Perfect Peace (49 page)

Sure it is. And you loved her most. That’s why you abandoned the others.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It didn’t happen like that!” Emma Jean looked around quickly. Was she losing her mind? Who was she screaming at?

All he wanted was to learn, and you denied him. What kind of mother are you?

“Kiss my ass!” she shouted.

“Emma Jean?” Henrietta said slowly, coming through the screen door. “Who are you talking to?”

Snapping back to reality, she said, “Oh . . . um . . . nobody. We’re out of black thread though.”

Henrietta had noticed that the confident, self-assured Emma Jean had been replaced by a sullen, discomposed one. She had stopped grooming her hair—something the old Emma Jean would never have done—and some days her clothes looked as though she had slept in them. Mamie Cunningham noticed the change weeks earlier.

“What’s wrong with Emma Jean?” she asked another deaconess.

“I don’t know, but she don’t seem like herself, do she?”

“Naw, she don’t,” Mamie said, staring at her archenemy from a distance. “I spoke to her ’fo church this mornin’ and she smiled like somebody tryin’ to keep from cryin’.”

“You don’t guess she sick, do you?”

“I don’t think so. It’s somethin’ else. Somethin’ deep down.”

“Maybe she thinkin’ ’bout what she done to dat boy.”

“Maybe so.”

If Emma Jean had had her way, she would’ve stopped attending church altogether, but Gus wouldn’t hear of it. He said a family ain’t a family if they don’t go to church on Sunday mornings. Emma Jean hadn’t the strength to argue. She knew she wasn’t her old self. Her spunk and drive had dwindled to
barely enough motivation to speak to others, and many days she considered quitting Henrietta’s and simply letting her integrity crumble. But she couldn’t. It was all she had of her former glory, and if she gave that up there’d be no reason to live. She didn’t care about much else now. She didn’t have the energy. Every morning when she looked in the mirror, she saw Mae Helen’s face taking shape over her own and she cursed the day she agreed to be Henrietta’s slave.

Was it really worth this? Really?

“Please leave me alone,” Emma Jean muttered. She would’ve stabbed Silence if she could’ve.

You shouldn’t have done that to that boy.

“Don’t you talk about my baby. Ever!” To this point, Silence had avoided the issue, and Emma Jean had been grateful. “You don’t know nothin’ ’bout that.”

But you do.

Emma Jean didn’t respond.

Y
ou should be ashamed. You have no idea what you’ve done. And all because you wanted something you didn’t have.

“That’s right! I wanted something I didn’t have. Why don’t people understand that?”

’Cause you destroyed somebody else to get it.

“My momma did it!” Emma Jean declared before realizing what she’d said.

Yes. She did. And you hated her for it.

Emma Jean leaned her head back to stop the tears. “She was such a pretty baby.”

He.

“You know what I mean.”

But why did you do it? He was an innocent child.

“I was a innocent child, too!”

Yeah, but didn’t you grow up?

Emma Jean paused.

Now look at him. He don’t know who he is.

“He’s still my baby. And I love him.”

Sure you do. But does he love himself?

Emma Jean went to the window and studied the rain. Sometimes Silence went away when she sang, so she began, “All of my heeeelp.”

That’s Sol’s song.

“You don’t bother me when I’m singing! You know that!”

Yeah, but that’s Sol’s song and you don’t have no right to sing it. Not the way you treated him.

“What are you talkin’ ’bout? I loved him just like I loved the others!”

Really? He never knew it. You didn’t even go to his graduation.

“Yeah, but I sent Authorly! Ain’t that enough? I can’t do everything.” She returned to her work. “I’ve done the best I could by all my children.”

Yeah right!

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Somebody was.

“Don’t start that again!”

I’m just wondering how you justified it. That’s all. It really didn’t bother you?

“No, it didn’t bother me ’cause I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

Oh, sure you did. You just didn’t care. You didn’t think about anyone but yourself.

“Well, who else was thinkin’ about me? Huh?”

No one.

“That’s right! So I had to think about myself.” She stuck her thumb with a pin and shouted, “Shit!”

You’re still selfish. Even if others didn’t think about you, you didn’t have the right to mess up that boy’s life. Especially as a baby.

“Leave me alone, goddamnit! You don’t know nothin’ ’bout me, so you can’t judge me!”

You’ve already been judged. Now you’re being sentenced.

“To what?”

Silence paused.
To the truth.

Henrietta’s business flourished. A month after opening, she purchased a storefront on Main Street in Morrilton. No colored person had ever done that. Above the door hung a huge sign that read
TRISH’S THINGS
. Swamp Creek residents boasted with pride. They said God had worked a miracle for Henrietta, and maybe now Morrilton whites would welcome other black businesses into the downtown area. In the midst of it all, Henrietta never mentioned Emma Jean.

Weeks passed. Emma Jean’s screaming increased as Silence tormented her.

Emma Jean?
she heard one still, quiet, gray morning.

“Please leave me alone.”

I can’t do that. Not yet.

“Why not?”

’Cause you ain’t told the truth.

“About what?”

You know about what.

“You can’t make me say I’m sorry for what I done!”

You already sorry for what you done. You just ain’t told the truth about it.

“The truth is,” Emma Jean sassed, “that I didn’t have no other choice.”

Sure you did.

“No, I didn’t! You don’t know what was in my heart then.”

