earrings clipped to her ears.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked, raising her arms and leaning back. “I don’t expect all y’all to come running at the same time, but where’s my hugs and kisses? I know y’all ain’t forgot who I am in four years. Come on, Tan, give yo’ big sister a hug.”

  At that moment I wanted to touch Mushy more than I wanted to breathe, but Mama gave no sign to release me from my crate. She sat back, grunted, and stared at her long lost daughter.

  Mushy laughed nervously.“What is going on here?” she asked. “We waiting on the devil to leave,” Sam answered.

  “Honey, the devil just got here,” Mushy joked, winking at Sam. “Here I am in the flesh.” She snapped her fingers and twirled around in the small space of the doorway.

  “He ain’t joking, Mushy,” Harvey said. “We glad to see you, though.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Mushy groaned, “you still up to that ol’ stuff?”

  Mama cupped a hand over her nose and let the tips of her fingers slide down across her lips and chin. She threw her head back and worked her fingers along the smooth skin of her neck, then she swallowed hard, and I knew that the devil was gone.My mother had swallowed him whole.

  “It’s a darkie, Mushy, darker than Edna, as dark as Tangy,” she said sadly. “They say I can’t have no mo’. It broke something inside me they can’t fix. Had to take it out.Took everything out, said I couldn’t have no m
o’, and all I got was a darkie.”

  For a moment, Mushy seemed lost in confusion, then her expression of bewilderment changed to one of amusement. She stepped from the doorway and into the crowded room, around pots and pans, until she stood over Martha Jean. She stooped down and picked up the coat that Mama had tossed there hours ago, then she reached out and touched Judy.

  “So, she’s dark, Mama,” Mushy said, smiling down at the baby. “So what? You oughta kiss her little, black ass and be glad you can’t have no mo’.”

  “You’re drunk,” Mama said angrily, and the spell was broken.We all knew it.We could feel recognizable anger replace incomprehensible insanity, and we began to move tentatively on our seats.

  “I ain’t too drunk to know you need to feed this baby,” Mushy said. “This a hunger cry if I ever heard one.”

  “You so smart, you feed her,” Mama shot back.

  “I’ll get her bottle, ”Wallace said, leaping from his crate before my mind or feet had a chance to respond to freedom.

  We began to stand, stretching arms, rubbing rear ends, and waggling fingers.We crowded in on Mushy until she had touched us all.When we finally released her, she opened her suitcase and took out a white, silk blouse. She knelt beside our mother’s chair.

  “Look, Mama,” she said, “I brought you something.”

  Mama examined the fabric, trailing her fingers along the small, pearl-shaped buttons, then she stared into Mushy’s eyes.“Yeah, you brought me something,” she said solemnly.“Did you mean to bury me in it?” She balled the blouse in her fist and walked stiffly toward her room, leaving Mushy to stare after her.After a moment, Mushy slumped into the chair Mama had vacated, and reached her arms out for Judy.

  “She ain’t nursing this baby?” Mushy asked.

  “Wit’ Carnation evaporated,” Sam answered, stretching his arms and yawning.

  “Mama don’t touch her, ”Tarabelle said. “I ain’t seen her touch her since she brought her home.That’s Martha Jean’s baby.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Mushy said, cradling Judy in her arm to feed her.“Mama always been big on saving things.Y’all mean to tell me she wasting all them gallons of free milk and buying milk from the store? It don’t make no sense.”

  “Lotta things don’t make sense,” Harvey said. “Mushy, you let Tangy Mae feed the baby.You need to go in there and talk to Mama. Can’t none of us do it.We didn’t know ’til now that she can’t have no mo’ babies.You go on in there and talk to her.”

  “Okay,” Mushy agreed reluctantly, “but when I come back, I want something to eat, and I wanna sit someplace where water ain’t dripping on my head.”

  I gave Judy her bottle, and Mushy went in to talk with Mama, while the others moved crates and chairs from the front room, mopped rainwater from the floor, picked up the pieces of the broken clock, and prepared a late supper of sausage and rice.

  thirteen

  Mama was the first one awake the following morning, and gradually we all began to rise.We washed our faces over the waterbasin and tried not to get in each other’s way. The rain prevented Harvey and Sam from going to the train depot, and me and Tarabelle from washing clothes, but Wallace, complaining that someone else should have to do it sometimes, still had to dump the night bucket.

  I sat on my pallet and held Judy while trying to determine my mother’s mood by the style of her hair. It was hanging loose down her back, and I figured, Keep quiet, stay out of her way, we’ll be all right.

  To my surprise, Mama appeared pleasant enough as she sipped her coffee and chatted with Mushy.“How long you gon’ stay?” she asked.“I hope you ain’t gotta run right back. It’s been so long since you been home.”

  “I know, Mama,” Mushy agreed. “I’ll be here a week. That all the time I could get off.”

  “Mushy works in a hospital,” Mama shared with the rest of us.

  “Just think, if I’d been in Cleveland, Mushy mighta been the one took care of me.”

  “Do you know how to deliver babies, Mushy?”Wallace asked, coming in and hanging his jacket on a nail.

  “No,” Mushy answered, and as she spoke she made an effort to remember her signs so that she could include Martha Jean in the conversation. “I work in the dietary kitchen. Biggest kitchen you ever wanna see, Wallace. No thermometers and bedpans for me.”

