Cutler 1 - Dawn (10 page)

"Oh, Jimmy, you've got a right to be upset. Rich kids aren't better than the poor kids we've known, and we've been treated unfairly just because we're not rich like the others, but Daddy didn't mean to harm us by getting us into Emerson Peabody. He was only trying to do something good for us," I said. "You have to admit that the school is beautiful and full of new things, and you told me yourself some of your teachers were very nice and very good. You've already started doing better schoolwork, haven't you, and you like playing on the intramural team, right?"

"We're still like fish out of water there, and those other kids are never going to accept us or let us live in peace, Dawn. I'd rather be in a regular public school."

"Now, Jimmy, you can't really mean that," I whispered. I touched his hand, which was still very cold. "You must have been freezing out there, James Gary. Your hair is soaked. And so are your clothes. You could have caught pneumonia!"

"Who cares?"

"I care," I said. "Now get out of those wet clothes quickly," I ordered and went for a towel. When I returned, he was wrapped in the blanket, his wet clothing on the floor. I sat beside him and began to wipe his hair dry. When I was finished, I saw the outline of his-smile in the dark.

"I never met another girl like you, Dawn," he said. "And I'm not just saying that because you're my sister. I guess I came back because I didn't want to leave you all alone with this mess. I got to thinking about you having to go back to that school and how you'd have no one to protect you."

"Oh, Jimmy, I don't need protection, and besides, if I do, Daddy will protect me, won't he?"

"Sure," he said, pulling his hand back. "Just like he protected us today. I tried to tell him it wasn't my fault, but he wouldn't listen. All he could do was yell at me for being no good and letting him down. And then he goes and hits me."

He flopped back on his pillow.

"He shouldn't have hit you, Jimmy. But he said you reminded him of his brother Reuben who's in jail now."

"Reuben?"

"Yes," I said, lowering myself to lie beside him. "He told me all about him and why he was so afraid when you got into trouble. He says you look like Reuben and even act like him sometimes."

"I don't remember him mentioning anyone named Reuben," he said.

"Me neither. Daddy's been back to his home," I whispered even lower, and told him what Daddy had said about his visit.

"I was thinking of heading for Georgia myself when I left here," he said, his voice full of wonder.

"Were you? Oh, Jimmy," I said, sitting up and looking down at him, "can't you try again, just once more, just for me? Ignore those nasty boys and just do your work."

"It's hard to ignore them when they get ugly and disgusting." He looked away from me.

"What did they say to you, Jimmy? Philip wouldn't tell me." Jimmy was silent. "It had to do with me and Philip, didn't it?" There was a long painful silence between us.

"Yeah," he finally said.

"They knew they could get you angry that way, Jimmy." And it was all because of Clara Sue Cutler, thought, and her vicious jealous streak. I never disliked anyone as much as I disliked her. "They were deliberately baiting you, Jimmy."

"I know, but . . . I can't help getting angry when anyone says bad things about you, Dawn," he confessed, gazing at me with eyes so full of hurt it made my heart ache. "I'm sorry if you're mad," he finished.

"I'm not mad at you. I like the way you look after me, only I don't want to cause you any trouble."

"You didn't," he said. "But it's just like you to think it was all your fault. All right," he said after a moment and after a deep sigh, "I'll sit out my suspension and go back and try again, but I don't think it's going to matter. We just don't belong there. At least, I don't," he added.

"Sure you do, Jimmy. You're just as smart and strong as any of them."

"I don't mean I'm not as good as them. I'm just not their kind. Maybe you are, Dawn. You can get along with anyone. I bet you could make the devil repent."

I laughed.

"I'm glad you came back, Jimmy. It would have broken Momma's heart if you hadn't, and Daddy's, too. Little Fern would have been crying for you every day."

"And you?" he asked quickly.

"I was crying already," I admitted. He didn't say anything. After a moment he took my hand and squeezed it gently. It seemed like it had been so long since he had wanted to touch me. I brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. I felt like kissing him softly on the cheek, but I didn't know how he would react. We were so close, my breast grazed his arm, but unlike all the other times, he didn't jump as if he had been stuck with a pin. Suddenly I felt him shudder.

