Roseflower Creek

by Jackie Lee Miles

  "Okeedokee, okeedokee…" he said. Isn't he something? He didn't complain or nothing. I blew him a kiss as best I could through that metal screen and barely made it down the ladder steps 'fore I started shrieking. I wanted to be brave, but I was a coward for sure.

  "Uncle Melvin!" I said. "I got me these powerful aches in my legs. I think I done caught the polio!" I jumped around in a circle like a chicken got his head cut off and don't know it yet.

  "You got one a' them charley horses, Lori Jean," Uncle Melvin said, "from standing on your toes so long. Let me help ya'."

  "You sure it ain't the polio, Uncle Melvin?" I cried. "It hurts bad, reeeeaaal bad!"

  "It's a charley horse, sweet thang," he said. He set me on the ground and started to rub the back of one a' my legs that had a knot big as his fist in it.

  "Yep. It's a charley horse, all right. Had me plenty a' them," he said.

  "They's two a' them, Uncle Melvin," I said. "And if they's horses, they thinks they's wolves. They sure enough do."

  "Here, let me rub the other one, too," Uncle Melvin said. "Have you fixed up in no time." Like always, he was right. Them horses took off for parts unknown, just like he said they would. But they came back a few times on me in the middle of the night, and I jumped out of bed and stomped up and down, howling like I's the wolf. Then I rubbed them good like Uncle Melvin showed me and they took off for wherever it was cramps come from. Fancy that! They hurt me a bunch before they leaved, but I tried to think on what MeeMaw always said.

  "Everything's a blessing, Lori Jean. You remember that. All things work for the glory of God, so praise His name in all things, ya' hear?" she said, or something like that, best I recall. So I'm glad I got me them charley things that day at Grady Hospital while I was standing on that stepladder too long. If I wouldn't a' got me them charley pains that day, whilst I read that story over and over to Little Irl, then I wouldn't a' knowed what to do with 'em when they come at me in the middle of the night, when there weren't no one close by to help me. So MeeMaw was right. Everything's a blessing, I guess. Exceptin', I couldn't see how Irl's polio was a blessing. That part had me real confused. I figured MeeMaw could of explained it, but it was beyond me. When I asked Mama, she didn't have no answer. She said she wished she did. And I couldn't hardly ask Uncle Melvin and Aunt Lexie how it was a blessing for Little Irl to suffer. Didn't seem right. So I put that question in my heart in a spot with all the others I'd saved up. I planned on asking Jesus for the answers once I growed old and died and went to heaven like MeeMaw.

  All them months Lexie grew the new baby in her tummy, we watched Little Irl get worse. It hurt so bad to see him stuck in that iron lung machine. It got so I hated looking through that mesh window when I climbed the stepladder every Sunday after church. Mama'd climb up first, then Uncle Melvin, and then me. Aunt Lexie couldn't climb it much in the end. Her belly got too big and Melvin was sore afraid she'd fall. She'd stand below the window and yell out, "It's Mama, sugar! Can you hear me, honey?"

  "Mama…Mama…" Little Irl called back that first time Uncle Melvin wouldn't let Lexie up the ladder no more.

  "See me! See me!" Little Irl said. "Climb up, Mama, see me!"

  "I can't, baby," Lexie said. Her voice cracked. "But I will, honey, soon's this new little brother or sister you got comin' gets here, okay?" she yelled. "Mama loves you, punkin. Be brave, okay?"

  "Okeedokee…" Irl said, no crying or complaining. He was a special one, I'm telling ya'. That day when I watched Lexie call out to Little Irl, knowing they couldn't hold each other like mamas and little childrens is supposed to, and knowing how much Lexie loved hugging and kissing on her childrens every chance she got, some more pieces of my heart got broke off.

  "How many parts can I lose…" I asked God, "and still have me one left?" He must of thought I was funning—and I wasn't— 'cause he didn't answer. Then one a' them miracles happened. Irl, he started getting better. The doctors said they couldn't rightly explain it. Somes got better, somes didn't, and somes died.

