Me Dying Trial
Page 6
And so as she sit down there chewing-up the spoonful of ackee she just push in her mouth, she hear Miss Gertie’s mouth. Aunty Cora push the food to her jaw corner and make it stay there. She cock her ears.
‘Peppy!’ Miss Gertie bawl out, ‘gal pickney, what’s wrong with you? Get up out the dirt, right now.’ Miss Gertie run over to where Peppy was and start to search round for a nice whip to tear Peppy’s behind. ‘Cousin Cora don’t train you right. Look at your clothes. Look at your hair. Go up to the house right away. I will teach you how to hem and thread needle. You’re a gal pickney, you don’t business out here. From all my born days, I never see it so, yet.’
And all the while Miss Gertie cursing and looking around for a whip to tear Peppy’s behind, Peppy get up out the dirt, brush off her clothes and run into the shop to her Aunty Cora.
Aunty Cora never say a word. She push the ackee from the corner of her jaw back to the centre and start to chew again. She know Miss Gertie won’t come inside the shop and knock Peppy, but she hear her outside grumbling out loud: ‘. . . spoil that little gal, bad-bad! Is a shame, damn shame!’
And although Aunty Cora never say a word, these things bother her. She like to see Peppy run and jump about the place, but she know that plenty New Green women don’t like it. For when them come to the shop and see Peppy outside running and jumping, she notice how the scowl just cover over them entire face. Sometimes she even hear one and two of them comment about how Peppy walk and run about like any boy pickney.
But it wasn’t only Peppy alone Aunty Cora have on her mind these days causing her to worry-up herself and sip her waters more than usual. As she get older, the eyes get more and more foggy and the arthritis in her legs cause them to cramp up more and more. She think about the will and how she have to rewrite it. For according to how she feel some nights when she lay down her head, she not so sure she will wake up to see morning. And since she grow so attach to the little girl, she want to make her comfortable, for she don’t know what Gwennie and Walter up to, and she don’t know how long before the good Lord call her Home.
She know the letter she sent Gwennie a while back now asking if she could adopt Peppy and change her name, never receive good feelings. For Gwennie write her back and tell her in exact words: if she wanted the baby to be adopted, she would’ve put up notice long before it born. All she wanted was somebody to look after it until she get back on her two feet. Well it look as if it’s taking Gwennie a long time to get back on her two feet, for Peppy’s been staying with her now all of five years, and sometimes five and six months pass before Gwennie come visit. And as much as Aunty Cora didn’t like to think about it, the letter did upset her long and hard. For she remember the day, fairly well, when Gwennie did come to her, almost half dead, and how she, Aunty Cora, open up her heart and take in both Gwennie and the baby, for blood thicker than water. And this was the thanks she get.
Another thing that hurt her is the thanks she get from her sister Clara down in Mile Gully. All because she help bring Gwennie and Walter back together. Nobody, it seems, remember how she send Gwennie money near every week while she up at the school. Nobody think about how she looking after Peppy. Nobody thank her for it. When Walter drive up his car and park it outside the shop front, she remember how she was so frighten for she figure maybe him come to take Peppy. But it wasn’t so a tall. Him come into the shop with his face long and droopy like him neither sleep nor eat for eleven days. And him come inside the shop and walk right over to where she sit down on the barrel, her back to the wall and Peppy, about four months then, sleeping in her lap.
Walter did have a big tin of Lactogen baby’s formula in his hand. Him put it on the counter. Then him look at the baby for a long time and sigh long and deep. All this time, him and Aunty Cora still don’t exchange a word. She remember holding onto the baby tighter than usual, her heart pumping out loud. But when she see his two eyes fill-up with eye water, she finally say to him: ‘Come, hold her little. Mind you wake her, though.’ And Walter hold and sway the baby for a good ten minutes. Then him give it back to Aunty Cora and she put it into the crib she have in the back room. Then she pour out a tall glass of white rum for Walter and brandy for herself.
‘So, Walter, what happen, man?’ She put down the glass infront of him. His eyes were red and puffy.
‘I not shame to say it, Miss Cora, but I miss Gwennie bad-bad.’
‘Drink up the little rum, man. Make you feel good and strong again.’
