The Land of Mango Sunsets

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “I’ll say!” Charlie said, and laughed. “That bird is so great.”

  “Charlie? I’m the one who taught him to say jackpot,” Kevin said.

  “Charles is a horse’s ass!” Harry said as loud as he could.

  “What?” Charlie said. “What did he say?”

  Priscilla covered her mouth, hiding giggles.

  “Not you. Your father. He likes you.”

  “Well, he’s right about the old man. But I’m just wild about Harry.”

  “I feel a song coming on,” Kevin said.

  “WAH wah,” I said to Kevin. “And you think I make stupid jokes?” Then I turned to Charlie. “Good. I’ll leave Harry to you in my will. He’s only eleven. They live for eighty years sometimes!”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, anyway, this tea service belonged to an old aunt of mine. And I have sterling flatware for you, too! Bring the other box, sweetheart.”

  When Priscilla opened it, I thought she might faint.

  “What? Charlie?” Here came Priscilla’s first example of her thousand-miles-an-hour talking speed. “We need to move, and I mean, tonight! Because we can’t take this back to our neighborhood. I’d have to hide it under the bed and get under there with it! Don’t you know some crack-head will cut our throats for it? No, sir! We’re moving!”

  That was the speech of the weekend and we laughed until we thought we would collapse. Even Charlie agreed. It was probably time for them to move to a lower-risk neighborhood.

  “You can leave it right here until you think it’s safe to take it,” I said.

  “Well, praise God, because I ain’t ready to die tonight!” Priscilla said, and laughed, too.

  We were all draped around the living room in various stages of exhaustion, drinking coffee and tea, picking on leftover cake, saying that Charles got his but wasn’t it a great weekend? Not one of us wanted to bring it to a close.

  But as fate would have it, the party was definitely over a few minutes later when Liz’s cell phone rang.

  “Who in the world wants something from me?” she said, and answered it. “Hello?” Her face became very serious and she said, “Hang on. Y’all, I’m gonna take this outside.”

  “Sure, sweetheart, go in the garden, if you’d like.”

  She did. Well, we couldn’t imagine what it was about, but we were too tired to give it a lot of thought, so we made small talk until she returned. The news had been catastrophic. Her face was drenched in tears, her shoulders were shaking, and she stood there in the middle of the room, arms crossed and gasping between sobs. Priscilla hopped up from the sofa, left, and returned with a box of tissues from the powder room.

  “Honey?” I got up and put my arms around Liz and led her to my favorite chair. “Sit. Tell me. Whatever is the matter?”

  “It’s my momma. She’s dying. She got in a horrible car wreck and there are all kinds of terrible complications. She called to ask me to forgive her. My stepfather…he died about six months ago. She didn’t even tell me. Not that I care, but I could’ve done something for her, right? What am I supposed to do now, y’all? This had to happen now?”

  I wasn’t sure why she thought the timing had to do with anything, but my Charlie was already trying to come up with a solution.

  “We could bring her up here,” Charlie said. “I know a bunch of guys at Columbia who specialize in trauma—”

  “It’s too late. They have her in intensive care but she’s lost so much blood and has so many broken bones and she’s having trouble breathing…”

  “Oh, Liz, honey, I’m so sorry,” Kevin said.

  “I think you have to forgive your mother, Liz,” I said.

  “Mean as she was to me? All the things she accused me of doing? Blamed me for? She ruined my whole childhood with all her lies and games.”

  “Perhaps, but, Liz, sweetheart, listen to me. My mother told me all about it. This might sound like Miriam and not Mellie or Mom or your friend talking, but I’m going to tell you something now that I want you to remember all your life. Are you listening?”

  She sighed, shook her head, and looked up at me. “Yes. What?”

  “When someone’s dying and they ask your forgiveness, it is a greater sin to withhold it. This is no small matter. You have to put your own anger aside and think of her. No matter how she may have hurt you with her own misguided judgment, and I know some of it was terrible, you have to forgive her so she can die in peace. She’s your mother, hon.”

