Parker came close to me. “You ought to use that brick dust I sent. Something bad is going to happen.” She held her hand up. “Don’t ask cause I don’t know. I don’t think Shelly knows. But it’s bad.”
I was silent.
“You’re young. You ain’t going to listen to what grown folks say.”
Night was pulling in on me. She was right, I wasn’t listening to no one, not even the little voice in my head.
Hobbs came in late that night, sounding like a drunken Santa. He found me in bed and pushed a ring, a gold wedding band, in my hand. “I never gave you one, so here.”
The ring was simple and big, too large for my finger, but the thought was there wrapped up in all his misguided ways, as if God had actually heard my prayer. I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Hobbs.”
He stood straight. “You better thank me. I do a lot for you. Look at what you have here.” He opened his arms to welcome the room.
As usual he stuck his foot in the middle of something good and mixed it all up. “Do you love me, Hobbs? Do you?” We’d been married nearly three months and not once had he said those words. Not even when we said I do.
He had a look of complete confusion.
“Do you?”
“I say it every time I provide for you. This ring here says it most of all.”
“You ain’t never said it.”
“Oh shit! Why I got to? I ain’t one to spout words. I gave you the ring.” He was getting tired of talking.
I took the ring off my finger and pressed it into my palm. “Thank you for the thought. It means a lot.”
“Oh shit, do you have to pout?” He slapped his knee. “Christmas is here and I want my present.” He pulled me to him, moving on me fast in his same old way. A laugh struggled to get free of my chest, but I stuffed it down, knowing full well what that would bring me. I was learning my lessons each and every day.
When all the huffing and puffing was over, I watched a slip of a moon riding the tree line. What would happen if I went out to the river and lay down? Let the current pull me under, twist me around? What? Would it take me away from this place? Would it be worth the sacrifice? I wasn’t ready to die, not for Hobbs, not at that minute anyway.
Thirteen
S nowflakes fluttered down outside the window the next morning, Christmas morning. It was a beautiful gift. Hobbs slept beside me. Would he even remember giving me the ring? If he was sober, would he want to give it to me? I slipped the gold band on my finger and almost laughed out loud at the size. I didn’t want to know where he got it, but something deep inside told me I should know. Some poor farmer had to give up his wedding band on Christmas Eve for a debt owed. I slipped out of bed and went to where my gifts were hidden: one for Jack, Aunt Ida, Hobbs, and even one for Mama. Each gift was homemade and wrapped in tissue paper I found lining one of the drawers in the dining-room sideboard. Each was made from a quilt I’d found in a trunk out in the barn: a hand-sewn stocking that would hold a gingerbread cookie—silly kid stuff, but still good thoughts.
I worked the spicy dough with the rolling pin and cut each cookie with the cutter shaped like a man. We had no tree, no wreath, not even a stocking hanging on the mantel. Hobbsthought it a bunch of trouble, but I had hoped he’d come around. I was coming to see he was hateful and didn’t have room for happy thoughts. Maybe he enjoyed being miserable. There were people like that, mean and spiteful, full of poison. I’d seen that side of Daddy before, even though Mama tried to cover his meanness.
The icing, blue, red, and yellow, came out perfect. I added eyes and hair to the cookies. The sugar sprinkles were a childish touch but it was Christmas. There I was, trying my best to bring my memories of Mama at Christmas to life. It wasn’t fair I couldn’t see her. What was I doing on Black Mountain?
Hobbs stood on the stairs as I wrapped the last cookie. His hair was in a scrabble
I was silent.
“You’re young. You ain’t going to listen to what grown folks say.”
Night was pulling in on me. She was right, I wasn’t listening to no one, not even the little voice in my head.
Hobbs came in late that night, sounding like a drunken Santa. He found me in bed and pushed a ring, a gold wedding band, in my hand. “I never gave you one, so here.”
The ring was simple and big, too large for my finger, but the thought was there wrapped up in all his misguided ways, as if God had actually heard my prayer. I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Hobbs.”
He stood straight. “You better thank me. I do a lot for you. Look at what you have here.” He opened his arms to welcome the room.
As usual he stuck his foot in the middle of something good and mixed it all up. “Do you love me, Hobbs? Do you?” We’d been married nearly three months and not once had he said those words. Not even when we said I do.
He had a look of complete confusion.
“Do you?”
“I say it every time I provide for you. This ring here says it most of all.”
“You ain’t never said it.”
“Oh shit! Why I got to? I ain’t one to spout words. I gave you the ring.” He was getting tired of talking.
I took the ring off my finger and pressed it into my palm. “Thank you for the thought. It means a lot.”
“Oh shit, do you have to pout?” He slapped his knee. “Christmas is here and I want my present.” He pulled me to him, moving on me fast in his same old way. A laugh struggled to get free of my chest, but I stuffed it down, knowing full well what that would bring me. I was learning my lessons each and every day.
When all the huffing and puffing was over, I watched a slip of a moon riding the tree line. What would happen if I went out to the river and lay down? Let the current pull me under, twist me around? What? Would it take me away from this place? Would it be worth the sacrifice? I wasn’t ready to die, not for Hobbs, not at that minute anyway.
Thirteen
S nowflakes fluttered down outside the window the next morning, Christmas morning. It was a beautiful gift. Hobbs slept beside me. Would he even remember giving me the ring? If he was sober, would he want to give it to me? I slipped the gold band on my finger and almost laughed out loud at the size. I didn’t want to know where he got it, but something deep inside told me I should know. Some poor farmer had to give up his wedding band on Christmas Eve for a debt owed. I slipped out of bed and went to where my gifts were hidden: one for Jack, Aunt Ida, Hobbs, and even one for Mama. Each gift was homemade and wrapped in tissue paper I found lining one of the drawers in the dining-room sideboard. Each was made from a quilt I’d found in a trunk out in the barn: a hand-sewn stocking that would hold a gingerbread cookie—silly kid stuff, but still good thoughts.
I worked the spicy dough with the rolling pin and cut each cookie with the cutter shaped like a man. We had no tree, no wreath, not even a stocking hanging on the mantel. Hobbsthought it a bunch of trouble, but I had hoped he’d come around. I was coming to see he was hateful and didn’t have room for happy thoughts. Maybe he enjoyed being miserable. There were people like that, mean and spiteful, full of poison. I’d seen that side of Daddy before, even though Mama tried to cover his meanness.
The icing, blue, red, and yellow, came out perfect. I added eyes and hair to the cookies. The sugar sprinkles were a childish touch but it was Christmas. There I was, trying my best to bring my memories of Mama at Christmas to life. It wasn’t fair I couldn’t see her. What was I doing on Black Mountain?
Hobbs stood on the stairs as I wrapped the last cookie. His hair was in a scrabble
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