Tender Graces (33 page)

Late that night Micah came into my room. He sat on the bed. “I told Rebekha I was sorry again. I mean, I really like her.”

“I jinxed it. It’s all my fault.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re the weirdest.” He looked around the room. “Hey, it looks better in here without all that pink.”

“I jinxed it. In my head I said I changed my mind about being adopted.”

“Geez Veez, you can’t change things just by thinking them. You ought to know
that
by now. If that were true, you’d be able to change bad things into good, too.” He threw Fionadala at me, hitting me square in the face. “You still keep stupid stuffed animals?”

“What’s it to you?” I stuck my tongue out at him, then said, “Did you really want to be adopted?”

“Doesn’t matter. Momma won’t ever let us go because she’s too selfish.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t let her get to you, Seestor.”

“Why wouldn’t she at least see us?”

“That’s a good question, now isn’t it?” He threw my new blue pillow in the air. “I was hoping everything would get straightened out before I leave.” He hugged the pillow to his chest. “I want you and Andy to be okay so I won’t have to worry over you.”

“We’ll be okay, Micah. I’ll take care of Andy.”

He flipped my hair, and then stood up. “You look too much like Momma.”

“No I don’t. I just look like me. And like Grandma Faith.”

He stared at me. “Yeah, I guess you’re like her, too.” He turned to go. “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Wait, Micah.”

“What?”

“I’m sort a glad you’re my brother.”

“Like I care.” But I saw by his face that he did.

Chapter 27

Then the phone rang

1971-72

It was a Wednesday morning, hotter than hot should be. I lay on my bed, kicked my feet back and forth, and read Micah’s
Mad Magazine,
laughing at
Scenes We’d Like To See
and
Spy Vs. Spy.
I tossed the magazine aside and thought about the end of ninth grade, how I still hadn’t kissed a boy, how Wayne ignored me when we passed in the halls, and how everything about school was stupid.

I stuck out like a piece of toast next to fresh Wonder Bread. Lots of the girls had blond hair, or forced it to be blond with cotton balls soaked in peroxide. Some wore leather headbands as if they thought they were real Indians or something. And they fried themselves in the hot Louisiana sun with baby oil and iodine, trying to get tans. There were some Cajun girls and black girls who were dark, but they stayed in their own groups. I didn’t know what I was and nobody ever told me where my people came from so I could find my group.

I heard a glass shatter on the floor and Rebekha saying, “Dang it.”  I went to the kitchen and helped sweep up the glass. She smiled to show me she was thankful for the help, or maybe the company. I dumped the glass in the garbage. Then I took to cleaning out the icebox. It didn’t really need it, but since I was already in there, I made myself useful.

“What are you going to do with your summer?” Rebekha asked.

“Read, take photographs, stuff like that.”

“Sounds like fun.” She pulled pots and pans out of the cabinet, checking the bottoms to see if they needed scrubbing. “I’m increasing my work hours in the fall, now that Bobby’s starting first grade.” She stared into the pot as if it was a mirror.

I wondered what she saw when she looked at herself. I saw someone who more and more I thought of as a momma instead of just some woman taking care of us kids.

Since Momma had messed up the adoption, we’d all just gone along with our business. Micah took painting lessons, even though I thought he was better than his teacher. Andy had enough friends to make a football team. Bobby played kiddie baseball. And Daddy tried to go to his meetings, but didn’t always.

I asked, “Maybe you could teach me how to cook better?”

“Oh! I’d love to. I have a huge collection of recipes we can start working on.”

“Can you show me how to make good cornbread? I just can’t get it right.”

“Okay, how about we do some tonight? And we’ll make okra and tomatoes to go with it.” She hummed as she put the pots and pans back, and then got out her
River Road Recipes
cookbook. “Oh, and something good for dessert. This book has so many good recipes.” She grinned at me, then said, “Let’s meet back here at four and we’ll get started.” She looked happy, and I felt happy, too.

