by Janet Walker
***
Despite the chill December night, the skin beneath Tracy’s nose was damp with a film of sweat, and she heard in her ears the faint beginning of cardiac thudding. She stood on her mother’s front porch between Uncle Ed and Aunt Madge, two tall pillars of protection who were neither drunk nor high nor stupid but were serious real adults who knew how to handle things, and yet Tracy still could not keep her body from reacting the way it always did when she knew she was about to face Mama’s anger. In her uncle’s hand was a large empty suitcase; across his shoulder hung an overnight bag. Tracy gripped a small suitcase and an empty duffel bag.
Ed had knocked, and now they waited. The window shade in the door flipped back, revealing a yellow cast of illumination coming from the back of the apartment—the kitchen light. Diane’s face appeared at the glass and her eyes revealed surprise at seeing the three people, and especially her brother-in-law, on her front porch. Ed had only visited the apartment in Area Place once since returning to Atlanta in February. Now, here he was—with Tracy and Madge, after eight-thirty at night on a Monday in December—and so Diane knew something was wrong.
The two adults and teenager waited as the window shade fell back in place and the inner door opened. Diane unlocked the screen door and gave it a small push, calmly asking, “The hell y’all doin’ here?” She retreated into the living room.
Ed caught the screen door and held it open for his wife and niece to enter first. When they were all inside, Ed shut the inner door behind them and greeted, “Hello, Diane.” The three visitors lingered near the door. The living room was in shadows until Diane, across the room, flicked on a lamp that sat on the end table. The lamp’s low-watt illumination was dull and yellow and Madge, annoyed and irritated, looked about impatiently and spotted the wall switch that controlled the room’s overhead light. She moved toward it, asking Diane, “Does this work?”
“Yeah,” said Diane with an attitude that meant, But I didn’t ask you to turn it on.
Madge ignored her sister’s disapproval. “I need more light than that,” she said and flipped the switch with a finger. White brightness filled the room because of the twin one-hundred-watt bulbs in the ceiling fixture. Everyone blinked from the glare.
The two sisters looked at each other—Diane, with displeasure; Madge, with defiance. Diane, unaccustomed to seeing her meek older sister behave impudently, and intimidated by the unexpected visit, decided not to protest the light. Rather, she was curious about the cause of Madge’s aggression and the reason for their presence. And what the hell was Ed doing there? Diane’s palms were sweaty—the mothafuckas didn’t come for coffee and to discuss the weather, that’s for damn sure—so she walked to the kitchen table, where her cigarettes and a lighter rested, and snatched up the green-and-white cellophane-covered package. Smoking always calmed her nerves. “To what do I owe the honor of this?” she asked mockingly, beating a cigarette out of the pack and looking questioningly at Madge and Ed.
Two of the visitors, the man and teenager, hesitated, but the third was curt and outspoken.
“We came to get Tracy’s things. She’s coming to live with us permanently.”
Diane drew in her chin as if the news insulted her. “Oh, really?” she asked sarcastically, holding the unlit cigarette between her middle and index fingers.
“Yes.”
“Since when you became her mama, Madge?”
“Since I learned the truth about you, Diane.”
Diane hesitated, eyes stretched wide with the fear of one about to be exposed. “The hell you talkin’ ’bout?” she scoffed. She picked up the lighter from the table, fidgeted with the head, flicked it. It clicked but produced no flame.
Madge looked at her niece and ordered, “Go and get the things you want to take back with you.”
Diane glared at Tracy, daring her to obey. The teen carefully avoided her mother’s eyes and quickly went into the bedroom she had always claimed as her own. Ed calmly walked to the bedroom doorway, handed Tracy his empty luggage, and pulled the door shut so that the teen would not hear the adults’ conversation.
Diane, who had watched him, now scoffed contemptuously and busied herself with the lighter. It was still ineffective. “Shit,” she said and tossed the lighter onto the table. “Where the hell is—?” She looked at Ed. “You still smoke a pipe, bruh-in-law? Gotta light?” There was something mocking in her voice.
Ed shook his head. “No,” he answered gravely. Both he and his wife watched the short pale woman curiously, as if seeing her for the first time and not liking what they saw.
Diane was now certain that they knew. Finally. Her heart began to beat hard and she walked to the kitchen sink and began removing the dirty dishes and placing them on the counter. Damn stupid Tracy must have told them or that bitch coach, which is one of the reasons Diane hadn’t wanted the child to spend so many weekends with the woman. She knew Tracy—knew she would be dumb enough to finally open up to the first somebody who took a big interest in her. But that didn’t matter now. The fact was, Madge knew, and Diane had never wanted that. She was convinced Madge had held a sixteen-year grudge because Diane had not let Madge have custody of Tracy years ago. For that reason, Diane believed Madge went through the years waiting, expecting—even hoping—that Diane would turn out to be a failure as a mother. The skin under Diane’s nostrils glistened with perspiration, but she was not angry at Tracy for the betrayal—at least, not as angry as she thought she’d be when this moment arrived. No, she was more curious than angry. What the hell did Madge expect to do about it? Even with Ed standing there, Diane was eager to see if her older sister would finally have the backbone needed to confront somebody—to call Diane out and give Diane a reason, finally, to knock the hell out of her goody-two-shoes religious ass.
“How could you, Diane?”
Diane did not stop her work at the sink. “How could I what?”
Madge’s chest rose and fell with emotion, and her eyes became moist and pink. “I’ve always loved Tracy, you know that. And if I had known what you were doing to that child—!” Her voice cracked tearfully.
