All the Ugly and Wonderful Things (7 page)

“You'll have room to grow,” I said.

She nodded.

Wavy wore her new boots out of the store, left her ratty old ones there. She looked happy. Actually waited for me to help her up on the bike, even though she didn't need it.

“I need to put in another set of foot pegs. Put 'em up high enough for you, so you don't have to put your feet on the bike frame,” I said.

She'd looked happy before, but she grinned when I mentioned the pegs. That was worth all the weird looks from Marilyn, to get not one or two smiles out of Wavy, but a smile that lasted the whole ride back from Garringer.

At the farmhouse, I figured we'd read or play games until dinner time, but no sooner did I turn off the bike than Val opened the kitchen door. It shocked the hell out of me. I'd only seen Val out of bed a couple times and there she was with her hair done, wearing clothes and shoes.

“Where have you been, Vonnie? You should have been home from school hours ago,” she said.

Wavy stood on the bottom step, but she didn't move. I didn't know what to do.

“Get in here before you catch cold,” Val said. “Now!”

Finally, I got off the bike and then Wavy started up the stairs. When she got to the door, Val said, “Give Kellen his helmet.”

When Wavy didn't, Val took it away from her. By then, I'd come up the steps and Val handed it to me, smacking it into my palm hard enough to sting.

“She's
supposed
to ride the bus, Kellen.”

If she'd gave me a few seconds, I woulda said, “It's her helmet,” but before I could, Val slammed the door in my face.

 

8

WAVY

May 1978

All winter Kellen was in charge of grocery shopping. I liked it that way, because he bought exactly what I wrote down. If I wrote “3 cans green beans,” he brought back three cans of green beans. Not one, not ten, not a bag full of things Donal wouldn't eat. That was what Mama did: bring home cream of mushroom soup when I wrote down “cream of celery.” Grandma's recipe book didn't have anything that called for cream of mushroom. Mama couldn't be trusted and neither could Ricki. She always lost the grocery list and Mama said she was one of Liam's dirty whores.

When Kellen brought me home from school on Wednesday, I wrote a grocery list out of Grandma's book. The recipe had Grandma's fingerprints stained in hamburger blood.

“You're making something good, I bet. What is this?” Kellen said. He propped his hands on the table, reading the list.

“Meatloaf. For you.”

“Oh, hey, I wasn't fishing for an invitation.”

“For you,” I said.

In two weeks, school would be over for the summer, and Kellen wouldn't have a reason to come to the house, except that he liked to eat. If I cooked, he might keep coming to sit at the table with me and let me watch him eat.

While I waited for him to get groceries, I cleaned and set the table. Grandma's book had pictures showing where forks and spoons went. Water glasses, wineglasses. That's where Kellen's beer bottle went.

He came back smelling like the road and sweat. I wanted to bury my face in his shirt and smell him, the way I did when he wrecked, but I wasn't brave enough, and he was carrying bags of food and scary news.

“I saw Liam on the road in. He wanted to know what I was getting. So I told him, and he said, ‘Is Val making her Mom's green olive meatloaf?'”

All the happiness crumpled up in my chest like a wad of tin foil. I shook my head. Not at Kellen, but to make it not true.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know what to tell him. He says he's coming to dinner at six.”

I laid the potatoes out on the table and petted them like little animals. They were dirty, but good potatoes. Small enough for me to hold them in my hands to peel. Kellen thought of those things.

“What do you want me to do?” he said.

“Stay.”

Going into Mama's room, I didn't want to touch her, but she was already awake.

“What is it, baby? Who's here?”

“Liam not to be trusted,” I whispered.

“Liam's here?” Mama sat up, her hair all knots and sticking out.

“Coming.”

“He's coming here? When?”

Mama looked at her alarm clock, but it only flashed twelve, because she never set it after thunderstorms.

“How long until he comes?”

I held up two fingers.

“Two hours. I can get ready. Is there shampoo? And don't be weird when he's here. Call him Daddy, okay. Just say, ‘Hi, Daddy.' Okay, baby? Will you do that for Mama?”

