Little Sacrifices

by Scott, Jamie

  ‘Aunt Belle, you’re there every day. Surely you can see that everything is fine.’

  ‘But I’m not there all the time. What I need to know is, are your parents nice to you? Do they get on with each other?’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Aunt Belle, will you please.’ She took her aunt’s hand. ‘Please, leave me in peace? I’m all right. Why can’t everyone just leave me be?’ She picked herself up and hurried off, leaving Mirabelle even more worried.

  Cecile wasn’t going to talk to Mirabelle. And she knew she wasn’t talking to Clare, so Julius was her only alternative.

  She’d never liked her brother–in–law. He was too pompous for his own good, and had a chip the size of a dance floor on his shoulder about her parents. Everyone had to pussyfoot around, to keep from offending his delicate sensibilities. His own family wasn’t poor and, as far as she knew, the Reynolds had never discussed wealth either with him or Clare. In fact, they’d been over the moon when he asked to marry the eldest Reynolds. Since he’d lost his job, she knew he spent almost all his time inside the house. She waited until Clare left, and hopped over the hedge.

  He was in his pinstriped suit as if he was on his way to the office, but his face was unshaven. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Good morning, Julius. May I come in?’

  ‘Cecile’s not here.’

  ‘I know. I, I thought we could talk.’ He stepped aside as she entered the hallway. They stood looking at each other. ‘Uh, maybe we could sit down?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He settled prissily on the edge of the sofa. ‘So.’

  ‘So. Well, I’ll come right to the point. I’m worried about Cecile.’

  ‘Oh?’ He managed to make her feel unimportant in a single word. She really didn’t care for him at all.

  ‘Yes. She hasn’t been herself lately. Haven’t you noticed anything?’

  ‘Er, I don’t think so. But maybe you should talk to Clare about it. After all, she is her mother.’

  Even after so many years, it hurt to hear the lie spoken. ‘She won’t talk to Clare either, and I’m worried to death about her. She’s preoccupied, all balled up. Something isn’t right. I guess I hoped that she’d talked to someone about it.’

  ‘Well if she hasn’t talked to her Aunt Belle,’ he said snidely. ‘I don’t know who else she’d talk to. I’m sure there’s a very simple explanation for her behavior.’ He held up his hand as Mirabelle tried to interrupt. ‘Maybe it’s something at school, or her friends, or even the world in general. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Bosh, Julius, she’s changed. She’s not the same girl she was a few months ago. Something caused that, don’t you think? She needs to talk to someone.’

  ‘Frankly, Mirabelle, if she’s not talking to you it’s probably because she doesn’t want to. I’m sure she isn’t keen on being harried by her relatives at every turn. Why don’t you just let her be? She’s not a child anymore. She’ll come to you if she wants to talk.’

  ‘I know that, Julius. You’ll pardon me if I’m worried about her. I thought you’d have shared my concerns.’ She wasn’t getting anywhere with him. Maybe he was right. She remembered being Cecile’s age. She tried her best to overlook her niece’s moods. By autumn she was almost back to normal, a little more serious maybe, but nearer to her old self.

  Chapter 28

  I picked up the invitation again and ran my thumb over its raised letters. Ma had her back to me, rubbing raw a grape juice ring on the countertop. ‘Who ever heard of engraved invitations for a child’s birthday party?’ She said. ‘They look like wedding invitations, for crying out loud. I don’t know what her parents are thinking, to waste money on such things.’

  ‘It’s not like they don’t have the dough.’

  ‘I don’t care. It’s shameful throwing it away on such nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense? I happen to think that a sixteenth birthday is a pretty big deal. It’s nice that Charlene’s parents are pulling out all the stops to celebrate. Just like we did.’ My face reddened when I remembered my construction paper and glitter invitations. ‘Can I go or not? I need to tell Charlene.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous. We didn’t even have invitations like this for our wedding.’ She looked up and her eyes slid away from mine. ‘You can go.’

  I checked the Will Be Attending box, slid the reply into its envelope and set it on the little stack of envelopes destined for the mailbox. I was willing to bet Charlene’s birthday cake wouldn’t be made by her mom.

