Moonpie and Ivy

by Barbara O'Connor

  “Pearl might be staying with me for a while. Ain’t that right, Pearl?” Ivy said. “Well, I mean, maybe. We ain’t exactly sure yet, right, Pearl? I mean, Ruby’s liable to come driving up any minute now. You know Ruby.” Ivy poked an elbow into Pearl’s side, but Pearl couldn’t stop staring at Moon. He was taller than Pearl, but that baby face of his made him look younger.

  “How old are you?” Pearl asked.

  “Eleven.”

  He stood up and brushed cookie crumbs off his T-shirt onto the floor.

  “Nice meeting you,” he said, nodding at Pearl. His cantaloupe hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back. He had this slow-moving way about him that fascinated Pearl. Just blinking his eyes seemed to take a minute or two. Closing them. Holding them shut long enough to show his eyelids, as thin and white as tissue paper and rimmed with sparkly gold lashes. Then opening them to reveal those pale blue eyes again. Something spooky about this boy, Pearl thought.

  Suddenly the sound of a car on the road out front broke the silence. Pearl raced to the front door, shoving the screen door open with both hands. But when she reached the porch, the car had disappeared on down the road. Pearl watched the trail of dust fade in the distance. She could feel Moonpie and Ivy behind her.

  Don’t cry, she told herself. Not in front of Ivy. Not in front of that spooky boy. She blinked hard to keep the tears from coming but it didn’t work. She sat on the steps and buried her head in her arms and heard herself sobbing to beat the band. She felt Ivy’s arm around her. Then she heard Moon sit next to her and felt his spooky white hand on her shoulder and she wanted to disappear down that dusty road to nowhere.

  Pearl cried till she couldn’t cry anymore and then she wanted to just lie down right there on the porch and sleep. But she made herself stand up and move toward the door.

  “I think I’ll go back to my room now,” she said. Something about saying those words “my room” made Pearl mad. That little old room wasn’t her room. This wasn’t her house or her porch or her sister or her friend. Only thing she could put her name on was a dirty duffel bag full of secondhand clothes and a box of postcards.

  Pearl sat on the bed and sorted her postcards. She picked one of her favorites. Rows and rows of pine trees, like Christmas tree soldiers. Hundreds of them. She had tried to count them once but gave up. Across the top, in letters formed by twigs, was written: “I’m Pining for You.”

  Pearl turned the card over and wrote:

  Dear Mama,

  Please come back.

  Love,

  Pearl

  4

  Pearl pushed her face so deep into the pillow she could barely breathe. Then she sniffed as hard as she could. Nothing. Not even the tiniest trace of Shalimar. Pearl had sniffed that pillow every night, and every night the scent had faded a little more. Then one day Ivy had washed the pillowcase and Pearl had thrown such a hissy fit that Ivy had cried.

  Pearl rolled over and stared at the ceiling. A jagged crack ran from one corner clear across to the other side. It reminded Pearl of the mountains. She and Ruby had lived in the mountains once. Near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Pearl had loved it there. Loved the cool, moist air. Loved the woods. Moss growing everywhere like a green carpet. Some man named Howard had taken her and Ruby out to dinner nearly every night. And then they moved.

  Pearl could hear Ivy in the kitchen. She got up and looked around for her shorts and T-shirt. She opened the dresser drawer. There they were, folded neatly in the drawer along with the other things she had worn since she’d been there. Pearl snatched them out of the drawer. She put on the shorts and T-shirt and stuffed the other things back into her duffel bag. Then she looked at herself in the mirror. She saw her eyebrows squeezed together in a knot and the corners of her mouth turned down.

  “Frown, frown. Turn it upside down,” she heard Ruby sing inside her head.

  She shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. Ivy was on the phone.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” she said quickly when she saw Pearl. Then she looked down at the floor, blushing, and said, “Same here,” before hanging up.

  “Now,” Ivy said. “What can I fix you this morning, Miss Pearl? I got to go in to work today. I been off too long already. But I’m working the lunch shift, so I don’t have to go in for a while.”

  Pearl shrugged.

  “How about pancakes?” Ivy said.

