Maude (30 page)

Two years after Evelyn married Herschell, she was
divorced again. Gene heard the news from a co-worker
and came rushing home to tell me. He was all excited.
“Mom, Buddy down at work told me that Evelyn got
a divorce.”

He sounded so hopeful. “Did Buddy say why?”
“No, he didn’t know. The men were kind of
joking about them only being married such a short
time. All I care about is that now I have a chance. She
works an early shift at the Rubber Company. She ought
to be getting home soon. I’m going to go over to her
place and ask if she’ll see me.”

Gene’s face turned red. “I asked one of her little
brothers a while back. I walked by the Mayse house,
and he was in the yard. Evelyn’s place is right down
the street from them.”

I gave him a quick hug and brushed back a lock
of hair from his face, “I guess you have to do whatever
makes you happy.”

He hugged me back and left. The whole time he
was gone I was torn up with mixed emotions. If Evelyn
could bring him happiness, I would do everything I
could to stay out of their lives. But deep inside, I knew
he would only wind up being hurt again.

When he came home a few hours later, he was
grinning from ear to ear. “She’s going to the movies
with me Saturday, Mom.”

Though he looked so happy, I was afraid for him.
I didn’t know what would be worse for him, getting
Evelyn back, or losing her again.

As time passed, I could tell by the expression on
Gene’s face how the renewed courtship was going. If
he had a date with Evelyn on the weekend, he smiled
all week, looking forward to it. She was dating other
men besides Gene, and when she was out with one of
them, he was miserable.

A few months later, she stopped seeing Gene
altogether and she married a man named Delmous
Newland, Junior from Tennessee.

I saw Mrs. Mayse on the street one day, and she
told me about them and showed me a picture. I had to
admit, he and Evelyn made a good-looking couple. He
was as handsome as she was beautiful. They had a flat
a few blocks from her mother’s, and she told me they
even had Donna over once in a while for a visit. As far
as I knew, she didn’t do that a single time when she
was married to Herschell.

Delmous drove a truck and delivered lumber for
the Sibley Lumber Company. His friends called him
Junior. Unlike Herschell, who couldn’t abide being in
the same room with the child, Mrs. Mayse said that
Junior was always friendly to Donna, and she got
along with him on the few occasions they were
together, but Evelyn never mentioned Donna coming
to live with them, and that was a relief to Gene.

The only time he cheered up was when he was
with Donna. They went to movies or shopping for
clothes. The time he had with her almost kept his mind
off Evelyn. He hoped she wouldn’t be any happier
with Junior than she had been with Herschell, and that
when the marriage was over he would again have
another chance to win her back.

A few years later, Evelyn became pregnant, but
she miscarried in her fourth month. Donna was
looking forward to having a baby sister and was so
disappointed she cried. They didn’t explain what a
miscarriage was to her.

I learned about it when she was at our house that
weekend. Donna wasn’t her usual bubbly self. I sat on
the sofa next to her and wrapped my arm around my
granddaughter. “Are you all right, baby?”

Donna stuck out her lip in a pout that was like
her mother’s. “My mother was going to get me a baby
sister, and now she changed her mind.”

I knew Evelyn was expecting and guessed that
she’d had a miscarriage. People who knew both
families were only too happy to pass along any gossip.
“When did she tell you that?”
“Mama Mayse told me.”
“Honey, Evelyn didn’t change her mind. The

baby she had inside her got sick and died. She’ll have
one for you someday.”
“Why didn’t she just tell me that?”
“Sometimes people don’t think children are old
enough to understand. She was just trying to make it
easy for you.”
“I understand a lot more than they think I do.”
I was shocked by the girl’s remark, but realized
the truth of it. I’d never seen a child who studied adults
the way this one did.
A few months later Donna was at the house when
Betty Sue suffered her second miscarriage. She
watched as they carried her aunt out on a stretcher to a
waiting ambulance. Betty Sue was only four months
along this time, so it wasn’t as hard on her as the first
time had been. Scared by the blood and the upset of
the adults, Donna put her arms around me and leaned
her head against my side. “Is she going to be all right?”
I patted her on the back, reassuring the girl as
much as I was myself, “She’ll be fine. The doctors will
fix her up, and she’ll be good as new.”

