by Tamara Bundy
“You’re welcome,” he managed to say as he pumped their hands up and down.
The smile found its way back to Miss Millie’s face and when the handshake pumping was over, time got back to ticking away at a regular speed.
“Guess Clarence wandered off through the gate somebody left open.” Miss Millie looked directly at Miss Frankie, who had resumed her consuming of the feast. “Whereabouts did ya find him?”
“Up by the church,” Jake answered, not taking his eyes off Clarence. “He kind of was runnin’ in circles up the street when a car come by. They screeched their brakes, but hit him hard enough so’s he couldn’t move. Then the car up and left.”
“And ya saved him and brought him back to me. Thank you.” Miss Millie was trying to sound all conversational, but she was starting to sound more emotional at the suggestion of Clarence just lying in the street.
A blush washed over Jake’s freckles, blending them all into one big patch of red splashed across his face.
“Well, the least I can do is give ya some food for your troubles,” Miss Millie offered to the boy, who gulped at the suggestion. From the looks of him, he didn’t get a lot of offers to eat.
And right then on that holiday, standing beside Miss Millie’s picnic table, I was looking at that skinny Jake McHale and thinking about Pam saying how mad their daddy got and I started wondering what kind of rough life they had.
All he seemed to be doing was eyeing the feast on the picnic table. He stammered, “Oh—oh, I couldn’t—” He looked toward the front yard like he was looking for somebody or some reason, but whatever reasons his head had for saying no, his stomach seemed to overrule them and his whole body just plain sat down and started eating a drumstick like it was the last drumstick on the planet.
Miss Millie laughed and handed him a plate. Then she turned to me. “Alice-girl, why’nt you join us, too?”
I really wanted to, but I knew Mama would be looking for me soon to come to our own picnic. So I sat down and decided to just nibble on a handful of potato chips.
I was thinking as I looked around at that picnic table, we sure made an interesting Fourth of July party. But once everybody started eating, it all seemed kinda natural.
But before I could reach for more chips, Miss Millie’s picnic was interrupted once again—this time when someone yelled a word that would get my mouth washed out with soap if I even whispered it. We all turned to the front gate to see the older McHale brother, who yelled, “What do ya think you’re doin’? Sittin’ with . . . those people? Eatin’ their food? Wait till Pa hears about this!”
Jake turned pale and jumped up from the table so fast, he fell. Picking himself up, he ran out of the backyard, not once looking back.
After Jake and his brother left, we didn’t feel like eating anymore.
Except for Miss Frankie, of course.
chapter 22
I didn’t feel like playing much the next day, but the house was just too hot to stay inside. On the tire swing, in the shade of the tree, I could at least feel a little breeze blowing as I was swinging back and forth.
Pam was over and playing checkers with Eddie. But even she seemed quieter than usual—which for Pam was huge.
Swinging gentle in the tire, I tried to forget how mad I was at Daddy.
I watched Pam and Eddie play their game. When Eddie won, Pam signed “Good.” He, of course, signed “Thank you.” Then I couldn’t believe it, but I saw Pam fingerspelling her name to him. Her hand shook way too much for good fingerspelling, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He signed “Good” over and over to her.
I watched Eddie start “driving” again while Pam folded the checkerboard back into the box. It didn’t fit just right and I saw her get madder at it until she finally just tossed the checkerboard on the ground. That wasn’t like Pam.
I walked over to her. “You okay?”
She looked embarrassed and said, “I’m fine, silly! I’m fine . . . fine . . . fine.”
And wouldn’t you know that was one fine too many? I saw Pam’s bottom lip quiver before she began to cry something fierce.
“I . . . I have to go. Daddy . . . was mad . . . and poor Jake . . . and . . .” She moved to get up, but it looked like her legs weren’t letting her. Instead she just cried more.
I sank down next to her and all I could think to do was pat the top of her head. It kind of looked like I was petting Clarence and it must have felt the same to Pam.
She smiled through her tears. “I’m not a dog, silly.”
I lowered my hand so it rested on her shoulder. “What’s wrong with Jake?” I asked. I mean, he did save Clarence and all. It was only polite to ask.
She looked at her hands, stained with dirt and scratches. “Remember when y’all said my family was mean?”
How could I forget? “I’m sorry—and you know I didn’t mean you—you’re nice.”
She sniffled again. “I know, silly. But y’all is right. My daddy sure is mean. He was yelling at me today and Jake told him to stop. But Daddy doesn’t like to be told what to do.”
“Is your brother okay?”
She nodded her head up and down but didn’t stop crying. “But sometimes I don’t like my daddy very much. I know it don’t seem right, but it’s true.”
Didn’t that beat all? After I’d spent all day thinking about how mad I was at my daddy, Pam started telling me more about how upset she was with hers. Through her tears, she used words like, “Smacks us . . . yells at Mama or Jake when they try to stop him . . .”
By the time she was done telling about her daddy, we sure could’ve used Miss Millie’s hankie. Instead, Pam had to use the bottom of her shirt. We both laughed at that.
