by Anne Lovett
What the hell is that supposed to mean? She lit the cigarette but her hand was unsteady. She took a deep drag and blew out the smoke. I didn’t get to savor the moment because Duke appeared in the doorway. He laid his hand on Ava’s shoulder and she grabbed it like she was going down for the third time.
What’s all the shoutin’ about? he wanted to know.
She says she’s not going back to school, Ava said.
Let her be, Ava, said Duke, eyeing my scar. Give her more time. We can work something out. I knew why he didn’t try to talk to me, talk me out of my swamp. It was too close to the bone.
Duke called the school and made arrangements for me to study at home with the Visiting Teacher for another week or two. Hank, Lindy, and Starrett Conable came to see me, but I turned Starrett away. He left a bouquet of flowers and I threw them in the trash and Ava took them out and set them on the dining room table. Or so I heard from Elzuma. I told her she could have them. My English teacher brought me a book of poems by Dorothy Parker thinking they would cheer me up. Might as well live. I knew her secret message was in case I was suicidal. Even as I thanked her, I knew my poem-writing days were over forever.
What had my teacher told me? A poem is a vicarious sense impression. Right now my only sense impression was a dark foggy blob shot with pain, and I couldn’t see it getting better. Writing poems had been fun, they had been a way to make sense out of my world. Now nothing made any sense. I was going to be scarred for the rest of my life. I might as well not live.
In my spare time I played solitaire with Elzuma’s cards out of the chifforobe. When she came to visit with me, rocking with snuff in her cheek, I asked her to teach me to tell fortunes, but she claimed she didn’t remember how. She told me tales of the farm when Duke was a boy, when he would come out and go fishing with his granddad and about the time he almost lost his finger to a snapping turtle but it healed up and worked just fine now.
The week stretched into the next, and slowly the fog lifted, like layers drifting away, so I could see a vase of flowers and two presents on top of the chifforobe, which I finally opened, and found a bottle of Evening in Paris perfume from Starrett and a flowered neck scarf from Lindy. I was glad of the scarf and wrote Lindy a note.
One morning when I woke up early, the pink sunrise creeping over the treetops looked so joyful and hopeful that I couldn’t help but smile—for just a minute, because it hurt—and I thought maybe I wanted to be here for more sunrises. It was that very same day that a new face appeared at my door with my lunch tray, a girl who looked not much older than me, pretty, with short nappy hair. You gone get up today, ain’t you?
Who are you?
Iris, she said. Elzuma is my granny.
Why aren’t you in school?
They need me at home, she said.
Where’s Ava?
She gone to town, Iris said. Now you eat up, I got to get back to my wash. And sure enough, I heard the washing machine running in the kitchen. During the day, I heard her as she washed and ironed and cleaned, humming all the while. I wondered what she had to be so happy about. Can’t go to school and work in Ava’s house. I wanted to get up and talk to her, but I stayed put. Elzuma liked to sing gospel songs, but Iris kept the radio turned to rhythm and blues from a Macon station.
Ava came in finally. I bought you a new school dress, she said.
It stayed in its bag until Iris came in the next day and hung it up. You better try this on, she said. You lucky to have it. She looked down at the black dress Ava had bought for a work uniform.
That made me feel bad but I still did not move.
Iris talked to me about all her sisters and brothers, and the one named Otis that needed help, and she was working to help with his doctor bills, and that’s why she didn’t have any decent clothes. I told her she could have the school dress, and she said oh no, Mis’ Ava would get mad at her.
Duke came in and told me he had gotten the saddle fixed. I thought of riding across the fields with Duke, and how I wanted to do that again, but still I did not move.
And then, nearly three weeks after my accident, I lay awake, listening to the waver of a screech owl down in the marsh. Thunder rumbled a long way off, and then the furnace roared and groaned, drowning the night sounds. I slid out of my bed and tiptoed into the empty living room, dragging the old quilt from the foot of my bed. I sank down on the white sofa, drew the quilt across my legs, and looked out at the clouds floating across the moon.