The next few years seemed to go by in a blur. Betty
Sue had a miscarriage about every six months, but the
doctors kept insisting there was nothing wrong with
her.

Donna did well in school and we saw her
regularly. At our house, she spent a good part of her
time with George. They played checkers or poker with
matchsticks as money. He taught her how to roll a
cigarette, but I’m sure he never let her try one. Even
George wasn’t that crazy. When he came upstairs to
listen to the radio at night, she would sit between
George and Gene, holding on to one and then the other.
She never called me Grandma, the way you would
have thought, but, since everyone else except George
called me “Mom,” she did too. It was all right with me.
It must have been the same at her other grandmother’s,
because she called her Mama.”

When Donna was around eleven, Evelyn and
Junior moved to a flat on Fairview, only a few blocks
from our home. Donna was still splitting her time
between her two grandmothers.

The Mayses sold their house on St. Paul and
bought a wonderful, big house on Van Dyke. Donna
lived with the Mayse family during school, and mostly
at our flat on St. Jean on weekends and during school
vacations.

She didn’t sleep with her daddy any more, but
since she was six or so, shared my room. As she
climbed in the first time, she told me she liked my bed.
It was soft, warm and comfortable, with a feather
ticking on top of the mattress. I got in bed next to her
and started to turn out the light. Donna was wide
awake. She lay there for a few minutes, then sighed.
“I’m not sleepy. I’m used to reading. Can you tell me
something about how things were when you were my
age?”

I thought about it for a minute. “All right, I’ll tell
you about when I was a little girl.”
I talked for a long time. At one point I turned on
the light and showed Donna the keepsakes in the
bottom drawer of my dresser. I picked up the
nightgown I’d made for my wedding night to James. I
hadn’t held it in my hands for a long time and the sweet
memories that came rushing back brought tears to my
eyes. It was wrapped in yellowed tissue paper and tied
with a ribbon. I untied the bow and unwrapped the
papers so Donna could see it.
She ran her fingertips over the soft fabric. “It’s so
pretty. Aunt Dorothy helps me with my sewing. I hope
I can make something like this someday.”
Gene had bought Donna a little red and white
Singer sewing machine that was powered by turning a
wheel. The only interest she had in dolls from that time
on was in making them little dresses. I liked to think
that she got that from me, because her grandmother
Ola didn’t sew at all. Dorothy, Evelyn’s youngest
sister, sewed very well. I had seen some of her work,
and it was lovely. I was glad that Donna had someone
to teach her, now that my eyes were too weak.
Another night, I told her about Lulu. I wasn’t
going to tell her how awful it had been the way she
died, but her curiosity wouldn’t let up and I finally had
to tell her everything. I showed her the picture of my
first little girl. Donna gasped, “Mom, she looks just
like me!”
It was true. Donna bore a great resemblance to
Lulu. She cried along with me when I told her about
burying Lulu.
Most of the stories took a long time to tell. I think
sometimes I kept talking for a long time after she fell
asleep. It felt good, to tell someone about my life.

Inflation made it harder and harder for me to keep the
bills paid. Even though it was less than half of his
forty-hour pay at the plant, George took his Social
Security pension and quit his job as soon as he was
sixty-five. One of my friends from church told me that
she took in boarders to help her get by. That seemed
like a good idea. I was already cooking and cleaning
for four or five. What difference would two more
make?

We rented a larger house and moved a few blocks
away. The two extra bedrooms were rented out to
young men who had come north to work in the
factories. I made their breakfast, a sack lunch to carry
to work, and dinner on weekdays. On Saturday and
Sunday, they were on their own. I laundered their
sheets once a week.

Although he was a grown man by then, there was
no help coming from Paul. He found and rapidly lost
a number of jobs. Employment was easy to find, but a
boss expected some sort of work to be done. Paul
would go in to work for two or three days and then
come home saying the boss didn’t like him, or the
work was too hard, or he couldn’t read and write well
enough to do what was expected of him.

George told him that he if didn’t want to work, he
didn’t have to work. We argued over it time and again.
I wondered what would happen to him when George
and I were gone.

In 1954, when Donna was twelve, I heard Evelyn was
carrying another baby. This time, she passed the sixth
month with no problems.