After Eddie came back to play with Pam, I sat for a while by myself and had me a revelation. Like another closed window in my brain was cracked open with new information again. Maybe, just maybe, having no daddy was better than having a mean daddy.
My head started spinning from all the new thoughts cramming into it. I was confused and knew where I needed to be.
. . . . . .
“Do you think Clarence is okay to walk?” I asked a surprised Miss Millie as I stood at her back door. We’d decided to let his hind leg rest and not walk him that day, but I really needed the company now, and Clarence was standing next to her, looking fine.
“He’s doing so much better today—wants to be up and moving even though he still limps a bit. I’ll bet it’d do him good to get out for a stretch.”
We were almost at the church before Miss Millie said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shrugged.
She whistled through her teeth. “Well, if ya drag your feet any more, I think people will think you’re older than me.” She chuckled just enough to start her into a coughing fit.
I walked on without saying anything.
“That’s fine,” she offered. “Sometimes we just need to be alone in our thoughts.” She looked at me again. “But sometimes we just need to remember we’re not alone.”
We walked a few more steps before I finally spoke. “My birthday’s next month.”
She whistled again. “Well, goodness! I sure understand why you’re so upset about that—what with ya being so very old and all.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that. It’s just with what happened yesterday, I don’t think Daddy will even remember.”
“Hmmm.” Miss Millie nodded. “You afraid he’ll forget your birthday? Or you afraid he’ll forget you?”
That’s when my own tears started. “Both.”
Miss Millie stopped walking and put her arm around me. Clarence walked until his leash tightened and he jerked his head a little in the tug of it. He looked back at us and before I knew it, he was nudging his head on my hand like he wanted me to pet him all of a sudden.
That made me snort through my tear
s.
Miss Millie took out a new hankie and wiped my eyes. “I promise ya, Alice-girl, your daddy is the one missing out the most by not knowing the real you.”
Before I could answer, I saw a lady I recognized from the choir walking out of the church, heading our way. I thought it might be the one who Miss Millie said gossiped about her. But I wasn’t certain.
Until I heard the two ladies together.
“Millllllllie.” The lady held out her name for pretty near ten seconds, saying it as sweet as one could.
Miss Millie wasn’t participating in the sweetness. She said the lady’s name like she was taking attendance. “Miss Mary.”
Miss Mary continued being her overly friendly self. “And this precious child must be Loretta’s granddaughter. I heard you two were becoming quite the twosome. Two peas in a pod, I hear.”
“This here is Alice. Alice, this here is Miss Mary, the one I was telling you about who sings in church.”
I tried not to laugh out loud at Miss Millie’s message to me, and Miss Mary didn’t seem to notice there wasn’t really a compliment in there for her. “Oh, that’s so nice of you. I do my best. For Him.” She paused and looked up to the sky.
Miss Millie turned to start walking again, but Miss Mary stopped her. “Actually, I’m glad ya mentioned that—I’ve been meaning to tell ya, I was speaking to the preacher about your funeral.”
Miss Millie nodded her head. “Yeah, I bet ya were.”
Miss Mary smiled an overly big smile. “Well, I heard ya in there the other day discussing it with him—so I told him it’d be my pleasure to sing when the day comes.”
Miss Millie tipped her head back and looked down her nose at Miss Mary. “Well, aren’t you just a little singing vulture—waiting for me to die.”
“Oh—no, of course not!” Miss Mary pretended to be shocked. “I certainly hope it’s not for a long time. But know when it happens, I’ll be here.”
“That’s what keeps me living,” Miss Millie mumbled as we walked away.
I glanced back at Miss Mary, who no longer pretended to smile.
We walked only a few more steps before I had to ask, “Are you dying?”
“Alice-girl, we all are dying.”
We walked on. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you know what I mean—or yes, you’re dying?”
Without missing a beat, she answered, “Both.”
chapter 23
Later that week, when Mama was working and Eddie was watching television, Grandma was holding a book like she was reading it, but for the whole time I watched her, she wasn’t turning any pages.
She saw me staring.
“Land’s sake, Alice, it’s impolite to stare. Go play—ride your bike or something.”
Maybe riding that bike of Mr. O’Brien’s wasn’t a bad idea. “Are you sure?”
She stood up. “As a matter of fact, my head hurts a bit. I think I’ll go lie down. Eddie’s glued to the TV, so don’t worry about us. But be sure to comb your hair before going outside. It looks like a rat’s nest in the back.”
I hadn’t heard that side of Grandma for so long, it might’ve been the first time her being critical made me smile.
I decided it was time to ride that bike. I still didn’t have to keep it, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ride it a couple of places like the library.
It actually was pretty nice. Rode much better than Mama’s old one. But I wouldn’t tell Mr. O’Brien that. Not yet.
Just when I turned the corner off Grandma’s street, I saw that Jake McHale out tossing a ball and running to catch it all by himself. It was the first time since the Fourth of July that I’d seen him. As I was riding my bike past him, he looked up and saw me and hollered my name. Just like we were old friends.
