Sixteen
Winston came awake earlier than usual. He couldn’t stretch out his legs because there was something on the end of his bed. He rose up and looked, blinking to clear his sleepy vision.
It was Ruthanne. She lay sideways at the end of the bed, snoring gently.
Winston was not terribly surprised; he’d reached the age where little could surprise him. He thought it was good he had taken to sleeping in pajamas. He sat up and let his feet rest on the floor for a full minute, letting his blood even itself out. Old people shouldn’t go jumping up, his doctor had told him. Old people couldn’t go jumping up, he thought.
He considered waking Ruthanne, but only for half a minute, before getting up and stiffly going into the bathroom. Now that he was old, he had to get to the bathroom first thing, and that was a real irritation.
The loud flushing toilet did not disturb Ruthanne. He found his slippers, noticing as he put them on that his toe-nails needed trimming. He went down to Dixie Love’s for that.
It was the first bare light of day, enabling him to go through the shadowy house without turning on lights. He began to anticipate a full cup of coffee this morning before getting out the flag. As he passed through the dining room, something outside the window caught his eye.
Why, it was somebody out there. Unless his vision was failing him like his bladder.
He went over to the window.
It was somebody. It was a woman.
Vella Blaine? Naw, couldn’t be.
Yes, it was. What in the world was Vella Blaine doing out there? Maybe she was walking in her sleep. She could hurt herself. He needed to do something.
She wasn’t asleep. She was stealing his roses? Why would she do such a thing?
That’s what she was doing, though. She had snippers and was snipping.
Maybe I’ll holler at her out the window, see what she does. No, don’t think so. I want to see what else she does. What’s that she’s picking up? Looks like a jar of something. Well, I’ll be doggone. People are forever a source, aren’t they?
He watched his neighbor slip through the old fence and hurry off across the pasture toward her own home. He hadn’t known she could move so fast. She was just a young thing yet, though. Not yet sixty-five, he didn’t think. He hoped she didn’t step in a gopher hole and break her leg.
Charlene’s eyes were nearly swollen shut from her crying most of the night. She peered at herself in the mirror and then went to the kitchen for some ice to wrap in a cloth. Jojo was at the table, eating a bowl of cereal.
“Mama, are you sick?”
“No, honey. I just have a bit of a headache.”
Charlene took three aspirins, then got the ice from the freezer, wrapped it in a wet washcloth, went back to bed and placed the cold cloth over her eyes. She lay there, trying not to imagine Joey in bed with Sheila in Dallas but, the thought had lodged like a giant splinter.
She checked the clock and realized she had dozed at last. Thirty minutes had passed. She got up and checked her eyes in the mirror and found they looked a little better. She saw her hair this time. She raked it back from her face. It looked odd to her, so bold and vibrant, when she felt limper than a wet shirt that hadn’t seen starch in a month.
Jojo appeared at the bathroom door. “Mama, are we goin’ to church?”
Only then did Charlene remember it was Sunday. She gazed at Jojo a moment. “Yes, we are. You come on in here and get a bath, so that your brothers can get showered.”
She went in and woke Danny J. and Larry Joe, who protested that he was way too tired to go to church. She told him to think of the girls who would be eager to see him. Then she went in to make a pot of strong coffee. She had to get herself together. She would never forgive herself if, because she fell apart, her children were allowed to lose their way in life.
Joey opened his eyes and found himself staring at black hair. He lay very still, trying to figure out where he was, and just whose naked body he was lying against.
Memory came rushing all over him, and he jerked back from Sheila. Her arm flopped over, but, to his great relief, she didn’t wake up. He scooted out of the bed as quickly but quietly as possible.
Breathing deeply, he stood looking at Sheila a minute, then padded into the bathroom and closed the door. He locked it.
The room was cold, with lots of gleaming marble and shiny chrome and a plate glass mirror. He stepped in front of the sink and peered at his reflection. He leaned closer to look at his face. He had the distinct and unsettling sensation of looking at a stranger.
The pastor raised his hands. “Every head bowed, every heart humble.”
It was the prayer session. Lila Hicks’s soft organ music floated around the sanctuary, rising to the tall ceiling. Neville Oakes’s guitar music joined it. This was a new addition. The young pastor had gone off to retreat and returned with a number of ideas, and that always made people nervous. Charlene didn’t much care for his idea of people feeling free to dance around in the aisles during some of the more stirring hymns; children and older people could get trampled. But she really liked Neville’s guitar and people singing along if they wanted.
“Just as I am, without one plea…” Eyes closed, Charlene silently sang the familiar song and tried to settle her disturbing emotions. She was desperate to settle her emotions.
She sat on the pew between Larry Joe and Danny J. and felt awfully warm. The stained glass windows filtered the strong light, yet still the room seemed to be getting hot. The church was quite full, people squeezing the pews. A cough here and a sneeze there, someone mumbling and a baby crying.