  “So she waits until now? Wouldn’t it have been nice if she had told me when my stepfather died? We could have had six months to talk about all of this.”

  “May I say something?” Priscilla said.

  “Of course,” Liz said. “Why not?”

  “Get on a plane and go to her,” Priscilla said. “Tonight or tomorrow. But go right away.”

  “And just why should I rush to her side?”

  “Because when she dies, you don’t want to live with any regret. And secondly, it will make it easier for her to die. Do you think I would lie to you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Priscilla continued. “Well then, believe this. I see people pass every day, and the ones who have family around them go a lot easier. Mom is right. I don’t think you want it on your conscience that she called for you and you turned away from her. That will haunt you until the day you die yourself.”

  “Liz?” Kevin said. “Personally, I agree. She absolutely should’ve told you about your stepfather’s death. But from what you’ve told me, she probably thought you would have unleashed the hounds on her while she was trying to bury him. Anyway, Priscilla and Petal are right. You have to go to her.”

  Liz looked to Charlie.

  “Hey! I’m not going to start disagreeing with my wife at this point!” Everyone smiled at that, even Liz. “Anyway, I think she’s right, too. Ya gotta suck it up for this one, kid. You have to be the bigger person.”

  Liz pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

  “Hey, this is Liz Harper calling. Can I speak to my momma?” While she waited she looked from one of our faces to the next. “Momma? Hang on. I’m coming to Birmingham.” They exchanged a few more words; Liz hung up and said in a southern drawl, “Sheeeeeit. Pardon me.”

  “You said it. Now come on,” Kevin said. “I’ll call the airlines and you pack. See you later, Mellie Puss and Drs. Swanson! Or is it Dr. Swansons?” He pulled Liz to her feet and to the front door. “I swear, I can’t get a day off for love or money!”

  It was just a little over three weeks until Liz’s mother passed away finally, from a bout of pneumonia. We talked every day and Liz admitted that everyone had been right to encourage her to come home.

  “It must have been a terrible thing to be my momma,” Liz said. “She had so much guilt over so much. But what I’ve learned is that you never let anything or anybody come between you and your kids.”

  “You’re telling me this?”

  “Anyway, I just sit with her and read to her and all that stuff. She kept telling me she’s sorry and that she’s so proud of me and all. If she knew about Truman Willis, she probably would have got herself out of bed and beat me with a stick.”

  “Listen to me. That’s a canceled check and the lesson has been learned.”

  “We’re all still learning lessons, aren’t we? Like when do you finally get it right?”

  “That, my dear, might be one of life’s most perplexing questions.”

  Kevin and I had already decided that we were going to the funeral, and Charlie and Priscilla had already agreed to take care of Harry when the moment arrived. We made the phone calls and the arrangements and the next thing I knew we were changing planes in Atlanta. We always said that if you die and go to hell, you would still have to change planes in Atlanta. For my money, one plane ride was enough, but Kevin booked the flights and I didn’t want to argue about it.

  Kevin could see that I wasn’t a happy traveler, especially when the plane we had to t
ake from Atlanta to Birmingham had propellers. Big, ugly, loud propellers. Giant food processors. The airline wasn’t even trying to hide the antique death trap at the end of a Jetway. We had to walk down the Jetway, down steps and across the tarmac, and willingly board. I needed five milligrams of something in the worst way. Or a double something.

  Don’t you know that because the flight was so short there was no beverage service? So Kevin had a white-knuckled partner for the duration. He decided chitchat would relieve my nerves and it helped a little.

  “Petal? I think Priscilla and Charlie are getting along well, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I think they’re perfect for each other.”

  “So? Did Charles ever call you back?”

  “No. Who cares?”

  “Think they’re getting divorced?”

  “Think I care about that either?”

  Blah, blah, blah. Despite Kevin’s best efforts, I was scared to death.

