Apron Strings (21 page)

Gordy sniffed hard. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I reached up from my perch on the limb below him and patted his leg. “I’m glad you didn’t go to jail,” I offered.

“You know, Sallee, I think Mr. Dabney musta known Momma before, like when they were kids or something.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked while trying to think of a story that could include two such unlikely characters.

“Something ‘bout the way he said we were all just as uppity as her.”

The next day the sheriff called our house to report on the autopsy. Lance
had
been poisoned by antifreeze, just as Gordy thought. But the sheriff didn’t believe the nails and Lance’s death were related—just two accidents, is all. Daddy seemed unhappy with what the sheriff said. He was sitting on the back porch, smoking. I stepped out on the porch and plopped onto his lap. “Sallee!” he snapped, “Go sit over there.”

I slunk over to the indicated spot next to Gordy. “Mr. Dabney did it on purpose,” Gordy said, looking at Daddy.

Daddy regarded him gravely. “I don’t know,” Daddy said. “I wouldn’t have ever thought it was on purpose…” He pondered for a moment. “Probably they were just accidents. There’s no way to tell.” He cut Gordy a hard look. “And you had better not even think about trying to find out more, young man.”

My mother came through the screen door all giddy and excited, like she had been ever since Daddy left. She looked so pretty; smiling and happy. “I have a little surprise for you,” she said to Daddy.

He didn’t even look up. He crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“What is it?” Gordy and I asked.

“Where are the rest of you?” my mother asked.

“I’ll get ‘em,” I volunteered and opened the door into the house. “Stuart, Helen! Mama’s got a surprise. Hurry up!”

“Dammit, Sallee,” Daddy said. “Stop screaming. Go get ‘em.” Now that he was gone so much of the time, it hurt worse than ever to have
him angry with me. I sidled inside and ran upstairs, wishing things were different.

Once I’d gotten Stuart and Helen out on the porch, my mother, who loved to draw things out, said, “Now everybody close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

“For Christ sake, Ginny, get on with it,” Daddy sighed.

I wanted to cry. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could, trying to stem the tears. I heard the screen door open and shut, then open and shut again. “OK, now open your eyes,” my mother said. Her voice was tinny.

“A puppy!” we all shrieked, scaring the poor little creature to death. Daddy got up and went into the house without a word. He took what happiness there was with him. The puppy cowered. My mother hesitated, like a bird on a hot wire, and then followed him inside. Ethel appeared at the door and watched as we tried playing with the puppy. Stuart finally picked up the terrified little dog and snuggled it close. She stopped on her way through the door and laid her head on Ethel’s shoulder. Ethel patted her lovingly for a moment. Then Stuart disappeared into the house.

Gordy and I went down the steps into the yard. “It’s cute,” I said. “It looks like Granny Bess’s dog. Remember?” I scanned the yard and let my eyes fall on Lance’s old doghouse. The puppy had perfect floppy ears and the softest fur, but still, I felt funny about having a new dog.

“It isn’t Lance,” Gordy replied gruffly. “He was just too big a dog for a dumb puppy to take his place. I don’t even care what she names the ol’ thing,” he said, kicking at a clump of weeds. “I don’t know why she’s always trying to ruin things.”

“Who? Who tried to ruin something? Mama?” I asked as I ran my foot through a pile of wet leaves. We looked expectantly at the scattered leaves, hoping to find we didn’t know what.

“Yeah, Lance hasn’t been dead two weeks and she’s gone out and bought another dog. It just ain’t right. Some things ya just gotta let happen. Give time.”

“Hum,” I said. I had never known Gordy to have so many opinions. “How’d you get so smart all of a sudden?”

“Shut up. Let’s go over to Mr. Gentry’s and see if Ethel’s right. Maybe the old bastard really did kill Lance.”

“Whew, boy, you better not let Ethel hear you talk like that. She’ll wash your mouth out with soap sure as you’re standing there.”

“I don’t care if she does,” he shot back as he turned to go.

“Hey, wait, you said it was Mr. Dabney who killed Lance.”

Gordy weighed this for a moment. “Maybe they all did, damn grownups,” he concluded then stomped off toward the street.

“Don’t go that way,” I hissed. “Ethel’ll see you. She just told us not to cross the street.”

“Are you comin’ or not?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get in trouble. It’s gettin’ dark.” I watched Gordy cross the street and disappear into the darkness. I hesitated, wondering whether to follow. I was unsure why I felt so threatened. Finally, I slunk back to the house.