Call him Daddy
, when she was the one who said I wasn't supposed to call him that. She said he was not to be trusted.

Back in the kitchen, Kellen stood next to the table. I said, “Stay,” and he stayed.

He didn't fuss like Mama. Sometimes he asked me about what I was doing, like why I put bread in the bottom of the meatloaf pan. I liked that he asked and didn't get upset if I didn't answer.

He said, “Can I do anything to help?” and he did what I asked. He fed Donal, kept him out of the way when I opened the oven door, and put him in his room before dinner. So he would be safe. Donal was two, I knew that, but I didn't know his birthday. We never had presents or cake for him, but I didn't remember having presents or cake until I went to live with Aunt Brenda. Now that Donal could walk by himself, it was harder to keep him safe. At least pretty soon he would be big enough to take care of himself. Next year.

Once the potatoes were cooked, Kellen mashed them, and he never got tired and had to rest like I did. All ten pounds of potatoes mashed at once.

While Kellen mashed, I prayed.
Let Liam not come. Make Liam stay away.
He always said he would do something and then never did it. When I was little, he said he would take me to the zoo. He never did. So let him stay away. Stay away.

Kellen turned the meatloaf out of the pan on the platter, and then he understood what the bread was for. It soaks up the grease. I laid the carrots around the meatloaf and Kellen put the potatoes in a bowl. The table looked perfect when Mama came out of the bathroom. Her hair fell in shiny brown curls over the shoulders of her silky red kimono. She was so pretty, but her face pinched up when she saw the food and Kellen.

“What's this?” she said.

“Wavy made dinner,” Kellen said.

“Where's Liam? She said he was coming at six.”

“It's six now. She made meatloaf.”

It didn't matter how much I prayed for Liam to stay away, if Mama was going to say his name without the protection. She made him come, whistling as he walked across the porch. Smiling as he walked in without knocking.

“This looks good, Val. When Kellen said you were making your mom's special meatloaf, I said, ‘I have to get some of that.'” The whole time Liam talked he was creeping down on Mama, his hand sneaking on her neck. She gave him her special smile, going softer. The way candles are softer than lightbulbs.

Liam pulled out Mama's chair for her, and then he looked around the table. Counting. Four plates.

“You staying for dinner, Kellen?”

“Yeah. She invited me.”

Then Liam smiled the smile that meant he was not to be trusted.

“Oh, Kellen gives you a hand with things, does he, Val?”

Mama pouted. “You never come around. I guess I need someone to take care of things, since you can't be bothered.”

“Why should I be bothered when you don't even wash your hair?”

“I washed my hair.”

“First time in a long goddamn time. I almost didn't recognize you.”

Mama cried while Kellen put food on the plates. Liam frowned. He didn't like watching Kellen serve dinner. As much as I didn't like Liam eating the dinner I cooked.

“Does Val make you a lot of nice meals while I'm off taking care of the business that puts food on the table?” Liam said.

“Wavy invited me.” Kellen took a bite of meatloaf.

“Oh,
Wavy
invited you?” Liam said.

Kellen finished chewing before he said, “Yeah.”

For a while, nobody said anything. Kellen kept eating. Potatoes went into his mouth and the fork came out shiny. I loved the way he ate. I wanted to eat like that.

“That's a load of crap,” Liam said.

“I invited Kellen.” I thought the words might burn my tongue, but seeing Liam's stupid mouth hang open was worth it. Sometimes he forgot that I
didn't
talk. Not that I
couldn't
talk. He blinked and ate some meatloaf.

“This is really good, Val. You're as good a cook as your mother.”

Mama smiled. She wanted any nice words, even if she didn't deserve them.

“We just about got everything ready for Myrtle Beach,” Liam said.

“You're going this year?” Mama said.

“Yeah, baby. We'll take the bikes down. Take some product to sell. A little business, a little pleasure.”

“I know your kind of
business
.” Mama made an ugly face.

Kellen swallowed quick and said, “Which bike you riding down?”

“Eat your dinner, Vonnie,” Liam said.

Safer to nod, even if it was a lie. I should have nodded, but I stared at my plate.

“I said eat your dinner.”