  “Okay.”

  “Moon’s going to start digging that tomato garden today.”

  Pearl flopped into a chair and yawned.

  “I just thought you might be glad to have some company, is all,” Ivy said. “Gets kind of lonesome out here by yourself.”

  “I like being by myself,” Pearl said.

  “Well, lucky is the man who can enjoy his own company, my daddy used to say.” Ivy poured pancake batter into the sizzling pan. “Your granddaddy,” she added.

  “What was his name?”

  Ivy stared at Pearl. “What was his name?” She shook her head and flipped a pancake over. “Russell,” she said, then clamped her teeth shut and turned back toward the stove.

  “Russell what?” Pearl asked.

  Ivy whirled around so hard drops of pancake batter flew off the spatula onto the table in front of Pearl.

  “Do you mean to tell me Ruby didn’t never even tell you her own family’s name?” Ivy’s neck was splotched with red.

  Pearl drew a line through the drops of pancake batter with a butter knife.

  Ivy scooped pancakes onto a plate and set them in front of Pearl. Then she pushed a cat off a chair and sat down. “Patterson,” she said. “His name was Russell Patterson.” She took the top off the syrup bottle and handed it to Pearl. “My mama called him Rusty”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Oh, some big fancy medical word I can’t pronounce and you wouldn’t understand anyway,” Ivy said. “She died when we was little. Ruby don’t even remember her. I’m a lot older than Ruby, you know.”

  Just then the phone rang, and Pearl’s heart dropped into her stomach. There, she thought. That must be Mama. She tried to make her face look calm. Her mind raced to think of what she was going to say when Ruby started crying and carrying on about how she didn’t mean to upset everybody and go pack up ’cause she’s on her way back. Pearl sat frozen in her chair while Ivy said, “Hello?”

  Then she slumped back and dropped her hands in her lap when Ivy said, “But I told Genevieve I was going to work the lunch shift today” Pause. “Oh, keep your shirt on, Jay I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She slammed the phone down and untied her apron.

  “I got to go in to work, Pearl. They can’t do nothing down there without me.” Ivy piled dishes in the sink. “There’s a bike out in the shed. It’s kind of old, but I bet it still works just fine. Have yourself a little tour of Darwood, why don’t you?”

  Pearl had seen all of Darwood she wanted to see.

  “Any malls around here?” she said.

  Ivy chuckled. “There’s a Belk’s down on Route 1. That’s about it.”

  Pearl sat on the couch and listened to Ivy’s car disappear down the road. The clock on the kitchen wall seemed to tick louder. A fan whirred in the window beside her. She traced the roses on the couch fabric. Then she got up and wandered around the room. She ran her hands along the tabletops and over the backs of chairs. On the top of the TV she wrote “Ruby” in the dust with her finger, then wiped it off. She opened drawers and peered inside. Looked like Ivy was a saver. Receipts, matchbooks, combs, those little pocket sizes of tissue.

  Pearl went down the hall to Ivy’s room. The bed wasn’t made. A bathrobe lay in a heap on the floor. Over the bed hung a framed, embroidered sign. “Praise the Lord.” Pearl went over to the dresser and inspected Ivy’s things. A silver mirror with a pearl handle. A tube of lipstick. A hairnet. A pink vinyl jewelry box with “Ivy” written in gold letters. Pearl opened it. A ballerina twirled around to a music box tune. Pearl picked through the jewelry. A charm bracelet, a
locket, some hair barrettes. Pearl held up a gold necklace with tiny ballet shoes. She closed her fingers over it and squeezed, pushing the little shoes into her palm. Then she dropped the necklace into her pocket.

  She sat on the bed. Her mama had grown up in this house. Had been a little girl in this house. Pearl wondered which bedroom had been hers and Ivy’s. She ran her hand along the wall, closed her fingers around the doorknob, touching places Ruby had touched.

  Pearl went down the hall to the kitchen and looked out the back door. Moon was in the backyard digging. She was sure she hadn’t made a sound, but he stopped digging and looked at her. She backed away from the window and sat at the table.

  “Hey, Pearl,” Moon called through the screen door.

