Silver Sparrow (34 page)

I knew he was trying to compliment me, but it felt like an insult. The way people tel a fat girl that she has “a pretty face.” I reached for the door to let myself out, but Raleigh asked me to wait.

“Gwen didn’t do any of this on purpose. You have to take my word on it. I’m tel ing you because I don’t want you to think that your daddy would do this for some two-dol ar whore, because that’s not what Gwen is. In her way, she’s a lady.”

I made a pil ow of my hands and leaned on the dashboard. Every day this situation got crazier and crazier. “What is wrong with you people?” I asked. “Daddy got kids with this lady, you’re talking like you’re in love with her. What is it about them? Me and mama can be complicated. We can be interesting.”

“It’s not a competition,” Raleigh said.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

Uncle Raleigh reminded me a lot of Jamal, the way those nice guys break your heart but manage to make you feel like they’re the ones who have been done wrong. I got out of the car, walked around and stuck my face into the crack where Uncle Raleigh had his window open.

“One more question,” I said. “What’s their apartment number?”

CONTINENTAL COLONY WAS set up to look like something from Europe, maybe a ski lodge or something — cream-colored buildings with black shutters. The town homes were shaped sort of like stop signs on the top. Their building, 2412, was in the middle of a row of identical houses. I stopped in front, checked my purse to make sure that I stil had the postcard. The edges were buckled from potato juice. I checked my look in the rearview. Mama was in no condition to tighten up my augmentation, so I’d made a headband from a purple scarf to hide the rough edges. I licked my fingers, pushed back a few kinky strands and opened the car door.

The pathway to their home was warped by grass pushing through the concrete. I took some pleasure from this. Our yard was neat and orderly.

The azaleas were in bloom and Daddy had recently painted our mailbox with a fresh coat of white. I stood before the door with my hand on the knocker, trying to decide what I was going to say. I wanted to know why Dana had elbowed her way into our lives. Did she want to know me, or did she want to hurt me? Was it al done under her mother’s orders? What did they want from us? I had no idea how I could extract this information. If there was anything the last few weeks had taught me, it was that people only told you what they wanted you to know. Asking a straight question didn’t necessarily get you a straight answer.

I’d taken my hand down from the knocker and turned toward the car, when the door swept open. Standing there was Gwendolyn wearing a white nurse’s uniform. “Yes?” She looked like Dana’s Ghost of Christmas Future. She wasn’t al glammed up the way she had been when she invaded the Pink Fox. Her pretty hair was bound behind her head and her face was creased around her mouth. “Are you looking for me?”

“I’m looking for Dana,” I said.

Gwen smiled. “Dana is at school. And, if I may be so bold, what are you doing here in the middle of the day? Don’t they have truant officers anymore?”

Her manner was hard to read. It was as though she was amused, like I was a little kid who had done something grown, like order lobster at a restaurant.

“I’m taking care of my mother,” I said.

“Don’t you think your mother has enough people to take care of her?” She kept that tickled-adult tone and invited me in.

Her living room seemed to be set up to honor Dana and Swarovski crystal. On every flat surface rested glass figures atop mirrored coasters. The wal s were crowded with photos of Dana. Some were school portraits and these seemed to be arranged chronological y and there were others that looked like Uncle Raleigh’s work. She waved her arm and I sat down on a leather couch. Although a chenil e throw covered the cushions, I could feel the cracks in the leather against my thighs.

“May I get you something to drink?” Gwen asked.

“No,” I said.

“No?” she said with a question at the end like I was being prompted to remember my manners. Something in me almost corrected myself and said “No, ma’am,” but I instead said, “No, I don’t want anything to drink.”

“Very wel ,” Gwen said. “Did you mother caution you not to drink from my glasses? Does she think I am going to put some root on you? Is that what she thinks happened?” Gwen laughed a little. “It’s warm in here. Should I turn on the fan, or did she warn you against breathing my air, too?”

“My mother doesn’t even know I’m here,” I said. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop talking about her.”

“You and your sister are so much alike,” Gwen said. “I had no idea that my daughter was spending her time with you. Someone should write a book on the secret lives of girls.”

