Slow Way Home (25 page)

He knows you by name, don’t you forget it.” As her face pulled away, I leaned up to kiss her cheek. Turning away, she stared at the man and his dog across the street. “We love each other. But, baby, you can’t kiss me. Some people just don’t see the world the way a child do.”

When we got to the edge of the cedar, she handed me the grocery bag. “Now, I don’t fool with good-bye. I’ll see you again. If not in this world, then in the kingdom.”

And she never did turn back. She just kept walking until her broad backside had reached the taxi. When I heard the engine crank, I took off like something gone wild. I had only made it to the corner of the neighbor’s house before I saw her drive away in a blur of green 176

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paint. Without warning, the car turned down a side street and then slipped away for good.

Clutching the crinkled bag full of my possessions, I held on to it as if a piece of Nana and Poppy were tucked inside. The sun beat down upon me as hard as the heaviness of the moment. I moved to the side of the street seeking relief in the shade of the tree limbs. It was just for a little while, I tried to reassure myself. But my heart didn’t pay any attention to my mind, and teardrops added new stains to the worn-out bag.

“Who was that, your mammy?”

Pete stood guard at the edge of the cedar tree. His belly button hung down over his swim trunks and jiggled when he laughed.

“Shut up, Pete.” I fought the urge to wipe away the tearstains that were left on my cheek and hoped that if I lifted my head high enough, pieces of sun that seeped through the treetops would dry them.

The twins hid behind the cedar tree, peeping through the gapping limbs. Their giggles rolled down the street.

“Oh, look at the little girly baby crying over her mammy,” Pete said.

“I ain’t telling you again, fatso. Shut up!”

“We saw you hugging on her. Crying like a little baby. I was betting that you would go to nursing on her any minute.” He poked out his lips and made a sucking sound that made the twins break into laughter.

The twins leaned lower on the cedar branches until the limbs sagged closer to the ground. Pete began rubbing his eyes and sucking air all at the same time. “Bran-don’s a nig-ger lover,” he began singing.

As if a dam of boiling water had broken, I began to feel my chest rise with each word he sang. I gripped the folded creases in the bag until the paper ripped. “Shut up!”

When Pete began circling around in some sort of dance, I saw his real face. The face of the man from Hagan’s Hell. Alvin, the boy-man who had burned down the church. The one I had let slip by without saying so much as a word until it was too late. Just as he was turning
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back around to egg the twins on to more laugher, I felt my feet lift from the ground. My yell made him turn, and for a split second I saw a speck of fear in the brown eyes. He hadn’t yet made it completely around when I slammed into his rib cage. The sucking sound of a nursing baby was changed into the sound of gasping for air. His belly was as soft as a trampoline, and for good measure I slammed my elbow into it twice before he hit the sidewalk. Another gasp let lose from his mouth as his head landed on the cement. My fist hit his nose until blood oozed like the ketchup he poured on corn dogs.

The twins screamed. “He’s bleeding pure blood! Pure blood.”

The grip on the back of my arm bit through the shirtsleeve as though a stinger had gotten me, but the black hair net covering orange curlers above me was madder than any hornet I knew of. Miss Madelyn arched her drawn-on eyebrows and screamed.

She tossed me aside and ordered the twins to help lift Pete.

Streams of blood ran down his neck and his nose. He moaned as Miss Madelyn spread his red hair away to find the source of the flow. “I hope you’re satisfied. You busted his head wide open. Liable to need stitches. You and your meanness.”

One of the twins ran out of the house with a plastic garbage bag, and Miss Madelyn wrapped it around Pete’s head like a mummy.

Trudy was holding an ice pack and pretending to cry. They piled into Miss Madelyn’s car the same way Poppy’s pigs would line up for the trailer that took them to market. The car only stopped long enough for me to jump inside.

Trudy pinched me when I landed on the backseat, and the twins turned around to stare. Pete moaned for good measure, and Miss Madelyn kept a steady glare from the rearview mirror. Her eyebrows arched higher than usual. They all looked at me like eternal hell was just around the corner.

“It’s a good thing your mama is coming to get you tomorrow or you’d be shipped off to the state home. It’s a good thing for sure.”