  Pearl sat still, staring at her hands folded on the table in front of her. Maybe he would go away.

  The screen door opened.

  “Pearl?” He stepped inside.

  Pearl looked up. There he was, looking just as peculiar as before. That cantaloupe hair flopped down over those tissue-paper eyelids. He pushed his hair back, and for the first time Pearl noticed he didn’t have eyebrows. Maybe a few little gold hairs, but that was all.

  “Where’s Belk’s?” Pearl asked.

  “Belk’s?”

  “Yeah, Belk’s.”

  “Why you want to go to Belk’s?”

  “What else am I supposed to do?”

  Moon didn’t answer.

  “What are you doing?” Pearl asked.

  “Digging a garden for Ivy.”

  “You like doing all that work?”

  “I don’t mind it.” Moon wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. His stomach was even whiter than the rest of him.

  “You get paid for doing that stuff?” Pearl asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Shoot, you’re crazy,” Pearl said. “I wouldn’t do none of that if I didn’t get paid.”

  “Ivy helps me with Mama Nell,” Moon said.

  “Who’s that?”

  “My grandma.”

  Pearl sat up.

  “Where’s she?” she asked.

  Moon lifted his invisible eyebrows in surprise. “At my house.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Up there.” Moon threw a hand toward the backyard. Pearl looked out the window. Beyond the withered-up peach orchard, a wooded hill rose in the distance.

  “Up on that hill?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Well, back a ways up there.” Moon stooped to scratch a cat behind the ears. It purred and rubbed its head against Moon’s dirty knees.

  “Why does your grandma need help?” Pearl asked.

  “’Cause she’s old.” The other cat joined the first one, and Moon scratched it with his other hand. He stood up and wiped his face with his T-shirt again.

  “Can’t your mama help her?” Pearl asked.

  “Not.”

  “Why not?”

  “She don’t live around here.”

  Pearl sat up straighter. “Where does she live?”

  “Macon.”

  “What’s she doing living in Macon?”

  Moon shrugged. “Just living, I reckon.”

  Pearl pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. This boy sure could be aggravating.

  “I mean why don’t she live with you?” she snapped.

  Moon shifted from one foot to the other and watched the cats. “Some social worker people come out to the house and said she can’t take care of me,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  Moon shrugged again. “Just ain’t too good at taking care of kids, I guess.”

  “How many kids has she got?”

  “My brother lives over in Lavonia.”

  Pearl could see Moon was getting tired of answering her questions, but she kept on. “With who?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s grown. I ain’t seen him in a while.”

  “What about your daddy?”

  “He ain’t around.”

  “Where’s he?”

  “Jail,” Moon said so low Pearl barely heard him.

  “Jail?”

  Moon just nodded. Pearl almost said, “What for?” but changed her mind. She wanted all the particulars, and she could see Moonpie was in no mood to give particulars. She’d try again later.

  “I got to get back to that digging,” he said. “See you.”

  The screen door slammed behind him. Pearl followed him outside. The backyard was mostly dirt. A chicken coop. A shed. A clothesline. A pitiful-looking vegetable garden.

  Moon was drinking from the garden hose. Mud splattered up on his legs. The cats ran over and drank from a puddle. Pearl sat on the back steps and watched Moon dig.

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” she called out.

  He kept digging. “Yeah,” he said without looking up.

  “Then why don’t you ask?” He didn’t answer, and Pearl stood up and put her hands on her hips. This boy was kind of irritating, she thought.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” she said.

  Moon kept digging. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and he wiped at it, leaving a dirty smudge. Pearl stomped over to him.

  “My mama just up and left.” Pearl flung an arm in the direction of the road. “Just perched her butt behind the wheel of that crappy old car and drove away. What do you think of that?”

  Moon stopped digging and looked at Pearl in his slow-moving way. “I think that’s mean,” he said.

  Pearl made a little “psh” sound. “You want to know what I think?” she said. “I think I don’t really care what she does. That’s what I think.” She smiled, but her face felt like cold stone. She wanted to grab that shovel out of Moon’s hands and bash everything in this miserable backyard. The shed, the clothesline, the brick pile. Maybe even Moon.