  So we had ourselves some really good news what with Irl getting better. It wasn't long after that the doctors let Uncle Melvin and Aunt Lexie bring him home from the hospital. What a day that was. First we all got down on our knees and thanked God for the miracle he give us. Even Ray. Exceptin' he didn't move his lips with the rest of us when we said the big prayer named after the Lord, but still he kept on his knees all the while we prayed it, so I figured it counted. Then we had ourselves one fine party with store-bought cookies and Co-Cola, even. And the days that followed kept getting better. I was mighty happy, I'm telling ya'. Nothing wrong with that. I figured God wants us all to be happy or why'd he make us? Even so, I should of knowed to be prepared for when the bad days come, 'cause MeeMaw showed me in the Bible once where it's promised we get a equal share of each, but I forgot about that part. Made the days to come even tougher to take, not being prepared and all. MeeMaw said the bad times was to make us kinder people.

  "Suffering does a heap bit a' good, child," she said. "Makes us privy to the pain of others. Helps us appreciate all the good the Lord sends our way, 'cause then we got something to compare it to. Always remember, Lori Jean, when it's over, we're better people for it." And I believed her. All the same, it was hard to take when the bad come calling, especially the way it chose to do it.

  I was helping Lexie with the twins after school. She was fixing to have the new baby any day and her belly was popped out front like a watermelon shoulda already burst.

  "Doc Crawley says it's gonna be a big'un," she told Uncle Melvin. "Honey, I jist don't think I can take the pain again."

  "Now, sugar, the second time is gonna be a whole lot easier. Don't you fret none, ya' hear?" he told her. She was still pretty much having herself a hissy fit each day it got closer. It was pretty much getting me upset, too. All that blood and screaming last time.

  "What's it like havin' babies, Mama?" I asked that night after supper when we was washing up the dishes. We was having one of them girl talks, getting closer all the time. I was almost ten. Ray was sitting out on the steps leading up to the trailer, acting real strange, all peaceful like, which weren't like him a'tall. Hadn't had a drop a liquor we knowed of in a month of Sundays. He was like Chester Britt's yo-yo, he was. 'Cepting Melvin said this time Ray's being sober might could be permanent on account he near died in the fire.

  "Did ya' hear me, Mama?" She was lost in her daydreams, I guess, and didn't answer.

  "What?"

  "That pain ladies have when they's havin' babies, what's it like?"

  "No sense frettin' yourself over that none, Lori Jean. It'll come soon enough, I reckon."

  "I'm not frettin', Mama. I jist want ta' understand is all. How come it hurts so much? And why can't them doctors give Lexie somethin' so she won't have to suffer so bad?"

  "'Cause there just ain't nothin' strong enough to kill that kinda pain, Lori Jean, and there never will be. It's in the Bible. It's our punishment for Eve givin' Adam that apple to eat when the Lord done told her not to."

  "But Mama, that ain't fair. Lexie wouldn't give nobody a apple they wasn't s'posed to have, nohow," I said.

  "Well, life ain't fair, Lori Jean. It's spelled L-I-F-E. If 'n it were fair, it'd be F-A-I-R. You best git used to it," she said. I guess there weren't no arguing that. Lexie was on her own.

  The very next morning it happened. It was still dark when Uncle Melvin dropped the twins off at our place and hauled Lexie off in the Chevy to the hospital clear over in Decatur. I ran outside in my nightie to tell Lexie I'd be praying for a miracle, so's God would forgive Eve what she done, but they was clear down the dirt road 'fore I could.

  "Lori Jean," Mama called out, "git back inside 'fore you catch a shiver." It was right cold that winter morning at that. March 12. I remember 'cause late the next night Melvin and Lexie had themselves a baby girl on March 13. It was a Friday and Mama said it was bad luck; that the baby was born with a cloud over her head for sure and only bad things would h
appen to her. They named her Iris Anne. She weighed eight pounds and had black hair like Melvin and a whole lot of it, too. It took Lexie near two days trying to get that baby out and after all that she had herself one of them cereal sections where they cut her belly open. Her and little Iris near died. It's the only time I recall ever hearing Melvin curse.

