I saw Aunt Bett and Crystal glance at each other. “Give Crystal here a chance to get to know the children.”
“Yes’m.”
“And give you a chance to do something other than taking care of them all the time,” Aunt Bett added. And I thought that was funny, because I’d whole lot rather take care of Molly and Little Ellis than to help Aunt Bett and Darlene with laundry. But I didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a good idea to let Crystal and Molly and Little Ellis get to know each other.
So I stayed at Aunt Bett’s house almost the whole day, and after we got all that laundry done, Aunt Bett gave me and Darlene some change, and we walked all the way into town and bought us some Popsicles. It was late in the afternoon when we came back, and I went on home to see how things had gone with Crystal and the little ones.
I didn’t even get into our front yard when I could hear Molly and Little Ellis shrieking from inside the house. I raced across the yard, leaped up the steps, and threw open the door. Crystal was on the couch, with Little Ellis and Molly sitting on her stomach, and she was tickling and tickling them, while they shrieked and yelped and laughed and gasped for air.
When Crystal saw me, she stopped tickling them and lifted first Little Ellis and then Molly off her stomach and stood them on the floor. Crystal’s hair was hanging in her face and her cheeks were bright pink.
“Oh, Dove,” she started out, and I was surprised to see that she was close to crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so glad you’re home! I didn’t know how hard it is to take care of children!” She swept her hand around the room. Toys and books were everywhere, and soft drink cans on the coffee table—one of them spilled—and the slipcovers on the chair halfway pulled off. Molly and Little Ellis stared up at me. Their cheeks were as red as Crystal’s.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We played,” Crystal answered simply.
“You played?”
“We played,” she repeated. “All day long, we played.”
“All day long?”
“Yes. This whole long day,” Crystal said, and there was a tone in her voice that added, Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with children? “And I haven’t gotten the laundry done or the lunch dishes washed or tried to fix anything for supper. And Roy-Ellis will be home soon! How on earth did you do it, Dove?”
“Do what?”
“Everything. Do just everything and take care of the children?”
“I don’t know, Crystal,” I answered honestly. “I just did it.” Then I got to thinking about Crystal believing she was supposed to play with them all day long, so I asked, “What did you all do today? Can you tell me every little bit?”
Crystal heaved a sigh and started counting on her fingers: “Well, we got home from Aunt Bett’s; we played hide-and-seek; we played dolls . . .” Crystal glanced at Molly. “And then we played trucks.” Molly and Little Ellis climbed up in the wrecked-slipcover chair and sat quietly, watching us and listening to Crystal.
“Then we played tea-party, and we ate lunch, and we played hide-and-seek some more, and then we played ‘tickle,’ and then you came home.” Crystal sniffed and rubbed her forehead.
“What about naps?”
“Naps?”
We looked over at Molly and Little Ellis. They were sound asleep in the chair, flung over each other like poor, dead kittens
“Oh, Crystal,” I breathed. “What a day you’ve had!” She sighed and nodded, picking up the soft drink cans and trying to push the hair out of her face
“I’ll help you,” I whispered, so as not to wake up the children. I picked up toys while Crystal washed the lunch dishes. Together, Crystal and I carried Little Ellis and Molly into their room and put them on the bed. Then we straightened the slipcovers.
The living room looked right nice, and so did the kitchen. I looked at the clock. Almost time for Roy-Ellis. So I said to Crystal, “You go fix yourself up a little. I’ll get supper started.” She gave me a look of complete gratitude, and when she had gone into the bedroom, I smiled as I started making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Poor Crystal. Poor Molly and Little Ellis. Well, I would have to write down their schedule for her; that’s all it would take to fix things. Just write it all down, including nap-time and television time and reading time. And I would make sure Crystal knew Molly and Little Ellis were content to play in their own room and not have somebody entertain or play with them all the time. And that she could tell them what they were to do, and they would do it.
Poor Crystal!
