Maude

  In spite of this, the judge decided that, since Gene hadn’t saved receipts, he was in default and ordered him to pay the contested amount. It took a big chunk out of his savings.

  There was one good outcome of the hearing. When we stopped for a meal on the way home from court, he picked at his food, shoving it around his plate. “I guess you were right about her all these years, Mom. I finally saw Evelyn through your eyes. I always hoped I could make her love me, but I know now that she never did, not one single day.”

  Gene had finally stopped loving the woman he’d cherished and pursued for almost twenty years. He could now think about finding a woman who would love him for himself. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought, “Let Evelyn enjoy the money. We’re finally rid of her.”

  When she was nineteen, Donna married Lonnie Mabry, a young man who’d courted her off and on throughout their teens. Gene never liked him, but he never liked any of the boys Donna knew. Lonnie was in the Army, just out of basic training. They had a small wedding at the Baptist church, and he left for his advanced training class. Donna went on living with her grandmother Mayse.

  In the middle of her first year of marriage, Donna was overjoyed to tell me she was expecting her first child. We’d always loved children, and all of us, even Paul, looked forward to the baby coming.

  Chapter 76

  Gene came to see me every afternoon for the first few weeks after George and Betty Sue died. I knew he was grieving, and being with me seemed to comfort him.

  One afternoon he drove up in a 1958 cream and tan Pontiac Bonneville. I went out to admire it. Gene was proud of the car. It was the first one he ever owned. He drove me around the block, and when we got back to my house, he parked it out front and told me, “If I’d had a car the day dad fell, I could have picked him up and driven him to the hospital myself instead of waiting all that time for the ambulance. I don’t ever want to be in that position again.”

  I understood. “I know, but don’t go punishing yourself. Your dad was in pretty bad shape from the fall. I don’t think he would have made it anyway.”

  “Still, I have one now.”

  “That’s good, Gene.”

  We went inside, and he sat at the kitchen table. I made him something to eat and mentioned the subject I’d been thinking about ever since the funeral.

  I brought it up carefully. “Do you ever think about moving back in with us, now that your dad’s gone?”

  Gene took a deep breath. I think he’d been expecting me to ask exactly this. “No, Mom. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “I just thought I’d ask.”

  “You know how I feel about Paul. I don’t think I could live under the same roof with him. You don’t have enough rooms here anyway. You would have to ask Doug or Mr. Crider to move, and I know how good they’ve been to you and how much you like them.”

  “I could always find a bigger place.”

  “Well, the truth is, I’ve been seeing someone pretty regular. Her name is Loretta. I like her a lot, Mom. I want to maybe have a life with her.”

  He’d said that he liked this Loretta, not that he loved her. Maybe that was all for the better. He’d loved Evelyn so much that she’d made his life miserable for a long time.

  I sat next to him and put my hand on his. “You deserve to be happy. I hope it works out for you.”

  Evelyn gave birth to another little girl and named her Linda. Donna was delighted with the baby and brought pictures of her to show to me. Linda was a pretty little thing, with tight blonde curls. She was one more thing that widened the permanent gulf between Evelyn and Gene, and that was fine with me.

  In September of 1962, Donna still worked at the telephone company. She would have to quit soon because the company policy was that she couldn’t work past her sixth month. She visited me about once a week.

  She would be leaving soon for Fort Riley, Kansas. Lonnie had found an apartment in Manhattan, a town a few miles from the Army base. Gene and I hated to see her go, but at the same time, we were proud of her and the life she lived.

  Loretta called to tell me that Gene was having trouble with his kidneys and was in the Harper Hospital for treatment. I called Donna to let her know. She had her own car, so she stopped by and picked me up, and the two of us went to see him together.

  Gene’s face lit up when Donna came in the room. She’d had morning sickness for a long time but had finally been able to keep down enough food that she’d put on some weight. In her sixth month, her being in a family way was finally beginning to show.

  Gene gave her a big smile. “I’m fine. I’m only in here for some tests. Don’t let it worry you. You go ahead out to Kansas. I’ll be out of the hospital in a few days and back to work on Monday.”

  I was cheered a little by his behavior and the pink on his cheeks.

  Lonnie came home on leave, and after a final visit to the hospital, he and Donna left on their trip to Kansas.

  Donna wrote home to me right away with her address and phone number, and we wrote letters to one another about every two weeks.

  Donna’s daughter Melanie was born at Erwin Army Hospital at Fort Riley in November of 1962. Donna called to say it was a quick and easy delivery.

  Gene and I treasured the pictures of the pretty little girl Donna sent home with her next letter.

  Chapter 77

  I’d lost one son and both my daughters. George died, and Donna lived half way across the country. Soon, my life changed even more, and for the worse. Mr. Crider, who was one of my last two boarders, became ill and went to live with his son and daughter-in-law. The other boarder, Doug, married and moved away. I was left alone in the house with Paul, who still hadn’t found a job to his liking.

  I was often tempted to turn him out, but my weakness kept me from doing it. He passed his days sleeping late, sitting in front of the window, watching television, and going back to bed.

