papers. Working with Professor Klinger. He’s a former partner at Merrill Lynch.”
For minimum wage or less. I had not even asked what the salary was to be. I knew my prospects for financial independence sounded pitiful, but the most promising thing about going to graduate school was that J.D. and I wouldn’t be living around Louisa for a few years. And I knew my parents would help us.
“No matter. You’re industrious, Betts, and I respect that, but my son was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. So were you. Y’all haven’t got the first clue about how to be poor and happy.”
“Oh, that’s not true, Dad! We’ll get along just fine.”
Big Jim sat back in his chair and smiled at us. “Listen, I want to try to make up for your mother’s poor performance with a little engagement gift. Langley Construction and Development is putting up some very nice condos not too far from the campus in Columbia. I’ve got a nice little three-bedroom unit put aside and I’d like y’all to have it. When you graduate, you can sell it…or whatever you want to do. How’s that?”
“Oh! How wonderful!” J.D. got up to shake his father’s hand, but his father pulled himinto a big bear hug. With a free arm, he pulled me up into the embrace and said, “Just call me Jim, Betts. There will be no standing on ceremony between you and me!”
“Well, okay. That sounds just fine.”
We talked longer about all our plans.
Then the telephone rang. Big Jim answered it in a jovial tone that turned somber almost immediately.
“Yes, yes.” Pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Oh my God. Oh no. Where?”
I started shaking. I knew something disastrous had happened.
“Okay. Yes, of course. Of course.” Big Jim gently replaced the telephone in its cradle and turned to face us. His eyes welled up with tears. “That was the head of the emergency room at the Charleston County Hospital. There’s been an accident, Betts. A terrible accident. Your father has been treated and is going to be released from the hospital, but I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, your momma didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean?” What did he say? “My mother is dead?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my God,” J.D. said. “Oh, no! What happened?”
“A truck hydroplaned, swung around, and hit the driver’s side of your parents’ car. Adrianna died instantly.”
“How can this be? No! Please! Tell me no! Tell me it’s a mistake!”
I dropped to the sofa, put my head in my hands, covered my eyes, and wept. I wept and wept, sobbing convulsively, and I could not be consoled. Not by J.D. and not by Big Jim. Big Jim rubbed my shoulder and J.D. brought me tissues. Finally I knew I had to get out of there.
“I have to go to my father,” I said.
“Yes, of course you do,” Big Jim said. “Just tell me what I can do to help, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“Tell Mother to go to hell,” J.D. said. “This is all her fault.”
We knew it was true, and J.D. finally had the courage to say it. J.D. drove slowly. The storm had blown itself out to sea, but it was still drizzling and the streets were flooded in many places. Limbs were down. Trees were broken. I was broken.
I stared out of the passenger window, trying to get a grip on myself, but my mind couldn’t hold a thought. We were silent. J.D. and I knew what this catastrophic night meant for us. We were finished.
Louisa had driven my parents out of the house with her insults and hateful words, her ugly vindictiveness. If she had been a better woman, a kinder woman—yes, any kind of a lady —this never would have happened. How could I marry J.D. when his mother had been the cause of my mother’s death? We both knew I could not. But we couldn’t talk about it then. I was in shock. We both were.
When we arrived at my parents’ house on Tradd Street, we found my father in the living room, sitting in Momma’s favorite chair, crying like a baby. His arm was in a sling and his
For minimum wage or less. I had not even asked what the salary was to be. I knew my prospects for financial independence sounded pitiful, but the most promising thing about going to graduate school was that J.D. and I wouldn’t be living around Louisa for a few years. And I knew my parents would help us.
“No matter. You’re industrious, Betts, and I respect that, but my son was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. So were you. Y’all haven’t got the first clue about how to be poor and happy.”
“Oh, that’s not true, Dad! We’ll get along just fine.”
Big Jim sat back in his chair and smiled at us. “Listen, I want to try to make up for your mother’s poor performance with a little engagement gift. Langley Construction and Development is putting up some very nice condos not too far from the campus in Columbia. I’ve got a nice little three-bedroom unit put aside and I’d like y’all to have it. When you graduate, you can sell it…or whatever you want to do. How’s that?”
“Oh! How wonderful!” J.D. got up to shake his father’s hand, but his father pulled himinto a big bear hug. With a free arm, he pulled me up into the embrace and said, “Just call me Jim, Betts. There will be no standing on ceremony between you and me!”
“Well, okay. That sounds just fine.”
We talked longer about all our plans.
Then the telephone rang. Big Jim answered it in a jovial tone that turned somber almost immediately.
“Yes, yes.” Pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Oh my God. Oh no. Where?”
I started shaking. I knew something disastrous had happened.
“Okay. Yes, of course. Of course.” Big Jim gently replaced the telephone in its cradle and turned to face us. His eyes welled up with tears. “That was the head of the emergency room at the Charleston County Hospital. There’s been an accident, Betts. A terrible accident. Your father has been treated and is going to be released from the hospital, but I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, your momma didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean?” What did he say? “My mother is dead?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my God,” J.D. said. “Oh, no! What happened?”
“A truck hydroplaned, swung around, and hit the driver’s side of your parents’ car. Adrianna died instantly.”
“How can this be? No! Please! Tell me no! Tell me it’s a mistake!”
I dropped to the sofa, put my head in my hands, covered my eyes, and wept. I wept and wept, sobbing convulsively, and I could not be consoled. Not by J.D. and not by Big Jim. Big Jim rubbed my shoulder and J.D. brought me tissues. Finally I knew I had to get out of there.
“I have to go to my father,” I said.
“Yes, of course you do,” Big Jim said. “Just tell me what I can do to help, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“Tell Mother to go to hell,” J.D. said. “This is all her fault.”
We knew it was true, and J.D. finally had the courage to say it. J.D. drove slowly. The storm had blown itself out to sea, but it was still drizzling and the streets were flooded in many places. Limbs were down. Trees were broken. I was broken.
I stared out of the passenger window, trying to get a grip on myself, but my mind couldn’t hold a thought. We were silent. J.D. and I knew what this catastrophic night meant for us. We were finished.
Louisa had driven my parents out of the house with her insults and hateful words, her ugly vindictiveness. If she had been a better woman, a kinder woman—yes, any kind of a lady —this never would have happened. How could I marry J.D. when his mother had been the cause of my mother’s death? We both knew I could not. But we couldn’t talk about it then. I was in shock. We both were.
When we arrived at my parents’ house on Tradd Street, we found my father in the living room, sitting in Momma’s favorite chair, crying like a baby. His arm was in a sling and his
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