Chasing Lilacs

by Carla Stewart

  I took a deep breath and scooted to the edge of my chair.

  “Mr. Howard, did the typing department sell all the used typewriters?”

  “What an odd question for the matter at hand.” He shuffled the papers on his desk.

  Seeing his confusion gave me a tingle of excitement. A riddle for Howdy Doody? “Well, did they?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, we couldn’t get rid of them so we donated them to the VFW rummage sale.”

  “Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.” Let him think I’d flipped my lid. He already did anyway.

  When I left Mr. Howard scratching his head, I knew the time had come to try out my New Year’s resolution—I would not run away from my problems. I had some serious questions for Aunt Vadine.

  [ THIRTY-FOUR ]

  I’M HOME,” I HOLLERED, tossing my bag onto the end table.

  Aunt Vadine came from the bedroom, looking like she’d just woken up from a nap.

  In the kitchen I banged a few cupboards, poured a glass of milk from the icebox, and dipped a Lorna Doone in the milk.

  “How was school?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. First day of the new semester. Math review.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Study hall last hour.”

  Aunt Vadine smoothed her hand over her sparrow-colored hair and plopped onto the couch, picking up her crochet.

  “Mr. Howard called me into the office.” I sat in Daddy’s rocker.

  “Mmmm…” The crochet hook zipped in and out, a steady line of thread unwinding from the yarn ball. I drummed up my courage.

  “He wanted to discuss your visit to the school before Christmas.” My insides bubbled with emotion. “I saw you that day, you know. At the time I thought you were coming to get one of the typewriters I had on my list—you remember, the used ones from the typing department.”

  “We don’t have room for a typewriter, and the peck-peck-peck I’m sure you’d be doing day and night would drive us all crazy.”

  “You could have said something, or we could work out a schedule.”

  “You’re too young for a typewriter. Besides, they were gone.”

  “Not according to Mr. Howard.”

  She stopped in midair and turned toward me, but said nothing.

  “I found out what you were doing at school.” My jaw ached from tensing it so tight.

  “Writing such nonsense will only get you into trouble.”

  “Mrs. Gray didn’t think it was nonsense. Neither did Brother Henry.”

  “Lawsy, Samantha, what did you do? Wag your fantasy all over creation?”

  “That’s not the point. You interfered in my life. You had no right to go behind my back, kiss up to the school principal, and get me kicked off the school paper. You have violated my rights.” My voice squeaked higher with every word.

  “Children don’t have rights.”

  “That’s a lie. Was it your idea or Daddy’s?”

  “He doesn’t have time to chase off after every ridiculous incident you pull.”

  “Ridiculous? To you maybe. To me it was a big deal to work on the newspaper. As a matter of fact, I hope to talk to Daddy in the morning and see what he thinks.”

  “Your father is busy making a living and grieving the loss of his wife, and I fully expect he will support me in this. I’ve tried my best to be here for him, to fill in the gaps and give him comfort….”

  “And be my new mother?” The words gagged me, but I couldn’t stop them.

  Aunt Vadine’s spine straightened, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Well, certainly, if and when your father is ready, I believe we could make it work. I’ve known him even longer than your mother did.”

  She knew Daddy before Mama did?

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s really none of your affair. What your daddy and I had is between us.” The crumpled crochet rested in her lap, her fingers tangled in the yarn. A faraway look came into her eyes.

  “You dated Daddy?” I thought I might vomit.

  “That’s not so hard to believe, is it?”

  “Daddy said meeting Mama at that dance was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  “Of course he would say that. He wasn’t the first to have his head turned by a good-looking woman. She could be quite charming when there was something in it for her.”

  “Were you mad at Mama for stealing your boyfriend?”

  “Of course not.” She drew her shoulders up in a huff. “It’s all water under the bridge. Sometimes God gives us a second chance.”

  “Is that what you were thinking when you came for Mama’s funeral? That Daddy might give you a second chance?”

  “Don’t be absurd. I came to help. It was the Christian thing to do.” She stood up, straightening a doily on the armrest of the couch.

  “Tuwana was right then.”

  Her eyes narrowed and turned from muddy brown to flashes of gold, like a cat ready to pounce on a garden snake.

