We liked to pretend we were letting dead people speak through us. “I was a hardworking man with a talent for whittling,” Suralee might say from her grave. “I died in childbirth on a Saturday morning,” I might say from mine. I preferred the darker dramas.
“Not today,” Suralee said. “Too much to do.” She was right. For the amount of money we’d be charging, this needed to be a good play.
Peacie had sugar cookies for us when we got home. The butter was going to go rancid, she said; that was the reason and the only reason. She piled them high on a plate and set them on the kitchen table. “What you don’t finish, you wrap up. Ants getting to be the size of elephants around here.”
In the living room, my mother sat with her best friend, Brenda, who’d been the witness at my mother’s wedding. She and my mother talked frequently on the phone and visited as often as they could, but it was only about three times a year, now that Brenda had moved to Nashville. Every now and then Brenda would surprise my mother and just show up, and then they’d laugh and talk for hours—about men, about hairdos, about children, about old times. Brenda was a terrific dancer, as my mother used to be. Sometimes they watched
American Bandstand
together, and Brenda would dance in front of my mother. I used to worry it would make my mother sad, but it didn’t seem to. She would nod, keeping time, and Brenda would shake her hips and shimmy and twirl. One day she’d grabbed Peacie as a partner, and I’d been stunned to see that snarly woman’s fancy footwork. I stood at the doorway, watching, and when Peacie was finished dancing, she came to stand before me, all wild-eyed and out of breath. “I guess you done had your eyes opened,” she said.
I nodded, not looking at her.
“Didn’t know I could dance. You surprised.”
Again I’d nodded.
“That’s the Jesus truth. It’s a wide, wide world. Sooner you lift up your gaze from your own self, sooner you know that.”
“Peacie,” my mother had said. “Let her be.”
It was one of the few times my mother interfered on my behalf, and I’d been grateful. “Come over here and light me a cigarette,” she’d said. I’d snuck a little inhale, and my mother had smiled. But then she’d said, “Don’t get started with something you won’t be able to do without.”
Now Brenda was showing my mother something in a hairstyle magazine. “See? You really should let it get long again, Paige.”
“It’s too hard to manage,” my mother said. “But I do like that style.” She saw me then and asked, “Oh, good. Is Brooks coming?”
“After dinner.”
She nodded, worried-looking. “It’s gotten worse. I don’t know if he can fix it this time.”
“He’s bringing you a milk shake, and he said how about a TV date.”
I mumbled this last, and my mother said, “How about a
what
?”
“A TV date,” I said.
My mother and Brenda exchanged glances, and then my mother said slowly, “I guess that would be all right.” Again they exchanged glances.
Suralee came into the living room. “Hey, Mrs. Dunn,” she said. “Hey, Brenda.” Brenda allowed no one to call her by her last name. She said it reminded her of being a “Mrs.,” something she’d just as soon forget. “Goddamn men,” she said. “Only thing they’re good for is nothing.” But she didn’t mean it. She wanted another man. She talked about it all the time.
“How’s your mom?” my mother asked Suralee.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Well, you tell her again that if she ever wants to visit, just come on by. Anytime.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
Noreen would not visit, I knew. She was afraid to visit my mother. She had said so the first time my mother had invited her, though not in those words. But I knew. It made me sad; my mother needed friends to come to the house and see her in the way that Brenda did. Apart from sunbathing, she never went out. I was hopeful that Noreen would change her
“Not today,” Suralee said. “Too much to do.” She was right. For the amount of money we’d be charging, this needed to be a good play.
Peacie had sugar cookies for us when we got home. The butter was going to go rancid, she said; that was the reason and the only reason. She piled them high on a plate and set them on the kitchen table. “What you don’t finish, you wrap up. Ants getting to be the size of elephants around here.”
In the living room, my mother sat with her best friend, Brenda, who’d been the witness at my mother’s wedding. She and my mother talked frequently on the phone and visited as often as they could, but it was only about three times a year, now that Brenda had moved to Nashville. Every now and then Brenda would surprise my mother and just show up, and then they’d laugh and talk for hours—about men, about hairdos, about children, about old times. Brenda was a terrific dancer, as my mother used to be. Sometimes they watched
American Bandstand
together, and Brenda would dance in front of my mother. I used to worry it would make my mother sad, but it didn’t seem to. She would nod, keeping time, and Brenda would shake her hips and shimmy and twirl. One day she’d grabbed Peacie as a partner, and I’d been stunned to see that snarly woman’s fancy footwork. I stood at the doorway, watching, and when Peacie was finished dancing, she came to stand before me, all wild-eyed and out of breath. “I guess you done had your eyes opened,” she said.
I nodded, not looking at her.
“Didn’t know I could dance. You surprised.”
Again I’d nodded.
“That’s the Jesus truth. It’s a wide, wide world. Sooner you lift up your gaze from your own self, sooner you know that.”
“Peacie,” my mother had said. “Let her be.”
It was one of the few times my mother interfered on my behalf, and I’d been grateful. “Come over here and light me a cigarette,” she’d said. I’d snuck a little inhale, and my mother had smiled. But then she’d said, “Don’t get started with something you won’t be able to do without.”
Now Brenda was showing my mother something in a hairstyle magazine. “See? You really should let it get long again, Paige.”
“It’s too hard to manage,” my mother said. “But I do like that style.” She saw me then and asked, “Oh, good. Is Brooks coming?”
“After dinner.”
She nodded, worried-looking. “It’s gotten worse. I don’t know if he can fix it this time.”
“He’s bringing you a milk shake, and he said how about a TV date.”
I mumbled this last, and my mother said, “How about a
what
?”
“A TV date,” I said.
My mother and Brenda exchanged glances, and then my mother said slowly, “I guess that would be all right.” Again they exchanged glances.
Suralee came into the living room. “Hey, Mrs. Dunn,” she said. “Hey, Brenda.” Brenda allowed no one to call her by her last name. She said it reminded her of being a “Mrs.,” something she’d just as soon forget. “Goddamn men,” she said. “Only thing they’re good for is nothing.” But she didn’t mean it. She wanted another man. She talked about it all the time.
“How’s your mom?” my mother asked Suralee.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Well, you tell her again that if she ever wants to visit, just come on by. Anytime.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
Noreen would not visit, I knew. She was afraid to visit my mother. She had said so the first time my mother had invited her, though not in those words. But I knew. It made me sad; my mother needed friends to come to the house and see her in the way that Brenda did. Apart from sunbathing, she never went out. I was hopeful that Noreen would change her
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