When Roy-Ellis got home from work, he hugged Crystal and whirled her around and laughed. And she sure did look pretty, wearing a fresh blue blouse and with her hair fixed and her lipstick on. Then Roy-Ellis patted my head before he went into the bathroom and took a shower. He came out of the bedroom a little later wearing clean clothes and smelling of soap and aftershave.
“You all going out?” I asked, when I saw how cleaned-up Roy-Ellis was.
“Nope. Don’t think so,” he answered. “I just want to keep my little bride happy.” Crystal smiled and blushed.
“Come on to supper, honey,” she said.
But when Roy-Ellis saw what was on the table, he said, “Tomato soup and grilled cheese? Shucks, Crystal—Dove here can cook that.”
Crystal put her hand on her hip and looked Roy-Ellis straight in the eye. “Dove here did cook that.”
Roy-Ellis turned red and mumbled something we couldn’t figure out, and he sat down at the table and ate his supper, without another word of complaint. And that evening, while Roy-Ellis and Crystal sat on the couch, holding hands and watching television, I sat at the table and wrote out a schedule for Crystal. And then I wrote in my notebook and for the first time, I didn’t write about Mama. I wrote about Crystal and the first day she took care of children.
The next morning, I was surprised to find Savannah sitting on our back steps. And once again, I was struck by how little and quiet she seemed to be, sitting there with her chin resting in her hands.
“Hi, Savannah,” I said, and when she turned her face toward me, I could tell that something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” I whispered.
She heaved a deep sigh and said, “I’m going away this morning.”
“Going away? Going away to where?”
“To my Aunt Vera’s. In Atlanta. I’m gonna live with her for a while.”
I sat down on the steps beside Savannah and pulled her head onto my shoulder. .
“I will miss you!” I whispered.
“Maybe we could write letters to each other,” she whispered back.
“It won’t be the same as seeing you every day,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and already trying not to think about how much I would miss her. Miss everything about her.
“But at least it would be something,” she said. I felt myself beginning to cave in, somewhere near my stomach, and I knew that if I started crying, it would break Savannah’s heart—and mine, as well.
“We’ll write!” I said the words enthusiastically, as if that was the most wonderful suggestion anyone had ever made to me. “That’s perfect!” Savannah seemed to brighten a little, and once again, I was comforted by my own words in some strange way. I hugged her tight, and I thought my heart would surely break, but I managed to smile. I had to smile. For her. And for me.
Savannah!
Chapter Eight
That afternoon, I took Molly and Little Ellis on a long walk, because Crystal said she wanted to cook a special supper for Roy-Ellis, and she always got nervous when anyone was around to watch her trying to cook. Of course, taking that walk without Savannah along was hard, but while we walked, I simply pretended that she was right there beside me, and once, I was almost positive that I heard her laugh.
When we all came back home, the first thing I asked was, “What’s that smells so good?”
Crystal laughed. “That’s the only thing I know how to cook,” s
he said. “Fried chicken!”
Well, I sure wondered what was going to happen when Roy-Ellis got home and found that on the table. He finally came home from work, and—as usual now—went in and took a shower and put on clean clothes before he came to the table. When he saw the big platter piled high with golden brown chicken, he went a little pale and stared at Crystal for a moment. But he said not a single word, drank two beers, and ate three pieces of chicken. While Crystal cleaned up the kitchen, I bathed Molly and Little Ellis and put them to bed. Then, as usual, Crystal and Roy-Ellis sat on the couch, holding hands and sometimes resting their heads on one another and watching television. I sat at the table, writing in my notebook. That time, I wrote about Savannah, and it helped me to feel better.
“You doing homework in the summertime?” Roy-Ellis asked from the living room.
“Not really. I just like writing about things.”
“Well, okay then. Just don’t forget to have you some fun once in a while,” he said.
The next night, when Roy-Ellis came home, he was carrying two big bags of groceries. I was standing at the stove, stirring the macaroni and cheese, and Crystal was emptying canned applesauce into a bowl.
“I thought maybe we could try some new things,” he said to Crystal. “You aren’t frying more chicken for tonight, are you?”
“No,” Crystal answered. “But if that’s what you want, I can fix it for you.”
