name we gave
the new bastard baby. She got old eyes and
look like she thinking all the time. She ain't
causing no trouble now, but them eyes makes
me thinks she plannin to be."
#
"Ms. Martha, how did you know Mama Jean
was dead," Willetta asked. They were back in
Andrik's car heading back to the "devil's house", as
Ms. Martha had called the old house on Thompson
Estate.
"Call me momma or grandma. I don't like
that Ms. Martha stuff you throwin at me. I'm old
and deserve some respect for just living this long.
To answer your question, I been in town for a
couple of months. We heard it on the scanner."
Willetta had a thousand questions rushing
around in her brain, but for the life of her she
couldn't settle down enough mentally to ask them
one at a time in an orderly fashion. Nothing made
any sense. She was thankful Andrik wasn't having
the same problem.
"Who were you staying with in town and
why haven't I seen you around here visiting Mama
Jean?" he demanded.
"Well, ain't you just full of questions," Ms.
Martha smirked.
Andrik hit the brakes and the car slid a few
feet and swerved perilously close to a ditch before it
stopped. Red dust from the rocky road wafted past
leaving a dusty film on the windows of the car.
"Neither one of us have ever seen you
before. Willetta just came home yesterday after
spending the majority of her life in Atlanta, Georgia
with a foster family. You step out of the weeds of a
cotton field in the middle of nowhere saying you're
her grandmother and that Stanley Thompson is your
son, but not my father. The one and the same
Stanley Thompson who treated me like crap as far
back as I can remember. I'd say both Willetta and I
have every right to ask as many questions as we
want. You either answer them or prepare for a ride
back to that bathroom you were using," Andrik
barked.
His voice raised an octave or two with every
sentence. His chest was heaving and one long
finger was pointing ominously at the old woman in
the back seat.
"Well, you sho don't handle surprises too
well. Lordy be! But seein as I know who you came
from, I sho ain't surprised. Let's get on to the devil's
house and I'll tell you what I can. You ain't gone
like none of it, but I always did think secrets was
evil. Half the family hate them secrets and the other
half hordes them like money."
Ms. Martha reached one scraggly hand
through the seats and settled it on Andrik's shoulder.
She patted his shoulder and made a "tut-tut" sound.
Willetta got tickled, but felt it prudent to squelch it.
Andrik looked mad enough to toss both her and Ms.
Martha out onto the gravel road.
#
Andrik's anger threatened to simmer out of
control. He felt the old hag was making fun of him
and laughing behind his back. He didn't like her
and she didn't like him. He felt it clear to his bones.
It chilled him and made him wonder what ugly
truths the past held. He was reconciled in his heart
that Stanley Thompson had not been his father. He
had certainly treated Andrik like another man's
child. Andrik wondered who his real father was and
was he even alive. It made his gut churn to think
that the only forthcoming answers would be from
the hateful old woman in the back seat of his car.
How could she possibly be Willetta's
grandmother? She and Willetta looked nothing
alike. Willetta was kind and refined. This woman
was hard and vulgar. She had no loyalty and no
appreciation for family. Why else had her son been
taken from her? Why else had Mama Jean never
mentioned her, even when she knew she was dying?
Andrik thought about the dark and mean ways of
his father and knew that all that had gone wrong on
the inside of Stanley Thompson could be rightfully
blamed on Martha Thompson. Willetta's great
grandmother had not been able to save him.
It was
a blessing that Willetta was lost from them or she
may have turned out like Stanley and his mother.
#
Willetta knew she would have answers. It
was just a matter of getting the journals and reading
them. There were so many of them.
the new bastard baby. She got old eyes and
look like she thinking all the time. She ain't
causing no trouble now, but them eyes makes
me thinks she plannin to be."
#
"Ms. Martha, how did you know Mama Jean
was dead," Willetta asked. They were back in
Andrik's car heading back to the "devil's house", as
Ms. Martha had called the old house on Thompson
Estate.
"Call me momma or grandma. I don't like
that Ms. Martha stuff you throwin at me. I'm old
and deserve some respect for just living this long.
To answer your question, I been in town for a
couple of months. We heard it on the scanner."
Willetta had a thousand questions rushing
around in her brain, but for the life of her she
couldn't settle down enough mentally to ask them
one at a time in an orderly fashion. Nothing made
any sense. She was thankful Andrik wasn't having
the same problem.
"Who were you staying with in town and
why haven't I seen you around here visiting Mama
Jean?" he demanded.
"Well, ain't you just full of questions," Ms.
Martha smirked.
Andrik hit the brakes and the car slid a few
feet and swerved perilously close to a ditch before it
stopped. Red dust from the rocky road wafted past
leaving a dusty film on the windows of the car.
"Neither one of us have ever seen you
before. Willetta just came home yesterday after
spending the majority of her life in Atlanta, Georgia
with a foster family. You step out of the weeds of a
cotton field in the middle of nowhere saying you're
her grandmother and that Stanley Thompson is your
son, but not my father. The one and the same
Stanley Thompson who treated me like crap as far
back as I can remember. I'd say both Willetta and I
have every right to ask as many questions as we
want. You either answer them or prepare for a ride
back to that bathroom you were using," Andrik
barked.
His voice raised an octave or two with every
sentence. His chest was heaving and one long
finger was pointing ominously at the old woman in
the back seat.
"Well, you sho don't handle surprises too
well. Lordy be! But seein as I know who you came
from, I sho ain't surprised. Let's get on to the devil's
house and I'll tell you what I can. You ain't gone
like none of it, but I always did think secrets was
evil. Half the family hate them secrets and the other
half hordes them like money."
Ms. Martha reached one scraggly hand
through the seats and settled it on Andrik's shoulder.
She patted his shoulder and made a "tut-tut" sound.
Willetta got tickled, but felt it prudent to squelch it.
Andrik looked mad enough to toss both her and Ms.
Martha out onto the gravel road.
#
Andrik's anger threatened to simmer out of
control. He felt the old hag was making fun of him
and laughing behind his back. He didn't like her
and she didn't like him. He felt it clear to his bones.
It chilled him and made him wonder what ugly
truths the past held. He was reconciled in his heart
that Stanley Thompson had not been his father. He
had certainly treated Andrik like another man's
child. Andrik wondered who his real father was and
was he even alive. It made his gut churn to think
that the only forthcoming answers would be from
the hateful old woman in the back seat of his car.
How could she possibly be Willetta's
grandmother? She and Willetta looked nothing
alike. Willetta was kind and refined. This woman
was hard and vulgar. She had no loyalty and no
appreciation for family. Why else had her son been
taken from her? Why else had Mama Jean never
mentioned her, even when she knew she was dying?
Andrik thought about the dark and mean ways of
his father and knew that all that had gone wrong on
the inside of Stanley Thompson could be rightfully
blamed on Martha Thompson. Willetta's great
grandmother had not been able to save him.
It was
a blessing that Willetta was lost from them or she
may have turned out like Stanley and his mother.
#
Willetta knew she would have answers. It
was just a matter of getting the journals and reading
them. There were so many of them.
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