Mermaids in the Basement

by Michael Lee West

  It was a especial kinship. I don’t think they understood it. Some things, and some friendships, just are, you know? And to question them is a invitation to the devil.

  During one of her visits, Honora made me hold the ladder while she hung shell chimes on the screen porch. Shelby stood in the doorway, the baby on her hip, and complimented them. And once they were up, they did make a nice tinkle. Then Shelby set the baby in Honora’s lap. Renata had a head full of taffy-colored curls that made me think she’d be a blonde someday.

  We went inside to fix a pitcher of whiskey sours. Shelby turned up the radio. Louis Armstrong was singing about two to tango on the jazz station. Which was the very thing fixing to happen to Shelby. Inside the kitchen, she had the morning mail stacked on the counter. Sitting on the top of the pile was an invitation. Honora’s brother-in-law, Nigel, was throwing a birthday party over in North Carolina at some famous golfing resort. He could afford it, I suppose, him being a general practitioner over in Gulfport, Mississippi.

  All of us was being dragged to the far-off party, including me and one of Ida DeChavannes’s longtime maids, Loretta, who said it was our job to take care of the crazy rich people and make a good impression. I didn’t work for that woman, but Ida bought me a especial black gabardine uniform and a little white hat that looked like something petits fours come in. “Don’t you dare wear that,” said Shelby, pointing to the suit. No one, not even my own self, could have guessed that she would act up like she did and cause a uproar, bringing all that misery on herself and Louie.

  It started at the Mobile airport even before the plane took off. All of the DeChavanneses were sitting in the chairs, laughing and carrying on. In one row was Miss Ida, Dr. Nigel, and their spoiled son, Chauncey. In the next row was Honora, Dr. Chaz, and their actress friend Isabella D’Agostino-McGeehee. Behind them sat Mary Agnes DeChavannes, better known as Aunt Na-Na. She was Dr. Chaz and Dr. Nigel’s crazy sister. Beside her sat the “quiet” brother, Dr. James DeChavannes, who lived in Pass Christian, Mississippi, and didn’t have one drop of personality; but he was the only neurologist between New Orleans and Mobile. Next row after that was Louie, Shelby, me, Renata, and old Loretta.

  Then a good-looking man walked up, carrying a brown leather bag. Honora introduced him as Kip Quattlebaum of Fairhope, Alabama, where he owned a beauty shop. Loretta said that Kip was Honora’s beautician; his daddy was the lieutenant governor of Alabama, and his mother was a fool, but Lord have mercy, you never saw a more handsome fellow in your life. He was hairy everywhere except for a bald patch on his head, which was slick and glossy and red-tinged from too much sun. And his eyes were a pretty purple-blue.

  He kept glancing at Shelby’s legs and her blond hair. “Ain’t no good going to come of this party,” said Loretta, looking up at me with muddy, half-blind eyes. “Ain’t no good at all.”

  We climbed on the plane, hogging every seat in first class, and still, there were some of us left standing. The stewardess said she was sorry, but two of us would have to sit in coach. She asked for volunteers. Nobody raised their hand. Miss Ida said, “But I made reservations for everybody in first class.”

  “Huh,” said Loretta. “Reservations for everybody but me and you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the stewardess said, “but there appears to be a misunderstanding. We don’t have enough seats. Two passengers need to move to coach.”

  “I demand to see the head of this airline,” said Ida.

  The stewardess ignored Ida and looked at the rest of us. “You all decide among yourselves.”

  We were in the aisle, holding up traffic. People were pushing from behind, trying to get into their seats.

  “I’m not going back there,” said Miss Ida.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, I’ll go,” said Shelby, picking up her flowery tote bag. She stepped sideways down the aisle and headed toward the back of the plane.

  “I need one more volunteer,” said the stewardess.

  “I can go,” I said, shifting little Renata to my other hip.

  “Are you and the baby together?” asked the stewardess.

  I nodded.

  “Then you need to stay here.” She pointed to Chauncey. “You, go sit in coach.”

  “I will not!” Chauncey’s face reddened.

  “Let’s draw straws,” suggested Dr. Chaz.

  “That’s okay, I’ll go,” said Mr. Kip. We all turned to stare. He gathered his leather garment bag and frowned, as if he’d made a sacrifice to sit back in coach with Shelby, and her wearing a blue dress cut up to here.