"Aren't you warm enough, Jimmy?"

"I'll be all right," he said, but I put my arm around him and held him, rubbing his naked shoulder.

"You'd better get under the blanket yourself and go back to sleep, Dawn," he said, his voice cracking.

"All right. Night, Jimmy," I whispered and risked kissing him on the cheek. He didn't pull away.

"Good night," he said, and I lay back. For a long time I stared up into the darkness, my emotions in a turmoil. When I closed my eyes, I still saw Jimmy's naked shoulders glistening in the darkness, and the feel of his soft cheek still lingered on my lips.

6

Daddy started to yell at Jimmy first thing in the morning.

"Why'd you run away for?" he shouted.

"You always do," Jimmy shot back. They glared at each other, but when Momma came out, she was so happy Jimmy had come home that for once Daddy stopped.

"I'll go around and get all your schoolwork from your teachers, Jimmy," I said quickly. "In the meanwhile you'll be able to help Momma with Fern."

"Just what I wanted to be, a baby-sitter," he moaned.

"It's your own fault," Daddy said. Jimmy went into a sulk. I was glad when it was time for Daddy and me to go to school.

"Jimmy's going to try again, Daddy," I told him after we started off. "He promised me last night after he came home."

"Good," Daddy grunted. Then he turned to me and looked at me so strangely. "It's nice of you to care so much about your brother."

"Didn't your family care about each other, Daddy?" I asked.

"Nothing like you and Jimmy," we said, but I could see from the way his eyes narrowed that he didn't want to talk about it.

I couldn't imagine not caring about Jimmy. No matter how happy I would be, if Jimmy wasn't happy, I wasn't. So much had happened to us so quickly at Emerson Peabody, it left my head spinning. I thought the best thing I could do now was concentrate only on schoolwork and my music and put all the bad things behind me. Jimmy really did try harder, too. When he returned, he became more involved with his intramural sports and even did passingly well in his classes. It was beginning to look like we would be all right.

However, once in a while, when I was passing through the corridors, I would see Mrs. Turnbell standing off to the side watching me. Jimmy said he felt as if she were haunting him, he saw her watching him so often. I smiled and greeted her politely whenever I could and she nodded back, but she looked like she was waiting for something to confirm her belief that we couldn't live up to the demands a school like Emerson Peabody made on its students, students who she believed were more special than us.

Of course, Philip was still upset that I couldn't go out on dates with him, and that I wouldn't sneak out to do it. He kept after me to ask Daddy or to meet him secretly. In my heart I hoped everything would improve when spring came. Unfortunately, wilder held on stubbornly, keeping the floorboards cold, the skies gray, and the trees and bushes bare. But when the air finally turned warm and the trees and flowers budded, I was filled with a sense of renewed hope and happiness. I drew strength and pleasure from everything that blossomed around me. Bright sunshine and bright colors made even our poor neighborhood look special. Daddy wasn't talking about quitting his job any more, Jimmy was doing well in school, and I was really involved in music the way I had always dreamt I would be.

Only Momma's persistent illness depressed us, but thought that with the coming of spring, with her walking outside on sunny days and keeping the windows open for more fresh air, she would surely improve. Spring had a way of renewing all faith. It always had for me, and now, more than ever, I prayed it would do wonders for us again.

One bright afternoon after I was finished with my piano lesson, I found Philip waiting for me at the door of the music suite. I didn't see him and almost bumped into him because I was walking with my books cradled in my arms and my eyes down. My body was still filled with the music. The notes I had played continued to play repeatedly in my head. When I played the piano,, it was as if my fingers had dreams of their own. Ten minutes after I had gotten up from the piano stool, I could still sense how they held on to the feel of the piano keys. The tips tingled with the memory of the touch, and they wanted to repeat their movements over the keyboard, drawing out the notes and weaving them into melodies and tunes.

"Penny for your thoughts," I heard and looked up at Philip's smiling, gentle eyes. He was leaning against the corridor wall nonchalantly, his arms crossed over his chest. His golden hair was brushed back and shiny, still a little wet from the shower he had just taken after baseball practice. Philip was one of the starting pitchers on the school's varsity team.

"Oh, hi," I said stopping abruptly with surprise.