Helen and I went to bed early that night. From their room across the hall, I could hear my mother and father talking as they dressed to go out. My mother loved going to parties. Daddy didn’t think much of them. I was glad he was back in their room. When he’d come home to deal with Gordy, he’d brought his suitcase with him. We children all hoped it meant he was back for good.

“Damn it, Ginny, would you lay off?” I heard Daddy bark. “I know what I’m doing. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t need to worry? Nobody is going to hold you responsible. It’s not always about your damned ass.”

“Joe, the talk is getting more and more unpleasant. With all the things going on, I’m beginning to worry. Why did you think we needed a shopping center, anyway? It’s embarrassing. Why couldn’t you build something important like a new post office or a library at the university? Maybe a wing on the hospital…Betty told me that Bernard overheard at the club the other night that…”

I heard drawers slamming. It sounded like the ones in my mother’s dressing table. I imaged she’d put on her makeup and was looking for
jewelry to wear like she always did. She was pretty good at driving home a point by slamming whatever drawer was handy.

“Jesus Christ!” Daddy yelled. His voice sounded like he was near the door. Then, quieter, he said, “As much as you love to shop, you’re going to love this new shopping center. You wait. You’re gonna feel like a queen when everybody starts using it. You’ll see. Besides, what the hell does Betty know? She never had an original thought in her over dyed head. If she had, she wouldn’t have married that windbag Chambers who spends his life gossiping—looking for ways to run people down.”

“Would you listen? Bernard said that Pete is pulling out of the project. He says you’re way behind schedule…losing money…that you’re in way over your head.”

“Who are you going to believe, me or that sack of shit Chambers? I’ve told you a thousand times, you don’t have anything to worry about. Pete and I played golf yesterday, and he didn’t say a word to me about pulling out. We talked a lot about the delays. If he were nervous, I’d know.”

“But honey,” my mother pushed on, her voice soft and calculated, “what about Lance? Surely you don’t think this shopping center is worth putting our family in danger.”

My father’s voice bellowed so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear it. “Jesus, Ginny! If someone poisoned our dog it didn’t have anything to do with the shopping center. Maybe if you paid attention to something other than yourself, you’d realize that.” I didn’t hear my mother respond. I wondered if she was crying. Then I heard Daddy say, “Go on and get dressed. We gotta hurry up and get to this damn party so we can leave and get home.”

She sighed so loudly I could hear it. “If you say so, but you know you always have fun once you get there. Don’t be so silly.” Things went quiet. Then, just after she asked him to zip her dress, she said, “Honey, another thing: please don’t talk about the shopping center. I’d like to have just one nice evening without listening to a debate about ‘progress’”

“Stop, goddamn it, Ginny, not another goddamn word,” he bellowed.

I turned over and pulled my pillow over my head.

The next morning during breakfast, Daddy wasn’t at the dining room table. I thought he must still be in bed, which was something that never
happened except when they’d been to parties the night before. As usual, my mother reigned at the head of the table, drinking coffee and her fresh squeezed orange juice. There wasn’t another person in the world who could make such a big deal about fresh squeezed orange juice.

In the kitchen Ethel fixed a plate of poached eggs and toast and took it to my mother. “Tell the girls and Gordy to hurry up and get ready,” I heard her say. “I’m driving them to school this morning.”

Ethel relayed the message when she returned to the kitchen. Stuart groaned loudly. “They tied a big one on last night,” she said. “Did you hear ‘em?”

She slumped at the table, spooning cornflakes into her face as if she were shoveling sand into a bucket. Then her spoon clattered against the bowl. We heard my mother going upstairs to her room.

“I hate her,” Stuart said. “She’s so mean to him. I wish he would leave her for good and take me with him.”

Ethel shot back, “Ya know you don’ mean that, an’ don’ be callin’ yo’ mother ‘she,’ hear me? Miz Ginny
deserve
respect.”

“Why would that be? Because she hatched out a bunch of brats? ‘Cause all she knows how to do is screw?” Stuart sneered.

Gordy, Helen, and I exchanged shocked looks. I couldn’t imagine anyone talking to Ethel like that. I hunkered close to the table in case the fur really began to fly.

Ethel just stood there, eyes bulging. Then her mouth set firm. “You best be watchin’ ya mouth, young lady,” she thundered. “You ain’t too big that I can’t turn you over my knee still.”

