The Kindest Lie(82)
At times like this, she wanted to ask Mama how she and Papa had held their marriage together for so many years. Through losing their daughter to addiction, raising two grandchildren, a terrible illness, and probably a host of other things that had chipped away at their union, secrets they’d both take to their graves.
She could easily call Xavier. After all, this was Christmas. She should call him, she was the one who’d left. But she was afraid. If this time apart had convinced him to end their marriage, she didn’t want to know. She couldn’t bear to know. If he couldn’t forgive her lie and make peace with it, how much of a marriage did they really have?
She heard Mama banging pots and pans and knew how preoccupied she could get with her cooking. Nothing had changed to dissolve the tension in the house, but Mama believed in carrying on the act of living, no matter what. Ruth walked down the hall to the kitchen.
Pecking her grandmother’s cheek, Ruth said, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, baby.” Mama stood over the stove turning strips of bacon in popping hot oil.
Ruth breathed in the rich, savory odor and stepped out on the front porch for some air, the cold stillness hitting her instantly. After a minute, she couldn’t take the chill and came back inside. “Everything seems more quiet out here than I remember.”
“What do you expect? It’s Christmas,” Mama said, chuckling under her breath. “Nothing’s stirring this early but trouble.”
Mama fussed with the knobs on the stove and then greased a pan for biscuits without turning around. When Ruth noticed the jar of blackberry preserves she’d bought sitting out on the table, she smiled to herself.
The front door swung open and she heard the light thuds of little feet running through the foyer.
“Merry Christmas, Mama!” “Merry Christmas, Mama!” “Merry Christmas, Mama!” In rapid succession, her niece and nephews echoed their greetings and hugged her grandmother. Then they looked up at Ruth and said hello shyly. They hadn’t seen her since her wedding, four years ago, and Teddy and Troy had been just four years old then, and Keisha just one. Four years was a long time for little kids. She might as well have been a stranger to them. She knew their limited relationship was her fault; there was more she could do as aunt, even with the distance.
Eli filled the cooler in the garage with ice, and Cassie, who had planned to leave after saying hello, decided to stay. She gave Mama a smile and then took a spot next to Ruth at the sink, helping her coat catfish with cornmeal so it would be ready to go in the FryDaddy later in the day.
Feeling protective of her brother, Ruth said in a soft voice, low enough for only Cassie to hear, “He’s been through a lot and he needs you by his side. He’ll never admit it, but it’s true.”
Cassie nodded without saying anything, and when Eli joined them in the kitchen, the two shared a kiss. Obviously, the holiday spirit had had an effect on them. When Ruth looked from one to the other, they just shrugged, as if to say it was wintertime and estranged couples got cold and lonely, too. Would it be that simple for her and Xavier to patch up the tear in the fabric of their marriage and reclaim that kind of intimacy again?
When the Tuttles gathered like this, you could usually count on interaction in extremes. Either everyone laughed until their bellies ached at memories and old stories that had been retold hundreds of times before or someone said something out of order that stopped the merriment cold. Eli’s children forced you to smile even if you didn’t want to, as they played with their new toys and ran through the house like it was the size of a football field instead of a matchbox.
As everyone ate breakfast, Teddy, his mouth full of biscuit, declared, apropos of nothing, “Our new president is Black.” This simple statement of truth from an eight-year-old loosened the diaphragms of everyone at the table and their bodies erupted with laughter. She had no idea children that age processed race and its significance.
For Mama, this, like most things, was a teachable moment. “All you kids, big ones, too, need to thank those young folks in Pike County, Mississippi. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a Black president. When I was just a girl, SNCC did its first voter registration drive right there in McComb.”
Ruth and Eli found each other’s eyes and silently telegraphed how aggrieved they were to have to hear this story again. Mama had told them this Black history fact many times over the years. While she didn’t live there long, Mama had been mothered by Mississippi as much as her own mother. “I see you two rolling your eyes,” she said, glancing from Ruth to Eli.
“Sorry, Mama,” Ruth said, spooning scrambled eggs onto her grandmother’s plate.
“My father and his sisters and brothers did some backbreaking work in McComb. You kids have it good today. So good you can think about turning down jobs even when you don’t have one,” Mama said.
Eli stiffened, the muscles in his neck pulsing. He obviously knew what Mama would say next, while the rest of them looked confused.
“Yes, I’m going to tell it. Eli got a call yesterday about a job they got open at the crime scene cleanup place. I know it’s not the easiest work, son. You’re likely to see some things you wish you could unsee, but at least it’s money coming in.”
Everyone looked at Eli and Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck. “Praise God, baby. Yes!”
A man’s dignity, his self-worth, was often tied to how he made his money. A rock that anchored him in the world. Eli needed this. Ruth knew Cassie had bought the kids’ Christmas gifts this year, and that had to make him feel like less of a man.