The Dry Grass of August(56)

“What if they don’t?”

We sat in silence.

The sheriff came back, sat down behind his desk. “Y’all got a picture of your girl?”

“No,” said Stell.

“I do.” Stell looked at me. “I do. From Uncle Stamos’ birthday party.”

“Mary wasn’t in any of those.”

“I kept the ones Mama tossed out. One was just Mary and me. I’ve got it at the motel.”

“That’ll help,” said the sheriff. “Coloreds look so much alike.”

“No, they don’t,” Stell said.

The sheriff said, “Hmph.” Like Mary.

I asked him, “When are you going to start looking for her?”

“We already are. Ray’s driving around town, asking questions. We just radioed him a description of the car.”

I hoped someone would find Mary before Ray did.

The door swung open, banging against the wall. “Par’me, Sheriff, but they’s a man out here making a ruckus.”

Daddy’s voice boomed from the front office. “I want my daughters, damn it! Are they hurt?” I slid down in my chair.

Somebody said something I couldn’t hear. Daddy yelled, “Where in hell are they?”

The sheriff said, “Bring him on in.”

Daddy burst into the sheriff ’s office. “God, I’m glad you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” we both said at once.

“We’re about done here, Mr.Watts.”

Daddy shook the sheriff ’s hand. “Just want to take my girls to their mother.” He looked at Stell. “I guess you got enough religion.”

She stared at the floor.

We answered a few more questions. When Sheriff Higgins said he was finished, I asked,“Is Mary okay? Do you think she’s okay?”

He looked at Daddy, down at his desk. “I’m sure she is. We’ll see.”

We left his office with Daddy holding our hands. We were almost to the Chrysler when he shoved Stell so hard she fell against the car.

“Daddy!” she cried out.

I couldn’t move. I’d never seen him raise a hand to anyone but me.

“It’s all your fault, you and that goddamn religious stuff you’re always pushing at us. Jesus this and Jesus that!” He kicked one of the tires.

“It’s not my fault.” Stell stood by the car, her face white in the moonlight. I wanted to warn her to be quiet.

Daddy drew back his hand as if he were going to hit her.

“Go ahead. You’re only a hundred pounds heavier, so it’ll be fair. I’ll scream if you touch me.”

He stood there, his glasses two disks of reflected light. “Get in the car.”





I couldn’t get to sleep. The heat was in bed with me, and there was no cool side to the pillow. Every time I closed my eyes, I could hear the men beating Mary. I kept wanting to grunt and moan. After a long time of trying to get comfortable, I got up. I bumped into Mary’s cot on my way to the door. If she’d been there, I would have gone to my knees and put my head on her chest. I wanted her strong brown arms around me so bad my bones hurt. I went outside and stood in the grass and cried, hoping someone would hear me and afraid someone would. The stoop light came on at Mama and Daddy’s cabin. The screen door opened and Mama came out, ghostly in her nightgown. I waited for her to say something, but she just stood there rubbing her arms. I finally said, “Mama?” my voice so shaky I didn’t sound like me.

“Jubie? What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t sleep. I’m worried about Mary.”

“Let’s sit.” She pointed to the swing set. She sat in one swing and I sat in the other, smelling the rusty chains, feeling the splintery boards through my pajamas. Mosquitoes bit my legs, but I was too sad to swat them. The air was filled with the heavy sweet smell of Mrs. Bishop’s gardenias. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks. I wanted Mama to hug me or hold me the way Mary did, but if she tried, we’d feel strange.

Mama said, “They’ll find her. Of course they will.”

I tried to believe her. We swung for a while, me sniffling, Mama slapping at bugs, not saying anything. The night sounds got louder, like the crickets and frogs had been waiting for us to stop talking so they could get going again. That morning, I’d seen two dead frogs floating in the pool, white bellies up. Did they die from the chlorine or get so worn out from treading water that their hearts just quit? A man lying on a lounge had said, “Sometimes there’s half a dozen of them. Strange how dead things don’t sink.”

The swings moved in unison.

Mama said, “It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.”

“Mama, they beat her so bad. She needs a doctor.” A yowling rose from my chest.

“You’re going to wake everybody in the park.”

“Not Mary,” I wailed.

A screen door opened, Daddy called out, “Pauly? What’s that racket?”

Lights came on in the office where Mrs. Bishop’s apartment was. Mama took my hand and pulled me up. “We’ve got to go inside.”

Daddy was in front of his and Mama’s cabin, hands on his hips, the light behind him. “It’s the middle of the night.”