  “Tuwana said you came to be my new mother, that you’re just waiting for the right time.”

  “Men have needs, things you’re much too young to know about.” Her words were aimed at a spot over my head like she was addressing an invisible person behind me.

  “Like your boyfriend Bobby?”

  She sucked in her breath. “Eavesdropping on my conversation was a nasty thing for you to do. I will not allow you to interfere in my life.”

  “But you can interfere in mine? Throw my books into the incinerator? March off to school and get me thrown off the paper? Steal Mama’s pearls? Kiss my daddy?” The words flew out of my mouth, and I didn’t try to stop them.

  Aunt Vadine stepped toward me. Her arm flew at me, her open palm slamming against my cheek. My brains bounced from one side of my head to the other. My face stung, and hot tears filled my eyes. I blinked, refusing to let them fall. She would not make me cry.

  “This conversation is over, you ungrateful little ninny.”

  “No, it’s not. You will not be my new mother. I will talk to Daddy. You’ll see.”

  The feel of her hand on my flesh burned, but I didn’t care. I threw on my coat, hat, and gloves and slammed the front door behind me. I whistled for Scarlett. My breath huffed out in white clouds, and the air tingled my cheeks, easing the ache in my jaw from Aunt Vadine’s slap. She could knock me silly for all I cared, but I would tell Daddy about Bobby and the newspaper and her lighting in to me. At least Mama had an excuse for all the times I’d come home and found the house dark, dirty dishes in the sink, and her curled in the quilt in her bedroom. She had depression. Aunt Vadine was just plain mean.

  Tuwana was right. Not just about Aunt Vadine thinking she could become the new Mrs. Joe Tucker, but also about the pearls. They were mine, and I would take them back. Call it stealing if you want, but… they… were… mine. Mama wanted me to have them. And her New Testament. Seek and ye shall find.

  My stomach tightened. While Scarlett scampered from one yard to the next, the cold bit me, creeping through my coat, my hat. The January dusk turned quickly from furry tan to a deep gray. The elm trees stood with their bare arms reaching up in jagged angles to the sky. I looked up, hoping someone in heaven would reach down for me.

  An achy spot inside wanted someone to hold me, to ask about my day at school and laugh with me. Daddy did those things, but a mother is what I wanted. Daddy deserved better than Aunt Vadine. We both did.

  From my feather bed, I waited, listening for Daddy to come home from work. Morning seemed an eternity away, so I’d decided to stay awake until his shift ended.

  Soft giggling pulled me out of the half sleep I must’ve fallen into. Moonbeams slanted through the gauzy curtains above my bed, ending on the twin bed where Aunt Vadine slept. Empty. No snoring from her side of the room. Then another giggle.

  From the front room? I strained my ears, trying to tell where the sound came from.

  Daddy’s room? Possibly. Was that Aunt Vadine giggling?

  A cre
aking sound. Then a gruff, low sound. Cold sweat covered my body. I lay there listening, trying to piece it all together for what seemed like hours. I wanted to get up and talk to Daddy, but my body felt paralyzed.

  What did they think? That I was just a kid who couldn’t put two and two together and figure out what moaning and creaking meant? I’m no expert, but I would have to be a certified idiot to not figure out what Aunt Vadine was doing with my daddy.

  No! No! No! Don’t let her trap you, Daddy!

  Low voices came like radio static to my ears. No more giggles or squeaking sounds. Maybe I’d heard something on the television. The toilet flushed, and Daddy’s voice came through loud and clear. “ ’Night, Vadine.” He shut the door to his room.

  When I woke up the next morning, Aunt Vadine’s bed had its normal crumpled look, and I smelled bacon and coffee. I’d overslept by ten minutes and threw on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair, still determined to talk to Daddy for at least a few minutes.

  “Juice?” Aunt Vadine swooshed around the kitchen in her flimsy robe.

  “No thanks. Toast and milk will be enough.”

  “Back to school, huh, Sis?” Daddy chewed a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  “Yeah, there’ve been some changes I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Aunt Vadine glided to the table and poised over Daddy’s cup, refilling his coffee from the pot in her hands. “Your daddy and I visited last night.” Her words flowed like Aunt Jemima syrup.