  I kept my house clean, as always. I lived for the few minutes Gene spent with me when he came to visit. He stopped by twice a week and drove me to the market. Most other days if I needed something I had to buy it at the corner store, which was more expensive. I couldn’t carry home more than one bag, and Paul wouldn’t go with me to help.

  When Gene offered to give me money, I usually refused it, saying I was making out all right…but I wasn’t telling him the truth. The truth was my lifetime savings were getting used up fast, and what I drew from Social Security wasn’t enough to support one person, much less two.

  Gene brought his girlfriend Loretta to meet me. When they pulled up in front of the house, I noticed she was driving his car and it struck me as odd. I worried about the way he looked. His skin had a greenish color to it that worried me, and he walked slower than he normally did. I wondered if she drove because he wasn’t well enough.

  We were polite to one another, but I didn’t care for her, and I thought it must be some flaw in my own character. Maybe I would never like a woman my son picked, but I would do my best to make Loretta feel comfortable for Gene’s sake.

  He’d given up his apartment and moved in with Loretta, but they hadn’t married. That didn’t sit well with me. Gene still wasn’t well enough to go to work. He told me that as soon as he was back on his feet, they would have a wedding. As much as I didn’t want him living with a woman who wasn’t his wife, I didn’t care for the idea of Gene marrying Loretta.

  Gene was in and out of the hospital for months. His kidneys, injured in the fall from a roof all those years before, were shutting down on him.

  Loretta worked day shift, so on weekdays I walked over to their apartment and made lunch for him. I was surprised at what she kept in the refrigerator. I’d seen the list of foods Gene’s doctor recommended, and there was too much in there that wasn’t on the list.

  He was still able to get up and eat at the table. I set his plate in front of him. One particular day, I’d carried over some homemade chicken soup. It had always been one of his favorites. I stewed a big hen, added wide
noodles, carrots, celery, and onions, the way he always loved.

  I bought salt substitute especially for the things I made him because his doctor had put him on a salt-free diet. What I made for myself and Paul had regular salt and black pepper.

  He ate a good amount. I sat next to him. “I saw cucumbers in the refrigerator. Are you supposed to be eating things like that?”

  “I guess it’s all right. The doctor gave Loretta a list of what I could have.”

  “What about the other things…radishes, olives?”

  Gene smiled at me. “I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry so much.”

  I did worry. He looked worse every day. I didn’t know if Loretta was helping him or hurting him.

  Chapter 78

  I think now God gives each one of us a measure of happiness for our lives, and some are allowed more than others. It’s like the ration stamps that were handed out during the war, so much butter, so much sugar, and then no more. I also think that sometimes the good stretches are so good that it must count for double time, like the two years when I was married to James.

  The rest of my own happiness was strung out through my life in dribs and drabs, and most of that revolved around Betty Sue and Gene. It tapered off as I lost the ones I loved, first my mother and father, then James, Lulu, then Betty Sue. Now, I was sure I was facing the loss of Gene. It would seem I’d used up my share of happiness.

  Every time I left him, my head ached for hours, sometimes the pain was so sharp I had to take aspirins and lie down in the dark all afternoon before it went away.

  One morning in April of 1963, Loretta called the house to tell me that Gene had been taken to the Harper Hospital in an ambulance. Riding the bus downtown and transferring, it took me two hours to reach the hospital. The whole time, I had to keep myself from running to the front and pounding on the driver so he would drive faster.

  When I got there he was in intensive care. The sight of him scared me half to death. He was lying totally still, with no color in his face. There were two IV tubes in his arms and wires from different monitors attached to him. I held his hand and tried to talk to him. He opened his eyes and managed a weak smile, then closed them again.

  I sat in the chair next to the bed. After several hours, his doctor came in and examined him. When he finished, he took my hand and led me out into the hallway.

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Foley. There isn’t a lot we can do for kidney failure of this sort. I’m going to try transfusing him again. Sometimes it does help quite a lot.”

  “Should I call his daughter? She’s in Kansas. Her husband is in the Army.”

  He hesitated. “Yes, I think you’d better call her.”

  Donna got a flight home with Melanie, and Mr. Crider’s son met them at the airport. They came to my house and picked me up, then drove directly to the hospital. Donna brought the baby into Gene’s hospital room. It was the day after a transfusion, and Gene was better. He was so excited. He sat up on the edge of the bed and held his granddaughter, rocking her in his arms.

  “She’s so beautiful,” he said. “She’s like a big doll, isn’t she?”

  He looked at me. “She looks just like Donna, doesn’t she, Mom?”

  He held Melanie’s face up to his cheek and closed his eyes while he rocked her back and forth for several minutes. We stayed as long as the nursing staff would let us and came back the next day and the day after, staying as long as we could.

  The doctor was amazed at Gene’s improvement, and said that he could probably go home in a few days. He was sitting up, even walking a few steps.

  Donna left Michigan, but I knew she felt uneasy about it.

  A month later, Gene was back in the hospital, this time worse than ever. He slipped in and out of consciousness. I was desperate. I felt so alone, felt as if the whole world were falling in on me. I called Donna again.

