“Grandmother, they all seem to forget his real contribution—music allows us to escape to a place where nothing bad can touch us. It’s like a time-traveling machine we can access almost anytime. Maybe the meditation garden is Elvis’s personal time-traveling machine.”
When Cissy said the hospital didn’t allow music, Janelle found that strange and sad. If anything, the hospital was the most important place for music to break up the heaviness in those girls’ long days. She thought it ridiculous no one else came to the same sensible conclusion, particularly Dr. Guttman, since he was so willing to operate outside the rules.
After the quick drive down Elvis Presley Boulevard, Janelle bought ham and olive loaf sandwiches, and found a small park where they could eat at a picnic table in the shade.
“I love how a tree’s branches can rescue us from both sunburn and misery,” Cissy said in between bites, her cheeks rosy from the heat.
“Cissy, you don’t have to eat with so much enthusiasm. Slow down your chewing and act like a lady.”
“No one is watching us,” she said. “What does it matter?”
“Someone is always watching. And if you practice your manners in private, you’re less likely to forget them around proper company.”
Cissy sat straighter, crossed her ankles, and placed a paper napkin across her lap. “Now if only I had a knife and fork for my sandwich,” she teased.
Janelle pursed her lips in mock annoyance, but was thankful for Cissy’s silliness.
“Grandmother, have you ever done something that wasn’t proper and polite?”
The question threw Janelle off guard and she thought of dodging it. Secrets seemed pointless at this juncture, though.
“I took one of my granddaddy’s cigars and convinced a girlfriend to smoke it with me,” she said, not cracking a smile. Cissy’s astonished eyes could grow no wider and she leaned forward in anticipation of more details.
Janelle had been just fourteen years old when the foolish idea came over her. Her friend, Madeline, had brought the matches and they met in a creek bottom about a mile from her granddaddy’s farm.
“I took the first puffs and Madeline asked how it tasted. Not wanting to seem immature, I lied and told her it was delightful even though I’d never tasted anything so foul,” Janelle admitted. “So Madeline took several deep draws herself. I suppose she wasn’t about to let me appear more sophisticated than she.”
“What happened next?”
“We kept trying to outdo each other by taking puff after puff until Madeline’s face turned sour and she threw up over the front of my blouse. I vomited next, but I never knew if it was because of the cigar or because Madeline got sick on me.”
“Wow” was all Cissy could manage.
“Close your mouth, child,” Janelle said. “It’s not that outrageous a story.”
Cissy finished her sandwich, smiling wide the whole time. Janelle didn’t have the energy to harp at her to keep her mouth closed. More pressing was determining where to head next. Janelle still hadn’t decided, so she asked Cissy to run back to the car to get the map.
“You know, Grandmother, I could help with the driving if you would teach me.” She looked over Janelle’s shoulder, waiting for a reaction.
“You’re too young to drive. Case closed.”
“I’m sixteen,” she challenged. “I’m not a child anymore.”
“Yes, you keep reminding me of that.” Janelle sighed and looked up at this girl who’d done so much maturing in the last three months. “I don’t suppose it could hurt.”
Cissy clapped her hands furiously and then plopped back down on the bench after Janelle gave her a stern look.
“Grandmother, it makes good sense that I learn how to drive,” she said. “What if you start feeling unwell? I could drive while you rest.”
Janelle mulled over this reasoning and agreed to a lesson, although she insisted they find a back road where there’d be no traffic. They drove around for quite some time on two-lane county roads until happening upon a dirt road half hidden by soybean fields.
“Do you think we could get any farther away from civilization?” Cissy asked.
“I know you didn’t inherit that mouth from my side of the family,” Janelle said.
“Maybe my smart mouth didn’t come from anyone. I could just be talented that way.”
Janelle relaxed and said a quick prayer that Cissy would not harm their sole means of transportation. Her granddaughter moved the seat back to accommodate her long legs and listened while Janelle gave basic instructions. Cissy fiddled with the knobs on the radio, so Janelle began her instructions all over again, insisting that Cissy pay attention this time.