Fifteen

A
mist was in the air the day my mama arrived. She stood at Miss Madelyn’s door with tiny drops of water clinging to her black hair. As much as I wanted to hate her at that moment, I felt a sense of pride. She wanted me, and that was more than I could say for the mothers of Pete, Trudy, and the twins.

When Miss Madelyn pulled the door open wider, Mama’s eyes grew big and she pulled at the rain jacket.

“Bran-don,” Miss Madelyn shouted.

Miss Madelyn grabbed at her dress collar when I stepped from behind the coat rack. “Oh, he’s a regular little clown. We sure are gonna miss him.”

The government woman with the pearl chain tied to cat-eye glasses stepped forward. “Today is a very special day for you. Your mother is tickled to have you back where you belong.”

Mama looked over the woman’s shoulder and winked.

The woman with the clipboard pulled my shoulder until I was standing face-to-face with Mama. Clutching the same torn bag that Sister Delores had given me, I smelled what was left of the scent from Nap’s Corner and looked right into the eyes of my future.

Blue eye shadow made her lashes look like feathers on a blue jay.

Tears puddled as she tried to laugh. “Well, can you give me a kiss?”

Feeling the stares from Miss Madelyn and the government
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woman, I stepped into her arms and heard the women sigh. The perfume tempted me into believing she was as fresh as the scent.

She kissed me three times before I pulled away and pointed to the nearest distraction. A red sports car sat underneath the streetlight. “Is that yours?”

My mama laughed again and used her pinkie to dab the corners of her eyes. “Can’t pull nothing on you, can I? Yeah, we bought it last month. Kane says that it will go sixty in two minutes.” She looked up at the women. “Not that I’ve ever tried it or nothing. He just said it will is all. Kane, I mean. Oh, Kane is great. Brandon, you’re gonna love Kane. He is so excited to meet you. He’s got his own business fixing . . .”

His name floated around me, and I pushed it away. I ran to the car and looked inside at the white fur seats. The smell of cigarettes filled the car, and I jumped right in it like I was addicted to nicotine.

The government woman smiled at Miss Madelyn and then scribbled something on her clipboard. Miss Madelyn lined Pete, Trudy, and the twins on the concrete slab in front of her door. As we drove away, they all waved like they were riding on a float in the Thanksgiving Day parade. All except Pete, who wore a white patch on the back of his head to hide the souvenir I had left. When Miss Madelyn turned to say something to the government lady, Pete lifted his hand and gave me the finger.

Mama pointed to three eight-track tapes lined up on the dash-board and told me to pick the one I liked best. I picked the one with the picture of a woman sitting barefoot on a windowsill.

“Oooh, I love Carole King. She’s so deep.”

Watching her drive with one hand and slide the tape into the player with the other, I kept reminding myself what Sister Delores had said. I had more people who loved me than anybody else at Miss Madelyn’s house. At the end of the street, I looked towards the vacant lot where the taxicab had sat. Mama tapped her finger to the music and leaned down to light a cigarette. She talked of new beginnings and a new apartment. A new job as a cashier down at Winn-Dixie. A 180

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good job with insurance and sick leave. All the while, I listened and never looked back as we turned left at the stop sign, the opposite direction from the one that the taxicab had taken.

Knotted rope the color of orange Kool-Aid held a small fern. It dangled from a hook by the front door of our new home. The duplex sat across the street from a gas station.

“Drinks and crackers anytime you want them. Just right across the street,” Mama said. She stood at the door and clutched her hands the same way I’d seen Mary Madonna do in beauty pageants. When she reached for the paper bag, I pulled away.

“Well, come on in. This is our home. It’s real nice. You’re gonna be so surprised. I cleaned for three days fixing it up for you.” Her words came out as a song as she ran ahead of me.

Gold shag carpet lined the living room, and big speakers sat in the corners. “That’s Kane’s stuff. He’s all into electronics. Got his own business fixing TVs and stereos. Plays in a band too.” She turned around to look at me, but I just kept walking towards the kitchen.

“You want a snack? Some milk? Or a drink maybe? I can run right over across the street and get you one.”

