Dab, you should see it now! Tree thought. “Dab should see that, M’Vy,” Tree said. M’Vy looked at her sharply. But Miss Pricherd grinned. “Bet he do, too! Don’t you worry!”
“Yea,” Tree said to herself.
The two men helped the two women down the steps. Tree came on behind them. M’Vy looked smaller in her black funeral clothes. She had on a black crepe dress and matching coat, black shoes, black hat and a black clutch bag. Her shoulders were hunched high, as if to ward off blows. At the curb, the car doors were opened for them.
Something, Tree thought. A real, true-to-life, black limousine. M’Vy gone do it up proud.
They got in. Silversmith and Don sat on seats that had folded open.
Don leaned around to speak to her. “How you feelin?” he asked.
She regarded him a long moment. “I’m just fine,” she told him. “Be glad when it’s done,” she said simply.
“It’ll be over soon,” he said.
“You ever been to a funeral before?” she asked him. Instantly she regretted the question, with all of them listening. But Don didn’t seem to mind. He treated her the way she wanted to be treated, like a person worthy of consideration.
“I went to my mother’s funeral,” he told her. “Long time ago, but I don’t remember much.”
“You were just six,” Silversmith said, looking out the window.
“And I went to my uncle’s funeral. He died suddenly of a heart attack.”
“Really?” Tree said. “M’Vy’s brother die in a car crash.” She did not think to tell the other part of the story. What she had said was true enough.
They lapsed into silence. They rode for another twenty minutes, then turned onto the cemetery grounds. The road wound through the lawns of gravestones. The place was the Evergreen Park Cemetery. They soon came to a halt across from a freshly turned, six-foot-long rectangle of ground. There was a canvas shelter over the grave site. There was the coffin in place above the rectangle. Tree kept her mind still, unthinking.
It had begun raining a gentle mist down on the flowers, in the grass and over them. It was refreshing, Tree thought.
Didn’t it rain? she thought, remembering strains of a song. Another one: When I’ve done the best I can. And my friends don’t understand. Then my Lord will carry me home.
M’Vy opened an umbrella over Tree. “I don’t need it,” Tree said. “You and Miss Pricherd have it.”
Tree walked over with Don to the site. When they were all there, the minister intoned the Twenty-third Psalm. It was Tree’s favorite. She listened, feeling more peaceful. Then the minister spoke the ashes to ashes—“And dust to dust …” Tree’s eyes blurred; she caught hold of her mind again and held on, held thoughts at bay.
Slowly the casket was lowered. She watched, fascinated, as they put the cement dome over it once it was at the bottom.
Dab, it’s over.
M’Vy threw a few lumps of earth down on the cover. “It’s the custom, Tree,” Silversmith explained.
Why didn’t I know that? she thought. Whyn’t somebody tell me? Tell me the minister’s name—why they treat me like I’m nobody?
Tree opened her purse and took out the one lace handkerchief she had. It was her only handkerchief. It was Spanish lace, and Dab had given it to her two Christmases ago. He’d picked it out himself, although she’d been with him. “Wanta buy that for a fren, Tree,” he had told her. She’d smiled, and said “Good, Dab. I bet your fren gone love that priddy hankie.”
Tree wiped her eyes on the handkerchief, then let it flutter down on the coffin cover. Tree leaned over to see, and Don held her arm so she wouldn’t slip or fall. He treated her nice.
They had lunch at a restaurant called The Jade Fountain. It was quiet and pleasant; they had a table next to two large windows. There was a red tablecloth and red cloth napkins.
Not any paper napkins, either, Tree thought.
“Why don’t you order for us, Silversmith?” M’Vy said.
“Can’t I even say what I want?” Tree asked plaintively.
“Yeah,” Don chimed in. “Why can’t she? We want to take a look.” M’Vy stared down her nose at Don, mildly critical. But Tree could tell she was fond of him and keeping close tabs on the way he was treating her.
“Here’s a menu for both you,” Silversmith said, “but don’t run way with yourself,” he said to Don.
“He means for me not to buy the most expensive dish on the menu.”