  She went to the shed and pulled out the bicycle. The handlebars were bent and rusty. One pedal was missing and the chain drooped onto the ground.

  Moon came over and knelt beside the bike. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth while he put the chain back on. Then he stood up, wiped his greasy hands on his shirt, and went back to his digging.

  Pearl rode the bike across the yard and out into the road. It wobbled and squeaked with every turn of the wheels. She watched the road, dodging holes and rocks. Each time she passed a house, she looked up. Sometimes someone sat on a porch or stood in a yard and stared back at her with a blank face. When she got to the end, where the road met the busy highway, she stopped and got off the bike. A grasshopper jumped in the dry grass beside her. Every now and then a car passed. The strangers inside stared out at her. One woman smiled, but Pearl didn’t smile back.

  She got on the bike and rode back toward Ivy’s house. She rode around the house to the shed, got off, and let the bike fall in the dirt yard. Moon looked up, then went back to digging.

  Pearl sat on the steps and watched him work. This boy was spooky This boy was peculiar-looking. But at least this boy had a face she knew.

  5

  “We need to talk,” Ivy said.

  Pearl held the button on the remote control and watched the channels flip from one to the other. She jumped when Ivy snatched it out of her hand. The TV stopped on a soap opera. A beautiful woman in an evening gown slapped a man in a tuxedo. Smack. Right across the face.

  Ivy turned the TV off. Pearl stared at the black screen.

  “Pearl?” Ivy stuck her face in front of Pearl’s. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay” Pearl looked at Ivy and waited. Ivy’s forehead wrinkled up and her eyes darted around. She sighed and dropped her head back on the couch.

  “What are we going to do, Pearl?” she said.

  Pearl looked at the black TV screen again.

  “About what?” she said.

  Ivy sat up and put her hand on Pearl’s knee. “About you.”

  Pearl lifted her shoulders and let them drop. She studied Ivy’s fingernails, all chipped up and kind of dirty.r />
  “I don’t think I’ve slept a whole night since you been here,” Ivy said. “I can’t help but think I ought to be doing something but, I swear, I don’t know what to do.” Her chin quivered. Pearl sat still, waiting.

  “John Dee says I ought to call the police … you know, in case Ruby’s sick or hurt or something,” Ivy said. “He says that’s probably why she ain’t come back to get you. But he don’t know Ruby like you and I do, does he?”

  Pearl shook her head.

  “Do you think Ruby ain’t come back ’cause she’s sick or hurt or something?” Ivy asked.

  Pearl shook her head again. She felt Ivy’s arm around her shoulder. Felt herself being pulled close to Ivy. Felt Ivy’s hand brushing the hair out of her eyes.

  Ivy sighed again. “Me neither,” she said.

  They sat like that for a while, Ivy stroking Pearl’s hair, Pearl keeping her head on Ivy’s bony shoulder, smelling her bacon-grease smell.

  “I was thinking maybe we ought to call your daddy,” Ivy said.

  Pearl froze. She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed for Ivy to just be quiet.

  “I mean, I don’t even know the man,” Ivy said, “but I feel sure he’d want to know about this, don’t you?”

  Pearl looked down at the floor. She could see a marble under the TV and wondered where it came from. Moonpie, maybe. Or maybe Mama as a little girl. Maybe that marble had been there for years.

  Ivy jiggled Pearl’s shoulder. “Well, what do you think?” she said.

  “I don’t know where he is,” Pearl said.

  Ivy’s face dropped. “Oh,” was all she said.

  “Mama knows where he is, but she says she don’t,” Pearl said, keeping her eyes on that marble. “I hear her on the phone trying to get money from him. She must think I’m stupid.”

  “Ruby thinks everybody’s stupid but her.” Ivy’s voice got all tensed up and edgy “Thinks nobody’s got any feelings but her. Thinks she can just prance around doing whatever she pleases and it don’t matter one little bit.” Ivy swiped at a tear. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a tissue. “She ain’t changed a bit since the day she was born. Me, me, me—that’s all she’s ever cared about.” Ivy blew her nose.