Isle of Palms (64 page)

“I swear,” I whispered to Arthur, “you could put Cruella De Vil in a wedding dress and I’d still get choked up.”

“Look how happy she is!” he said.

We turned and watched her take Simon’s arm and the ceremony began. When Father Michaels got to the part about
Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?
Susan said
yes!
so loudly that everybody giggled. In no time at all, Susan and Simon became man and wife and we were all back at the
Island Gamble
.

Somehow, Arthur and I got separated and then I spotted him in the front yard. He was talking to Jack Taylor and Caroline. I was wearing my dress, the
Dress Formerly Known as Skin
. It had the desired effect on Jack and Arthur at the same time. They gulped and Caroline said, “Hey, Anna! How nice to see you!”

There were even flowers on pedestals in the yard! The strings started to play.

“I don’t believe it,” Caroline said.

They were playing “How Sweet It Is to Be Loved by You,” but it didn’t sound like James Taylor to me.

“James Taylor wrote this,” I said.

“No, he didn’t,” Arthur said. “Holland-Dozier-Holland wrote it.”

“I knew that,” I said. “I was just checking to see if you knew!”

Jack, Caroline, and Arthur all looked at me at the same time.

“That’s a joke, y’all! Jeesch!”

“That’s our music, young lady!”

Their generation was a bunch of know-it-alls.

Susan and Simon came down from the porch and joined their guests. All of a sudden, Simon kissed her and swooped her up and ran down the beach with her in his arms. Then the chamber ensemble began to play “I Feel Good.” People started singing the words along with each other, sort of dancing their way to the dunes to watch Susan and Simon. Even Father Michaels, who had arrived to wish them well, did a little twist.

“Good God Almighty! Get down!”
I said.
“Get down! It’s James Brown! Come to town!”

Arthur looked at me and then to Jack and Caroline and finally back to me again.

“What is it about you?” he said. “You are just so, I don’t know! What? Different! You’re just so happy to be alive!”

“Yes. I know.” I felt like I could fly. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Must be the Geechee in my blood.”

“And every time I’m around you, I want to feel like you feel.”

“Honey, if there’s one thing we got plenty of to go around, it’s good feeling.”

We stayed until they cut the cake and then we left. It was a wonderful wedding. They were going to Bangkok on their honeymoon. They were excited like children going to Disney World for the first time. Everyone, to the last person, was thrilled for them.

When we got home Arthur said, “You tired?”

“I should be, but I’m not.”

“Wanna come to my place?”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t. It’s late. David’s here this weekend and Emily’s out with him. I should, you know, be here.”

“And, I don’t guess I could stay either, huh?”

“You know that wouldn’t be right. Bad example and all that. Scandalize the neighbors and all.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to go on spending every night alone, without you in bed next to me.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. What do you think I
should
suggest?”

“Arthur, we’re back in the fifth grade again.”

“Did you see the way that guy Jack was looking at you?”

“No,” I lied.

“Well. We’re gonna have to figure this out. Christmas is right around the corner and maybe you can think of something you’d like to have. From me, I mean. You know. Something.”

I took his face in my hands and kissed him good and then I stood back and said, “Don’t worry so much, okay? I love you. We’re fine.”

“Okay.”

I crawled in my bed and placed a piece of Susan’s wedding cake that I had put in a Ziploc bag (bugs, you know) under my pillow for good luck. I was dozing until I could hear David’s car door close, meaning Emily was back safely.

I rolled over and thought about Arthur. Anna Fisher? It had a nice ring to it, didn’t it? We would see. I heard Emily come in and close the door. And, finally, she closed her bedroom door.

It gave me great comfort that I knew the sounds of my own house, but then there were many places in my life in which I could find something good. I knew that I had worked for them, I was thankful for them, but I wasn’t ready to give my independence up quite yet.

My thoughts eventually turned to Momma because I was going to say my prayers for her and there was always that part of me that hoped she was watching. I’d been molded of stronger stuff than she was. I had independence, a little money tucked away, and a most useful hammer under my sink. In spite of the fact that she didn’t live long enough to explain herself to me, and I imagine that was the only thing I was missing—to hear it in her own words—she had given me a little bit of free spirit and ambition.

Daddy had given me fortitude. Fortitude wasn’t nothing. It was huge. I would’ve withered and died without it. There was a reality about sticking things out for a better day to dawn that was not a cliché, but honest-to-God good advice that we should all weigh and consider.