“Oh,” said Tree. She and Don were like conspirators against their parents.
They all ended up ordering five separate dishes and egg rolls all around. When the food came, Tree couldn’t believe her eyes. Metal serving dishes of delicious-looking Chinese food. They, all of them, could eat Chinese food every day.
“This sure don’t look like my school lunch.”
They all laughed. Don laughed loudest. Then they sobered, remembering the day.
Wish Dab could be here, was on Tree’s mind. She excused herself to go to the bathroom. She stood in a cubicle crying a moment. But then she felt better. She powdered her face and made sure there was not a trace of tears. She went back.
She and Don stuffed themselves. He kept putting more food on her plate—sweet-and-sour pork, lobster Cantonese. Szechwan chicken, which burned her mouth, it was so spicy. M’Vy and Silversmith watched them, surprised at how well they were getting along. Miss Pricherd and Tree had Coke to drink, and the others had beer. Don asked for an empty glass. When it came, he poured some of his beer in it and gave it to Tree.
She giggled. M’Vy went, “Tsk, tsk, Don, you devilish.”
“I just want to taste it,” Tree said.
“How did you know she want to taste it?” Silversmith asked Don. “She didn’t say so.”
“How you know, how you know!” Don said, looking wide-eyed from Silversmith to M’Vy. “How come the world goes round.”
“You simple,” Silversmith told him. He looked embarrassed; Tree didn’t understand why.
Tree got fumes up her nose and started sneezing.
“You’re suppose to drink it, not sniff it!” Don said with a laugh.
“Leave me alone!” she told him. She sipped the beer. “It’s terrible.”
“Do you think folks would drink it if it was any good?” Don said.
“Coke is good,” Tree said.
“Coke is good and sweet,” Don said. “Like somebody I know.”
It took Tree a second to realize he was talking about her. She didn’t know where to look and didn’t dare look at M’Vy.
He’s flirting with me!
“Ouch!” Don whispered. “Who kicked me under the table?”
There was a long pause. “I did,” said Miss Pricherd. “You, fresh!”
They broke up laughing. M’Vy laughed longest, her high, country laugh. People at other tables were looking at them.
“Shhhh!” Tree said. “Everybody starin at us.” She didn’t really care. It was sooo funny—Miss Pricherd. She wasn’t so old, she couldn’t catch a pass!
They had a good time. They ate and talked. Laughed. Tree went away from them into her mind. She had been going away like that all her life. She had done it at the funeral parlor. But this time, she came back aware that the people around her wanted to be with her. Don was next to her like he liked being there, leaning around her, getting closer, just to get M’Vy upset. When M’Vy gave him one of her looks, he would throw back his head and laugh.
“Why can’t I flirt with your daughter?” he asked M’Vy.
“She too young for you and you know it,” Vy told him.
“You better get used to it, though,” he said. “Won’t be long now.” He winked at Tree. “I’m gone be first in line.”
“Send you away to military school,” Silversmith said.
Don laughed and laughed at that.
Tree loved to hear him laugh. He kept everybody smiling. And him, without a mother for so long.
Does he know about my dad be go
ne? She wondered. We all like a family—is it what a family’s like? Talkin, being close and laughin, always knowin they there? Me and Don are the kids; M’Vy and Silversmith, the parents. And Miss Pricherd. Granny Pricherd! Yeah, it feels all right.
When they were home again, in Tree and M’Vy’s apartment, she and Don talked privately in her room. M’Vy insisted Tree keep the door open. Tree hadn’t even thought about closing it. Don stretched across the bed, his back supported by her pillows against the wall. She sat on the chair.
“You have a nice room,” he said. “I know umpteen girls who’d have given anything to have their own rooms at your age.”
“Really?” she said, but she had something altogether different on her mind. “Didn’t you miss your mother?” she said, as though they’d just been talking about his mother. “Did you know that my dad left home and never came back?”
“Your mom told my dad about it,” he said gently.
“And then M’Vy moved away,” Tree said. “And he couldn’t find her, and—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Tree, that wasn’t the way it was. According to your mom, she left plenty of forwarding addresses. He could have found her if he wanted to. You have to face that maybe he didn’t want to.”