“Go ahead and try,” Stuart said. “I’m
so
afraid. Hurry up, you guys. I don’t want to be late for school.”

Then she turned on me. “Stop sniveling, you little brat. Just shut up.”

“I didn’t…”

She slammed out of the kitchen.

Ethel let out a long, slow sigh and gave me a pat. “Don’ pay her no min’, honey,” she said. “Stuart jus’ done got up on tha wrong side of the bed this mornin’.”

Under his breath Gordy added, “And every other morning her whole life.” Then he said, “Ethel?”

“What you want, darlin’?”

“I was just wonderin’…They aren’t gonna get a divorce, are they?”

“Where you hear such a thang? Ain’t no cause fo’ you…”

“Gordy, Sallee, hurry up,” my mother called as she went out the front door.

In the car she seemed as jovial as Daddy usually was. She even started to sing about the bear going over the mountain. Stuart had gotten in the back seat, so Gordy had to sit up front. As we started down the driveway, Stuart said, “Would you
please
spare us the show?”

Time slowed and every sound amplified. I held my breath, afraid to disturb the air. No one said a word for two long, painful blocks. Then my mother casually asked, “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, dear?” From her tone I thought it might be safe to breathe again; but catching a glimpse of her face, I knew otherwise. I cut a sideways glance at Gordy. He too was frozen in fear, staring straight ahead, zombie like.

“Why are you so mean?” Stuart cried. “I heard him leave last night.”

I did a mental inventory of the driveway. We were in Daddy’s car. I hadn’t noticed if hers was there when we left.

“I heard you screaming at him that you had his keys.” Stuart was growing hysterical. She began to sob. “How can you be so, so hateful? Is everything just a show to you?”

Chapter 12

T
he last party I remember my mother having was on a cold, crisp Saturday a few weeks shy of Christmas. The trees in the yard were barren, but garlands and decorations brightened the house. My mother had decided to have
just a few
friends over for a holiday luncheon. As always, she was serving the yummiest things: tiny sandwiches cut into pretty shapes, aspic, cheese soufflé, and Waldorf salad with apples, raisins, and nuts.

Gordy, Helen, and I perched like so many birds in my hemlock tree by the driveway, chattering to each other as we watched the ladies arrive in their pretty hats and fur coats. As they bustled to the house, we giggled from the tree branches, hidden from sight.

“Gosh, I hope she doesn’t hit the tree,” Gordy hissed, throwing his hands up to protect his head in mock despair as one of the ladies maneuvered her huge Cadillac around the other cars in the drive. Every time she put on the brakes, Gordy would emit an
errch
and then
zroom
when she’d start forward again. Helen and I held on to the branch above us to keep from falling as we snorted and laughed, trying not to be heard. It felt good to laugh. There hadn’t been much to laugh about in a long time.

“It’s cold out here; let’s get something to eat,” Helen offered, just as the kitchen door opened. Ethel stuck her head out and gave one of her earsplitting hollers to summon us.

“Ya’ll get in here now. I gots to get ya cleaned up and fed before I can serve lunch!” No sooner had Ethel finished her complaint than we were racing each other up the back steps. Gordy
errched
and
vroomed
as
he steered his pretend car every which way but straight while Helen and I laughed until tears ran down out cheeks.

“Ya’ll stop actin’ the fool and wash up,” Ethel snapped. “I laid yo’ clothes out on yo’ beds. I want ya’ll to eat this here lunch and go’ne upstairs and put ‘em on when you finished eatin’. I ain’t gots time to be tellin’ ya’ll twice, ya hear?” Gordy and I both saw Ethel’s green splatter-ware cup in the kitchen sink. We looked at each other and our laughter stopped.

We knew better than to get crosswise with Ethel when she was drinking. So we sat right down at the table, ate our lunch, and left the kitchen without a word. Upstairs, as we changed into the clean clothes Ethel had lain out, Helen stomped her foot. “I hate it when she drinks,” she said. “Don’t you?”

No matter the occasion, my mother always looked dressed up to me. Her shoes and purses matched, and routinely she wore gloves. But somehow I was always surprised at how pretty she looked at her parties, this one in particular. I’d heard her complain to Ethel before guests began to arrive that in her condition she felt that she looked as big as a house. To me she looked beautiful. Her new maternity dress was navy blue with white polka dots. The shoes she wore were matching navy blue, with very high heels. They had little holes in them like my father’s business shoes.