  There wasn’t enough money for an airplane, so Donna took the train. It was a long trip, and she had to change trains in Chicago with a layover of three hours. She got home too late. Gene passed away during the night.

  Donna stayed with me while she was in Detroit. We pulled out a drawer from the dresser and put in a pillow to make a bed for Melanie. Donna shared my bed again, the way she had as a young girl.

  I had given birth to five children, and I lost four. It was terrible for me when Lulu died, but there were Bud and Gene to be cared for, and it eased the grief. When Bud died, I had others to look after. Then I lost Betty Sue, and it broke my heart. Now, I’d lost Gene, and it was a thousand times beyond a broken heart. What did I have left to live for?

  Chapter 79

  Gene left a ten-thousand-dollar insurance policy naming me as beneficiary. The funeral home took the promise of part of it to pay for the funeral that cost five thousand dollars.

  Gene took after me in that he had a lifetime habit of saving money. When Donna and I went to the bank where he’d always had his account, they told us the money had already been taken out and the account closed. Donna and I talked late into the night the way we used to, and I told her about Gene’s last days. One of the last things he said to me was that I should give half the money to her. I promised I would send it when I got the check.

  Loretta didn’t come to the funeral, and when we went to her apartment, it was empty. We never found out what happened to Gene’s car. I never heard from Loretta again. I was right not to trust her.

  Donna and Melanie returned to Kansas. I was much more than alone. I was alone with Paul.

  Chapter 80

  Mr. Crider was no longer able to drive, but his son came each Sunday, picked me up, and took me to church. I lived for those few hours each week when I could feel part of a church family again.

  I was broke, my savings gone. I waited for the money to come from the insurance company. It would have to last me as long as I lived. All I had coming in now was my Social Security.

  I prayed the check would come soon. I had to pay rent, the electric, gas, and water. I had to buy groceries for myself and Paul. I made corn meal mush and oatmeal for breakfast, we ate bologna sandwiches for lunch, and mostly collard greens or beans for dinner. I bought just enough meat for seasoning the beans.

  Paul wouldn’t even look for work.

  Two months passed since Gene died, and the check from the insurance company hadn’t come yet. I put in for welfare, but was told it took time to qualify. I gave up the telephone, and it hurt me when I had to tell the paperboy I couldn’t take the Free Press anymore. I’d read the paper every day since before I voted that first time, but I had to cut back wherever I could.

  I’d been looking for the mailman every day, and the check finally arrived. He handed me the envelope that morning and I got my purse, walked the quarter mile to the bank, and deposited it right away.

  When I got home, I was worn out and only wanted to rest. I walked in the house and Paul met me at the door. “I need some money for cigarettes,” he said.

  I hate to tell you that it’s possible for a mother to hate her own child, but sometimes, even if just for a second, it is.

  I shook my head. “You haven’t smoked since your father moved out. You’re going to have to do without or get some sort of a job if you want cigarettes. I can’t afford to buy them for you.”

  He jerked my purse out of my hand and rifled through it. I had about three singles in paper money and some change. He took one of the bills, threw my purse on the table, and strode out of the house.

  Paul came back from the store, pulled his chair up to the front window, and sat, staring out and smoking.

  I thought about calling the police and having them put him out of the house, but didn’t know if they would even come. If they did, would they simply laugh at me? I wanted to force him to get out, to make him leave, but I wasn’t a young woman any more. What if something happened to me and I was all alone? How long would I lie there before someone found me? It was something I feared, so if he needed me, maybe in a way, I needed him.

  There was
no love from Paul toward me either--not that I could see, not ever. Maybe that was my own fault.

  Paul treated me as if I hadn’t lost anything, hadn’t lost James, and Lulu, and Betty Sue, and now Gene. I’d carried and birthed and nursed five children, and this was the only one I had left in my old age. The best thing I could say about him was that it was better to have him in the house than to face dying alone.

  I looked back over my life, all the way back to the day my parents died. If I hadn’t been at my sister’s house, maybe I could have warned them, but I might also have died in the fire with them.

  If I had refused to marry James until after I finished school, would he have waited for me? What would Helen and Tommy have done if I’d said no? They couldn’t have thrown me out of the house.

  If I’d somehow kept James from playing baseball that day, would he still be alive, or would he have hated me for robbing him of his big chance?

  If I’d refused to marry George to keep people from gossiping about me, would I have ever found someone else, or would I have lived out my life as a widow and never had Betty Sue and Gene in my life?

  If I hadn’t nursed Clara and Mom Foley through the flu, would Lulu have been spared the infection? I often wondered if I were the one who brought the thing that killed her into the house.

  If I’d been firmer with Bud and Paul and not let George coddle them, would their lives have turned out better?

  My head pounded with knife-sharp pains. I went to my room and pulled the window shade all the way down. I lay on the bed in the dark afternoon and closed my eyes.

  I’ve heard people say they had no regrets in their lives. I wish I could have said that, but there were so many regrets, so many mistakes.