  Miss Ida, she looked relieved. She sat down in her seat and crossed her legs. “Bring me a glass of champagne,” she told the stewardess. I leaned my head into the aisle and watched Mr. Kip ease on down the aisle. He stopped at Shelby’s row. His shoulders hunched, and his lips curved into a shy half smile. She said something—I couldn’t hear what. Then he sat down. I could just see the top of their heads. What happened after that was a mystery. The stewardess drew the curtain, and the engines started to hum. I put my hand on the baby’s head, thinking the grits was fixing to hit the fan.

  We changed planes in Atlanta. In Charlotte we climbed off the plane and all of us piled into a little twenty-five-seater that rattled and smelled of gasoline. This time Dr. Louie and Shelby sat together. Renata sat with me, next to the window. She stood up on her seat and jumped. “Up!” she cried, stretching her arms. “Up, up!”

  “Make that baby sit down and be quiet,” said Miss Ida, turning back to glare. I took Renata’s hands, told her to climb down from there and act like a little lady. After a while, the engines started whipping around. Through a part in the curtains, I saw the pilots. They wore dark blue trousers with knife blade pleats, and blue short-sleeved shirts. I even saw their elbows, all red and scaly, and for some reason this scared me. I started sweating, and my heart beat so fast that Renata reached around and pressed her little hand on my chest.

  “What’s in there?” she asked me. “A bird?”

  “It’s my heart, baby,” I said. “It’s nothing but Gladys’s heart.”

  I silently praised God when the little plane touched down hard on the tarmac. We climbed down and saw the tiny little airport. The pilots helped unload the luggage and golf clubs. The baby was dragging my hand, but I was waiting for Shelby.

  I heard Dr. Nigel say that rich businessmen flew to Pinehurst in the morning, played eighteen holes of golf, then climbed back on the plane and flew off. He said the average guest spent $500 a day.

  “Nothing but crazy people,” Loretta whispered, waving one brown, bony hand. “Crazy coming and crazy going.”

  A charter bus drove us to Pinehurst. Miss Shelby sat up front with the DeChavanneses, all prim and proper, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking. The bus pulled up to a long white hotel, and doormen in red coats rushed forward. Get you this, ma’am? Don’t you lift that, let me take it, ma’am. Dr. Nigel and Dr. Chaz climbed out of the bus. They’d been drinking and had that shiny look in their eyes. Dr. Nigel pulled a handful of dollar bills out of his pocket and rushed around, crushing them into everybody’s palms. He even gave one to a short man with curly black hair and thick glasses. “I don’t work here,” the man said, shoving the money back at Dr. Nigel.

  “Sorry, pal,” said Dr. Nigel. “Take it anyway.”

  The curly-headed tourist tucked the money into Dr. Nigel’s pocket, then walked off into the trees, shaking his head. “What’s his problem?” Dr. Nigel asked the doorman, who was too busy sorting our luggage to answer. Then Dr. Nigel looked up at the sky and asked it the same question, only louder.

  “Guess he wasn’t your pal,” Ida said.

  On the way to our rooms the porter asked me who we were, and I told him all about the birthday party. After he stacked our suitcases in the room, I laid a dollar bill in his hand. After he left, Ida pulled me aside and whispered, “Don’t be so friendly with the help, Gladys. This is not the Deep South.”

  Just how deep was it? I
wondered. Skin deep? Hip deep? And was other parts of the South shallow? The rest of us got connecting rooms. Except for Aunt Na-Na, who put a Do Not Disturb sign on her knob, the DeChavanneses left their doors open, and the people ran in and out, like this was summer camp. Down the hall, I heard Dr. Nigel just a-carrying on, telling Loretta to order sandwiches. Then Ida told him to leave the food to her, and she’d leave the bourbon to him.

  “Order hors d’oeuvres, Loretta,” said Ida, “not sandwiches. Order cheese straws, sausage pinwheels, boiled jumbo shrimps. Charge it to our suite.”

  “Who going to eat this food?” asked Loretta.

  “Guests,” said Ida. “Guests and family of the birthday boy.”

  The DeChavannes brothers crowded around Nigel, teasing him about getting old. Kip Quattlebaum walked around them, and never looked once at me or Shelby. He wasn’t prissy like you’d expect in a hair man. He went straight to his room and shut the door.