“You should know about secret lives,” I said.

Gwen turned in my direction. “Al this back talk. You and Dana real y are sisters.”

Every time she said the word
sister,
it felt like a tease. I shifted on the couch.

“Would you rather sit here?” Gwen said, rising. “This is your father’s chair.”

“No,” I said.

“So,” Gwen said, “what can I help you with? I’m on my way to work, but I can make time for you.”

“Don’t cal the police on my father,” I said.

She smiled, a little. “Come again?”

I took the card out of my purse. I wanted to keep my tone level, like woman to woman. “You sent this to my mother. Don’t you think my mother has suffered enough?”

Gwendolyn picked the card up and held it away from her like she didn’t want it to stain her white uniform. “Little girl,” she said, “while this card does make a good point, I did not send this.” She flipped the card over to the smiling peanut on the front. “Jimmy Carter?”

“You’re lying,” I said. “You and Dana just lie and lie and lie.”

Gwen’s mood shifted and she leaned forward. “Do not speak il of my daughter. She has done more for you than you wil ever know. Both of us have lived our entire lives in order for you to be comfortable. Nobody that lives in this house ever lied to you.”

“You’re not al that innocent.”

“You are not, either,” Gwen said. “Everything you have, you have at the expense of my daughter. Just because you were ignorant doesn’t make you innocent.”

I stood up from the raggedy couch and Gwen stood up, too. It was as though we were either going to fight or embrace. “Stay away from my mother,” I said. “And my father.”

Gwendolyn said, “Listen to me. Sit back down. You came here because you want to know something, so let me tel you something.”

I sat back down, because Gwen was right. Wasn’t whole point to find things out?

“First, what you are asking of me is unreasonable. I exist; Dana exists. You can’t ask us to pretend that we don’t. When I came to the Pink Fox that day, I did not ask Laverne to leave her husband. I did not ask you to live without your father. I just came to the shop and showed myself. You have been showing yourself to me for every day of your life. I can’t believe how arrogant you are, Chaurisse. I have been good to you your entire life, so give me some respect.”

Gwen crossed her white-stockinged legs and bounced her shoe up and down. “Don’t cry,” she said.

I wasn’t crying. I felt my face to make sure. She spoke with a grand tone, like there was someone watching. I swiveled to see the whole room, but there was no one else there except the pictures of Dana.

“Now I want to ask you something,” Gwen said. “Okay? We’re civilized here.”

“I’m not tel ing you anything,” I said.

“Oh,” Gwen said. “I know everything already. You are the one who needs to know things. I want to ask you for a smal favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yes,” Gwen said. “I want to ask you to give Dana back her grandmother’s brooch. It’s al she had.”

“Hel no,” I said.

“Why not?” Gwen wanted to know. “You have everything. My Dana has fed herself on your crumbs her whole life. Why can’t you just share this one thing?”

“Sorry,” I said standing up, feeling a bit prideful. “It’s mine. She was my grandmother. My daddy stole the brooch from her dress when she was in the casket.”

“Don’t be so selfish. My daughter has never asked for anything. I never asked for anything. You see me in this uniform? I work every day. I pay my own bil s.”

“I don’t care,” I said.

Gwen stood up. “I asked you nicely. I tried to talk to you like an adult. You have forced me to tel you this. Listen here, young lady. When you go home, look at the marriage license. Look at it careful y. Dana, your sister, the one who you think you hate so much, she changed it with a bal point pen. I didn’t marry your father one year after you were born. He married me when you were three days old, stil in the hospital, stil in the incubator.

Dana changed the date because she didn’t want to hurt your little feelings. How about that?”

“That’s not true,” I said.

She shook her head.

“You are such a liar,” I said.

“No,” Gwen said. “The devil is a lie, just like your Daddy.”

She led me to the door, as though I was just a normal guest. I squinted across the room at a photo of my mother preparing Grandma Bunny for the grave. I was stunned to see it there, as though we were part of her family. Gwen fol owed my eyes and looked into my astonished face. “It was a gift.”

SINCE I WAS the one who cal ed my father and told him to come to the house, it would have made sense for me to unlock the door and let him in.