‘No.’ Him push away the glass. ‘No more hard liquor. I putting all that behind me now. I want Gwennie to be proud of me.’
Aunty Cora peer at him from over her glasses. ‘You prefer beer?’
Walter nod. ‘Just a little.’
Aunty Cora get up and open one for him. Then she call Gizelle from outside and tell her to come help out in the shop for she talking. Walter sip the beer.
‘Then, Walter, what happen between you and Gwennie, man? I remember that Saturday morning the two of you marry in Mile Gully church. You was so happy, love-bird own self. So, what happen?’
‘Gwennie, man, Gwennie.’ Him shake his head. ‘She have too many man friends for my liking, Miss Cora. Too many. She don’t care about me any more—she don’t care.’
‘Between me and you, Walter, make I tell you something. You see me, is one woman friend me have. One! No more. For is them who carry you business. Is them who chat about you behind you back. Is them who lie down-up with your husband and then come grin with you. Gwennie right if she keep plenty man friends. New Green people watch me like hawk, for is only man friends I keep. One woman.’
‘It don’t matter, Miss Cora. It make me crazy. When we go out, she chat-up and laugh-up with them too much. Make me crazy.’
‘But Walter, when you married a good-looking woman, what you expect?’
Walter sigh.
‘So you think you will visit her, Walter?’
‘Yes, but not right now. I want to straighten out me life first. Stop this drinking for good. I apply for a new job. Would be good if I could get it. It similar to the Youth Corp, but is more pay. And the house them give me to live in have more rooms. So, if I get it and I move, I plan to pick her up, so she can have a place when she finish school. I proud she gone back to school, Miss Cora. I really proud. Them never used to treat her good up at the school without the certificate a tall. But I miss she and the children. Especially Peppy. Lord, I love to see her face and her smile.’
Walter sip some more of the beer, and Aunty Cora swallow all the brandy in one gulp. She lick up the little bit running down her mouth corner with her tongue.
‘Miss Cora, it did really hurt me when I come home that evening and find she and all the children gone. I was mad with you and she and her mother. Especially her mother. Gwennie don’t use her head when she see her mother, you know. Her mother do all the thinking and scheming for her.’ Him pause, then start up again, eyes steady with Aunty Cora’s. ‘You think she love me. You think that if I get another work, she will come back?’
‘Man, what you talking about. Of course she will come back. Just straighten up yourself.’
She remember how Walter did look plenty more cheerful than when him first arrive. When time come to leave, him give Aunty Cora twenty dollars to help look after the baby, but she give it back and tell him, send it to Gwennie. And him smile and leave. Him come back one more time after that with his two hands full of Lactogen and box-milk. This time though, him wouldn’t touch either the beer or the rum Aunty Cora offer. Him play with the baby until him leave.
And so when Gwennie move back in with him after she leave school, even though him never get the new job, all the thanks she get was a letter from Clara saying is a shame that the two of them get back together for now Gwennie pregnant again. And if Gwennie did only listen to her father and move down here with them, it wouldn’t turn out so, for she, Clara, would see to it. And she wonder what Cora telling Walter, for she know Gwennie don’t act sensible all the time,
but somebody must be advising Walter, for what other else reason could cause Gwennie to do such a fool-fool thing.
And all these things run through Aunty Cora’s mind. And the more she think about them the more it gall her, especially the letter from Clara. For even though them never used to be close, she and Clara lose touch completely over the years. And is not cause them live far, or cause them have arthritis and can’t travel about as them wish, but it was about MaDee, Clara and Cora’s mother.
IV
MaDee was about ninety years old. She live by herself in Maroon Town, calling distance from her oldest boy, Skip, his wife Miss Elsie, and them six out of thirteen children. Two years ago, MaDee come down with a bad stroke, and it leave her stretch out stiff-stiff on her bed, can’t walk, and can barely move round by herself and talk. Skip and Miss Elsie move in MaDee with them and move out two of them oldest in order to provide enough room. MaDee been living there now going on three years, and Skip and Miss Elsie say them tired, them want Cora and Clara to help in the taking care.