The furnace clicked off, and the room began to get chilly. I heard the screech owl again then, and it was so still that I heard the faint chuffing of the 1:15 train, and then its mournful moan swelling and receding. The moon flooded the room with light, and all around me it was light and shadow, light and shadow.
The floorboards creaked. I looked up. Duke was standing in the doorway.
I put my hand to my long red scar. Duke flipped his lighter. The flare cast devil’s mask shadows into his eyes and deep hollow cheeks. He lit his cigarette and drew on it deeply, then let out a thin stream of smoke.
It looks like you and I both have bad dreams, kid. He did not mention that I had finally risen from my bed. He sat down beside me so quietly he hardly disturbed the stillness. Smoke from the cigarette he held between two fingers rose in a steady stream, and then shivered into fog, floating out toward the moonlight.
Tears choked me, then, and finally spilled over, and I blotted them with the hem of my nightgown, and I laid my head on his chest, and the tears soaked his T-shirt, and we sat like this for a long while, looking out at the pines.
Why can’t you move on? he said. You have to move on.
It’s Ava, I said.
What about Ava? His voice became guarded and I could feel his muscles tense.
I don’t trust her, I said, and neither should you.
I have to trust her, he said. I owe her a lot.
What?
I would have died without her, there in Burma, he said. The thought of her was what kept me going. Some of the guys got those Dear Johns; they were the ones that messed up their missions and didn’t make it. It saps your will to survive. The heat, the mess, the goddam boredom sometimes . . . sitting in the jungle, waiting, waiting, for a supply drop, for the sound of a twig to break, for the rain to stop. You think about all kinds of things, you think about your girl . . . oh yeah, you think about food, and bed, and dry clothes . . . other times the enemy is a few yards away . . . quiet as a snake on a limb, it’s kill or be killed, you think, I can’t let the men down, I can’t let my girl down. And you, too, punkin, you’re like my baby sister. Like the little Chinese girl I told you about.
He touched my nose, stroked my hair. I settled back against him. He felt warm and safe and solid. He needed his dream.
Dreams are the only things that keep most of us alive, aren’t they? Dreaming one day we’ll be happy, one day our prince will come, one day we’ll wake up and be beautiful. If we dream it hard enough, maybe it’ll come true. He’d dreamed of home, of Ava. He made it out of the jungle. Now he needed to keep that dream alive so he could stay out of the swamp. The thunder rumbled again, but more faintly.
I pressed my lips together, because they were starting to tremble. Tears ran down my face again, scalding hot. I took a deep breath. What happened to Jack? I asked.
Duke turned away and looked out at the full moon now sinking behind the pines at the edge of the yard.
Said he was clearing out. Said he was going to South America, work the crops there.
Ava was so mad at me that night. For wearing her rubies. I didn’t mean any harm.
Of course not, sweetheart.
I held him tightly then, buried in his warm rough scent, and something came over me, something dark and sweet. I brushed the palm of my hand over his bristly haircut, and then ran my fingers down his face and then I put his hand on my scar.
No one’s ever going to love me, I whispered.
He turned away, and then I pulled away the quilt that
was covering me. All that was between us was the thin cotton of my nightgown. The sharp male smell of him was like the striking of a match.
He held my face with his hand and leaned toward me; our lips came closer and closer. They touched, and I felt myself trembling.
Jesus God, what am I doing? He pulled back; his hand left my face and covered his face. His breath was coming heavy.
Things got very quiet then with the breathing and the stillness, not even the owl hooted in the soft dark night, and the hand came away from his eyes, and he turned and looked at me with those golden eyes, with all the sadness he had carried through all the years of the war.
I heard the noise of the springs from the back room, squeak squeak squeak. Ava was rolling over in bed. I caught my breath.
Duke reached for the quilt on the floor and pulled it over me. You are too beautiful, he said.
He told me to go to sleep, and went into the kitchen and got a drink of whiskey and went out onto the back porch, and soon it was all quiet once again. And I cried, and whether the tears were of joy or of sorrow I did not know.