  The plane began its descent and I grabbed the ends of the armrests, clenched my jaw, and closed my eyes, squeezing them together as hard as I could.

  “This thing is like a giant slingshot,” I mumbled.

  “No, it’s not. It’s actually safer than a jet.”

  “Whatever. I finally get my life like I want it and now I’m gonna die like this.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  To my complete shock, we touched down and glided along the landing strip like we were sliding on silk and came to a gentle halt. I opened my eyes and looked over at Kevin.

  “What?”

  “Petal, Petal…”

  “That was the finest landing I have ever had and I intend to write the airlines a thank-you note.”

  “Look out, Continental, here comes Miriam, out of retirement! Fountain pen and all!”

  There was just no getting away with anything with that man.

  Because it was already night, we decided to check into a Ramada Inn after we went to the funeral home where we knew we would find Liz. The nice gal at the Avis counter gave us a map and directions, highlighting everything with a yellow marker.

  “It’s only about thirty minutes from here.”

  “Thanks,” we said, and were on our way.

  We found the funeral home easily enough, parked, and went inside. The room where her mother’s wake was in progress was crowded. I was glad that we had wired flowers ahead of time because the arrangements her mother had received so far were scant and unimpressive. It was understandable. From all Liz had told us, her mother’s friends were hardworking farmers, lived strictly by the Good Book, and flashy funeral flowers might have been considered an extravagance. But they had turned out in droves to comfort Liz and that was what mattered most.

  We spotted Liz right away at the back of the room, talking to some people around her age.

  “Probably childhood friends,” I said, and Kevin nodded in agreement.

  We went right to her side and Liz hugged us and introduced us to them. They all seemed nice enough, especially one handsome fellow whom Liz introduced as James. James had the eye for Liz and it seemed to me it was mutual. He was the right age, polite, good-looking, and very personable.

  “He used to be Jimbo when he was in high school, because his name is James Robert. But when he went off to Harvard Law School, he became James.”

  We all shook hands, and James said, “Yeah, but then I got tired of the big-city rat race and decided to come on back home and set up shop where I really wanted to be.”

  “James is gonna help me figure out what to do about Momma’s farm because it’s mine now.”

  “Excellent,” Kevin said, and whispered to me later, “He’s not wearing a wedding ring.”

  “I’ll bet he will be soon.”

  Strange as it may seem, Liz and James were a natural fit. You would’ve thought they had been a couple for years.

  The funeral service at her family church the next day was lovely. We went to the cemetery for the burial, thinking not many people would. It was bad enough to lose a parent, but then worse to lose one with whom you had unresolved issues. It seemed to me, though, that whatever the relationship had been, there was still nothing more numbing and horrifying to endure than watching the body of someone you had loved being lowered into the ground.

  We stood with her in the bright sun of the late morning together with a surprising number of friends and family members who had come, and Liz cried like a baby on Kevin’s shoulder. And James, who held her hand, offered her a handkerchief. I liked his gesture very much. Afterward, we all went back to Liz’s childhood home and the farm she had inherited.

  The house was bustling with members of her mother’s church who had delivered enough food to feed an army. Casseroles of string beans and others of macaroni and cheese, platters of sliced turkey and ham, cakes and pies, baskets of bread, and all the condiments needed to round out a meal covered the dining-room table while more waited in the kitchen.

  The way Liz had described her home, you would have thought she had grown up in a shanty with newspapers stuffing the walls for insulation. That was not the case. It wasn’t Tara, to be sure, but it was a nice typical clapboard house with a front and back porch, an old tin roof, and working shutters on the windows. In front of the house were enormous hydrangeas and azaleas. Behind the house was a pecan grove and there were probably a dozen peach trees. What was she talking about? I thought the landscape was absolutely beautiful. On the other hand, it would be easy not to love a place where you had known so much pain.

  The kitchen was from the time of Noah and the bathroom that I used had seen better days, but it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and nothing was wrong with it that a moderate amount of money couldn’t fix.