  "Why in the hell them jackass doctors couldn't a' done that golldang operation to begin with instead a' puttin' her through all that sufferin' is beyond me," Melvin said. He was fit to be tied. "I oughta kick ass and take names a' them sons-a-bitchers," he said.

  Later he found out why they waited so long and then he really started cursing, and I ain't gonna repeat them words he said nohow, being so close to heaven and all. The reason was they wanted ta' make sure he had hisself the right kind a' assurance or something from the cotton mill so's it would pay the bill. It cost over one hundred dollars! Seems rich folks git that operation 'fore they pay, but poor folks gotta pay first. In the end Melvin said the only reason they done the operation at all was to save her life.

  "Lexie was dyin'," he said, "and they figured the baby might, too, so's they had no choice. Otherwise they woulda left her sufferin' 'til she got that young'un out on her own, them sons-a-bitchers." Those are his own words 'cause I'm not trying to swear me no words. He was so mad I'm telling ya'. It was really something and I don't rightly blame him none. Seems like the right thing to do would be treat everybody the same.

  Uncle Melvin was fretting all that week about the hospital wanting their money and the doctors pestering him about filing some papers so's they could get paid. Mama was having a time of it, too. She was fretting herself over all the doctor and hospital bills stacking up from Ray's time in the burn unit at Grady. She tried to keep 'em from Ray. I think she was afraid he'd start drinking again if he seen how many there was. I heard her and Uncle Melvin talking about going down to the business office together and setting up payments or something.

  "Trouble is, Melvin," Mama said, "there ain't a penny extra for payments. What am I gonna do?"

  It was the first time I seen Melvin didn't have no answers. He just shook his head like he didn't know, and here he always knowed just about everything.

  I could of given my dimes and pennies, but the March of Dimers come weeks ago and got 'em. Melvin didn't have any money to spare, and he was having trouble getting the insurance people to pay what they was supposed to. That's when they took Lexie from this nice room they give her, called her a indigent or something, and put her in another room with twenty-some other ladies. I don't rightly understand it all even now, but it made Melvin's face turn red and his breathing come out funny.

  I coulda told them Melvin was good for paying what he owed. He was the most honest, hard-working man I knowed, but it didn't seem to make no difference to them 'cause Melvin was complaining over and over about how they wouldn't listen and take Lexie back to her regular room where he wanted her. Mama said he was plumb eat up with regret that he didn't have the money to do right by Lexie.

  "Lori Jean, men's ability to take care a' their loved ones is all tied up with their manness. If 'n they can't do one, they can't do the other." I didn't rightly understand all that none, but Mama knew a whole lotta things now. MeeMaw said that would happen.

  "It's called wisdom, Lori Jean," she said. "You git it by makin' a whole lotta mistakes and remembering them." So my mama was right smart by then 'cause she'd made herself a whole lotta mistakes. Truth be known, Ray was prob'ly her biggest.

  After they took Lexie over to that room with all them other ladies scrunched together, Melvin seemed like a changed man. Plumb angry, he was. Always talking about us and them, and whoever "them" was, he didn't like 'em much a'tall. He'd go see Lexie and the baby every day when he finished at the mill before he'd go over to Mr. Jenkins's trailer lot. Then, when he got done working there, he'd come over to our place to pick up the twins. I always helped carry Alice back to her bed and he took Irl. Then he'd fix me a cold glass of lemonade as a "thank yee" treat.

  It was my favorite time of the day, now Carolee was gone. Uncle Melvin and me, we'd sit and talk and he'd pour hisself a glass of whiskey. He never been one to drink much, but he was doing a bit of it lately, I noticed. But he didn't get mean or nothing like Ray did when he drunk. Fancy that! Ray was sober now and sound asleep next door, fixing to go to work in the morning and Melvin was pouring hisself a whiskey. Life sure had a way of turning tables. MeeMaw always said ya' can't never count on things staying the same.

  "Don't takes nothing for granted, Lori Jean," she said, "'cause just when you think somethin's gonna be one way, it ends up another." Seems she was right. Which didn't surprise me none. She told me herself before she died.

  "Lori Jean, your meemaw hasn't always been right, but she's never been wrong."

