Almost Heaven (13 page)

In the steady decline that seemed to accelerate after that, I knew some hard decisions had to be made. I asked Macel Preston to come by one day the next November. She was the wife of the local sheriff, and my mother and I had known her from church for years. She spoke to my mother kindly and sat in the rocking chair, listening to her carry both sides of the nonsensical conversation.

“You remember back before we moved to the creek, how hard it was to get persimmons off those trees over at the Fizers',” my mother said.

“No, Arlene, I don't remember,” Macel said. “Why don't you tell me?”

And she would. She'd just take off on a thought and turn a corner and pretty soon she was on politics or something she'd seen in the newspaper or something about spaying and neutering Bob Barker's cats. Macel listened until Callie Reynolds drove up.

Callie worked at the post office and delivered our mail. Every now and then she'd bring us dinner. We went to the same church, but since Mama had gotten so bad, it was hard for me to do anything but get to work and back every day. I usually spent Saturdays and Sundays at home.

Callie lived in a trailer on the other side of the Dogwood County line. Because of that we had gone to different schools, but I'd gotten to know her a little. We were about the same age, and she had taken an interest in Mama and helping out. She was a tall woman with a wide nose and teeth that had a mind of their own. One eye wasn't set right and she had a way of looking at you but not looking at you at the same time. It was a bit unnerving to have a face-to-face conversation because when she stared right at you, it was as if she was looking at something behind you and you always wondered what was so interesting back there. She wasn't heavy, but she walked without a lot of grace, as if her arms were tree limbs. She was just a common, good woman.

I tried to pay her for her time with Mama, but every time I'd shove a twenty-dollar bill in her hand, she would get offended and say she wasn't doing it for money. People from the hills are like that. I think it springs from a heart that believes a good turn deserves another. If you have felt that kind of love from God in your life, you want to pass the grace along.

She came in and put a casserole dish in the oven and fussed over Mama. I told her I was going to walk Macel to her car and run an errand or two, and Callie said that was fine; she'd take care of things.

Macel stood in silence by her car and just stared at the hillside. It reminded me of all those years ago when my daddy died and how people just seemed to stand and stare off.

“Billy, you're going to have to do something hard one of these days,” she said.

“She's not going to leave that house,” I said.

“She can't stay here by herself. It's not safe. She's going to hurt herself by trying to make a fire on that stove, or she'll go out and climb that tree on the hill thinking she's making a deposit at the First National Bank.”

“Callie is helping me out as much as she can, and I stay with her full-time on the weekend.”

“Callie told me you tried to pay her and that she wished you'd stop doing that.”

“She's been a big help.”

“Unless they're paying you more than I think down at the radio station, you don't have that kind of money. You're still working for the local station, aren't you?”

“I work part-time at WDGW, but my full-time work is down in Huntington.”

“From what I've heard of the owner here, he's more tightfisted than a monkey with a banana in a jar. I hope they pay you well at the other one. You chief engineer now?”

“Makes it sound like I'm a train conductor, doesn't it?”

She chuckled. “You always had a knack with electronics. I used to love hearing you play that mandolin, too. Do you ever pick it up anymore?”

“Sometimes when it's bad with Mama. It's just about the only thing that will soothe her. It's like David playing for King Saul, only King Saul didn't wear a nightgown from Walmart.”

She opened her car door and threw her purse in. “Billy, sometimes love looks a lot different than we think it should.”

“Ma'am?”

“You have the idea that to love your mother well, you have to do everything for her like she did for you when you were a baby, and if you don't, you're a failure as a son. And I'm here to release you from that prison you're building.”

“Bible says if you don't take care of your family—”

“You're worse than an infidel; that's true. We're to take care of those who took care of us. But there is not a person on the face of this planet who has cared more for their family than you, Billy. I don't know who has been accusing you, probably some voices you ought to shut out. You do not have to listen to them. You have been a model son. You have taken care of your mama and added to her years. You've sacrificed your own happiness.”

“I didn't sacrifice anything. It was my pleasure, my duty to take care of her. I'm all she has left.”

Macel looked at me. “What happened, Billy? Why haven't you gotten married? Isn't there anyone you're sweet on?”

I looked at the mailbox, then at the ditch. “Women aren't knocking down the door to get to my place, if that's what you mean.”

“But there was someone, am I right?”

I nodded. “Long time ago.”

“And what happened?”

“Some things don't work out like you plan. Like you want them to.”

“You care to elaborate?”

“I wasn't exactly her type, Mrs. Preston. I think it's kind of hard to find my type.”

She jingled the keys and got ready to go. “I don't know what God did with the mold after he made you, but I'd like to find it again.”

I smiled. “You've been a good friend to us. You and your husband both.”

She put a hand on my arm. “When it comes time, you call me. I'll be here. And don't ever think that you're a bad son just because there's this hard thing you have to do. Your daddy would be proud of you.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” I said.

I went to the store to pick up a few things but wandered around looking at the shelves and thinking. It's funny how aimless a person can feel at times, even when they know God is in control.

When I finally pulled into the driveway of the house, it was dark and Callie's car was gone. Not unusual, but I thought she would have stayed. The sun reached the edge of the hills earlier and earlier in those November days.

I couldn't get out of the car. The past can come up over me like that flood, surprising me with the power and force of time and experience. Images floated by, people and things and situations that were pulled by memory's current. Not a day went by that I didn't think of my daddy, those people back on the creek, that girl who sat by me on the bus, the smell of her hair, the chances squandered. I suppose we are all a collection of such surges and hopes and dreams. There are probably some people who don't have any of that stuff haunting them, but I halfway think that those people are heavily medicated.