“Maybe he couldn’t!” Tree said, not even sure what she meant by that. “I’ll find him and find out for myself,” she said.
“You still planning to run away?” he asked.
“Huh! They sure tell you a lot more than they tell me,” she said glumly.
He smiled at her kind of wistfully. “I’ve been through everything you’re going through. Listen, you asked about my mother. I missed her so much, and half the time, I didn’t know it was her I was missing. When I was eleven is when I missed her the most. All the other kids had mothers. I ran away on a bus.”
“You did?”
“Just for the day.” He laughed. “I was back before my dad knew I was gone. But that isn’t the point. I intended to leave, but I found out you can’t run away from what you’ve lost or what you love, either. I carried the love for my dad with me. I couldn’t get away from it. I couldn’t lose the loss of my mother. Dad made it easier so I went back.”
“No kidding,” she whispered.
“I see you got your bundle,” he said. Her bundle of clothing was still there by the bed. “I’m not going to tell you not to leave. It’s not really my business. Come on, let’s forget it awhile. Let’s go to a movie.”
“A movie—me and you? M’Vy not gone let me go anywhere today.”
“No?” he said. “You wait a minute.”
He went out and came back in two minutes. “Told her I wanted to get you away from here and your mind off things.”
“She lettin me go?”
“Yep.”
Oh, man, he taken me out!
“What you want to see?” Don asked her.
“What’s playin?” She had no idea what was on at the movies, so she threw it back to him.
“Let’s see the one about werewolves in London. It’s playing again.”
“Ooooh!”
“You seen that one?”
“No, but I want to.”
M’Vy let Don take her car, to Tree’s utter amazement, and they had a good time. They ate popcorn, and Tree was scared to death of the walking dead and the werewolves. Even Don had to hide his eyes once. Tree spent half the movie peeking through her fingers.
He took her home, going halfway around town just for fun. Then he and his father left. M’Vy decided to stay until Sunday.
She came into Tree’s room. “Yo’w have a good time?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tree answered.
“Don a nice boy. Glad he thought to take you to the movies,” Vy said.
“He took me out. My first date.” Not exactly the first. She’d gone out with Brother Rush. He just an uncle, she thought. And a ghost.
“M’Vy, I went through the whole movie and I didn’t think about Dab, not once.”
“You have to live, Tree; we all do. Not thinking about him for a couple of hours don’t mean you don’t still love him.”
Tree was silent, lying on her stomach on the bed.
“I wish you’d undo that bundle, put your clothes back,” M’Vy said.
“I want to find my dad,” Tree said, and began to cry like a baby.
“Oh, Tree!” Vy sat down beside her. “You’ve lost something precious. You lost your brother and you looking to find something to make it stop hurting so much. But runnin away ain’t gone do it; it won’t bring him back.”
“I want my dad!” Tree cried, sobbing.
“Maybe Silversmith be your dad, what you think about that?” Vy said gently.
Tree sat up, her eyes red and wet. “He may become your husband,” Tree said, “but he ain’t my dad!”
“All right. That hurt, Tree. But it’s okay. You do what you want.”
“You done did what you want,” Tree said. “Movin her in Dab’s room, too.”
“You stop and think why I did that, too,” Vy said. “To take care of you. To be company, to be family for you.”
“Why can’t you stay wit me?” Tree asked. “I want you!”
M’Vy heaved a long, shaky sigh. “All these years, I been wrong. I admit it. I should’ve taken less money and stayed with you and your brother.”
“You can call his name, M’Vy. Name is Dab. Your son, Dab.”
“I know what his name is, Heart. I should’ve stayed with you both. But I didn’t, and now it’s water under the bridge. Parents make mistakes. I did and your daddy did. I left. He left. We both wrong. But I’m at least tryin to make it right. I’m gone put it all together one day. You and me and Silversmith, and Don, if he wants, and that woman with nothing and nobody, Cenithia. Don’t write me off yet, Tree.”
She stopped talking. She waited for Tree.