Roy-Ellis swallowed and peered into the pot I was stirring. “Macaroni and cheese is good!” He was obviously relieved and began unloading groceries onto the counter. Hot dogs, a big package—”Family Size”—of ground beef, a package of eight pork chops, a big bag of rice, a bag of potatoes, another bag of frozen green beans, and two six-packs of beer.
“Beer’s mine,” he said. “Rest of it’s for cooking.” Crystal looked at everything he had brought, and then she picked up the package of pork chops and frowned at it.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” she mumbled, looking at me.
“Me neither,” I admitted. We both looked at Roy-Ellis.
“Ask Bett,” he said simply.
As if Aunt Bett could hear what Roy-Ellis said, the phone rang right at that instant. Roy-Ellis answered it.
“Sure, Bett. That’ll be nice. Looking forward to it. Okay. Bye.” He hung up the phone.
“Bett?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah. She’s bringing us some cornbread Saturday morning.”
“Oh,” Crystal breathed, and she glanced around at the piled-high trash can and the dishes in the sink, and the sticky fingerprints Molly had left on the cabinet door. But I just looked at Crystal and smiled and nodded.
When the dishes were done, Crystal and I said not a word, but I took the kitchen trash can and emptied it into the big can on the back porch, while Crystal started scrubbing the fingerprints off the cabinet.
“Dove?” Roy-Ellis called from the living room. “Would you bring me a beer, sweetie?” I took him his beer, and then I pushed the other bottles in the refrigerator all the way to the back and piled the packages of pork chops and hot dogs in front of them. Crystal scrubbed down the sink, and I wiped off the table.
“Crystal?” Roy-Ellis called. “You gonna come keep me company? I’m getting awful lonesome in here all by myself.”
“In a minute, honey,” Crystal sang back to him.
“You go on,” I urged. “I’ll finish up.” I was glad to be able to help Crystal, because I certainly knew what it felt like to have Aunt Bett glancing around our house, this way and that, and—without saying a single word—maybe letting us know that we weren’t doing our housekeeping right. Crystal sat with Roy-Ellis on the couch, with her head on his shoulder. And the reflected light from the television swept back and forth across their contented faces. The last thing I did in the kitchen was to put two clean, folded dish towels on the towel holder over the sink. And that little kitchen sure did look pretty and shiny when I turned out the light and went into the dining room to write in my notebook.
“Homework during the summer, Dove?” Roy-Ellis called to me, like maybe he’d forgotten asking that before.
“Nosir, just something I like doing,” I called back.
“Well, don’t forget what I said about having you a little fun, honey.”
“Yessir.”
The next morning, Crystal came out of the bedroom with pink curlers in her hair, and as soon as we’d all finished our cereal, I settled Molly and Little Ellis in the living room with their coloring books and crayons, and Crystal and I did the dishes, dried and put them away, wiped down the table and the sink, and nodded at each other. Why, that kitchen was absolutely spotless! And for drying the dishes, I had used another towel and hung it on the back porch, so as to leave the two pretty ones still clean and dry.
It was one of Roy-Ellis’s rare days off, and he went outside to work on the clutch on his truck, Crystal combed out her pretty hair and put it into a neat ponytail, and I sat down at the dining table to write in my notebook. Crystal paced around a little, wiping invisible dust off the coffee table and straightening the slipcovers, even though they weren’t messed up one bit. She sauntered back into the dining room.
“More work, Dove?” she asked, trying not to look toward the porch, where—any minute!—Aunt Bett could arrive.
“No, not really,” I answered, putting down my pen. Because I was mostly too nervous to write anyway—what with wondering if Aunt Bett would think we were doing a good job of housekeeping.
“Not really?” Crystal asked.
“I’m writing a story,” I said.
“You are? Why that’s wonderful!” Crystal was truly happy about that. And I knew what was coming next and dreaded it.
“What’s it about?”
I hesitated.
“Mostly, it’s about my mama,” I said. But I quickly added, “I’ve already written one story about you, too. And one about Savannah.”