There was no movement in the house, so I got up the nerve to go inside. I flicked on the light when I came in the back door, and bugs scurried across the kitchen countertop. There was a pile of dishes in the sink and the casserole dish that Callie had brought was in the middle of the table, half-eaten and left like the Rapture had come.

I called out for Mama and listened. No response.

“Mama, I'm home. You doing all right?”

She wasn't in the bathroom or the bedroom to the left. But I noticed the gun cabinet was open and my .22 was missing. I breathed a little prayer and kept going. The living room was pitch-black, and as I reached for the light, a voice startled me.

“Stay right where you are, you ugly thing.” She didn't say
thing
; she used a much uglier word.

I flicked on the light and saw my mother, naked, huddled in the corner and holding the rifle on me. It would have been a shock to anyone else, but to me it was as normal as coming home to see your mother eating oatmeal and watching
Wheel of Fortune
.

“Mama, put the gun down.”

She cursed at me with words so foul I could only close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I know what you're up to,” she said. “I called the bank about my savings account. You took everything, didn't you!”

I sighed. “We've been over this. I took all of your accounts and moved them into one.”

“You have no right to do that.”

“Yes, I do. You gave me the power to take care of you. I'm trying to do what's best. What happened to Callie? You didn't run her off, did you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Mama spat. “But I know this: if you don't get out of here, I'm going to blow you to kingdom come.”

The phone rang and when I moved to it, she raised the gun. I ignored her and went for the black phone that had hung on the kitchen wall for years. It was caked with dust and grease and felt like an old friend when I picked it up. They don't make phones like that anymore.

“Billy?” Callie said when I answered. Her voice was strained, like she was trying to hold something in a gunnysack that wanted out. “You need to get out of there.”

“What's wrong, Callie?”

“It's your mama! Is she still in the house?”

“Yeah, I hope so. She doesn't have a stitch of clothes on.” I heard movement behind me but didn't turn around.

“Billy, she found the box of shells. I don't know how she did it, but she found them and loaded that .22 and took a few shots at me before I got out of there.”

I noticed a couple of holes in the plaster by the phone.

“She's not well. You have to do something. But first, get out of there.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“I love her like she was my own mother, but I think she's going to hurt somebody.”

“Thank you, Callie.”

Callie said something else but I only heard her voice breaking into a cry as I reached to hang up the phone.

“I'm going to blow your head off, you lying cheat.”

“That might be the best thing you could do for me, Mama.”

“You're selling my antiques, aren't you?” she seethed. “I can't find any of my cutlery. And the car's gone. You sold it right out from under me.”

I was still speaking to the holes in the wall, trying to keep my voice calm. “Mama, I sold your car because you can't drive safely anymore. You took out every mailbox from here to Benedict Road. I'm using the money to take care of you and pay for the medication you flush down the toilet.”

“You're trying to drug me. That Callie is in on it with you!”

“Callie just cares. And the cutlery's stored away so you don't hurt yourself. We've been over this.”

“Stay right where you are!” she yelled.

I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the casserole.

“You never did love me,” she said. “I saw the papers you had drawn up! I saw them in your shop! And don't try to tell me you didn't. I read the whole thing.”

“I showed you the papers myself. You signed them of your own free will back when you were in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I have something to say to you, Mr. High-and-Mighty. I'm taking back that power of attorney, and you'll be out on the street! How do you like them apples? All of a sudden the shoe's on the other foot and it don't feel so good, does it?”

“Mama, calm down and get your robe on.”

She moved closer and poked the gun in my face. “You don't boss me around anymore. You're not the man of this house. You
killed
the man of this house.”

Her venom finally struck and I looked up, wounded.

“That's right,” she said. “I figured it out. You knew your daddy was having troubles. You knew how fragile his mind was. So you sneaked and got that .410 and some shells and put it where he could reach it when he got low. And when he was in the ground, you never cried like somebody who loved their daddy. You just went on as if it never happened. Just picked up the next day and kept moving. I should have seen it at the time, but I didn't.”

“Mama, you don't know what you're saying.”

“If you had loved your daddy, you would have helped him. You would have become a better man!”

She was shouting now and it was all I could do to resist grabbing the barrel of the gun and ripping it from her hands. She looked like she didn't have the strength to pull the trigger, but the holes in the wall betrayed that thought.

“Mama, you're not thinking straight. Now get your robe on and let's talk about this.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” she snapped. “That time is over. You've been talking with those nursing home people. You've been talking with the county. Don't think I can't hear you on the phone.”

I had tried to keep my conversations with the authorities as discreet as possible. It had been a long series of delayed decisions and questions about the cost and the logistics of such a move. I hadn't made the final decision because the house was my mother's castle. She lived for that house, as old and broken-down as it was.

“We've been talking about what's best for you.”

“What's
best
for me? You can't even run your own life, let alone mine. You go running after a split-tail bed thrasher and then boohoo about it, moping around here like some wounded dog. Just get up and get out. And don't come back.”

Blue and white lights flashed over the hill, and I put my face in my hands. “Mama, get dressed; the police are coming.”

“You called the police?” she shouted.

“No, I think Callie probably did after you used her for target practice. Now unless you want the sheriff or one of his deputies seeing you in your birthday suit, you'd better give me the gun and get your robe on.”