Miss Angel and Miss Mavis tiptoed across my mind. Those two. They had made me see things differently and from a kinder and more forgiving point of view. And they reminded me of so many important things—that the past carried value and explanations. If my momma had lived, and she had divorced Daddy, which probably should have happened, would Momma have been like them? Would anyone have cared about her? I think I would have.

Oh! Didn’t everyone you loved rub off on you a little, leaving a soapy residue of their best self? They
did.
And through them, you might become somebody with your own residue worth leaving around. Although my life would never change the world like Gandhi or somebody like him, I decided my life still had significance. I was just going to keep working on my tiny piece of the planet.

Time would tell about Arthur. Although, I
was
in love with him. Oh, who was I kidding? I was really as far down the rabbit hole with him as Emily was with David and Daddy was with Lucy. Maybe there was something in the water supply.

What was funny about it was that I wasn’t afraid. Too much time in my life had been spent being afraid. Worrying. There was no rush. No. No reason to rush anything.

“I’m home, Momma!”

Emily, her tired voice, calling out to me. She said she was
home.
Our home. That alone was enough to carry my spirits for a long while.

“Good, baby! See you in the morning!”

Emily. My girl. Arthur. Crazy wonderful Arthur. Everyone. All of them.

I pulled my covers up around my shoulders, pounded my pillow for the sake of positioning my tired head, and squeezed my eyes shut. For a moment I wondered what the morning would bring, and then . . . then I decided to just let the spirits of the Lowcountry and the Isle of Palms work their legendary magic. Oh, Lord. If I had ever learned anything, I had learned I could rely on that. Yes. I could definitely rely on that. If people only knew about this place . . . But logistically, it was probably a good thing that they didn’t. The Isle of Palms wasn’t big enough to hold everyone—maybe the rest of the world would have to change a little. It would be such a good world to live in if everyone could just change a little bit. Oh. It wasn’t up to me. It wasn’t. I was doing my part.

What? Sorry. I nodded off. I was dreaming that it was tomorrow and that you were back in my chair.

Well, these are some of the things I had wanted so badly to tell you. That there were so many things worth the struggle. And that, eventually, even if taking a risk scared the daylights out of you, life would bring risk to you dressed up so fine you’d accept the invitation, even if you didn’t know quite how to get where you were supposed to go. It’s all about that first step. First you stand up and then you take that first step. It isn’t right to live anybody’s life except your own.

I can see it all now. Tomorrow you’re gonna show up at the salon, desperate to have us blow out your hair for a holiday party. I’ll give you a glass of tea or an espresso or something. You and I will run our mouths about the party you’re heading to and what you’ll be wearing. We’ll rehash our lives since the last time we’ve seen each other and laugh over this and that. Then, you’ll get in my chair, I’ll do your hair for you, with pleasure, and you’ll look in the mirror. Your hair will look fabulous and you’ll be happy. And because you always do, you’ll probably take a moment to fret about your color and I’ll say, No, darlin’. Your roots aren’t showing—mine are.

I AM dee-lighted to report that I am the recipient of a ton of friendly email. Mostly they say something like, “I read your last book in two days! When’s the next one?” Ahem. Writing takes so much longer than reading that it’s not funny. I wish I could write faster and I’m trying to figure out how to do that, but I don’t think there’s an easy solution. Anybody out there got a clue? Tell me!

Then there are some other questions people ask me over and over again. Reference to the Gullah culture and its language leaves a lot of people baffled. I am no expert in this field and the linguistic experts would probably argue with me on different spellings. I grew up speaking it from the time I could make my first words, that’s all. What do I know? In this book I have used quite a few so I offer this little glossary hoping it will help you understand.

GULLAH

Now, having offered this in print . . .

...
I know I gwine catch the debbil from all dem folks tha’s down in de weeds, jus’ waiting on my own self to mess up dis ’eah t’ing. Humph! Ain’
easy, chile, trying to bring Lowcountry fuh all He chillrun to see fuh true, ’eah? Shuh. All I be fuh know is dat I been make a Geechee from Gawd’s hand. I gone be waiting fuh you, ’eah?

Anyway, you get the point. There are any number of good books around that will explain the Gullah culture and language at length. It is not an aberration of English nor is it slang. It is one of six Creole languages still spoken in this country. My usage of it is designed only to heighten awareness of yet another distinct feature of the Lowcountry. Gullah is a language of love, taught to little white barefooted island brats like me by loving women descended from slavery. Please use it accordingly.

READERS GUIDE FOR
Isle of Palms