Diane released the plate in her hand—it clattered back into the sink—but still did not face her visitors. “What?” she challenged. “What you woulda did, Madge?”
“I would not have let you raise her!”
Diane spun around to face them. She was incredulous. “Let me raise her?” She laughed. “And how was you gon’ stop that, Madge?”
Madge opened her mouth as if to respond, then shot a glance at Ed and remained quiet.
Diane chuckled again and sneered. “The real problem is you couldn’t stand the fact that I had a child when yo dried-up ass couldn’t have none!”
“That’s not necessary, Diane,” reprimanded Ed.
“It’s true! Madge always was jealous of me! Even when we was children! That’s what this about!”
“No,” denied Madge, “this is about you abusing that child! Beating her until she’s bruised and bleeding! Stabbing her! Burning her!” She succumbed to sobbing but continued with vehemence. “That’s what this is about, Diane! Don’t try to turn it into something else!”
“I ain’t turnin’ it into nothin’ else ’cause it ain’t ’bout nothin’ else! Tracy done told y’all a buncha lies, that’s all, and like a fool you done fell for it. Like you always do!”
Madge was no longer sobbing. “Oh, so she’s lying about Charles coming into her room and touching her.” It was a truth Tracy had admitted to Madge after Grace left them an hour ago.
“He wadn’t tryna touch her! He thought he was in our room!”
“Oh, goodness, Diane…”
“He was drunk!”
“I’m sure he was.”
“I don’t give a fuck whether you believe it or not, Madge! I know what happened! All Tracy do is lie!”
“And so it was Virginia Daggett and her friends who beat her in August.”
“I ain’t got to answer to you. Who the hell you think y
ou is?”
“And I guess Virginia Daggett put hot steel and cigarettes on her skin.”
“Yeah! Yeah!” answered Diane with sarcasm. “She did that, too.”
Madge looked at Diane, fascinated and repelled. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No—you the one unbelievable! Comin’ up in here like y’all the damn p’lice! Tellin’ me you gon’ keep my chile. I wanna see you try!”
Ed’s interruption was the calm, unflinching voice of the military officer. “It’s really simple, Diane: You can either voluntarily turn over legal custody of Tracy to us, or we’ll take you to court and you will lose her because we will find every person in this project who’s ever seen a bruise on that girl, or seen you drunk or high, who knows every man you’ve ever screwed and every woman you’ve ever fought, and who has seen you with a crack pipe in your mouth in the presence of your daughter—and have them testify about your fitness as a mother. And I think you know how that’ll turn out.”
Diane glared up at Ed with so much contempt her eyes watered from the effort. Unable to do anything else, she chuckled. “Y’all think y’all hurtin’ me? Y’all ain’t hurtin’ me. Take Tracy!” she offered. “I don’t give a shit. I never wanted her, anyway.”
Madge glanced worriedly at Tracy’s bedroom door.
“What?” Diane mocked. “You scared she gon’ hear? You think she don’t already know? I never wanted her, Madge, you know that. And you know why.”
The sisters looked swiftly at each other, stiff with the dread of those sharing unspeakable knowledge.
“Then why didn’t you let me have her, Diane? You knew I wanted a child and you knew I loved her. Why didn’t you just let me have her?”
The look on Diane’s face was that of someone savoring, actually enjoying, the taste of a deadly potion. “’Cause,” she answered frankly, “I knew that’s what you wanted.”
The room grew still. Between the sisters, contempt breathed. And then Tracy walked out of the bedroom with suitcases in hand.
Ed immediately stepped forward and took the burdens from the girl. “I got it,” he said softly, placing the pieces near the front door. Tracy reentered the bedroom and a moment later reappeared with the rest of the baggage, as well as a pillowcase stuffed with items. She handed these also to her uncle.
“You have everything you want?” Madge asked. “Make sure,” she added meaningfully.
The girl lowered her head and spoke softly. “I got everything.”
Madge looked at Diane. When she spoke again, it was with a chilling resolve that impressed even her husband. “If you ever put your hands on that child again, Diane, I swear to Jehovah I will choke you to death with my own hands.”
Diane feigned surprise. “Oooo. Miss Jee-hovah Witness talkin’ like that?” She feigned a shudder. “I’m so scared.”
“You should be,” Ed warned.
Diane looked at the tall ex-military leader and was silent. Tracy stood away from the adults, near the front door, regarding the scene with awe and satisfaction—and fear, for she knew her mother’s propensity to explode. Diane cocked her head to dramatically indicate she had shifted her gaze from the two adults standing before her to the teen standing behind them. “Don’t think you did sump’m here. You always gon’ have to answer to me!”
Madge and Ed turned to leave.
“Let’s go, Tracy.”
The visitors moved to the front door.
“You hear me? They don’t care nothin’ ’bout you!”
Tracy opened the door for her uncle, whose hands were full, and her aunt, who placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders as they walked out.
“Who wanna stupid chile? A dummy? They just wanna get income tax offa you!”
The three visitors had crossed the threshold, and Madge now closed the door behind them.
Diane rushed to the door and yanked it open. Into the dark night, through the mesh of the screen door, she yelled, “You love her so much, Madge, tell ’er the truth!”
Madge secured her arm around Tracy’s shoulders and hurried forward.
“Tell ’er the truth!” Diane hesitated. “Or the next time I see her, I will!”
They continued along the sidewalk, on their way to the Buick parked at the curb. “The truth about what?” Tracy asked her aunt softly.
“Never mind,” said Madge. “It’s not anything you need to know right now.”