I hated being afraid, but I picked up my fork. I moved a bite of mashed potatoes away from the mountain. Kellen bought real butter, not margarine. I could never get the lumps out, but he'd mashed the potatoes creamy smooth. They were beautiful.

“So, you're leaving tomorrow?” Kellen was talking to Liam but he sent a message to me:
Just take a bite
.

“Yeah. You're ready to go tomorrow, right?”

I tried to send Kellen a message:
Don't go
. I think he got it, because he squinted hard.

“I didn't know I was going,” he said.

“Shit, yeah. I told you, buy out Old Man Cutcheon and you'll have a long line of guys wanting you to work on their bikes. You and me can do some other business that way, too. You don't want that?”

“No, yeah, I do. I just didn't know you wanted me to go to Myrtle Beach.”

“You got other obligations?” Liam said.

Me
. Kellen didn't say it and I let him go, so he would stop frowning. I didn't want him to be sad. I cut my carrots into neat little circles, like pennies.

“No, that's great. Just wish you'd said something sooner.”

“Goddamnit, Vonnie! Eat your food and stop moving it around on your plate.”

Liam smacked his hand on the table next to my plate. He had the power to steal Kellen away, but he didn't have power over me. I laid my fork on the table, but as soon as I let go of it, Liam snatched it up.

“Don't you defy me, you little bitch.” He shoveled up a scoop of potatoes.

My mouth watered at the smell. I wanted to eat, but I wouldn't do it like that. Liam pressed the fork up to my mouth, so I turned my head away from him, felt the potatoes smear across my cheek. I looked at Kellen, the way his eyes went up and down, from his plate to Liam and back to his plate. He was scared.

Liam grabbed my chin, that's how mad he was. Mad enough to break Mama's rule against touching me. He jerked my head around, to keep me from looking at Kellen, so I closed my eyes. I bit my lips closed to keep the potatoes out, but Liam wouldn't quit.

“You'll fucking do what I say!” The fork stabbed my lip and knocked against my teeth. Liam squeezed my face hard, trying to make me open my mouth. And I was going to. I wasn't strong enough.

Then Liam let go of me.

The fork fell on my plate, a loud clatter in the middle of glasses falling over. I opened my eyes and saw Kellen standing up, leaning across the table. He had one hand pressed to the center of Liam's chest to push him back into his chair. That was all he needed to stop Liam, who looked small under Kellen's hand.

“Don't do that,” Kellen said.

As soon as he let go, Liam sat up. All his smallness drained out and anger rushed in again.

“Are you telling me how to discipline my own kid in my house?” Liam said, but his shirt was still rumpled from Kellen's hand.

“No, but you don't need to do her that way.”

Kellen sat down and smoothed the tablecloth back out.

“I'll be damned if I take orders from you, you fat fucking slob,” Liam said.

“You want your kid to end up a fat fucking slob like me? Just go on doing that, forcing her to eat. It's what my pa did. Made me clean my plate whether I wanted to or not. Busted my jaw once. So, you know, think about that.”

Liam laughed. He lost the fight, but everyone would have to pretend he hadn't. Mama knew how to pretend that.

“Well, damn, you're sensitive, Kellen. I'm gonna be more careful around you. I don't wanna hurt your little feelings and shit.”

Kellen took another bite of meatloaf. It looked like it was hard for him to swallow, but he kept eating.

I watched him chew, wishing I could eat. Something sticky and warm dribbled down my chin. Blood. Mama watched, too soft to do anything. Kellen passed me his handkerchief under the table. When I took it, I felt how strong his hand was. I didn't understand how he could be afraid of Liam, when he was so much bigger.

Kellen's handkerchief was worn soft from being washed, and I didn't want to ruin it, but I put it against my mouth. When I took it away, my blood was bright in the middle of the whiteness.

Liam set his glass up and said, “Get me some more beer, Val.”

Mama went to the fridge and took out a beer. She poured as much as would go into Liam's, and then she topped up Kellen's glass, even though it hadn't fallen over. The Giant had stopped a train, calmed a wild beast, and didn't even spill his beer.

 

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