I shook my head and turned to walk down the tiny hallway. The smell of cigarettes and air freshener clung to the concrete walls. She skipped ahead and flipped on a light in the first bedroom. “Now, this is your room.” She said it the way a game show host might announce a new refrigerator. A small bed, a red dresser, and a lamp decorated with Charlie Brown characters filled the space.

Dropping the bag on the bed, I began unpacking my things. Each one of them covered with the fingerprints of Nana. Sadness kept fluttering around as I fought hard to keep the smile on my face.

“You like it? I found this lamp down at the flea market last Saturday. They had a matching bedspread that I thought we could go back and get if you wanted to.”

I nodded and pulled out a pair of underwear and hid them under a T-shirt.

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She pushed the neatly piled clothes to the side and sat down on the bed. When she closed her eyes, some of the blue eye shadow flaked onto the bed. “Honey, I know things are hard right now. I know all this is . . . kinda weird I guess. But I really did want you back. I fought hard to get you, and I don’t want to lose you ever again. I’m your mama. I need you.” She used her pinkie to dab her eyes, and this time a tear broke free and rolled down her cheek.

“Mama loves you.”

“I love you too.”

She grabbed me and squeezed real hard. “It’s gonna work. It will, I mean it. All we got is each other and we’ll show them. We’ll show them all.”

My arms wrapped tighter around her back until I could feel her spine. It was pointy and as fragile as the angel figurines that Miss Madelyn protected in her china cabinet. Objects too tiny to amount to much and too fragile to handle. I was like medicine to her soul, she had told me a long time ago. And with Mama addictions died hard.

The following weeks we fell into a routine, and it felt good. Mama enrolled me in the fourth grade down at the school. My new teacher, Mrs. Joplin, had so many wrinkles that her face looked like a crow’s claw had gotten a hold of her. I sat in the last seat in the second row.

Distant faces turned to look back at me that first day of school. I cared as much about knowing them as I had the kids at Miss Madelyn’s house.

Each morning we’d pull into the school parking lot, and then I’d watch Mama drive away in her Winn-Dixie uniform. Whenever the kids congregated on the sidewalk would point at the red car and ask if she was my mama, I’d nod my head and enjoy the feeling that settled deep inside me. The sense of pride would sink so deep that sometimes it would push away the worry over Nana and Poppy.

Kane was better than I thought he’d be. He had reddish-colored hair and long sideburns like Elvis. The gray van he drove was stenciled with the words K. T. Electronics. K was for the part of the business 182

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that Kane owned. It didn’t seem too bad having him live with us because most of the time he was out working. Mama claimed he worked harder than anybody she had ever known. I knew deep in my gut that nobody could work harder than Poppy.

The week of the October state fair Kane took off an entire day to take us to the fairgrounds. He competed with me to see who could knock the most milk bottles over, and I know he missed one of them on purpose so I could be the one to give Mama the stuffed bear.

Walking by the rows of cows and pigs showcased by 4-H members, I felt the past hit me again. I breathed in deep while Kane pinched his nose and Mama laughed. A boy with a cowboy hat looked up at them and then back down at the speckled hog.

From a distance the landscape that framed the barn looked pretty.

Tree limbs caught the sunlight in a way that made me wonder if they had been dipped in gold. Across the highway leaves twirled to entice me closer, but it was the bob-wire fence that made my legs go dead.

At the end of the barn I could see the sign perfectly. A prison with miles of fence and wire to keep in the guilty and tall trees to keep the free satisfied.

“Hey, get a move on. We still got the monster Tilt-a-Wheel to ride.” Kane glanced across the highway. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Hey, last one there’s a rotten egg.”

Mama squealed like one of the pigs as I flew past her. My feet pounded the concrete slab harder and harder while the thud of Kane’s boots trailed behind me. The boy with the cowboy hat stopped brushing the hog long enough to look up. Just another family enjoying the crisp October air and living free.

The usual crowd was just beginning to drive up for the Friday afternoon get-together at the duplex. Lynyrd Skynyrd blasted from the new speakers that Kane had bought. His business partner, Tony, set them up out back with the ice chests filled with beer Mama had bought with her employee discount. Tony had long black hair and girl-like features.