I stopped my bike and looked around to make sure that the bigger McHale brother and the daddy weren’t around. The coast was clear.
“How’s the dog doing?” he asked.
“His name’s Clarence,” I answered.
“How’s Clarence?” he tried again.
“Good.”
“Did y’all get a new bike?”
“Sort of—well, no, not really—well, kind of,” I stammered.
He laughed, but it wasn’t a mean kind of laugh. It was a nice kind of laugh. “Well, I wish I’d sort of, not really—well—kind of get a nice bike like that.”
I have no idea why but he smiled real big at me then. And I have even less of an idea why I smiled back.
Then I got on my kind-of new bike and headed to the library.
. . . . . .
Nobody saw me walking in the door. I went over to a tall stack of returned books and noticed the book on top was a sign language dictionary. I remembered Pam’s fingerspelling and had to smile, picturing her working so hard to talk to Eddie.
I was looking for Mama to tell her about Pam learning sign language when I heard her voice from behind some shelves, talking to Mrs. Davis.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can come to terms with him being out of my life. But the kids—it’s not right for them.”
I stopped in my tracks so Mama wouldn’t know I’d overheard that. And she went on.
“He never calls. Never! Is it so hard to pick up a phone and talk to your daughter?”
Those words might as well have slapped me across my face. I stepped back and looked away to try and stop the tears that were forming in my eyes.
I noticed a girl with pigtails who looked kind of familiar sitting at a table reading a book. Right when I looked at her, she looked at me, too, and smiled. I was embarrassed what with her seeing me all emotional, but there was something nice about her and I nodded. Still, I couldn’t even begin to smile back at her, especially after what my mama said next.
“I don’t know what to tell the kids. He just keeps saying he’s trying to find himself.”
I ran out of the library, jumped back on the bike and pedaled like I was being chased. Or maybe I was chasing something—and I was tired of it. So Daddy was trying to find himself? Well, good luck to him, ’cause I sure hadn’t been able to find him for a long time!
Finally getting back to Grandma’s, I dropped the bike and ran to the shed in the backyard. I grabbed the letters that were still scattered on the floor.
And then I grabbed a shovel.
I walked to Grandma’s garden, where the soil was softer, and I started to dig a hole. But the shovel wasn’t digging deep enough and fast enough for me so I dropped it and started to dig with my hands. I must’ve looked like a dog getting ready to bury a bone, but I didn’t care. I dug and dug until my fingernails were sealed with dirt.
When the hole was finally deep enough, the sweat was dripping down my face so much I could barely see—but I managed to pour all Daddy’s love letters in the hole and cover them up.
Daddy buried all those feelings a long time ago. It only seemed right that those letters get buried, too.
chapter 24
A crash came from the house followed by the sound of glass shattering.
I ran into the kitchen and heard the commotion coming from Grandma’s room. Eddie saw me run in and followed me into Grandma’s room.
We found her standing in front of a broken mirror, her hands raised to her face, bright red blood dripping from one hand down her arm and onto the floor.
“Grandma!?” I hollered.
Eddie started to walk closer to her, but I motioned for him to stop because of all the glass on the floor. Watching my step and walking more careful than I’d ever walked before, I made my way to Grandma.
Grandma looked at me like she was a little girl and I was going to scold her for breaking the mirror. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say. Over and over. “I’m sorry . . .”
“It’s okay, Grand
ma. Please sit down and I’ll try to help you.”
I didn’t know whether to try to clean up the glass so no one else got hurt by it, or clean up Grandma’s bleeding hand first. My head and heart were racing.
“Mother?” Relief washed over me when I heard my mama’s voice calling to Grandma.
Mama grabbed a towel and tiptoed over the glass to help Grandma, who was sitting on the bed now, stammering about how the woman in the mirror scared her, and how she had hit the mirror to make that strange old lady go away.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Mama said in a soft voice, soothing Grandma.
I was standing next to Eddie, who held tight to my waist as we watched Mama finish wrapping Grandma’s hand.
Once Mama had stopped the bleeding, she led Grandma around the glass and toward the door, saying to me, “Sweetie, I’m gonna take Grandma to Dr. Reilly. If he’s not there, I might have to take her to a hospital to get her cut checked out. We’ll talk when I get back. I heard you were at the library—that’s why I came home early. Honey, I’m so sorry . . .”
Eddie and I followed them outside and watched the car pull out of the driveway. I started to let a tear fall, but saw that Eddie was scared and was looking at me like I was the last person he had. And I guessed maybe I was.
I signed to him that everything was going to be okay—Grandma would be fine and Mama would be home soon.
Maybe if I told him that enough, I’d start to believe it, too.
. . . . . .
Eddie and I had been in the backyard for less than half an hour when the sky changed.
One minute it was a normal hot and sticky Georgia summer afternoon. And the next the wind started blowing this air that made the trees move like they were dancing in rhythm. Then it grew as dark as I’d seen it get before bedtime, looking like nature knew what was coming and decided it was time to cut off the lights for a bigger effect.
Maybe nature knew what was happening, but I sure didn’t.
And neither did Eddie.