  Mama and me, we wanted to put that on her gravestone. She'd of liked that, but it cost extra money, so Ray told them to just put her name on it, be done with it. He wasn't in too good a mood that day, so it's too bad it was her time to die that day 'cause she might would of had herself a nicer grave marker if 'n she'd died the next week. Ray was whooping and hollering and real happy that week. That's when he come over and moved in with us. Mama give him all the money MeeMaw saved up in the jar and he took us all out to dinner for a celebration even. He probably might would of spent some of that money on a nicer grave marker for MeeMaw; I'm pretty sure he mighta, if she'd of died that week 'cause he sure was happy spreading all that money round town. He stayed that way for a couple a' weeks. When the jar got empty he got hisself in a bad mood again. Those days seemed so long ago. That was way before Melvin and Lexie had themselves any babies even.

  "Uncle Melvin, I'd sure like to go with you to see Lexie and the baby tomorrow. It's Saturday. I don't got me any school."

  "Well, baby girl, I wish you could, but they ain't about to let young'uns up on the floor."

  "I'd be real quiet, I would. I promise," I said.

  "Oh, I'm sure you would, Lori Jean. You're 'bout the best little girl I know." I loved it when Uncle Melvin said stuff like that about me. He made me feel real special, even if I wasn't.

  "You see, sweet pea, it's not about being quiet. It's about bringing in them germs you young'uns carry around. That's why you can't visit."

  "Oh," I said.

  "You wouldn't want to get that new little baby sick now, would you?"

  "No, sir. I surely would not," I said.

  "Well, there you go then."

  "But she's comin' home on Monday, you said. What about them germs I'll be carryin' around come Monday? Won't they make the baby sick, too?" I asked.

  "Nah, by then that baby's got immunities from Lexie's milk."

  "'Munnities? What's 'munnities?"

  "Well, it's kinda hard to explain, Lori Jean, but I'll give it a shot." Uncle Melvin scratched at his whisker stubble and scrunched his forehead together.

  "Immunities is, let me see now, immunities is, well, there's this little army of soldiers in your blood that fights with a little army a' soldiers in her blood."

  "So her army's fightin' my army?"

  "Yep."

  "And that's good?"

  "Yep! What do you think about that?"

  "Alls I gotta say is if 'n her army's fightin' my army, I sure hope she forgives me if my army wins."

  Uncle Melvin burst out laughing like I was some kind of clown or something. We had us a fine old time. Being Friday night, Mama let me stay up late, even though her and Ray was tired and went to bed real early.

  "Tell me again about you and Ray when you was growin' up, Uncle Melvin," I said.

  "Those was pretty rough times, Lori Jean. What you want to hear about that for?" he asked.

  "Well, I was hopin' it'd help me be nice to Ray the times he's bein' mean, knowin' what your pa done ta' him and all."

  "Well, he's only mean as thunder when he's drunk, Lori Jean. He's sober right now. Let's just enjoy that, okay?"

  He patted my head and s
queezed past me to reach the whiskey bottle. He took the cork off and poured hisself a tad more. It was the white lightning he bought from old man Hawkins. Mr. Hawkins had one still left, way down yonder by the creek that Maybelle and the revenuers didn't know about. Poor Mr. Hawkins spent time in the jailhouse once a long time ago. Maybelle told on him and he got sent to work on the chain gang over in Jackson. That's how he come to be called old man Hawkins. He come out looking like an old man. Right before she called the law, Maybelle's pa died and left her all his money. So she didn't need Mr. Hawkins to support her none and she told him so. Said she'd put him there again, if 'n he didn't mend his ways and follow the work of the Lord. He was pretty much scared of Maybelle. Mostly he did what she said, 'ceptin' for keepin' that one last still he had. I guess he figured it was worth it. MeeMaw said there's always something a body's fearless over.

  "There's always one thing a body's willing to give their life for, Lori Jean," she said. "The lucky ones find what it is, but don't have to."

  That still must of been the one for Mr. Hawkins 'cause he guarded it with his life, and he sure enough risked his freedom for it. Maybelle didn't abide by no lawbreaking—God's or man's. MeeMaw was that way, too, but she didn't believe in snitching on nobody.