Clara say the six months Gwennie’s three children stay with her while she was up at the school, tired her out so bad, she can barely walk round now sake of all the hassling she meet with them. And as it stand, she don’t know how she could manage looking after MaDee. Aunty Cora don’t say anything, she know Clara would get away with it. She can just feel it in her belly-bottom. It was always like that.
Ever since them small. Clara getting away with all sorts of responsibilities just because she the youngest girl and Old Tom’s—them father—favourite. Would give his eye teeth for her, him often tell people. When Old Tom lay up in bed sick with arthritis, Cora, Skip and MaDee did have to work, while Clara stay home and do the taking care. Him never want her to work, or hassle herself much. Already him did have his eyes set on who she must marry so her life can be easy.
When Clara write Cora and tell her she don’t think she can take care of MaDee, Aunty Cora reply with a long letter, reminding Clara about old times, how Clara always have it easy. How she married first. And instead of taking one of the younger ones and putting him through school, she wipe her hands clean of the entire family. And here it is, over thirty years later, and things the same way still.
Clara never write back for one whole year, and so MaDee stay with Skip and Miss Elsie the fourth year. And so here was Peppy five years going on six, Miss Gertie complaining every day that Peppy spoil-rotten, Gwennie vex and upset for Aunty Cora want to adopt Peppy, Walter, as far as she understand, gone back to drinking, and since Clara don’t have any intention of helping out, Aunty Cora decide she might as well make room in her house for MaDee.
V
Peppy start off to big school the same year MaDee move in. Her first morning, she wake up early. And after she tidy herself and eat the little breakfast Aunty Cora wake up and prepare, she put on her uniform. Miss Gertie did spend the entire day Saturday sewing it, and Sunday, Miss Irene starch and iron it. So when Peppy put it on the Monday morning, the white blouse and blue tunic and little red tie did stand up stiff-stiff on her. And when she put on her blue socks and brown shoes and Miss Irene plait her hair, grease it up with castor oil, and put in two pieces of bright red ribbon, Peppy couldn’t look any prettier. Then she pick up her school bag and the lunch pan Aunty Cora pack, and head off down the hill to the shop where she wait for her ride.
The whole day Aunty Cora worry-up and fret-up herself over Peppy. She couldn’t keep her mind on anything too long, every minute it flip back to Peppy: if she all right; if she eat the little piece of chicken-back and rice she prepare for lunch; if she break the new slate and slate pencil she give her that morning; if she pull up her hair or romp too hard and dirty up her uniform. All these things pass through Aunty Cora’s head that Monday. Occasionally people had to tell her—two and three times—that is not sugar them want is rice, and no, not one pound, but three.
When the car let her off in front the shop that evening, Aunty Cora was outside waiting. Peppy run up and hug her round the waist, telling all about her teacher Miss Johnson, and her head teacher Miss Bailey, and how Miss Bailey’s stockings always wrinkle-up like she not wearing the right size, and how she walk round with a long cane and her voice just as deep as any man’s, and how she even have hair growing on her chin. Then she tell Aunty Cora about the many friends she meet, the plenty new songs and prayers she learn at devotion, and finally she show Aunty Cora the writings on her new slate. Aunty Cora couldn’t do anything more than hug the little girl and hope that the eye water behind her two eyes remain there.
Every evening Peppy come home with more and more news about Miss Johnson and Miss Bailey and Miss Bailey’s stockings and her plenty new friends. And sometimes when she talk and talk, Miss Gertie run her and tell her: ‘Lord, Peppy, you tell me that already. Cho, man, you little bit too talkative.’ And Leslie and George tell her to go and play with her dolly, for she talk too much and Miss Irene never really have much time. So only Aunty Cora listen, and she listen to the same story over and over again until Peppy finally get tired and stop.
VI
Right next door Aunty Cora’s room was another bedroom. And it was in here she hang up Peppy’s church frocks that she wear to Sunday School every Sunday morning, her school uniforms and her regular yard and going-out clothes. It was in here that she put all Peppy’s dollies and teddy bears and dolly kitchen sets and story books and drawing books and painting sets and colouring pencils and Mickey Mouse curtains with matching spreads and pillowcases.