I sat on the porch with a sweet tea and watched Amy Campinelle and Mister Husband working in their yard. It never changed over at the Campinelle’s and I liked how they were always the same. She huffed and puffed over and handed me a picture of her and Mister Husband at Gulf Shores, Alabama. “Look at us! Bathing beauties.”

“That’s a nice picture.” I didn’t laugh at their old-fashioned suits.

“Mrs. Portier . . . oh, shoot, I mean Engleson, anyway, she says to tell you hey. I’m just tickled over her new life.” Her cheeks were cotton candy pink. “Rachel and Robin are cute as bugs on a flower. Spitting image of their parents. I’ll give you a picture. I know how you like keeping track of things.”

“Thanks.” Things were as sweet and good as the tea I sipped.

“Where’s your little white-haired friend? I need to feed that girl something, yeah.”

“She’s on vacation with her parents.”

“And you didn’t go?”

“Her parents don’t like me much.”

“Well, they’re just stupid in the head.” She wiped her forehead and said, “Whew.” And then, “Okay, I’m off to get boiled crabs. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” She jiggled on home, and I went in for a piece of fruit. I was trying to lose five pounds, but it kept finding me over and over.

Bobby was in the kitchen, his bat and glove grown as part of his body since he was never without them. He wore baggy shorts that made him look like one of those kids on
Our Gang Little Rascals
from the
Buckskin Bill Show
. His dark auburn hair stuck up with sweat and he had dirt all over his face and in the creases of his neck. “What’re you doing, Meestor Seestor?”

“None of your bees-wax.” I grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl.

Bobby puffed out his chest and his ribs poked through the thin t-shirt. Skinny, just like Micah and Andy. “Stump and I are going to play baseball, wanna come?”

I threw orange peel at him. “Why should I?”

“Stump’s brother Wayne will be there.”

“Why should I care?”

“I dunno.” He grinned like he did. He peeled a banana and ate half of it in one bite, talking with his mouth full. “We’re going over to the lake.” He opened his mouth, showed me the half-eaten fruit, and laughed when I made a face.

“I’m bored so I’ll go, but don’t embarrass me.” I went to my room and brushed my hair. I almost put it in a ponytail, but changed my mind. Bobby peeked in and made high fashion model poses until I threw my brush at him. He ran out laughing. I checked my shorts and t-shirt to make sure they didn’t have holes or stains. I cleaned my teeth and puffed on the spicy powder, sad that it was almost gone. I pretended I wasn’t doing any of that for any reason. I headed out, first hollering at Rebekha that I’d be back at four.

At the lake, which wasn’t a real lake, but a man-made very large pond, Bobby and Stump were already playing catch with Wayne. I felt weird, like I didn’t belong since I was a girl. I felt like I had something to prove.

Bobby threw the baseball to Stump, then Stump threw to his brother. Stump got his name because the pinkie finger on his left hand was half gone. Bobby said he’d held onto a lit firecracker a bit too long. Stump was so cute; I had to ruffle his hair every time I saw him.

Bobby tossed a glove to me like I wasn’t a girl and that made me feel good.

I slid my eyes over to Wayne. Noticed how his shoulders were wider, his blue jean britches were filled, he didn’t have on his glasses, and when he walked, I thought about a rooster in a  hen house. But I pretended I didn’t notice. He burned his half-closed eyes into me. “Hey, Virginia Kate. You sure look foxy in those shorts.”

Bobby and Stump laughed like crazy hyenas.

I punched into my glove.

Bobby threw to me first, and I threw to Stump so Wayne wouldn’t know I really wanted to throw to him. Bobby and Stump chattered about baseball players.

Wayne said, “Shut up and throw the ball, ugly baboon idjuts.” He looked over at me to see if I noticed how manly he was.

I threw the ball hard as I could to Wayne, hoping it hurt when he caught it.

“Wow, that’s a good throw. He almost couldn’t catch it,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, haha, Wayne,” Stump said.

Wayne pointed his finger at his brother. “You need to shut your trap.” He tossed back his longish hair like a girl.