Yes I do. I live there. Remember?

“Then you oughta know why I did what I did.”

I do know. But that don’t make it right.

“What’s right changes from day to day.” Emma Jean was becoming exasperated.

Not this time. You was just wrong.

“And if I was, what can I do about it now?”

Admit it.

“But I wasn’t wrong. I didn’t have nothing else.”

You had everything. A husband, six boys, your—

“That ain’t what I wanted! You know that! I had been dreamin’ ’bout a daughter since I was a little girl. I just wanted to love her right.”

Unlike Mae Helen had done you?

Chills raced across Emma Jean’s arms as she touched the crescent-shaped scar. “This ain’t about her.”

There you go lying again.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone!” Emma Jean’s hands trembled.

Mae Helen’s gone now. She can’t hurt you anymore. You can let it go.

“Let it go? If it was that easy, I woulda let it go years ago!”

Oh! So you admit Mae Helen hurt you?

“That ain’t nothin’ to admit! She almost named me Nobody! Of course she hurt me. Anybody wit’ eyes can see that.”

But they can’t see the scars. Not the real ones.

“I don’t wanna talk about her.”

I’m sure you don’t, but you gotta. You can’t get to the truth ’til you settle the past.

“I’m through with all of that!” she shouted. “And I don’t wanna hear nothin’ else about it.”

Remember the baby doll Mae Helen bought?

“Shut up!” Emma Jean screamed, covering her ears as if the inner voice were too loud. Her body quivered like a condemned convict sitting in the electric chair.

And remember washing dishes as Pearlie and Gracie combed each other’s hair?

“Shut up!”

And remember how Mae Helen burned your forehead with the hot comb?

“No!”

And remember how you fainted in the chicken coop after—

“No! No! No!”

No one heard Emma Jean’s protestation. She wilted to the floor, surrounded by strips of cotton, polyester, and silk, and begged Silence to spare her. It did, but only for a while. Once she recovered and returned to work, Silence returned.

I’m never going away, you know.

Emma Jean closed her eyes as tears formed. “I wish you would.”

Well, I won’t. Not until you admit the truth.

“Fine! What is it you want me to say?”

It’s not what I want you to say. It’s what you need to say.

“Whatever! Just tell me and I’ll say it—if it’ll shut you up.”

And you gotta mean it, too. It don’t mean nothin’ if you don’t mean it.

Emma Jean repeated, slowly, “Just tell me what to say.”

Silence hesitated.
No. You gotta look in your heart and see the truth for yourself. Then say whatever you see.

“Well, I don’t see nothin’ in my heart ’cept love for my boys. And respect for my husband.”

Anything else?

Emma Jean sighed and sat at the kitchen table. “Nope.”

Then I gotta stay ’til you see it. That’s what I’m for.

As the days passed, Henrietta could tell something was wrong. Emma Jean’s outbursts frightened her at times and reminded Henrietta of her mother’s descent into dementia. Henrietta almost told Emma Jean to go home, but then she remembered why Emma Jean was there at all, and if Henrietta never did another living thing, she intended to make Emma Jean suffer. So she watched and listened as Emma Jean’s mind ran away.

Are you ready now?

“Ready for what?” Emma Jean said in the middle of her lunch break. She no longer cared that Henrietta witnessed the exchange, gawking in stark dismay.

Ready to tell the truth.

“You know what? Fine!” Emma Jean slapped her palms onto the kitchen table. “Let’s get this over with.”

Good. I’m ready whenever you are.

Henrietta froze. Was Emma Jean going completely off the deep end? “Emma Jean? Are you okay?”

Emma Jean stood and paced Henrietta’s kitchen floor. “I was a terrible mother. Okay? Is that what you want me to say?”

No, it isn’t. That’s not the truth. I want you to say the truth.

Emma Jean burst into tears. “Okay! I was wrong. I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

You shouldn’t’ve done what?

“I shouldn’t’ve turned that boy into a girrrrrrrrrrrrl!” Emma Jean wailed like Gus at the Jordan. She hadn’t meant to mean it, but her spoken words ruined a lifetime of peace. So right there, with Henrietta watching, she whirled in circles, screaming, “I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Emma Jean!” Henrietta cried. “Don’t do this to yourself!” The sight of Emma Jean’s deterioration was far worse than the thought of it, and all Henrietta wanted now was for Emma Jean to go home. “Emma Jean! Pull yourself together!”

Emma Jean tumbled cups, plates, pans, and saucers onto the floor as she continued twirling like a hypnotized ballerina. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

You didn’t mean to hurt who?

Henrietta couldn’t restrain her.

“I loved you! I really did! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Emma Jean looked like a crazy woman possessed. Henrietta ran from the house, but Emma Jean never noticed.

Very good, Emma Jean. Very good.

Sweat streamed across her forehead and down the circular scar. She collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily. “I’ve been a bad girl, Mommy, haven’t I?”

Yes, you have.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it no more. I promise.”

Okay, Emma Jean.

“Am I in trouble?” She coiled into a fetal position beneath Henrietta’s table.

Yes, Emma Jean. You’re in trouble.

“But I said I won’t do it no more!”

You’re in trouble ’cause you already done it.

“I said I’m sorry, Mommy!”

Sorry won’t fix this.

“I’ll do anything! I just don’t want no whippin’!”

You ain’t gettin’ no whippin’, Emma Jean.