“It’s not like book learning, Grandmother. I have to actually drive to learn.” She started the car and pulled the shifter to D. She licked her lips in deep concentration and wiped her palms on her skirt before gripping the wheel again.
“Ten and two. Hands at ten and two,” Janelle reminded her as Cissy jammed the accelerator too hard and spun a dark cloud of dust behind them. When Janelle yelled for her to brake, Cissy slammed it just as hard, pitching the whole car forward. They continued the herky-jerky dance until Janelle’s patience ran out and her lunch threatened to come up.
“There’s a certain finesse to driving, Cissy, just like dancing.” She held a hand against her temple. “You’ve got to have a lighter touch.”
Cissy begged to be able to practice just thirty minutes more. “I’m certain I can be a more delicate and refined driver if given the chance.”
“Let’s try again another day. We have to put some miles on the road before dark.”
Janelle could tell her granddaughter thought about pitching a fit. But internal negotiations played out on her face. Janelle smiled at Cissy’s struggle with restraint and maturity. She must have remembered who held the power to grant future driving privileges.
Back in Memphis, Janelle pulled the car into a service station for gasoline and to buy Cissy a Yoo-hoo and MoonPie for the road so she’d stop complaining about her growling insides.
“How do you eat so many sweets without gaining an ounce?” Janelle chided.
“Grandmother, you should pay more attention to the wondrous tastes and smells of food instead of fearing your pants won’t fit one day.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You have your daddy’s string-bean genes and don’t have to worry about your figure.”
Cissy turned her head away and looked outside the passenger side window. Janelle hadn’t meant to bring up her father. Comparing their physical traits was deplorable.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mention your daddy.” She rested her hand on Cissy’s thigh, but her granddaughter scooted even closer to the passenger side door, her head against the glass now.
“Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother. It’s not like he never enters my thoughts. Let’s just get to where we’re going.”
* * *
For the next three hours, Janelle kept her eyes on Cissy instead of on the road where they should’ve been. The girl had grown so silent, she feared she’d caused Cissy to lapse into a darkness neither of them would be able to lighten.
Janelle was relieved when Cissy asked to stop the car so that she could move to the backseat and lie down for a nap. She wedged herself into a fetal position, legs tucked in because of their length and the narrowness of the car.
“Are you getting enough cool air back there? Do you need something to put under your head?” Janelle asked.
“Please don’t worry about me, Grandmother. I’m happy not to have the air conditioner blowing on me. My temperature’s just fine,” she said without emotion.
The late-afternoon sun soon lulled her into a deep sleep. Janelle listened to her childlike snores while struggling to keep her own eyes open. The sun shone through the canopy of trees, casting a mottled pattern across the windshield. She pictured herself in the middle of a forest of tall pines with Beau. They were young then, before Car
oline was born, and they had their entire lives ahead. Everything was easy. She’d breathe in the smokiness of the needles, dry and sun-bleached on the ground, and he’d place his palms against her flushed cheeks. Sometimes they’d bring a picnic lunch of cold fried chicken and fall asleep, holding hands and watching clouds.
Janelle grew worried that her daydreams were pushing her somewhere below consciousness. She rubbed her eyes and felt the perspiration on her forehead.
Cissy sat up and crossed her elbows on the back of the front seat. “Where are we now, Grandmother?”
“Right outside Nashville. We’ll stay here for the night,” Janelle whispered through parched lips.
“You don’t look all that good.”
“I’m just tired, Cissy,” she groused. The double center stripe had become four, so Janelle kept the car close to the side of the road to ensure it would stay in the correct lane.
“You look something more than tired.”
“Keep your eye out for a motel,” Janelle snapped.
“I’m worried about you.” Cissy’s voice broke and she snuffled back tears. “Tell me how to help.”
“Just keep looking. We’re bound to find something in the next couple of miles.”
Dear Lord, Janelle thought, don’t let me wreck this car after all that’s happened to Cissy. Don’t make her face more death just yet.