Charlene began to feel like everyone was sucking up all the available air. She picked up the bulletin and fanned her face. Oh, Lord, I really do want to pray, but I feel so far away.
Then, just as the minister was ending the prayer session, she was on her feet. “Excuse me,” she whispered to Larry Joe as she edged in front of him out of the pew and into the side aisle. She stuffed down the urge to run, to scream, and made herself walk to the door that led out to the covered veranda and the Sunday school rooms.
She burst outside and fairly held her breath until the door closed behind her.
“Whew!” She fanned her legs with her dress and thought maybe if she’d gone without panties, she would be cooler. Sweat was fairly soaking her bra. At least she hadn’t worn hose.
Breathing deeply, as if she had just escaped drowning, she walked the length of the veranda, past the solid Sunday school doors, to a white painted bench at the end. She had never noticed the bench. She wasn’t usually out here with time to sit. Why, it was a lovely place to sit, in the shade of both the porch and a giant elm, and with rosebushes edging the walk.
She settled herself, fanning her skirt some more. Maybe the temperature was high, but at least there was a breeze. It was almost as if God had led her out here, where she could breathe. Too bad the bench wasn’t a swing. She really would like to have a porch swing like the one at her parents’ house. Maybe if she went over there and sat on her mother’s old porch swing, she could get herself back together.
The congregation was singing now. It sounded lovely from outside.
“Rock of ages, cleft for me…dum-de-dum…let me hide…”
Charlene, having closed her eyes, popped them wide open at the sound of a woman’s voice singing.
Coming around the corner of the Sunday school building was a woman. In a filmy pale rose-colored dress and apron, and with a big straw hat. Why, it was the lovely white-haired woman from the other day in town, Charlene realized with some amazement.
“Hello, hon,” the woman said cheerfully. She had a pink rose on her hat and carried several in her hand, along with garden snippers. “I was just clippin’ a few of these Briar’s Hedge roses, but you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No,” Charlene said. She glanced around uneasily to see if some usher might have stepped out to catch a smoke and would see. Then she would have to explain being out of the
sanctuary, and about the woman clipping church roses.
With a stride that made her filmy skirt swirl, the woman came around and up onto the veranda, holding one of the roses out for Charlene.
“Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome. You’ve found a nice spot.”
“Oh…have a seat. This may sound crazy in this heat, but it seems cooler here than in the church. I was havin’ trouble breathing in there. Maybe the air-conditioning isn’t working right.”
“It is a full crowd today. Everyone’s praying for rain.”
“Yes, yes they are,” Charlene said, ashamed because she hadn’t been praying at all.
“People should expect their prayers to be answered,” the woman said. “When you pray for rain, you must think of rain, not the drought. Quit moanin’ and get out the umbrellas, because you’ve prayed and know it is now going to rain.”
“I guess I was more thinkin’ about smacking my husband with a two-by-four,” Charlene said, and, startled by her own admission, she looked at the woman to see her reaction.
The woman chuckled. And Charlene sort of did, too.
“I imagine you have good reason to want to smack your husband,” the woman said, cocking her head.
“He left me.” Charlene let that hang in the air. “I thought he would come home, if I just gave him a chance and waited. But I know now he isn’t going to.” The truth rippled through her, causing her to suck in a ragged breath.
“Sometimes people do very foolish things, and we do want to smack them. Sometimes it helps to give them a good smack.”
Charlene said sadly, “I don’t think smacking him will change anything.”
“Well, likely not, since he’s gone.”
“I’m not even mad anymore. Not really. He didn’t set out to hurt me, and he’s hurting himself terribly. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“About what?”
Charlene, a little surprised by the question, said, “About him leaving,”
“It seems he’s already done it. What’s there left for you to do about that? You can do a lot about other things, but not about that.”
“That’s just it, I guess. I don’t know where to begin about anything,” Charlene said. “I just feel so confused. I can hardly think. My mind just jumps around…and a few minutes ago I really thought I was going to fly all to pieces.”
She had to tell someone about it; she thought maybe she was going crazy. “I have these times when I feel like that all of a sudden. I get so hot, and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. Or that my heart is really going to stop beating because of the pain.”
Averting her eyes, she lifted the rose to her nose and inhaled the scent. She guessed she’d cried herself out, thank heaven.
“Oh, honey, a lot of that is from the change. You can’t help any of that.”
Charlene looked at her and felt her breath leaving again.
“It’s natural, honey, at your age.” The woman patted her leg. “You are changing and growing in your body and your spirit. You’re comin’ into your new life as a full-fledged woman. Sometimes it’s a little hard. It is just like being born, you know. And this stress in not helpin’ your body at all.”
“Oh God.”
“Yes, you need to pray…call on God for His help, which is always there,” the woman said. “And go get some books and read about menopause. If you understand it, it won’t be so frightening. And get yourself some calming teas—some chamomile or saffron, or ginseng. And try some of that tofu that’s in all the health magazines. It’s supposed to be real good for a woman’s hormones.”