  Nothing so exciting had ever happened in my life. Charlene invited a hundred guests, and cousins were traveling from as far away as North Carolina. I tried on my dress every day just to make sure I hadn’t grown any odd protrusions while sleeping. Though I recognized I’d merely be one of a gaggle of girls, I had an excellent reason to look perfect. Lately Clay had renewed his interest in my whereabouts. As soon as I noticed, all the weeks spent untangling him from my affections went out the window.

  The night before the party, Duncan graced us with his presence after dinner. It was a rare evening that he didn’t sneak off to his secret appointment. As we sat in the living room listening to Ma order Dora Lee talking in the kitchen, I thought my father was certainly one of a kind. Then I remembered he wasn’t. ‘Duncan, you mentioned you had a brother. I never knew.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Come on Duncan, it doesn’t matter when. Did you, or didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, if I said I did.’

  ‘Then you did?’

  ‘You said I did.’

  ‘But did you? I’m asking.’

  He was quiet for long enough to make me think he wasn’t going to answer me. I returned to my book in a huff.

  ‘He was quite a bit older than me.’

  Bingo. ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Jerry.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, laughing. ‘I worshipped him.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘Wild. Fun. Nice. Honest. Principled.’

  ‘He died?’

  ‘He died.’

  ‘How?’ Wild, fun, principled Uncle Jerry.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it. It was a long time ago. Hey, will there be a band at Charlene’s fancy party?’

  ‘Uh huh. Why don’t you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Do you know how to dance?’

  ‘Pshh.’ I scowled at him. ‘Of course I do. But why don’t–’

  ‘Okay. Show me.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Come on. Show me.’ He rummaged through the records and dropped Johann Strauss on to the turntable. He held his arms to me.

  ‘No. Not that kind of dancing. Put on something faster.’

  He snickered. ‘What do you think, May? That the Boyds hired Dizzie Gillespie to play at the party? The band’s going to play slow songs, waltzes. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.’

  I stepped into his arms and he pulled me around the living room. ‘For heaven’s sake, stop leading! Follow me. See? One two three and, one two three. My hand on your back tells you where I’m going next. No, stop leading! You’re just like your mother.’

  ‘Sorry.’ We wrestled through a few songs before it dawned on me that Duncan’s body couldn’t defy the laws of gravity any more than mine. He had to step on one leg first and then the other, or he’d fall over. Once I got that through my head, I didn’t step on his feet as much.

  Duncan whistled under his breath as he inched the car towards Charlene’s house. She lived in one of the enigmatic mansions on the squares that sheltered a marvelous garden behind its somber face. The trees in front were wider than my arm span, as if to remind everyone that Charlene’s family had roots as deep. ‘Would you look at this. You sure are rubbing elbows with the moneyed set.’ And it was something to see. Uniformed attendants lined the road, ready to usher the boys and girls from their parents’ cars. Candles flar
ed from sconces along the sidewalk, and every window in the house was alight. ‘Now, May, you be good.’

  ‘I know. Ma already told me.’

  ‘Don’t forget to thank Charlene’s parents.’

  ‘I know, Duncan.’

  ‘All right. Have fun.’

  ‘I will. Hey, Duncan? D’you think Uncle Jerry’d be proud of me?’

  ‘You mean tonight?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘These weren’t the folks Jerry’d have palled around with. He might have gone as an uninvited guest, but he wouldn’t have been welcomed through the front door.’ He chuckled. ‘Yeah, I bet he’d be proud of you.’

  ‘What–’

  ‘Here you go.’ The door opened, the attendant’s countenance faltering as I glared at his intrusion. ‘Have fun!’ He whistled again at the spectacle as the door closed.

  In the front hall, I struggled to keep my head from swiveling off my neck. It looked like Ashley Wilkes’ big house in Gone with the Wind. Except that this was the real thing. Rich yellow walls wrapped me in a warm flannel feeling. A curling banister wound its way to the bedrooms upstairs. Ornate flower arrangements stood on every table. I wondered what Charlene’s Daddy did to afford it all. As I got to know the South, I learned that the house and every stick of furniture in it were passed down on Charlene’s mom’s side. It was an enduring Savannah tradition that armed brides with dowries to entice their would–be husbands.