“Grandmother, look! It’s a HoJo’s, your favorite.” Cissy squealed and pointed to the familiar teal and orange sign.
“I see it, too, Cissy.” With shaking arms and legs, she managed to steer into the parking lot.
“Let me help you inside, Grandmother.” Cissy grabbed her elbow and steadied her as they entered the motel lobby and paid for a room. She just had to keep it together a moment more.
“My name’s Mae Johnson. This is my granddaughter, Matilda.” She kept to the script and handed over cash. The manager eyed her unsure hands, but said nothing.
Since their room was just a few doors down from the office, Janelle asked Cissy to walk her directly there. They could always get their bags later. The room smelled of cigarettes and air freshener, but neither of them commented. Janelle sat on one of the double beds. Cissy lifted her legs onto the mattress so she could curl on her side. Her breathing had become so shallow, Janelle thought to warn Cissy of her illness in case anything should happen.
“Do you want me to cover you with the bedspread, Grandmother?”
“I’m fine, Cissy. I think I’ll just sleep for now.” The darkness she’d longed for finally came.
Chapter 27
Cissy left the door open as she hurried back and forth to the car, transferring all their belongings into the motel room. A deep and unnamed fear chased her across the parking lot, so she closed the door, turned the deadbolt, and slid the chain into its grooved slot. Even with Grandmother sleeping soundly just a few feet away, Cissy felt truly alone in the world for the first time.
“You’re never alone, Cissy.” God sat propped up against the headboard of the second bed. Cissy crawled beneath the covers and wished she’d just go away.
“I feel like crying,” Cissy whispered so she wouldn’t wake Grandmother.
“Then you should cry.”
“I don’t want to seem like a child. I need to be strong.”
“Crying doesn’t mean you’re weak, Cissy. You’re meant to feel emotion. Otherwise you’re dead to the world.”
Cissy could hear her grandmother’s labored breathing, but refused to turn and look at her. Instead, she pulled the bedspread up over her head, which magnified the humming in her ears.
“Why don’t you sleep with your grandmother,” God suggested.
“I’m too scared.”
“I’ll be here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
When Cissy turned to look, her grandmother slept deeply, her mouth open in a perfect O. Cissy’s chest heaved with heartache to think her Grandmother’s body wasn’t as strong as her spirit. Then Cissy wanted nothing more than to be close to her. She moved to her bed and slid over to the middle so they could share the same pillow. Their faces were so close Cissy could smell the sourness in Grandmother’s breath left over from the coffee she’d had with her lunch. Only a trace of her perfume remained after the long travel day, but it was enough to comfort Cissy as she fell asleep.
She didn’t think she moved the entire night because her joints seemed locked in place when she woke. Grandmother still slept soundly, but she’d turned over some time in the night and had pulled the covers up over her shoulders. Cissy crept over to the dresser to check the time on the alarm clock. It was only 7 a.m., but they’d skipped dinner the night before and she almost doubled over with hunger. Thankfully, she remembered Grandmother had bought some snacks for the drive when she went into the grocer’s to pick up their sandwiches for lunch the day before.
Cissy grabbed the keys to the car and found the brown paper sack she’d not seen on the floorboard when she got the luggage last night. She didn’t bother to return to the room before she dug into the hard salami and saltines. Sitting in the car with the door open, she gnawed small bites of the salami off one end, careful to trim it up straight since she lacked utensils. Still, Grandmother would surely be mortified when she saw her lack of manners.
When Cissy had her fill and locked the car, she returned to the room to grab a few of her notebooks from the suitcase so she could read them by the small swimming pool just steps from the room. It was too nice to stay indoors since the morning air lacked the humidity that typically greeted them each day. She left the door ajar, though, in case Grandmother woke.
The pebbles embedded in the concrete around the pool’s edges pricked at her bare feet, but Cissy liked the rough sensation against her skin. The chlorinated water smelled fresh like clean sheets on the clothesline, so she sat down to dangle her feet over the edge. It wasn’t the ocean, but it’d do.