Tree was sitting up now and Vy took her hand. Tree tried to pull away. Her eyes ran with terror and she burst into racking sobs.
“Oh, baby, don’t cry so. Don’t cry,” Vy said. She folded Tree close in her arms. “Let it all out, hon, what it is. I know, your brother. I know how bad it make you feel.”
Tree pulled away. “But what about me?” she cried. “What about me!”
“What you mean, Tree?” Vy said. “What about you, hon?”
Tree stammered, sobbing, “When … porphyria, me? When I’m … When I’m gone die, like Dab!”
“Oh, my Heart!” Vy whispered. She held Tree close again. And rocked Tree until her sobbing had quieted down. “Listen,” Vy said. “We gone talk about it now.” She took a tissue and wiped Tree’s eyes and face. Then she clasped Tree’s hands safely in her own. “You not gone die, Heart,” she said. “Me, neither. ’Cause I’m sure we don’t have porphyria.”
“But what if we do?” Tree said, fear rising. “I’m so scared we do.”
“Listen to me now cause this is important,” Vy said. “Now. You ever have awful pains in your stomach, and backache, and pain in your arms and legs? Over and over—did you?”
“No’m,” said Tree.
“Do your skin ever feel like it hurtin from just the light, or be blisters and running sores everwhere on your hands. And scars from it?”
“No’m,” Tree said again. “Nothin ever like any of that.”
“And me neither,” said Vy. “Me neither! Don’t you see, Tree? Everybody in our family with porphyria get symptoms way early on, like Dab and Brother. But Brother feel he have to hide it, who knows why. They have these emotional symptoms, too, but they don’t know what wrong with ’em. It cause Brother to drink. And cause Dab to get barbiturates. Maybe first just to ease some of the hard aching. Or to calm him down so to let him sleep. But pills like that cause an overreaction on a porphyric. And it was withdrawal from the pills that help kill Dab. The pills trigger an acute attack of porphyria, just like alcohol did for Brother.
“Tree. They didn’t have to die. If Brother stay away from gin and Dab from his pill
s, they might’ve lived out their lives.”
Tree stared at her. “You tellin me …” Tree paused.
“I’m tellin you it don’t matter if you and me both have porphyria. If we never take barbiturates to addiction or so over-much alcohol, we never gone have an acute attack.”
“Simple as that?” Tree said.
“That simple,” said Vy. “It just a metabolic defect from a genetic abnormality. The first treatment is learning that taking certain drugs or alcohol can start an acute illness that may cause death.”
Tree was silent. She pulled her hands from Vy’s and examined them. There was not a mark on them. “We could’ve saved Dab,” she said, softly, “if you only told me what to look for.”
Vy sighed, getting to her feet. “Didn’t ever think Dab could have it. Didn’t dare. Call me a fool. Been so busy workin, making our lives—I’ll take a lot of the blame,” she said, simply. “I’ll have to live with it.”
Looking down at Tree, there was love in her eyes, in her voice, as she spoke again. “We need a doctor to reassure you,” she said. “I mean to have you and me tested next week. No putting it off now. See, I learn from my tragic mistake.” Her smile was worn and sadness quickly turned down the corners of her mouth. “I mean to be a good mother one day. I love you much, Tree. So maybe you might best stick around.”
She left Tree alone. Tree got up and closed her door. She didn’t lock it this time. In spite of everything, she liked how strong M’Vy could be. She thought and thought, sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet on the bundle. She thought about herself and how empty she felt. She thought about Dab and M’Vy’s love, and about porphyria. Last, she thought about being out on her own. She didn’t know, yet, about that. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, she thought. Finally she got up, picked up the bundle and tossed it in the bottom of her closet.
Later for you. I got time. Don’t let nobody kick you out of your room! I don’t have to hurry. My dad been out there somewhere this long, he can wait for me a little longer.
So saying, she went about her business. She washed up and fixed her face and hair. She could smell supper cooking.
What that old lady fixin up tonight? she wondered. Probably some sweet potatoes and fried chicken. Woman stone weird about cookin nourishing meals.
Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush Page 18