One day, Donna surprised us with a weekday
visit. The front door of our home was never locked
during the daytime. She came directly there after
school and came in the kitchen. She knew I would
have a snack ready at that time of day. Gene, Paul, and
I were at the table when she walked in. She kissed her
daddy and me.

Gene hugged her. “How did you get here? Did
someone drive you?’
“I walked. I’m going to be living with my mother
on Fairview. I can walk here any time I want. Isn’t that
great?”
Gene’s forehead creased, “Living with your
mother? Who decided that?”
“I guess she did. She’s going to have the baby in
February, and she needs me to help her. I hope it’s a
girl.”
“Are you happy about living with her, Donna?”
he asked.
“I guess, as long as I get to be with the baby.”
Gene opened his mouth to say something else
but then thought better of it.
Later that day, when Donna was down in the
basement playing checkers with George, Gene talked
to me about it. “Mom, what do you think about this,
Donna living with Evelyn? She hardly knows her.”
I shook my head, “If that’s what Evelyn wants,
there’s not much we can say about it, unless she tries
to keep her away from us. Then we could go to court
or something. Donna seems to be happy about it. Most
little girls love to have a baby to play with.”
“What about him? How do I know he’s going to
act right?”
“She’s old enough to tell us if he doesn’t.”
As it turned out, Donna was at our house after
school almost every day until the baby came.
Donna came over all excited to tell us that, just
as she wanted, Evelyn had a beautiful, healthy little
girl. She named her Nancy. She was the image of her
father, thick black hair, a round face, and deep pink
complexion. Junior had his own Indian ancestors just
like Gene did, and that showed up in the baby. Donna
said Evelyn called Nancy her little Papoose. As soon
as she was allowed, Evelyn went back to her job
making tires on the production line at the Rubber
Company.
Donna came home from Foch Junior High and
let the daytime babysitter leave. She took care of the
baby until her mother got in from work. Nancy was
born in the middle of February, and the cold weather
dragged on so long, we didn’t get a look at the baby
until she was around three months old. As soon as the
weather was warm enough, Donna put her in her
stroller and brought her over to the house. She was
a beautiful baby, and all of us were taken with her right
from the start, except for Gene. He held the baby in his
arms for a moment and stared down at her. Then he
handed her to me and left the room, wiping tears from
his eyes.
Donna was crazy about that baby, and took her
everywhere she went after school, to our place, to her
girlfriends’, to the corner sweetshop. She was the best
behaved baby anyone had ever seen. Donna told me
Nancy even sat quietly in her stroller in the school
auditorium and watched Donna rehearse her school
plays.
The money I made from my two borders was a
Godsend. I felt strong enough to do more, so I rented
a large three-story house on the corner of Kercheval
and Lycaste that had nine bedrooms on the upper
floors and two on the bottom.
Now I was cooking and washing and cleaning for
eleven people. For the first time since Betty Sue left
home, I had enough money to pay all the family
expenses and still put a little aside each month. I even
bought a television for the living room and had a
telephone installed. It was the first one we ever had,
but the only people I called in Detroit were Bessie and
Betty Sue. I even called my sister Helen and my friend
from Missouri, Clara, but only once or twice a year. I
didn’t feel I could afford long distance. Besides, I
wrote them both from time to time and would often
read their letters several times. I liked having the
letters. I kept them in bundles, tied with a ribbon in a
bottom dresser drawer.
Betty Sue miscarried twice again in one year.
She cried and cried and wailed, “I’ll never have my
baby. Pretty soon, I’ll be too old.”
Ellis made clumsy tries to console her, but it
didn’t help much. Her doctor told her the work she was
doing at the factory was probably too much for her, so
the next time she got pregnant, she took a leave of
absence.
I began paying her to help with the lighter
household chores and cooking. I was sixty-three years
old and the burden was almost more than I could bear,
but for the first time since we came to Detroit, I didn’t
have to worry about money. George made no effort to
help with the work around the house. He called it
woman’s work. He either hung around with the
neighbor’s, joking and laughing the way he’d always
done, watching the television in the living room while
he sipped on a beer, or napping in the basement.
Evelyn’s father died not long after Nancy was
born. I know how she and Donna loved him, and I felt
bad for their grief. Gene and I went to the funeral, but
we sat in the back. We wanted to pay our respects but
didn’t want to stand out. Gene could hardly stand
seeing Evelyn with Junior, so we left right after the
service.