Sweet Tea: A Novel (4 page)

He could still be a thief,
I told myself.
Maybe he took Mama’s jewelry
—the jewelry Daddy gave her.
Maybe he hid it in the pocket with his tie.
That was about the only thing of value we had except for the TV and VCR player.

He stepped onto the patio at the same instant the police pulled up.

“Stop right there!” the officer demanded.

The man held his hands up. “What’d I do, what’d I do?”

“Do you have identification?” The officer asked.

The man opened his suit jacket and went for his wallet. The police officer raised his gun and shouted, “Keep your hands up!”

The Venetian blinds on Miss Ruth’s kitchen window cracked open. I saw both her and Bubbles Clayton’s beady eyes peeking through. Next door to her, the silhouette of a mother holding a baby appeared behind a pair of sheer curtains. Others blatantly stepped outside onto their patios, and their gaping eyes held our trailer hostage while they whispered to one another.

I stood behind the car, frozen, waiting for the ordeal to end, when the trailer’s front door suddenly opened and Mama appeared on the patio, her hair messy and dress wrinkled.

Mama was in there with him?

I wanted to stay hidden, not from what I thought was a burglar, but from everyone who stood staring at my mama with their pernicious thoughts. Instead, I bolted across the street to the trailer.

CHAPTER 4

M
ama stepped onto the patio. I rushed to her side and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mama, are you all right? Did that man hurt you?” I felt myself start to shake.

“It’s okay darlin’, he’s just a friend.” Her mauve lipstick shadowed her upper lip.

She gently pushed my hands away and strolled up to the police officer and whispered in his ear. He nodded, tipped his hat and left. Then she walked over to the stranger and kissed his cheek. He slipped into the powder blue Cadillac parked behind the trailer, where I never saw it when I came home from school. I suddenly realized what I feared had gone on actually had, and the thought of Mama in that way made me ill.

“Who was that man?” I demanded.

“His name is Westin.” Mama tilted her head and waved goodbye as he pulled away. “He gave me a ride home.”

“Why’d you need a ride home? Where’s your car?”

Mama smoothed her dress. “I misplaced it.”

“You what?”

She lifted her hands from her dress and threw them in the air matter-of-factly, and sauntered inside the house. “You heard me, Olivia.”

“You misplace your slippers or your keys, not your
car!
You’re telling me you got in the car with a stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger, now.” She grinned.

“He could have hurt you,” I said. Our roles had completely reversed I was acting as if I were the mother and she the child. “You’ve told us a ton of times never to get into a car with a stranger, and you go and do it yourself. Mama, I just don’t understand you.” I shook my head.

She stared into space as if nothing had happened. I figured it was in her character when she had hiked her skirt up for the policeman, but that paled in comparison to what she’d done this time. My fears about her were confirmed.

“Olivia, bring me some sweet tea,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I stomped into the kitchen and flung the refrigerator door open, slammed a glass onto the counter, almost breaking it, and poured the sweet tea. It was obvious Mama needed to get to a doctor. She had more than quirks. Now, I believed more than ever, she had what the doctor on TV was talking about. Every symptom fit her. After I shared my findings with CeCe, she’d finally believe it too.

Mama finished her tea and lay down for a nap. I wondered if CeCe had put Sominex in the entire pitcher. Then I grabbed a phone book from the closet. No regular doctor could help Mama; she needed a specialist. That’s what the man on the talk show said. I flipped through the pages until I found a listing of psychiatrists and wrote down some names and numbers. Most were in Atlanta, which was over an hour away from Landon.

CeCe finally came home. Tired from her day-cleaning job and going to school, her face said, “Don’t tell me nothing.” After she glimpsed at mine she asked, “What’s the matter now?”

I told her what happened. She ripped the rubber band out of her hair and massaged her head with both hands. We had never gotten into a serious conversation about Mama’s behavior before. We just dealt with the situations as they came along. I knew CeCe had always known something was seriously wrong. Maybe she thought if she ignored it, it would go away. I thought that many times, too. But it wasn’t going away. It was coming back more often and stronger than ever before.

