The Dry Grass of August(28)

Mama scooted Puddin onto the floor and reached for the Sen-Sen she kept in the drawer of her nightstand. She popped one of the mints in her mouth and sucked on it. “Cordelia knows I smoke, but she doesn’t approve, and I want her to think about it as little as possible.” She was spritzing herself with Old English Lavender when Daddy opened the door. He had a drink in his hand.

“How many is that, Bill?”

“I’m just having a toddy before we eat. Let’s get along, okay?”

“Okay, Billy Boy. How can I be rude to your mother when I have no idea what she’s saying?” She smirked at Daddy and said, “I mean,” in perfect imitation of Meemaw.

Stell motioned me with a jerk of her head. I took Puddin’s hand and pulled her out the door.

In the hallway, Stell said, “Lord, help us make it through the night.”

We went to the living room. Stell sat on the sofa and crossed her legs at the ankles, adjusting her skirt so it covered her knees, just the sort of prissy thing she did when she was nervous. She had on her new bracelet. I sat in the queen chair, and Puddin squeezed in with me. She leaned against me and asked, “Why does Meemaw call us June and Carolina instead of Jubie and Puddin?”

“Old ladies don’t use nicknames.”

Mary lit the candles on the dinner table. “The other Miz Watts, she hasn’t showed up yet. Somebody better fetch her.”

Mama came to the living room. “Jubie, run tell your grandmother supper’s ready.”

I knocked on the door to the garage apartment, and Meemaw called out, “Come on up,” in her whiny old voice.

“Hey, Meemaw. Supper’s ready.”

“Why don’t you all begin without me?”

She was on the sofa, plaid blanket spread over her, exactly as we’d left her, except for the half-empty carafe on the coffee table.

“We’d rather wait for you.”

“Maybe you’d better bring me a tray. I’m worn out from traveling and climbing those stairs.”

“Mama thought that you’d rather have this apartment all to yourself, with your own bathroom. I’ll help you with the stairs. We could work out a signal—”

“June, I believe I’m too tired to—just fix me a tray. I’m an old woman.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And not much food—delicate appetite.”

As I went through the garage, I wanted to go on out to the street and cut through backyards to Maggie’s house and hide under her bed. When I walked into the dining room alone, Daddy said, “Where’s Mother?” at the same time Mama said, “Well?”

“Meemaw asked if we’d fix her a tray. She doesn’t feel well.”

“I do not believe this,” Mama said.

“She told me the stairs were too much for her,” I said.

“Her bedroom’s on the second floor at home.”

Daddy pushed back his chair and got up. “Is she sick?”

“I knew she’d pull something,” Mama said.

“She’s old and tired. She’s not pulling anything.”

“She’s only sixty-seven. And she has never liked me. You know it.”

“Oh, come on, she’s just—”

“She never calls me by name; have you noticed?”

Davie clinked his silver cup on the tray of his high chair.

Stell looked down at her plate.

Daddy stood in the den doorway, holding his linen napkin. “I really think I should go up and see—”

“That’s exactly what she wants.” Mama’s voice was sharp. There were tears in her eyes.

Daddy threw his napkin on the buffet. “I’d rather have a crust of bread in peace than a feast in strife.” He stormed out.

“Where are you going?” Mama called.

“In search of tranquility.” The breezeway door slammed shut.

Mary walked into the dining room. “You want me to carry a tray to the other Miz Watts?”

Daddy’s car door slammed.

“I don’t care.” Mama stood. “I just don’t care.” She left the dining room.

“Oh, Lord,” said Stell softly.

Out in the street, Daddy’s tires squealed as he turned onto Queens Road West.

I looked at Mary. “Meemaw said she didn’t want much.”

“Much? Hmph.” She went to the kitchen.

“I’m hungry,” said Puddin.

Davie banged his high chair.

I moved to Daddy’s place and sliced the ham. Stell ladled pineapple sauce over the slices as I passed the plates around. I put a heaping spoonful of creamed corn on Puddin’s plate, knowing how she loved it, and Stell dished out the Kentucky Wonders that Mama had cooked especially for Meemaw. We ate our supper by candlelight, droplets of water making tracks down the crystal goblets and pooling in the sterling coasters. The flames flickered when Mary walked through the dining room with a tray covered by a linen tea towel.





CHAPTER 11

Mary came into Uncle Taylor’s kitchen with Leesum. He was dressed in his own clothes again, which were in pretty bad shape, even clean. He was barefoot, and his hair, now that it was dry, stuck out from his head worse than ever.