  “What’s a bedpan?’ Laura wanted to know.

  “Well, it’s kinda like the night bucket, only it’s flatter, and it’s for people who can’t get out of bed,” Mushy explained.

  “Ugh, ”Wallace said, “I’d rather be in that big dietary kitchen, too.”

  “Mushy’s a nurse,” Mama insisted. “I can’t wait to tell Janie Jay.

  She all time bragging ’bout that daughter of hers went off to New York to sew clothes for movie stars. I just bet that’s what she doing. I can’t wait.”

  “I ain’t no nurse, Mama.Tan’s gonna be our nurse,” Mushy said, steering the conversation away from herself. “You still getting A’s, Tan?”

  “That’s all she do is read, ”Tarabelle said. “She oughta get A’s.”

  “That girl think she gon’ spend the rest of her life in school, but I got news for her,” Mama said. “She gon’ get off her lazy ass and get a job.”

  Mushy gave me a look that said, sorry I got you into this, then she stood.“I’m gon’ get outta here for a bit, Mama, and say hey to a few people.”

  “In this rain? Who you think want you tracking mud in they house in all this rain.You act like you ain’t got no sense.”

  “I ain’t got none, neither,” Sam said, pulling his coat from the wall. “I’ll walk wit’ you, Mushy.”

  “Mushy, I thought you came to spend time wit’me,” Mama said.

  “I did, Mama, but I’ll have time to spend wit’ you. I’ll be here all week.”

  Mama began to sulk even before Mushy and Sam left the house, and when they were gone, she kicked a foot in Tarabelle’s direction.“ You and Tangy Mae, get on up and go wash them clothes,” she said.“Little bit a rain ain’t gon’ hurt nothing. It’ll just rinse the clothes cleaner.”

  We worked in a relentless downpour and, during the entire time, Tarabelle never spoke a word. Mud covered our shoes, socks, and legs, and the area around the tub was slick from our tracks. At one point, Harvey stuck his head out the back door and told us to come in, but I didn’t because Tarabelle refused to.

  We pinned the clothes to the line, but the weight of extra water caused the line to sag and the blankets to drag on the ground. Tarabelle pulled the blankets down and washed them again. This time we folded them into thirds, and the pressure of the thick folds snapped the wooden pins, but we finally managed to hang them up, then we went inside to dry our hair and warm our bones by the kitchen stove.

  About an hour later, Mushy returned. She entered through the back door, kicked off her muddy shoes, then rushed through the rooms to see where our mother was. Satisfied that Mama was napping, Mushy huddled us together at the kitchen table and told us we were going to a party.

  “Tan, I’m gon’ help you fix yo’ hair,” she said excitedly, “and y’all can wear something from my suitcase. Sam’s gon’ get us a ride, and we getting outta here and gon’ have us a good time.We going to Stillwaters. Just don’t say nothing to Mama.”

  My mouth dropped open and I glanced at Harvey. He was sitting with an elbow resting on the table, and he stared at Mushy as she spoke. Not once did he attempt to reason with her, so I assumed he wanted to go, and I knew I wanted to.

  “Mama gon’ kill us,” Harvey said finally, a wide grin on his face.

  Mushy stepped around the table, draped her arms over his shoulders, and kissed the top of his head.“So we have a good time before we die,” she said.“The way I figure it, we’ll . . .” She stopped mid-sentence.

  We could hear Mama coming through the house. She paused in the front room to tell Laura and Edna to get their newspapers and crayons away from the stove.“I can smell that crayon melting, y�
��all so close to the damn stove,” she scolded.“Y’all gon’ end up setting this house on fire.”

  We could hear the crumple of the newspapers as Laura and Edna moved their coloring away from the leaking water and the stove.Then Mama appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Mushy, was that you just come in my room?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Mama, but I thought you was sleep. I didn’t wanna wake you,” Mushy said, transforming in the blink of an eye from scheming and conniving to sweetness and innocence.“I didn’t get far before I thought about how you was right. I came to spend time wit’ my mama, and that’s just what I’m gon’ do.Them other people can wait.”

  If Mama was aware that Mushy had been gone for hours, she didn’t mention it. She settled in at the table and began to ask Mushy question after question about Ohio.A short time later, Sam stepped in through the back door and nodded at Mushy.He hung his coat, then pulled up a crate and sat between Harvey and Wallace to listen to Mushy’s fabrications. Martha Jean worked at the stove, and I slipped away to join my younger sisters in the front room.

  A little after dark, Mr. Frank’s car pulled up outside and Miss Pearl struggled up the muddy bank, then rolled into the house breathing heavily. She held Judy for a second, used one edge of the baby’s blanket to wipe rain from her face, then handed her back to Martha Jean.“You ready, Rosie?” she asked.“Time to get you outta here.Time for you to celebrate making it through that birth. For a minute there, it didn’t look like you was gon’ make it.”

  “What you thinking ’bout doing, Pearl?” Mama asked.

  “I thought you might wanna come up to the house for a bit. Frank’s got a fifth of gin, and Belinda and Calvin gon’ drop by later, maybe a few mo’ people.We can put on some records and let you get the shake back in yo’ hips.” Miss Pearl stuck her elbows out, tooted her rear end up, and began to shake her heavy hips.