  And what else? It was on the tip of my tongue. I gulped a big swallow of milk. How I could even think about breakfast at a time like this shocked me. And they acted as if nothing had happened.

  “Aunt Vadine didn’t realize how badly you wanted a typewriter, said we ought to see about getting one for your birthday. It’s coming up, February thirteenth.” He winked at me.

  “Yes, I do want one, but…”

  “Samantha, better get your shoes on. Here’s your coat. I heard the bus beeping down the street.” Aunt Vadine scurried like a tornado was coming, collecting my things and shooing me out the door.

  A heavy frost had snapped every blade of dried grass to attention, glistening in the sun like a sea of glass sequins. My feet crunched as I walked toward the bus. In the light of day, I tried to remember what I had heard last night. Had Aunt Vadine gone to Daddy’s room, knowing as a man he’d be interested, as Tuwana put it? Would she do that? Aunt Vadine said men had needs. My head told me she didn’t mean the universal human needs for food, water, and shelter like we’d learned in science class. But she and Daddy acted everyday normal this morning, except for the mention of the typewriter.

  It must’ve been a dream or my fanciful imagination, like Mr. Howard said.

  I climbed the steps of the bus, more uncertain with every step, and by the time I slid into the seat beside Tuwana, I knew it had just been a nightmare. But it seemed so real.

  After that I started having the same dream almost every night. Not the swirling black hole, but scary just the same. Daddy and I would be having a picnic or walking along a stream, the sun making sparkles around us. The picture would flash, and Aunt Vadine would appear. Daddy wore his army uniform, and Aunt Vadine had long brown hair, painted red lips, and golden eyes. She held Daddy’s hand, and when I yelled, “Wait for me!” she glanced over her shoulder at me, the holes in her eye sockets empty. Then she walked the other way, pulling Daddy with her. I tried to run after them, but I had turned into a cardboard girl, flat like a paper doll. The more I tried to move, the thinner I got, until just an outline remained. That’s when I would wake up, trying to turn back into Sammie so I could run after them. Sweat covered my body, and the air never let me suck it in. I pinched my arm to make sure I had skin and flesh. Then I would lie in bed, hugging Mama’s robe to my chest and listen until I heard Aunt Vadine’s snore, thankful once again she hadn’t run off with Daddy.

  The next morning my arms would have red spots from the pinches I gave myself. Bruises, some purple, some fading to yellow and green, spotted my arms. Thank goodness it was winter and I could wear long sleeves without raising suspicion.

  * * *

  The middle of January, Daddy took us to a basketball game. Our Chevy had a clunk Daddy wanted to look at, so we took Aunt Vadine’s car. We invited Slim to go, but he said he felt a bit under the weather, so Aunt Vadine came instead. And Tuwana of course. All the way to town, Aunt Vadine clucked about what a nice place Mandeville was and how she couldn’t wait to see Cly play. Tuwana rolled her eyes at me as we sat in the backseat.

  “Mother decided to keep her job at the bank. Says there’s a teller’s job opening up soon, and she’s determined to go through the ranks. The way she talks, she’ll be vice president by the time I’m through high school.”

  “Say, Aunt Vadine. Maybe you could see about the secretary job if Tuwana’s mother is getting a promotion.” A job might get her mind off being my new mother.

  “I’ve always felt the woman’s place is in the home.” Aunt Vadine giggled and patted Daddy on the arm.

  Tuwana nodded her head like See, I told you so.

  Between the girls’ and boys’ games, I went to the concession stand. Waiting in line, I spotted Mrs. Gray, laughing, the bun on top of her head bobbing as she chatted with someone. She saw me and came over.

  “Sammie, I’ve been wanting to see you. How are you?” She wore the sweater and corduroy pants she’d loaned me, and they looked much better on her, showing off her nice figure.

  “I’m fine.” My fingers itched to touch her sweater, give her a hug, but it didn’t seem right, so I fiddled with the catch on my wallet.

  “We’ve missed you dearly on the newspaper. I feel dreadful about what happened.”

  “Me too. I keep hoping I can talk to Daddy about it, see if he’ll come and see you.”

  “You mean it wasn’t your father’s idea to… uh…”

  “Not hardly.”