“Let me see the list of doctors,” CeCe said. She attempted to read the first name aloud. “Dr. Jsnr . . . nope.  I’m not taking Mama to a doctor whose name I can’t even pronounce.”

I should have known she’d give me a hard time. “It’s not like there’s a whole bunch of psychological specialists in Landon,” I said.

“How ’bout this one?” She circled another name and handed me the paper.

“Dr. Smith.” I raised my eyebrows. “He’s all the way in Atlanta. Your car will never make it.”

“We’ll take Mama’s car.”

“Uh . . . speaking of Mama’s car. There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

* * *

“I’ll do the talking,” CeCe said, and moved ahead of me into the police station.

“Whatever you say.” I pretended to zip my lips.

She approached the counter and waved to the clerk sitting behind a desk. “Pardon me, Ma’am, but I’d like to retrieve my mother’s automobile. I called earlier, and someone informed me it’s been impounded.”

A woman leaned over the counter, wearing a pair of cat-eyed shaped glasses like something you’d see in an old movie. The top button hole on her blouse stretched as if it were about to pop due to her wide neck. She peered down her nose at CeCe and me, and her magnified eyes took shape to the glasses.

“Do you have the bill of sale?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, we can’t seem to find it,” CeCe said.
              “How about the registration?”

CeCe smiled gently. “The registration is in the car.”

“Well, I can’t let you inside the car without proof you own it.”

“If you could just let us in the car we’ll get the registration, and we’ll show you. I believe it’s in the glove compartment,” CeCe said. Her voice becoming tense, and her face growing red.

“Sorry, can’t do that.”

My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t keep myself quiet one second longer, and the invisible zipper on my lips split open. I stepped in front of CeCe and stuck my face directly in front of the clerk.

“Maybe you could just open the darn car and take the registration out yourself, then?”

CeCe elbowed me and whispered, “Shut. Up.” She turned a beaming smile toward the clerk. “Ma’am, our mother is sick. She’s unable to tell us where the bill of sale is. We only have the registration, which is in the car. I have the key.” She dangled it in front of the clerk’s face. “Can you please make an exception?” She opened her wallet and pointed. “The address on my license matches the registration to the car. If you can just get it, you’ll see.”

“No, ma’am, them’s the rules,” she said, as if she enjoyed denying our request. It didn’t make sense to me how this woman could be so mean for the mere pleasure of it. All she had to say was
yes
, and our problem would be solved.

I took a deep breath so I would speak and not yell, but something in between came out. “This is ridiculous! Why can’t you give us a break?”

“I’m sorry, but when you come back with the bill of sale or the registration I will be happy to release your mother’s car.”  

I couldn’t imagine this woman being happy about anything except keeping us from the one thing we needed. My face felt flushed and my thoughts spewed into words. “How are we supposed to get that document when IT’S IN THE DAMN CAR?”

She slapped a form onto the counter. “Fill this out and send it to the address listed. And by the way, you will be charged twenty dollars per day as long as your car remains in the impound yard,” she said, spitting the “p” in “impound” into tiny droplets onto the form.

I pointed my finger in front of the clerk’s face. “This is just wrong! I want to speak to someone else.”

The woman smirked, and said, “There is no one else,” and directed her attention to the lady behind us.

All heated, I wanted to share a few more of my thoughts with her, but I had enough smarts to know it wouldn’t make a difference. CeCe nudged me along and we strutted away.

“I can’t believe that witch.” I murmured. “What are we gonna do now?” 

“Don’t worry,” CeCe answered. Her voice calm. “I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

Luke was smart and CeCe resourceful, a combination that often worked to our advantage. As soon as we returned home, CeCe snuck inside the house while Mama napped and motioned for Luke to come out.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, but his eyes were already beaming.