  Clay moseyed over while I wasn’t looking. ‘May I escort the prettiest girl in the room to the party?’ He whispered, scooping my arm into his before I had the chance to make any inane reply. He looked handsome as ever. I felt as green as my dress. He steered me towards the girls, where they waited next to the Boyds to greet their guests.

  ‘Why, May, you’re beautiful!’

  ‘Just perfect!’

  ‘That really is the most divine color. And Clay, you are as handsome as ever!’

  Charlene introduced me to her parents. Missus Boyd stood a little unsteadily and extended her hand to me. For a second I didn’t know whether she expected me to shake it or kiss it. I chose the former, which seemed to suffice. Mister Boyd was big and smiling. Every few minutes he reached over and squeezed his daughter. It was an affectionate gesture and, as I was about to find out, one that made his wife apoplectic with poorly aimed jealousy.

  ‘Charlene dear, stand up straight. You’re not flattering your figure by slouching like that.’ Somehow she flashed her teeth without really smiling, like she had a facial tic. I disliked her instantly, and immensely. ‘Poor Charlene, she’s never outgrown her baby fat. She got her shape from her father, and I’m sure that isn’t doing her any favors with the young men!’ She laughed humorlessly. If that was how rich people treated each other, I thought, they were welcome to their money.

  ‘Mother, why don’t you go fix yourself another drink?’ Charlene said sweetly through clenched teeth.

  Missus Boyd flushed scarlet. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m drunk? How dare you! I am as sober as you are.’ With mean eyes she dared us to contradict her on the matter. I wasn’t going to be the one to do so. Neither was Mister Boyd, judging by his focus on the marble floor. Maybe women ruled the roost in the South. I’d have loved for Ma to see it.

  The silence stretched until Minty broke the ice. She draped an arm around my shoulder and gathered me into their midst. ‘Clay, you run along now, May’s going to stay with us for a spell, aren’t you, May?’

  ‘Uh, sure. See you later, Clay.’

  He smiled into Missus Boyd’s eyes as he kissed her hand. ‘Well, girls, it’s hardly fair to us men that all the most beautiful ladies at the party are guarding their virtues here in the doorway.’ Missus Boyd giggled like a mental patient.

  ‘Clay, you get out of here!’

  ‘What men? Honestly.’

  ‘Mind your manners, Clay!’

  He made a forlorn face and with hands over heart reeled away to join his friends.

  In their fancy clothes, everyone was beautiful. Charlene’s dress, a white silk taffeta number that swirled around her like meringue, ensured she was the center of attention. Ceecee was glorious in pink and Minty resplendent in yellow. ‘Smile!’ A flashbulb scattered little black squares across my vision. ‘Thank you, Missus Leighton,’ Charlene said, dismissing the photographer by turning her back on her. ‘Well, girls, there’s one for the papers.’ Her voice hitched with excitement that wasn’t altogether healthy.

  ‘Is she from the Morning News?’

  ‘Of course! My party is the social news this weekend. Mother and Daddy invited all the important people. Mayor Kennedy, Judge MacDonnell, Mister Adler, they’re all coming. Even Minty’s daddy is here!’ Minty pulled a face.

  When the band started to play everyone made a beeline for the ballroom. Ceiling–high windows opened to the garden, letting in a spring wind to vex hairdos. In the golden light, the room was lovely. Chairs stood ready against the walls to welcome tired or retiring feet, and little knots of kids chattered and flirted near the punchbowls. The adults were just as noisy, helped along by the champagne waiters patrolling the room with silver trays. Minty made eyes at Charlene’s cousin from Macon until she drew him to his feet. ‘May I have this dance?’ She lowered her eyelashes a fraction and they moved off with his hand on her back. We were picked off one by one by the bolder boys, and I was grateful for Duncan’s foresight. The band was disinclined to play anything written after the Civil War.

  ‘You’re a very good dancer, May,’ said the boy who’d summoned the nerve to steer me to the dance floor. Jimmy was in my class, but before being cheek to cheek, I’d had no occasion to notice him.

  ‘Well.’ I concentrated on keeping my heels away from his instep.

  ‘No, I mean it. And you look beautiful tonight.’ He blushed. I tried to focus on his eyes instead of the pimples reconstructing the Battle of Gettysburg across his face. I asked whether he was good friends with Charlene.