Was I sad that he hadn’t taken what I wanted to give him, that he’d stayed the Duke I knew and loved, my big brother who wanted to do the right thing? Was I happy that he had almost kissed me? What had I really wanted last night? Had I wanted to take him away from Ava, claim him for my own? And what would have been the consequences?
One thing I knew. He had called me beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-Four
You are too beautiful.
Early morning, me before the mirror before dawn. There was the scar, puckering at the edges, angry pink like bad lipstick. Sloe-eyes, mouth too wide, too tall, taking after Momma’s side of the family, not skinny any more but willowy, I guess you could say. Hair long, silky, never could do a thing with it except maybe comb it over that scar like Lauren Bacall.
It took ruining my face to appreciate what I’d been given. All my life I’d felt ugly, comparing myself with Ava, who had Chap’s wild, dark looks. She was still beautiful, but spitefulness had spoiled her mouth, and indulgence was nudging her curves outward. She was starting to wear too much make-up. She was starting to see me as a threat.
And I was. Hadn’t I always wanted him?
But he loved her, in spite of all. There was nothing else to do but leave. Now.
I didn’t know where I was going or what I would do. There was the little bit of money left from Chap’s life insurance. I could go somewhere nobody knew me and get a job. Maybe in a drugstore, like Ava.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and walked through the light and shadow of the hall to the kitchen, where the red lamp of the percolator glowed in the blackness. I poured a cup of black coffee and drank a good slug of it. Duke was getting dressed, I reckoned. I slipped back to my room and heard his footsteps in the hall as I packed my small suitcase. A few minutes later I heard him go out and slam the back door.
I lugged the suitcase out to Momma’s old car, along with all the books I could carry. When I got to the kitchen, Ava was up, mixing biscuits in her robe. You’re out of bed, she said. At this hour.
I’m going to school.
So you saw the light, she said with a tight smile.
You might say that.
After the biscuits were done she called Duke to come in for breakfast. I poured everyone a mug of coffee while Ava set out plates of grits and biscuits and scrambled eggs and sausages. I sat down at the table, and I knew something had changed. Something in the air. Something between Duke and me, something that if started would be as hard to stop as a runaway train. Something in the way he shifted, turned toward me slightly, beyond brotherly love.
I’m glad to see you’ve decided to go back to school, Mae Lee, he said and reached for the butter. I studied his hand. There was a scar where the snapping turtle had bitten it.
It was time, I said. There is a time for every purpose under heaven.
Maybe I can let Iris go, said Ava.
She needs the job, I said.
Duke looked from Ava to me, not wanting to get into it. Knives and forks clinked. Cows mooed in the distance. I kept my head down.
He cleared his throat. Dandy’s been missing you. How about riding her today?
Dandy’s not my horse. Not really, I said, and Duke sat back in his chair and I could see things playing out behind his eyes.
We’ll get you a horse, he finally said.
Oh? said Ava. Iris, and now a horse?
Now, Ava, said Duke.
There is a time to keep silence, and a time to speak, I said.
Will you just shut up? said Ava. She took another biscuit and slathered it with peach jam, then licked her fingers with a wet tongue.
I’ve got to go, I said. There is a time for school.
It’s still early. You do those dishes, now you’re up.
Not this morning, Ava. I held my hands tightly together to keep them from trembling.
Leave her alone, honey, said Duke.
Why are you taking up for her? Her eyes narrowed and she looked from him to me. But he slapped on a mask of indifference and got up from the table. I’ve got business in town today, he said. I’m going to see about selling a few of these acres.
Sell them all, she said. Let’s get out of this place.
Well now, he said. I’m going to see Momma and Daddy and eat dinner with them. Maybe go out to the plant. Don’t expect me back until late.
All right, she said. Cyrus appeared at the back door, wanting to talk to Duke, and he went outside and I saw them walking toward the barn.
Was he serious about selling this place? If he didn’t have the farm, he might as well be dead. Those night dreams might take over. And what would become of Cyrus and Elzuma?