“My brother’s breath stinks. And he has a rash on his penis.” Stump hollered that so loud a lady and her kids turned to look.

“You little fuck.” Wayne ran over to Stump, who ran behind me. “Yeah, hide behind a girl, fuck-face. I oughta tear the rest of your fingers off.”

“Leave him alone, Wayne. He’s just a kid.” I smoothed Stump’s hair and he grinned all sappy. “He’s your little brother.”

Wayne backed up, gave me a smarky smile, and winked.

I decided I didn’t like winkers. Winkers were silly. Did winkers think they could just wink and I’d think they were cute, even when they treated little kids like that? I decided I was tired of playing ball with Wayne.

“See if you can catch this, Wayney-poo.” I threw the ball to him hard, high, and a little to the right, laughing to myself when he almost fell down trying to jump up and catch it. He stood with his hands on his hips giving me a You-stupid-girl look when it landed in the water. I said, “I’ll just relax in the shade while you get the ball, Wayne.” I flopped myself under the cypress and studied my toes, wondering how polish would look on them.

He took off in a hissy huff, his tight britches and boots looking silly, wearing them in the heat with no sense.

I heard Stump ask, “I thought you said your sister liked my brother.”

Bobby said, “Stupid-breath, she’s a
girl.
”

Stump nodded like it all made sense to him. “My brother is stoooopid. He hollers at Mom and me all the time.”

“He hollers at your mom? Why? She’s nice,” Bobby said.

“He thinks he’s so smart just because he’s going to play football and be a journalist.”

They plopped down by me under the cypress tree. We watched the lady and her kids throw bread to the ducks and geese. Bobby and Stump chattered about green boogers and I was just about to leave when Andy showed up on his bike holding onto something with a long colorful tail.

“Goddamn! Look what I made!” He jumped off his bike. “Come see, y’all.” He held up a kite he made out of the comics, some sticks, and a tail made out of old fabric scraps. The boys oohed and aahed over it.

I said, “That’s pretty good, Andy.”

“Well, let’s see if it flies.” He took off running, his tenny shoes kicking up grass behind him. Bobby and Stump ran with him, laughing their fool heads off. When they came back, Andy said, “You try it, Seestor.”

“Yeah, Seeeeestor.” Bobby laughed. “She’s a seestor, meestor.” Stump laughed too and I noticed for the first time he had a little bruise under his eye.

We all took turns flying the kite. I wished Micah were there. He’d like to see the color flying in the sky. The four of us kicked off our shoes, and then chased each other around until our feet, knees, and the seats of our britches were green from the grass that had just been mowed that day.

I dropped to my back under the cypress, staring up at the clouds. Stump and Bobby dropped down and searched for four-leaf clovers. Andy did a couple of cartwheels just to show off, then sat beside me, and we thumb wrestled.

There was the smell of fish in the lake. The sound of the geese and ducks begging for bread while the lady’s children screeched with their happy. A red-winged blackbird shrieked in the cypress next to us. Our sweat dripped while we lay around in the sweet-smelling grass. The cypress trees sighed when the wind went through their leaves. Everything felt right and good. Andy’s face said the same thing. Like the sad shadows had lifted right out of our eyes and left things clear and new.

Andy said, “Seestor, your hair’s got grass and stuff all in it.”

Bobby said, all proud, “Seestor, you got a dirty face. You don’t even look like a girl.”

Stump said, “I wish I had a seestor.”

We began walking, singing the song about a levee that had a Chevy in it. For the zillionth time, Andy told the story about how Rebekha killed the snake and said shitting bastards. I felt like everything was opening up like a sunflower bloom. The boys ran off to the canal even though they weren’t supposed to, and I walked home. I checked the mail for a letter from Jade, nothing, and then went to the icebox for a coke. Rebekha had ingredients lined up on the counter and that made me smile. It was all lazy summer normal and good.

Then the phone rang.

Rebekha answered, and after she hung up, came to me with a look of trouble. “Sit with me, Hon.”

“What’s wrong?”