  ‘Naw, not really. We just live next door. My parents are around here somewhere. Charlene and my sister used to be friendly when we were kids. But that’s over now.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well,’ he looked embarrassed. ‘Charlene’s with the popular kids now. Mabel’s never been popular. Not like you.’

  His compliment made me defensive. As if I had anything to do with Mabel being an outcast. The girls chose their friends, and I’d paid my dues fair and square. I deserved to be there, Mabel didn’t. That wasn’t my fault.

  Before I got the chance to put my foot in my smug mouth, Clay cut in. ‘You’re not going to run off with another man now, are you?’ He whispered in my ear. It tickled. I loved it.

  ‘I don’t know, Clay, I might. It all depends on what you’re offering.’ The floor was crowded with would–be wooers and the objects of their affection. We danced between them with hardly a bump. Each time he spun me round to face the windows, I caught Jimmy the Pimple staring at me.

  ‘Offering? I see. Well, how about this?’ He took my hand and tried to put it against his hip. I jerked away and he laughed, catching my hand again and patting it against his pocket. A flask met my palm. After a little more dancing, we walked into the wind.

  The shadows on the lawn were crowded with truant revelers. The breeze was sticky, rubbing woolly the hair around my face. Clay held the flask out to me. ‘Ladies first.’ My eyes stung from the fumes alone, and I had the sense not to knock back a mouthful of the stuff. Not that that made any difference. The sip I took ignited my throat and I coughed and wheezed until the tears ran. ‘Are you okay?’ I waved at him and nodded while I hacked some more. He laughed, took a long draw, and smacked his lips. ‘Want another taste?’ Why not?

  The sips went down easier after the first couple numbing swallows. ‘You hurt my feelings you know when you stopped asking me out,’ I pouted.

  ‘Aw, May, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry about that. I guess I was a jerk.’

  ‘I’ll say you were.’

>   ‘I am sorry. Still friends?’ He handed the flask back.

  ‘I supp–pose.’ I was flirting! It wasn’t so hard. I couldn’t keep from smiling. The whiskey was beginning to taste good. I tipped the flask and caught the last drops on my tongue. ‘Oops, all gone.’

  The ballroom turned hazy during the hour or so that we were outside. I felt positively airy on my feet, and Clay was the most charming he’d ever been. He spun me around the floor until I was dizzy. ‘You’re beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I mean it. You really are. I’m the luckiest guy in here tonight.’

  ‘What about Charlene?’

  ‘She’s not the luckiest guy in here tonight.’

  I cracked up until my sides hurt. ‘Are you making a pass at me?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Okay. Just so I know.’ The floor tipped off–kilter.

  ‘May, you don’t look so good.’

  ‘I don’t? I feel wonderful.’

  ‘You look a little pale. Do you want to take a rest?’

  ‘No! I want to dance all night.’ He grimaced as my heel met his shoe.

  ‘Okay. It’s time to get you off my feet.’

  I admitted I could use the bathroom. He walked me into the hallway where a dozen people stood patiently outside the closed door. ‘Come on. There’s another upstairs.’

  Charlene’s hallway was about a mile long, dimly lit by tiny wall lamps. All the identical closed doors gave it a funhouse feel. Clay deposited me at the bathroom door. It wasn’t easy to get out of my underwear, but once I did it felt great. The girdle bit a purple crease into my stomach, It seemed a bad idea to put it back on. It didn’t fit in my handbag so I hid it behind the towels in the closet.

  Clay called softly from a doorway down the hall as I switched off the light. ‘This way. I thought you might want to rest a bit before we go back downstairs. It’s Charlene’s room. It’s okay, she’ll be busy with her guests.’

  Her room was fairytale pretty. Shelves along all the walls held dozens of dolls. Her vanity table was white and covered with intriguing little jars and bottles. Clay patted a spot on the mattress next to him. I sat down and kicked my shoes off. ‘Here. I’ll rub your feet.’ I laid back and closed my eyes while he massaged some of the dancing out of my feet. It felt nice. Very nice. Then he kissed me, and I kissed back. That also felt nice. Very very nice.