Charlene raked her hand up into her hair and fanned her face with the bulletin. The woman kept on talking.
“Don’t look like that, honey. It isn’t anything to be afraid of. Why, when I got through it, I came into the best part of my life. Getting through it takes years, too. You are young, yet—just startin’. It’ll come and go for a number of years. I’m pretty certain it took me twelve years. Any change takes time—the world wasn’t built in a day, you know.”
Charlene wished the woman would shut up.
“And like when they’re workin’ to change a street, to make it wider and better, you’ll have some inconvenience. You’ll feel hot sometimes, and like you want to scream your head off. And then sometimes you’ll want sex so bad,” the woman said, laughing.
Charlene’s face burned. She wasn’t certain she should think about sex at church.
The woman took her hand. “Honey, these things are normal for a woman, and nothing to be ashamed of. Our good Lord made us, our bodies and our emotions. You are made in the image and likeness of God. There’s not a thing wrong with you.”
“I don’t feel like that,” Charlene said.
“That’s because you listen to the world around you. You have to get quiet and listen to you, and that’s God speakin’ inside you.”
Charlene said, “I can’t hear anything. And I’ve messed up so horribly.”
“I’m sure you’ve made some mistakes. You are human, and that means imperfect, but it certainly doesn’t mean bad. God made you. Now, honey, look over there. See that car turnin’ the corner? What if he finds out that he turned on the wrong street?”
Seeing a response was expected, Charlene said, “Well, he can turn around in a driveway.”
“That’s right. He’s in charge of that steering wheel. He can turn around and go back the way he came, or maybe he can go around the block, or even a couple of blocks, or maybe all the way out in the country and back, until he finally finds the right road to get where he’s going.
“The thing that won’t help him is to stop right in the middle of the road and just sit there, afraid of making a wrong turn. These are the ones who cause wrecks when everyone smashes into them, like what happened to Everett last week.”
“Well, sometimes you need a rest from making so many mistakes,” Charlene said, feeling called on to defend someone who stops.
“The main mistake people so often make is assuming that because they make mistakes, they are a mistake.
Charlene stared at the woman, who was rising to her feet.
“When you make a mistake, honey, it is nothin’ more than a mistake. You learn from it and know you profit from it. You don’t get better—you’re already perfect from God—but you understand more. The one thing to keep in mind is that you can’t steer a stopped car. You know how hard it is to turn the steering wheel of a stopped car?”
Charlene nodded. She could see it was expected.
“Well, even God has trouble with that, but a moving vehicle steers so easily. You can turn it any which way. And if you keep on going, you will eventually get where you want to go, no matter how many wrong roads you go down, roads with curves and potholes and all sorts of detours. You will get there eventually. And usually you had a mighty interesting trip,” she added with a smile and a wink.
“I have to go, honey.” She inserted one of the roses into her hat and then handed the rest to Charlene. “Here, you take these. I wouldn’t wave them around, though. There’s some who get all tight about the church roses. They don’t understand that the more you share them, the more they grow, just like love.”
She stepped off the veranda, and at that same moment people began streaming out of the sanctuary.
“Wait!” Charlene called to the woman. “What’s your name?”
As she disappeared around the corner of the building, the woman tossed a wave and a name back over her shoulder, but Charlene didn’t quite catch it.
Charlene jumped up and ran after her, but the woman was gone when she rounded the corner. She hurried on, and when she came around the south corner there was a crowd of people streaming out the rear sanctuary doors, heading across the parking lot to their vehicles. She looked for a straw hat and pale rose dress, but she had lost the woman again.
Larry Joe and Danny J. stood at the top of the church steps and looked around for their mother.
; “She could be talkin’ to somebody around the back,” Danny J. said.
“You go look around. I’ll wait here for her.” Larry Joe was a little worried. His mother had looked pretty wild when she’d gotten up. He was thinking he should get Jojo or maybe Mildred to go into the bathroom to see if she was sick. Jojo had gone off with their grandfather and the old women. He looked around for them.
His gaze landed on Mason MacCoy, wearing a white shirt and with his hair all neatly combed, standing a few yards away in the shade of the cedar tree. Mason saw him at the same time.
He went lightly down the stairs and over to Mason, who stuck out his hand and said, “Hey, man.” The way Mason shook his hand made him feel really good.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” Larry Joe said.
“I’ve come from time to time.”
Larry Joe nodded, not sure what else to say. “Uh…have you seen my mother?”
“I saw her get up in church.”
“Yeah. She wasn’t feelin’ too good.” He glanced around the church yard. The crowd was thinning fast now.
Then he saw Mason looking at him intensely. “Did you check the ladies’ room?”
“I was goin’ to find Jojo to go in there.”
Mason’s gaze lifted, looking at someone over Larry Joe’s shoulder. Larry Joe, thinking it must be his mother, whirled around.
“Hello, Larry Joe. I hardly recognized you away from the station.” It was Iris MacCoy, smiling at him.
Driving Lessons Page 15