Luke loved when CeCe and I included him in our schemes, because we usually asked him to do something he shouldn’t be doing. Like the time CeCe had him sit outside the grocery store wearing his baseball cap while he held a can pretending he was fundraising. Mama had lost her purse that week, and we didn’t have any food in the house. Fortunately, Mama found her purse a few days later in the broom closet. The following week, CeCe secretly dropped the same amount of money Luke raised from
his
fundraiser into the can of the real one to make up for what we’d done.

“Mama’s car’s been impounded,” CeCe told him. “And I need you to hop the fence at the impound yard and get her car registration out of the glove compartment.”

“Why?”

“They won’t give the car back unless we have the registration,” I said. “And they won’t let us into the car to get it. And until we get it, they’re charging us twenty dollars a day.”

Luke understood the value of money more than most boys his age because of all we’d gone through after Daddy died.

“Twenty bucks!” His eyes bulged out as if it were his own money. “Dang. Sure, I’ll do it,” he said. “When do we go?”

Mama rarely paid attention to our whereabouts, but we didn’t want to make it too obvious us leaving all at once. After sundown, one by one, we disappeared out the door and piled into CeCe’s ’77 Impala. We arrived at the impound yard and Luke hopped the fence and returned a few minutes later. Everything seemed to go as planned; except Luke returned empty-handed.

“Where’s the registration?” CeCe asked.

“The only thing in the glove compartment was a spoiled sandwich,” he said, climbing into the Impala’s back seat. “I almost blew chunks from the stink. I didn’t find anything else, except a bunch of crumpled papers. I left the windows open so the smell would let out.”

“Now what are we gonna do?” I said to CeCe, tired and sorry she carried Mama’s burdens, but always in the back of my mind, fearful they would soon be mine.

“Let’s go,” she said and drove away.

“Where we going?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, where we going?”

CeCe didn’t answer. I squinted at her in the darkened car, trying to guess what was going on in her head. Her eyes; two hard stones bleeding confusion. I heeded to her stare and didn’t speak.

We drove back to Woodlane, and she pulled the car over. “Get out.”

I followed her command. Luke followed me. Once we were all out, CeCe began pacing in the street. Since she wouldn’t talk and neither Luke nor I knew what to do or say, we leaned against the car and waited. I counted twenty-four paces before she stopped and faced Luke.

“Our only choice is to take back the car ourselves,” she said.

Luke’s eyes smiled. I could almost see twinkling stars floating out. “You mean you want me to steal Mama’s car?”

“It’s not really stealing,” she said, then inhaled and held her breath for an instant. “It’s just taking back what’s ours.”

She placed her hands on Luke’s shoulders and stared him square in the eyes. “Listen, Luke, you can’t do anything like this again. These are unusual circumstances requiring unusual means. And don’t tell a soul. Got it? And when you start the car, drive
slowly
and
directly home
. I mean it, Luke. Got it?”

He nodded. “Go home and don’t tell a soul.” Then, he gazed up at CeCe with puppy dog eyes and said, “Not a one?”

CeCe’s eyes narrowed. No doubt her mind was racing. Luke did an about-face and got into the car. A risky plan, but we didn’t know what else to do or where to turn.

I
nvolved with her nighttime TV show, Mama stared at the television willing her characters to do what she’d expected of them. No one could break her trance. No one tried. We each left the room one at a time, just like before. Once outside, we hopped back into CeCe’s car. I sat in the back seat and Luke in the front. His right leg bounced at a quicker speed than usual. My armpits dripped with sweat. CeCe pulled a rubber band from the front pocket of her Levi shorts and wrapped her hair in a ponytail.

“Wait, we should pray,” she said.

“
Pray?
You want us to pray that God helps us steal Mama’s car? Maybe Mama’s not the only kooky one around here,” I said.