  I was very proud of Liz. She was composed and surprisingly in command, given the gravity of the day. She thanked each person and listened attentively as her mother’s friends told a special story about her mother and as they offered their condolences. James remained at her side. Kevin and I liked James more and more.

  Later, when everyone was gone, Kevin and I stayed to chat a little.

  “So, who’s this James?” Kevin said. “Has he ever been married? Kids? Visible means of support?”

  “Oh, Kevin,” Liz said. “He’s the older brother of one of my high school friends and I’ve known him all my life. He’s got a small law practice and he does just fine.”

  “And?” I said, just like a Nosy Nellie/Mellie would.

  “No, he’s never been married and there are no children that I’m aware of.”

  “Well, you should ask him that because these days people go around having babies without a thought of marriage or a home…I’m just looking out for you, that’s all,” I said.

  Of course, throughout the day and last night as well, I couldn’t get my own mother off my mind. I was worried sick about her.

  “How far is the drive to Charleston?” I asked.

  “About seven hours, depends on traffic, of course,” Liz said.

  “Hey, Kevin? Want to go to Sullivans Island with me and surprise Miss Josie?”

  “You only have to ask me once! Of course! Want to join us, Liz?”

  “No, but thanks. I’m exhausted. Besides, I have to stick around here and see what I have to do to settle Momma’s estate.”

  Kevin said, “I take it you don’t want to fly, Mellie?”

  “You’re a regular mind reader, Kevin. Do you know that?”

  Kevin made arrangements to drop off the car at the Charleston airport. I called Charlie and he said it was no problem for them to house-sit for as long as I wanted, so we changed our tickets. At nine the next morning we left a stoic Liz, handsome James, her new farm, and the state of Alabama in the rearview mirror of our rental car.

  We made our way through Georgia talking about everything in the world except the obvious, that it was Liz’s mother’s death that had been the trigger for me to go see my own mother.

  “Think we’ll ever see Liz again?”

 
“Of course we will, Petal! Even if they discover oil on those ten or twenty acres of hers, she has to come back to rescue all those stuffed animals and her Lava lamp!”

  I laughed at that and said, “I suppose you’re right. I’m so glad I brought the pictures from the wedding with me. Now I can show them to Mother.”

  “Yeah, somehow we never got around to showing them to Liz. Didn’t seem like the thing to do, did it?”

  “No, it didn’t. Well, they’re in that thing called PowerPoint, and if I can ever figure out how to get them out, I could print them. If I had a printer, that is.”

  “Not to worry, we will get it all sorted out. Given our history together, that’s an easy one to solve.”

  We drove and drove and I slept for a while and finally we passed the sign that said WELCOME TO CHARLESTON.

  “Pull over at the next gas station,” I said.

  “Why? Little girls’ room?”

  “No, I want to drive so you can look around.”

  “Oh! Great idea. Thanks!”

  We had our Chinese fire drill and minutes later the expected oohs and ahs spilled forth from my friend interspersed with reverential silences and sighs.

  “For all the years I spent in Atlanta, I can’t believe I never came here! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Kevin finally said. “It gives breathtaking a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?”

  “Leave it to you, my poetic friend, to aptly describe the indescribable.”

  “Gosh! I want to see everything! What all is there to do here?”

  “It depends on what you are interested in. History? Parasailing? Gullah culture? Food? Catching fish? Catching the breeze?”

  “I think I’ve got the picture, Mellie. But just promise me we’ll take a few hours to go downtown to the historic district.”

  “Absolutely!”

  Maybe Kevin had the picture, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I laid eyes on my mother.

  She was as thin as a blade of marsh grass, fast asleep in a chair on the porch, and covered in a blanket despite the warm temperature. Purple half-moons hung under her sunken eyes and her complexion had a pronounced tone of jaundice. I didn’t want to startle her, so I motioned for Kevin to follow me around the porch to the other side of the house.