"I hope you were thinking about me," he said.

I laughed.

"I was just thinking about my music, about my piano lessons."

"Well, I'm disappointed, but how's it going?"

"Mr. Moore's pleased," I said modestly. "He just gave me the solo to sing at the spring concert."

"He did? Wow!" Philip said, straightening up.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"We had a shortened practice today, and I . . . I knew you would still be here."

The halls were practically empty. Once in a while someone came out of a room and walked off, but other than that, we were alone for what was really the first time in a long time.

He drew closer until he had my back to the wall and put his hands on the wall to cage me in.

"I wish I could drive you home," he said.

"So do I, but—"

"What if I come by your house tonight, and we don't go for a ride? We just sit in my car."

"I don't know, Philip."

"You won't be lying then, will you?"

"I'll have to tell them where I'm going and—"

"You tell them everything? All the time?" He shook his head. "Parents expect you to do secret things sometimes. They do," he said. "How about it?"

"I don't know. I’ll see," I said. There was such frustration in his eyes. "Maybe one night."

"Good." He looked around and drew closer. "Philip, someone could see us," I said when he brought his lips closer.

"Just a quick congratulations kiss," he said and brought his lips to mine. He even brought his hand to my breast.

"Philip," I protested. He laughed.

"All right. So," he said, standing straight again, "are you nervous about singing at the concert?"

"Of course. It will be the first time I've ever sung by myself in front of so many people, and so any well-to-do people who have heard and seen really talented performers. Louise told me your sister's going to be jealous and angry about it. She expected to get the solo."

"She had it last year. Besides, she sounds like a foghorn."

"Oh, no, she doesn't," I said, looking up quickly. "But I wish she would stop saying nasty things about me. If I do well on a test, she tells people I cheated. She hasn't let up on me since I arrived. One of these days I'm going to have it out with her." Philip started to laugh. "It's not funny."

"I was laughing at how bright and intense your eyes become when you're angry. You can't hide your true feelings."

"I know. Daddy says I would be a terrible poker player."

"I'd like to play strip poker with you someday," he said, smiling licentiously.

"Philip!"

"What?"

"Don't say things like that," I said, but I couldn't help imagining it.

He shrugged.

"Can’t help it sometimes. Especially when I'm around you."

Could he hear my heart pounding? I saw some students coming around the corner behind us.

"I've got to get down to Daddy's office. He and Jimmy are probably waiting for me," I added and started down the stairway.

"Dawn. Wait."

I turned back to him. He joined me on the stairs.

"Do you think . . . I mean, since it's such a special occasion and all . . . that you can get your father and mother to let me take you to the concert at least?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll ask," I said.

"Great. I'm glad I waited around to see you," he added and leaned forward to kiss me. I thought he was going to kiss me quickly on the cheek, but he kissed me on the neck instead. He did it and was on his way before I had a chance to respond. The students coming down the corridor saw him and the boys howled. My heart didn't seem to fit my chest. It beat too fast, too fierce, too loud, and my pulse raced too excitedly. I was afraid Daddy and Jimmy would see the redness in my cheeks and know I had been kissed.

Surely there was something very special between me and Philip, I thought, if his merely kissing me or looking at me or speaking softly to me could set my body on fire, make me tingle and make me dizzy. I took a deep breath and sighed. Daddy and Momma just had to let him take me to the concert; they just had to, I thought. I had done what they had wanted and not nagged them to go out on dates, even though girls my age all around me were allowed to do so. It wasn't fair; they had to understand.

I could understand them being a little afraid for me when I had first started at Emerson Peabody. But I believed I had grown considerably during these last few months anyway. Success with my music and my schoolwork had given me a new sense of confidence. I felt older, stronger. Surely if I saw that in myself, Momma and Daddy could see it as well.

Confident they would give me permission, I hurried down to the basement to meet Daddy and Jimmy and give them the news about my solo. I had never seen Daddy so excited and proud.

"You hear that, Jimmy boy!" he exclaimed, slapping his hands together. "Your sister's a star."

"I'm not a star yet, Daddy. I've got to do it well," I said.

"You will. What good news," Daddy said. "Something good to bring home to your momma."