CeCe glared at me, then closed her eyes and prayed silently. When she finished, we drove back to the impound yard. It seemed darker than before. She handed Luke a flashlight and the keys, and he hopped the fence and stirred off into the night, again. While we waited, my stomach acid made sounds like it was eating my organs.

And then, I had an urge that was the last thing I wanted. And the urge just kept getting stronger. “Uh, CeCe,” I said. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it.”

I crossed my legs. “Don’t you think I’m trying?”

“Go behind that bush.” She pointed out the window of the car toward a dark corner.

I shot her a desperate look. “I don’t have any tissues.”

“I knew I should have left you home.” She dug inside her pocketbook and handed me some napkins from Dunkin Donuts.

I tiptoed across the brush on the clay ground fearing I would come across a snake or rat, then pulled down my shorts and peed as quickly as possible, all the while smacking the mosquitoes flicking against my bare legs.

Just moments after I got back into the car, we heard the sound of an engine coming through the darkness. We held our breath, wondering if we were about to be caught.

Thankfully, it was Luke. Mama’s car pulled up and stopped just inside the gate. We watched as he jumped out of the driver’s side door and climbed the gate and went for the padlock. Fortunately, a boy he had met when we first moved to Woodlane taught him how to pick a lock. When he came home bragging about it, CeCe was mortified.

Mama only said, “Maybe Luke will grow up to be a locksmith.” How could we have known the skill he learned back then would be so handy now?

A moment later, CeCe and I heard a click through our open windows and saw him push the gate open, then quickly get back inside Mama’s car. He pulled away and sped down the road. Which was exactly what CeCe told him not to do. We followed, seeing him weave in and out of traffic, running two stops signs and almost up a curb.

“What the heck is he
doing?
” CeCe shouted.

She tried to catch up to him. My sandals flew off. I pushed my feet hard against the floor and grabbed onto the sides of the bucket seat. My fingers felt purple, my heels blue.

“He’s gonna get us caught,” I said. “We’re definitely going to jail!”

“Shut up, Olivia, I need to concentrate” she said, and peeled around the corner to keep up.

My heart raced and gurgled. I could barely breathe. Clearly, CeCe had the right idea about praying. Luke pulled into the trailer park too fast and jammed on the brakes, nearly colliding with the picket fence in front of our trailer. He flung the car door open and jumped outside before CeCe had a chance to open her door.

“AAAAH,” he screamed, then, “AAAAH! AAAAH!”

“What’s the matter?” CeCe and I hollered in a loud whisper, fearing that someone in the trailer park would hear.

“There’s critters in the car!”

“Critters?” I stepped back and squinted in the dark, just in time to see a family of junkyard cats tumble out behind him and scatter into the woods.

“I shouldn’t have left the windows open,” he said, breathing heavy.

“Luke, is that you?” Mama stepped onto the patio. “Watcha all doin’ outside in the dark— Oh, look! Somebody brought my car back. It must’ve been that nice man I met the other day. Westin.” Mama smiled. “Y’all come on inside and watch
TV
with me.” She waved us in and we followed like zombies.

Just as we sat down and my heart stopped beating hard enough to break through my chest, the telephone rang. CeCe jumped up and yanked it off the hook. “Hello.”

It’s the police
, I thought as the bitter taste of acid re-visited my throat.
They discovered us and they’re coming to get us!

Luke and I stared at CeCe, trying to hear, but the TV was too loud. She nodded a few times, but we couldn’t tell what was going on. Then, she hung up.

“Wrong number.” CeCe closed her eyes, stretched her arms behind her head, and let out a longwinded sigh.

I let out ten.

No one ever did come knocking on our door. So many cars filled the impound yard, they must not have noticed Mama’s car missing. However, after that, Luke took a liking to stealing, and CeCe felt as if it was all her fault. Right then I knew I’d have to find a way to straighten Luke out so CeCe wouldn’t feel so pressured. It might make her want to leave all the more. But it, and anything else, would have to wait until after the concert.