This is all for you, I said to Ava. How could you do that to him?
Do what? she said.
I know about you and Jack Austin, I said.
You don’t know anything, Mae Lee. She laid the remains of her biscuit on her plate almost daintily, wiping her fingers on her napkin, Miss Priss to the core.
I’ve seen you flirt with him. I’ve seen you going out when Duke was busy, not to the Piggy Wiggly in that white spangledy western jacket. You were going to meet him, weren’t you? I’ll bet he’s never left town.
Her lip curled in a sneer. What right have you to talk to me like that?
I jerked the hair back from my face. Every right, I said. Take a good look, Ava. Starrett Conable said he saw you and Jack on the back airport road. You came back from Macon early. Don’t bother to lie, I know about the roadblock. Starrett was telling me this right there in the lunchroom. That’s why I threw the dish at him, I said. Jack Austin took me to the airport road, I said, and let it hang there in the air.
She wiped a smear of jam from the corner of her mouth and her eyes were sharp as steel blades. Did he screw you? Was it good? What would Duke say about that?
My stomach dropped to my feet but I stood my ground. Nothing happened, I said. I was too scared. And so he went to you. Old war buddy Austin, it would break Duke’s heart if he knew, so I didn’t tell him. I held my fingers an eensy bit apart. Ava, I breathed, you are that close to losing him.
She leaped up and gave me a stinging slap across the face, close enough to my scar that jagged warps of pain shot through my head. Not to you, you little bitch.
It hurt, it hurt, and I sank sobbing to the floor.
She stood there mute for a minute.
You have everything and I have nothing, I said. But you know what? There’s biscuit on your face. I hope Duke comes in right now.
She swiped the crumbs off with the back of her hand. She looked shocked all of a sudden, like she did think how it would look if he came in, and she came over to me then, knelt down, and put her arms around me. Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I was a little crazy.
I would not be sorry to leave. She brisked around the kitchen, finding a cloth and wetting it, coming at me with it. I don’t need it, I said, but
I took it and put it to my cheek to appease her.
She sat down and lit a cigarette then, tossing the match in the pie plate, and her face softened. The dimples appeared, the ugliness became pretty again. Crocodile pretty. She said softly, Mind your own business, Mae Lee, and we can get along. Now get along to school. You have just enough time to make it.
Outside, Duke was getting into the truck. Ava walked back to the bathroom at the end of the hall and started running a bath.
I slipped into Duke’s office and got the keys out of the desk, unlocked the trunk, and took out the scrapbook. I wanted to look at all the pictures one last time. I might never see them again. I flipped the pages to Jack’s picture, the blond hair blowing in the breeze, the toothy grin, the squint against the sun’s glare. I wanted to hate him, like I wanted to hate Ava, but there was just a long, melting, cockeyed, crazy sadness. That moment passed, and anger surged up in me.
I put it back and then I saw the glint of the brutal bayonet, the souvenir Duke had taken the night they found the lieutenant.
I pulled it out looked at it with new interest. Its edges were beginning to be pocked with rust, but its tip was still sharp. I hefted it again, feeling its weight. I thrust it ahead of me. My cheek still stung where Ava had slapped me, and I tightened my grip. She would be naked, helpless, in the bath—
I stared at the cold object in my hand.
I shuddered and dropped the bayonet into the open trunk. I closed the trunk, tossed the keys on the desk, and hurried out. It didn’t matter anymore. Let him think what he wanted. I got my jacket out of the hall closet and walked out to the car.
I drove to town, not sure where I was going. I circled the school, hoping to find Lindy and tell her I was leaving. The bell hadn’t rung yet, and kids were milling around outside, the younger ones eating sticky candy and Kool-Aid powder they’d bought at the store across the street.
I parked in the lot across from school, got out of the car, and stood on my tiptoes looking. Suddenly a hand gripped my shoulder, and I spun around. Oh, jeez. Starrett Conable, I said, get out of my life. Haven’t you done enough damage?