"Daddy," I said as he gathered his things for us to leave. "Do you think since this is a special occasion that Philip Cutler could pick me up and take me to the concert?"

Daddy stopped in his tracks. His smile evaporated slowly and his eyes darkened for a moment and grew small. As I stared at him, hoping, a little warmth crept back into his gaze.

"Well, I don't know, honey. I . . . we'll see."

When we got home, Momma was lying in bed awake, one eye on Fern, who sat on a blanket on the floor playing with her toys. The late afternoon sunlight played peekaboo with some lazy clouds, but Momma had the shades drawn so even when the sun peeped out, it didn't drop any warm, happy rays into the room. When I entered, Momma sat up slowly and with great effort.

She had obviously not brought a brush to her hair all day. The strands hung down randomly on the sides and some curled up and spiraled about on top. She used to wash her hair almost every day, so that it had gleamed like black silk.

"A woman's hair is her crowning jewel," she had told me many times. Whenever she had been too tired to brush her hair herself, she always asked me to do it.

Momma never needed much makeup. She always had a smooth complexion with pink lips. Her eyes sparkled like polished black onyx. I wanted so much to look like her and thought it was unfair of nature to have skipped a generation while most other children looked exactly like their parents.

Before she became sickly, Momma would stand perfectly straight and walk with her shoulders back, as proud as the mythical Indian princess Daddy always compared her to. She moved gracefully, swiftly, passing through the day like a streak of ebony paint stroked through a milk-white canvas. Now she sat hunched over, her head down, her arms resting limply on her legs, and she looked at me with sad, glassy eyes, the onyx dulled, the silk hair turned into a rough cotton, her complexion faded, pale, and her lips nearly colorless. Her cheekbones were far more prominent and her collarbone looked as if it would pop right through her thin layer of skin.

Before I could say anything about Philip, Fern reached up for me and started to cry my name.

"Where's your daddy and Jimmy?" Momma asked, looking behind me.

"They went to pick up some groceries. Daddy thought I should come right in to help you with Fern."

"I'm glad," she said, fighting for a deep breath. "The baby tired me out today."

"It's not just the baby, Momma," I chastised gently.

"It's coming along, Dawn," she replied. "Could you get me a glass of water, honey? My lips feel parched." I went out with Fern and got Momma her water. Then I handed her the glass and watched as she drank. Her Adam's apple bobbed like a float on a fishing line.

"For months you've been promising you would go to a real doctor and not rely on backwoods medicines and such if you didn't get better quickly. Well, you're not getting better that fast, and you're not living up to your promise." I hated speaking to her so firmly, but thought I had to now.

"It's just one of them stubborn coughs. I had a cousin back in Georgia who had a cold for nearly a year before it upped and left her."

"Well, she suffered for a year for no reason," I insisted. "Just like you're suffering, Momma."

"All right, all right. You're getting worse than Grandma Longchamp. Why, when I was pregnant with Jimmy, she wouldn't let up on me a minute. Everything I did was wrong. It was a relief giving birth, just so I could get her off my back."

"Grandma Longchamp? But, Momma, I thought you gave birth to Jimmy at a farmhouse on the road."

"What? Oh, yeah, I did. I meant until I left the farm."

"But didn't you and Daddy leave right after you got married?"

"Not exactly right after. Soon after. Quit questioning me so closely, Dawn. I'm not thinking straight just yet," she snapped. It wasn't like her to be so short with me, but I imagined it was because of her illness.

I thought I should change the topic. I didn't want to make her unhappy while she was still suffering so.

"Guess what, Momma?" I said, bouncing Fern in my arms, "I'm going to sing the solo at the concert," I said proudly.

"Why, bless my soul. Bless my soul." She pressed her palms against her chest. Even when she wasn't coughing, she seemed to have trouble breathing every once h a while, especially when something caught her by surprise or she moved too quickly. "Ain't that wonderful. I knew you'd show those rich folks they ain't no better than you. Come here so I can give you a real hug," she said.

I put little Fern down on the bed, and Momma and I embraced. Her thin arms held me to her as tightly as she could, and I could feel her ribs through her shift dress.

"Momma," I said, the tears filling my eyes. "You've lost so much weight, much more than I realized."