  “But Mr. Howard said your aunt came at his insistence. Then I met your dad at Christmas and he seemed so nice—I thought there’d been some misunderstanding.”

  “May I take your order, please?” the boy behind the concession counter asked.

  “No, not right now. I’ll be back.” I stepped out of the line and turned back to Mrs. Gray. A catch in my throat kept me from talking for a moment. I looked down at my penny loafers. “My aunt and I have had some problems.”

  “So I gathered. When I told you that night at Slim’s I was a good listener, I suspected something, but I won’t interfere. Slim’s told me a lot about you. He’s crazy about you.”

  Looking up, I smiled at her. “I think he’s swell too. Why do you call him Slim and not dad?”

  “It’s a long story, but we’ll get together sometime and chat. I lost my mother when I was your age, and life can throw you some mighty big curves. I know.”

  “Thanks. Can I have Daddy come and talk to you?”

  “Nothing I would like better.” She turned to go back into the gym, and I got back in line.

  “Make up your mind yet?” the guy behind the counter asked.

  I ordered a Dr Pepper and M&M’s. That’s when the first glimmer of an idea formed, and by the time I sat back down, I knew I’d thought of a way to get Daddy’s mind off Aunt Vadine as my future mother. Something had to be done before she pulled him any farther into her web.

  [ THIRTY-FIVE ]

  FOR DAYS I PLEADED with Tuwana to help me with my plan. Personally, I thought the idea of getting Daddy interested in Mrs. Gray was nothing short of brilliant.

  I thought reasoning with Tuwana might help. “Mrs. Gray is one of the most popular teachers in school.”

  “Yes, but probably because no one knows about her past, at least her father’s past. If they knew…”

  “All I’m asking is for you to go over there with me, friendly like, as you’re so fond of saying, and we can ask if Mrs. Gray has a boyfriend.”

  “That sounds weird. Old people don’t call it that, I’m
sure. Maybe we should ask if she has a love interest.”

  “So you’ll go with me?”

  “Only because you won’t shut up about it. And Mother can’t find out or she’ll kill me.”

  “How about Saturday? She takes your sisters to piano lessons then, doesn’t she?”

  “All right, all right. Saturday. Have you looked for the pearls any more?”

  “Every place I can think of. I’ve become a regular Nancy Drew.”

  On Saturday it snowed again. The wind howled, and we stayed in the house the whole weekend. Daddy and I played so many games of backgammon, I saw the spots on the dice every time I closed my eyes. Double six. Snake eyes. A four and a three.

  I tried to think of ways to talk about Mrs. Gray, but Aunt Vadine kept herself planted on the couch, you know what in her hands, just whipping the hook in and out. This week she made baby bibs with ruffled edges in yellow and green. When I asked her what she was going to do with all those baby things, she lifted her chin. I swear, for a minute I thought her eyes were hollow, like the dream. Then the corners of her mouth tilted up, and gold specks reflected off the bulb of the table lamp. She never said what she would do with the baby bibs. And I never got a chance to tell Daddy how nice it would be if he talked to Mrs. Gray.

  The rest of January and the first week of February had the same nasty weather—sometimes just cold and wind, sometimes snow flurries. Cly still had basketball after school, and it was too cold to ride bikes or go to Tuwana’s after school. Besides, she had to watch her sisters and start supper.

  My insides tingled every time I thought about Mama’s hatbox. I desperately wanted to get it from the garage, but Aunt Vadine watched my every move. If I tried to sneak it into the house, she would blast me with questions or spout her opinion about Mama roasting in hell.

  Then there was the deal about the pearls. I still hadn’t found them. I had to stay on my aunt’s good side if there was any hope of seeing them again.

  One night, when Daddy had evenings and the house had that choking-close feeling, I gathered up Mama’s things—her hairbrush, the lilac soap, the glove full of dirt, her New Testament, her robe—and took them into Daddy’s closet. Sitting in a dark corner with Mama’s clothes I’d rescued from the VFW rummage sale, I sniffed the soap. The scent brought tears to my eyes, but I inhaled deeper, determined not to cry. Mama, I miss you. I picked long, coarse strands of Mama’s hair from the brush and wondered what she would think about Aunt Vadine and Daddy.