But Peppy never would stay in the room. Every night when lamp blow-out and it was time for bed, Peppy find herself curl-up in Aunty Cora’s four-poster bed with the two posturepedic mattresses and plenty boards lining the bottom. She sit up and listen to Aunty Cora talk and sing to herself and pray. She watch her rub all kinds of funny-smelling ointments on her legs so the arthritis can go away. So since Peppy decide she wasn’t going to sleep in her own bed, it was in there that them put MaDee.
Peppy was afraid to pass through MaDee’s room, for she look too much like a dead person with her body stretch-out stiff and her eyes closed all the time. Plenty times when Peppy have to go anywhere, she walk through every other part of the house so as not to pass through MaDee’s room. Nevertheless, the old lady fascinate Peppy. Plenty times she would stay in Aunty Cora’s room and peep through the hinges, taking note of the face with the plenty lines criss-cross all over, the wrinkle-up wrinkle-up hands that stick out through the white sheet, and the shrinky-shrinky body that lay down under it.
As she peep through the hinges at the old lady, stories Aunty Cora used to tell her about MaDee’s grandparents and life during slavery would come to mind. And although she wasn’t sure what the word slavery meant exactly, she figure it wasn’t anything pleasant for a certain hardness would always overshadow Aunty Cora’s two eyes.
She remember Aunty Cora telling her how MaDee’s grandparents used to be Maroons, how them used to live way up in the hills, coming out only at night to set fire to the big house, often times burning up everybody inside. And Peppy ask Aunty Cora why them do it, if them never love the people inside the big house, but Aunty Cora only shake her head, no, the people inside the big house too wicked and cruel.
So all these things run through Peppy’s head as she stand up behind the door peeping at the old lady who lay up stiff under the white covers, with silver hairs sticking out from under. Then all of a sudden, two eyes flicker open, then close. Open again. Peppy notice the mouth moving, finally it open, and the old lady whisper her name. Peppy jump back frightened, her heart pumping hard. The old lady whisper: ‘Peppy, why you looking at me so much? Why you won’t come and talk to me? I long to hear somebody talk to me. Come.’ Then Peppy never hear anything but silence after that, and about two minutes later, light snoring. Peppy never peep through the hinges again, and she try never to have to pass through the room again, either.
But plenty times Aunty Cora would call and tell her to bring in MaDee’s dinner, for s
he awake now, or bring in a glass of water or a fresh pillow-case for she sweat up this one. When Peppy bring in all these things to Aunty Cora, who would be sitting-up on MaDee’s bed, trying to raise her up in a sitting position with plenty pillows behind her back so she can eat, the old lady would pick up Peppy’s hand in her own and ask why she never come visit her or talk to her. And Peppy would just look down on her shoes and hope the old lady hurry up and let go her hand, for it getting hot and sweaty.
VII
Peppy love to play dirty-pot, and Sundays were the only days she could walla-walla in it to the fullest. During the week, she only have time to change her clothes, eat her dinner, do her arithmetics and learn her spellings before night come down. Saturday was the only other time, but she usually spend Saturday with Vin, and Vin don’t like play dirty-pot, for she say it too pickneyish, and she too big for that.
Sunday evenings then, were the only time. And so after she come home from church, she hurry up and change her clothes, rush down her dinner, and then collect up her empty cans and whatever scraps of ingredients she can find. Then she fill the can with water, pour in the dirt, cut up whatever little pieces of onion, or rice-grain, or flour-dust she find in Miss Irene’s kitchen, and mix up everything into her pot. Then she add salt and pepper before serving it up on her plastic dolly dishes that Miss Gertie give her. Now Peppy have one dolly who she call Rose, and she manage to bore a hole through Rose’s mouth so she can swallow.
So here it was one Sunday evening, after the sun gone for the day, and shadows falling in, bringing with it cool breezes, Peppy was outside under the orange tree with Rose in her lap. With one hand she squeeze Rose’s jaw so her mouth can open, while holding the other hand ready with a spoonful of food. Then all of a sudden she hear foot-steps, and when she put down Rose and the spoon, and turn round, lo and behold, she see the brown lady, well her mother, Miss Gwennie, and Mass Walter walking towards here with about five children.