Maybe I would have been more cooperative if he had rung the door like a guest, instead of trying to use his key like he stil lived here, like everything was okay, like my mother was his only wife and I was his only daughter. His key slid in the lock but wouldn’t turn. I stood on the other side of the door and let him try three times until it dawned on him that the locks had been changed. My mother had done it on the first day, before she turned into a sodden mess, when she was stil singing “I Wil Survive.” Before she started wishing he would come home.

When he rang the bel , I opened the wood door, undid the bolt, but I left the glass door locked. He wore his dress uniform, clutching his hat under his arm. If the outfit was red, he would have looked like an organ grinder’s monkey.

“Ch-chaurisse,” he said. “Thank you for cal ing me. Is your Mama al right?”

“How can she be al right?” I said.

“None of us is al right,” he said. “This has been hard on everybody.”

“Daddy,” I said, “how could you do this to us?”

“Open the d-d-door.”

My mother was asleep on the couch, dead from Tylenol PM. I didn’t think she would wake up, but I kept my voice low. “Explain it to me.”

“Don’t make me talk through the door.” My father was so close to the glass that I could make out his chapped lips. I took a smal step away; it wasn’t much of a move, but he saw it.

“That’s how it is, Chaurisse?” he said. “You are afraid of your father? Your mama being mad at me, I can see. What I did was a sin against her.

Look at me and see I’ve been laid low. But I never did you nothing, Chaurisse. I’m stil your daddy, nothing can change that.”

“You did do me something,” I said.

“What have I done you?” he said, like he real y wanted to know.

It was hard to explain this thing I felt. It wasn’t like daughters are supposed to expect some sort of exclusive relationship from their fathers, but what he had with Dana was an infidelity. “We didn’t even know you,” I said.

“You know me, Chaurisse. How can you say you don’t know me. When have you ever needed a daddy and I wasn’t there? Half of your friends don’t even have a daddy. Tel me if I’m lying.”

He wasn’t.

“Now open the door, Buttercup. Don’t leave me standing out here in the street. You said your mama wanted to talk to me.”

“No, I said I wanted you to talk to her. She didn’t tel me to cal you.”

“I want to talk to her, too. I’ve talked to your mama every day of my life since I was sixteen years old. Two weeks away from her liked to kil me.”

“What about two weeks away from me?” I said. “You talk to me every day, too.”

“Oh, Buttercup,” he said, “Don’t be like that. Of course I miss you.”

“Do you love me?” I asked him.

“Of c-c-ourse, I love you. Your uncle Raleigh loves you, too.”

“But do you love me better?”

“Better than your Mama? What kind of question is that?”

“No,” I said. “Do you love me better than Dana?”

Now, it was his turn to back away from the glass. “What’s the p-p-point of asking that?”

I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. I needed to ask him when exactly he had taken Gwendolyn Yarboro to be his “lawful y wedded wife.” Had he real y done it when I was in the hospital, underweight, and stuck through with al those tubes? I’d snuck into my mother’s drawer and looked at the marriage license, but I wasn’t quite sure. If Gwen was tel ing the truth, I had a problem because I could never tel my mother and I didn’t want to join the party of people who loved my mother and lied to her.

“Y-you know, Chaurisse,” he said. “Open up this door. You are trying my patience. When you act like this, people grow cal uses on their heart. I don’t want any cal uses on my heart when it comes to you.”

Hearing the threat in his voice, I put my hand on the knob to let him in. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why did you marry Gwen when I was stil in the incubator?”

“Who said I d-d-did that?”

“Gwen,” I said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” my father said, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It was easy to take him at his word, as easy as taking off a heavy pack, as easy as fal ing down a flight of stairs, as easy as shutting my eyes at bedtime.

26

EPITHALAMIUM

SHE TOOK HIM BACK. Was there ever any question? Of course I had doubt at the time, but I wasn’t old enough to know anything about the how the world works. When my mother asked me to join her at the kitchen table, she looked like herself again. She wore a green spangled warm-up suit and her hairpiece hung over her shoulders in optimistic ribbon twists. When she spoke, I concentrated on her mouth, her teeth stained by her lipstick.