She flipped through a couple of the notebooks. Cissy figured now that she was on the road, she’d run across even more interesting and exotic things to add. Biloxi had grown pretty boring, the hospital even more so, and her lists reflected that. She’d never kept a journal before, but perhaps Grandmother would buy her a new notebook for that purpose. Who knows what adventures awaited them. She’d have a record of her time with Grandmother in case she ended up back at the psychiatric hospital in Meridian.
Even with an excellent imagination, Cissy struggled to envision a future for them. She tried to picture her grandmother buying them a charming house in Charleston, one with columns or with a porch that wrapped clear around the sides. Or, maybe they’d keep traveling to the nation’s capital or Boston, and rent an apartment in a brownstone building like the one Dr. Guttman rented in New York City. Sadness washed over Cissy as each daydream evaporated before she could truly latch on to it.
Although late September days could feel as warm as summer, a breeze hinted that fall waited its turn. The pool water started to feel almost too cool with the wind picking up. Cissy lifted her legs back up onto the cement patio. When she stood up to fetch a sweater from the room, a gust blew her skirt up around her waist and sent the notebooks into the water.
They floated like lily pads of all colors and she stared at them dumbfounded. Her fear of their destruction was so great that she jumped into the middle of them in a panicked rescue. Cissy struggled to tread water, her billowing skirt working against her. As she reached for one notebook, her thrashing sent others out of reach. Pool water stifled her cries and she sputtered to keep her mouth free to take a breath.
“Miss! Miss, grab the side of the pool!”
The man’s voice sounded hollow and faraway as her ears dipped below the water’s surface, but her body sensed his instructions were important. Cissy dog-paddled to the edge of the pool and grabbed his waiting hand. With one strong pull, he yanked her back onto the cement patio.
As she sat and sobbed, he took a mesh net on a long metal pole and retrieved the notebooks, flicking each from
the net onto the patio like leaves and debris that had tainted the pristine surface. She clutched them to her wet chest.
“What is going on out here?” Grandmother screeched from the doorway of the room. She’d found both her voice and enough strength to get out of bed. “Cissy? Cissy, are you all right?”
She scuttled over and knelt beside Cissy, stroking her arm, as the man explained what happened. He was a groundskeeper and noticed Cissy had jumped into the pool after the notebooks.
“Miss, you oughtn’t be jumping in water if you can’t swim,” he joked. “You got tangled up in your own arms and long legs.”
“I can swim!” she stuttered. “I . . . I . . .”
“Her notebooks are very important,” Grandmother explained. “She probably panicked. We’re mighty thankful you were so close by to help.”
“I’ve never known a girl to care so much about her schoolwork, especially such a pretty teenager. Shouldn’t you be worrying about boys and movies and makeup and such?” The man laughed and shook his head before telling her to be careful around the pool if they were staying a spell.
“Let’s go inside and dry you off. Give me those,” Grandmother said, and Cissy released the soaking notebooks into her care.
Clammy and cold, Cissy took off all her clothes and crawled beneath the sheets naked, too overcome with sorrow for her lost lists to search out dry clothes. Grandmother hushed her whimpering and said everything would be all right, that Cissy should stay calm. She watched as Grandmother spread towels over the floor of the room and laid out the notebooks to dry. She took great care to dab at their wet pages with a white washcloth that soon picked up blue and black ink stains.
“Thank you, Grandmother.”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” she said. “You can still read what you’ve written. The pages and covers are just a little warped. Why don’t you nap for a while? You’re sure to feel better when you wake up.”
Her certainty wrapped around Cissy like another blanket, protecting her from the chattering of her teeth and insides. From the minute she woke in the backseat of Grandmother’s car and realized she was no longer at the hospital, each day held perils she’d never faced before. As much as Grandmother loved her, she thought Cissy feeble-minded for talking to God and counting to calm herself. Grandmother would never say such a thing out loud, but her expressions, even the way she held herself, indicated that Cissy tried her patience. Cissy wondered if Grandmother regretted taking her away from Meridian, but couldn’t find a way to undo her actions.
Forgiveness Road Page 23