  While all this was going on, little old Renata fell asleep on my bed. The DeChavannes men kept wandering from room to room, ice clinking in their glasses, gathering up their tees and hats, ready to play golf. Then I heard Dr. Chaz scream at Honora, “You forgot to pack my golf shoes.”

  I stepped out into the hall, not to see if a fight would break out but to watch Honora turn him inside out. He was a bully, but she knew how to get to him.

  “I didn’t forget your shoes on purpose, darling.” She pointed to his legs. He wore blue plaid golf shorts, with two hairy, slightly bowed legs sticking out. “Have you seen all those broken veins on the backs of your legs? My goodness, Chaz. You’re riddled with varicose veins. My mother had them, but not quite this bad.”

  “Where?” He twisted his head, trying to see.

  “You need to get off your feet. Just prop them on a couple of pillows,” Honora said. “I could run down to the gift shop and see if they sell any support hose.”

  Louie must have heard his mama and daddy carrying on, and he ran out into the hall. “Don’t worry about it, Daddy. I’ve got an extra pair. They’ll fit you.”

  “Why, I didn’t know you wore support hose, too,” said Honora. “I guess varicose veins and the DeChavannes men are star-crossed.”

  “I was talking about shoes,” said Louie. “Daddy and I both wear 10-D.”

  Now I will just tell you. Louie was easy on the eyes, all that thick brown hair, high cheekbones, and that famous DeChavannes nose; but if he didn’t watch out, he’d end up shaped like his daddy. Dr. Chaz was built like a manatee, swelled in the middle, tapered at the bottom. Renata ran out of the room and held up her arms. “Dad-dy, pick me up!”

  “Hey, sweet pea,” he said, absently touching her head.

  Dr. Chaz craned his neck, trying to glimpse the backs of his legs. They did have a lot of veins. He was the most famous brain surgeon in southern Alabama and had cut up many prominent brains. But he was proud. You could see it in his strut, the way he stopped in front of a mirror, looking this way and that way; sometimes he’d lift his arms and make a muscle. He didn’t know he was puny. Psalms 94:11 says, “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of man, that they are vanity.”

  “I’ll just buy a new pair at the pro shop,” said Dr. Chaz, and he headed toward the elevator. “Coming, Louie?”

  He trotted off like a wind-up toy, and I thought, Lord, when I get old and if my heart gives out, hide me from this man. Find him an ocean. Find him a woman manatee. Let him swim with his own kind.

  The other DeChavannes men stepped into the hall and, except for James, clapped Louie on the back. Shelby stepped into the hall, watching them leave.

  “Don’t forget the birthday dinner tonight,” Louie called out.

  “I wouldn’t for the world,” she said sweetly, leaning against the doorjamb, one hand high over her curly blond head. She was still wearing that short blue dress and heels, but Dr. Louie hurried down the hall, chasing after his drunk uncles and his vain, brain-handling daddy.

  Shelby went back into our suite and shut the door to her room. Isabella opened her door. “I don’t know why Honora invited Kip,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “When he isn’t riding his Harley, he’s fishing in the bay.”

  “Or fixing women’s hair,” I said.

  “A lot of people who don’t know him might think that a male stylist might not be masculine, but that just shows their ignorance. Heaven help the woman who needs her hair colored or trimmed during quail-hunting season, because Kip can’t be found. He’s also quite the ladies’ man.”

  Our door opened and Shelby came out, wearing a yellow shift and white sandals. “Could you keep an eye on Renata?” she asked me. “I’m going shopping. I forgot to buy Nigel a birthday present.”

  “Of course I will,” I said, thinking about that gift-wrapped box I’d seen in her suitcase.

  “Mmm-hum,” she said dreamily. Then she stepped out into the hall. Mr. Kip was waiting. He’d changed into a madras shirt. He lifted one hand and waved to Isabella and me, and I thought, Now that man is handsome. It must be something about the swamps in our part of the world, something that gets into their blood. Makes the women sassy, the men so pretty it breaks your heart. Together they walked off. I did not know where they went or what they did.

  They didn’t return for a long time. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was fixing to happen. Three hours later, it sure enough did.