“Oh?” She turned bright red. “You’ve written a story about me?” But before we could say another word, there she was—Aunt Bett—knocking lightly on the screen door, peering in as if she were already looking the place over, and with that kind of a plastic smile she could sometimes get on her face.
“Oh, Lord have mercy on us!” Crystal whimpered.
“Come on in, Aunt Bett,” I hollered, nodding at Crystal. It’ll be okay. .
Aunt Bett opened the squeaky screen door and came in hesitantly, carrying a big aluminum pan all wrapped in foil—the cornbread. Her sweet, well-meaning ticket into our house. When I saw her, all I could think about was mean old Michelle making fun of her, and so I ran to her and gave her a big hug.
“Dove?” she said, struggling a little against my hearty hug. I loosened up on her and stood back. Aunt Bett blushed and waved the back of her hand at me. Crystal was still standing in the dining room, as stiff as a statue. I grabbed Aunt Bett’s hand and pulled her into the dining room, but it was like dragging a wagon full of rocks.
“Look who’s here!” I chirped to Crystal, as if we hadn’t been expecting Aunt Bett at all, and we hadn’t been scrubbing things half to death.
“Hi, Aunt Bett!” Crystal’s voice was way too bright. And the next thing Crystal said was, “Roy-Ellis brought home some nice pork chops, and me and Dove . . .” She shot a strange glance at me. “Why, we just don’t know how to fix them. How to cook them.” Aunt Bett brightened on the spot. She thrust the pan of cornbread at me and almost sprinted toward the kitchen, with me and Crystal right behind her, smiling to each other and making okay! signs with our fingers.
“Show me those pork chops,” she ordered. “And start some water to boiling. And do you have rice? And some fresh tomatoes? And onions? Get me a Dutch oven.”
Why I never saw anything like that in my whole life. Aunt Bett came alive, right in front of my eyes. Lost all her timid ways and her plastic smile and got to be a real person again. Crystal got the pork chops out of the refrigerator, I dug around in the cabinets and fo
und the Dutch oven, and I got that big bag of rice Roy-Ellis had brought home.
“Tomatoes!” Aunt Bett demanded.
“Onions!” she ordered. Then, right out of the blue, she said to Crystal, “I hope you don’t dry clothes on the high setting.” Crystal was taken completely by surprise.
“No ma’am,” she finally said. “Mama said that wears clothes out too fast.”
“Good,” Aunt Bett pronounced. Then, “Apron!” she commanded.
And when everything was assembled, and Aunt Bett had one of my mama’s skinny little aprons tied across the front of her vast waist, she began showing us what to do with those pork chops. By the time she was done, there was a wonderful-smelling pork chop and rice casserole simmering away. “Now just let it cook nice and slow.”
We all stood there in front of the stove, looking at the Dutch oven with that heavy lid on it, and maybe we were thinking the same thing: It had something in it that we had all made, together.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Aunt Bett?” Crystal floated the words out into the steamy air.
“That would be nice,” Aunt Bett said. “And I’ll stay long enough to look at the casserole and see when it’s ready to finish cooking with the lid off.” Aunt Bett sat down at the kitchen table, fanning herself with her hand and with her cheeks bright red, like they always got when she was cooking. I sat down too, while Crystal made Aunt Bett’s cup of instant coffee. Crystal put the cup in front of Aunt Bett and a glass of milk in front of me, and then she sat down with us, with her own glass of milk. Aunt Bett and I both looked at Crystal’s glass of milk, and somehow, I was wishing Crystal had made herself a cup of coffee. But it was too late. Aunt Bett was studying Crystal’s face, like she was looking for something familiar in it. Like she was trying to see Crystal as another child in the family. But of course, there wasn’t anything for her to see—no eyebrows like Aunt Bett’s own mama, no slant of a jaw to remind Aunt Bett of herself. Nothing in which she could see a trace of what she would call us. She let her eyes drop. And what came down over that table with us sitting at it was . . . just a big, fat nothing. Crystal and Aunt Bett were both studying the oilcloth tablecloth, and at last, so did I, looking at the printed-on little green teapots and faded pink flowers.
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