  Chapter 20

  IT’S HONORA’S TURN TO TALK

  That birthday party was in the evening. So Isabella and I spent the afternoon lounging around the pool, looking at architectural drawings of her new house. She and Dickie Boy had bought the summer cottage next door to me, then bulldozed it. Isabella wanted a miniature Château de Chambord, including a rooftop terrace with sweeping views of Mobile Bay.

  Two hours before the rehearsal dinner, we rolled up the blueprints and proceeded into the hotel. We knocked on Kip’s door, hoping he’d fix our hair, but he wasn’t in his room. So we wandered over to Louie and Shelby’s suite. Gladys had Renata in her lap, trying to brush the baby’s wispy hair into a topknot, but it kept springing loose.

  “Is Shelby getting ready?” I said, glancing toward the bathroom.

  “Haven’t seen her all afternoon,” said Gladys, her lips shut with bobby pins. “Not since the men went golfing.”

  “Did she say where she was going?” I asked. It was unusual for Shelby to leave the baby.

  “No, ma’am.” Gladys put a pin into the topknot, then frowned when the hairs sprang free.

  “Oh, dear.” I touched Renata’s curls. “Kip could fix this.”

  Isabella stretched her arms over her head. “I told you we couldn’t rely on Kip to fix our hair,” she said. “He’s selfish.”

  “Oh, he’s not,” I said.

  “His mama bought him that beauty shop,” said Isabella. “Then she bought him a brick house over in Pine Shores subdivision. It has the cutest mosquito netting around the bed.”

  “Oh?” I raised one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen it.”

  “Many times, dahlin’.” Isabella lit a cigarette. “We had a little fling last summer, but his selfishness got in the way, and I dropped him.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I said. Laid out on the bed was a pink organdy dress and white patent leather Mary Janes. Next to that was a uniform that Ida had insisted Gladys wear. I thought this was presumptuous and offered to let her wear one of my dresses, but Gladys just shrugged. “I don’t care what I wear tonight,” she said. “This uniform says more about y’all than it does me.”

  While I cast about for a reply, the door opened and Shelby rushed into the room. Renata struggled out of Gladys’s arms and screamed, “Mama!” Shelby leaned down and lifted the baby into her arms.

  “There’s my angel,” she said, kissing Renata’s neck. “You smell good!”

  “Where have you been?” I asked, then flinched. It sounded a bit accusatory, even to my ears. Maybe she just needed time to herself. But it was not like her
to neglect her baby girl.

  “Shopping,” she said.

  I glanced at her empty arms and raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m not that late, am I?” She grabbed a green dress off the hanger, then ducked into the bathroom. The door clicked shut. I knew she was upset with Louie over his work schedule, and I didn’t blame her, but no one could talk sense to that boy. I kissed my granddaughter, then hurried to my room.

  At a quarter to seven, Chaz and I went downstairs. Louie was waiting outside the dining room with Gladys and Renata. He lifted his hand and glanced at his watch. When Shelby finally walked up, he roughly grabbed her arm. He didn’t say, You sure look pretty. Didn’t say anything complimentary. Instead he started fussing. “That dress is way too short. Go back upstairs and change.”

  “I will not.” She jerked her arm free, then stared him down.

  “Don’t make a scene. Look, I’ll go with you.”

  “This dress is fine. I bought it at Gus Meyer, and it’s perfectly fine. Why don’t you just go inside and order a drink.”

  I drew in my breath. I had never seen her act this way, and I had been around them plenty. Little Renata looked up at her daddy, then at her mama. Her dark eyebrows pushed together. She looked just like her daddy; I glanced up, wondering if her parents had noticed. Their eyes were locked on each other, and not in a romantic way. Chaz broke the spell when he opened the door. “Ladies first,” he said, sweeping his hand.

  We were seated at the head table, and everybody made over Renata so much that I was afraid she’d put on a show. The child had been known to tap-dance on tables, she ate up attention. The introductions went all around the table. Nigel gestured to me and said, simply, “My brother’s lovely wife, the former Honora Hughes.” When he reached his sour-faced sister, Na-Na, he looked puzzled, like he didn’t know who she was. While she glowered at him, he just snapped his fingers and said, “Wait a minute, it’ll come to me, just a sec. Are you a nun? Where do you go to church—Our Lady of the Imbeciles?”