Mattie's Call (5 page)

“Peyton Place?”

Mattie looked at Karen. “It was a book and a TV show, but when people use the phrase they mean a place where a lot of messiness happens.” Mattie touched Karen's hand as she picked her hair. “See, I didn't make you Google it.”

They laughed so hard they didn't see Kauthon standing in the doorway or hear him clearing his throat.

“Guess Comedy Central is in Room 187.”

Karen's head jerked at the sound of his voice. She motioned him to come in and pointed at the empty seat next to Mattie's bed. “Mr. Kauthon, Ms. Mattie was just telling me about an old TV show,
Peyton Place.”

Kauthon smiled and nodded. “Went downhill after Mia Farrow left. Even had Ruby Dee on there. You know it was good to see some of us on prime time.” He leaned back in his seat, pining for his younger days.

“How do you know all that about a show? Weren't you working?” Mattie semi-glanced at him, careful not to disrupt Karen's work. She'd never tell him how handsome he was. His gray suit fit him just right, and the blue-and-gray tie he wore accented his attire perfectly. His clean-shaven face and bald head lopped years off his appearance. The gleaming, silver hoop in his left ear was the only thing Mattie didn't like. Agatha and the other women called him Harry Belafonte. She agreed with their comparison.

“I worked, but my wife loved the show. Talked about the cast like they were old friends. She gardened, sewed, cooked, and loved her soaps.”

“I see,” said Mattie.

“After the war, I worked the highway, then the saw mill. I provided for my wife and daughter.”

Done with her task, Karen said, “Ms. Mattie, I have to go to Doc Jamison's room. Bed pan changes.”

Mattie held her arm. “Don't go.”

“Duty calls.” Karen gave her a sly smile and left the room.

Kauthon scooted close to Mattie. “You scared to be alone with me?” He chuckled and moved back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Kauthon Spence, I am no such a thing. I will pop you in the head with my cane if you bother me.”

“A woman with a little fight in her. I like that.”

“You need to worry about Agatha. If she comes by here and sees you, she'll get jealous and accuse us of doing something.”

“Agatha's what all the other women in here are to me. A friend.”

“Suit yourself.”

“She's no Ruby Dee.”

“What's Ruby Dee got to do with our conversation?”

Kauthon laid his hand over his heart before he shared his secret. “Ruby Dee used to make my nature rise.”

Mattie covered her ears. “I don't want to hear about your nature. It's probably gone.”

“Don't you believe I'm natureless for a minute.”

“You men are something else. You know that Viagra will give you a heart attack.”

“Everybody has to die from something.” He leaned forward in the chair, his expression more serious this time. “I came down to tell you goodbye.”

Shocked, Mattie waited for an explanation.

“My daughter, Francine, is coming from Connecticut tomorrow to pick me up. She spent the last year getting things together financially so she could take care of me. Even quit her job two weeks ago. She's good with money, though, like my late wife was.”

“Oh.”

Kauthon took Mattie's hand. “You seem upset. Did I say something wrong?”

“Seems like everybody's leaving. Emma. Now you.”

He caressed her hand. “I was coming by to ask if I could write you sometimes. I'll miss my Southern buddies, but I want to keep in touch. You made my days here a little easier, and I'm grateful to you.”

She blushed, unaccustomed to the heat flushing her face. She hadn't felt such heat since menopause, and that was eons ago. “Well, glad I could help.”

“Really, Mattie, I've watched you endure your children's absence. Your son seems to be the one who comes most often.”

She faced the window. “I bet you all talk about me behind my back, don't you?”

“No. Hell, most of us may as well be toys in misfit land. A weak bladder, expensive medication, and a little forgetfulness, and we get tossed in here. Most of us, anyway. I know I'm blessed to have my daughter looking after me, but I know everybody's not so lucky.”

“My time's almost up here too,” she muttered.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” Mattie opened a bottom drawer and retrieved her purse. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

Mattie gave Kauthon her phone. “Call my children to see if they're coming to the pageant tonight.”

“Why don't—” He amended his question. “What are their names? I know your son is Joshua, but I get your daughters' names mixed up.”

“Gabrielle and Alice. Scroll down the contacts to the first letters. I called the girls earlier in the week with no luck. Joshua said he was coming, though. It's close to start time and they haven't made it.”

He spied her message icon. “You have a text message.”

“Open it.”

He manipulated the device in his large hands and read,
“Running behind but have a big surprise for you. Love you. Josh.”

She beamed. “I pray he's here soon. They all need to get here soon.”

He left voice messages for Gabrielle and Alice. “You think they'll find it odd hearing a man's voice?”

“They know I can't stand that cell phone. Karen leaves messages for me all the time. I use my phone every blue moon.”

He stood. “Let's head on down to the rec room. I want a good seat.”

They headed to the recreation room, moseying past Agatha who stood outside her door. She smirked but didn't speak.

Kauthon grabbed Mattie's hand; she welcomed the gesture by gripping his hand tighter. Her children were nowhere to be found, but her friend was near. That was good enough for her.

7

M
attie half-watched the children's interpretive dance. Outfitted in sparkling red leotards, red stockings, and green tutus, five girls pranced around the rec room in sync, lifting their hands and moving to the rhythm of a familiar gospel song. Mattie eyed the door. In the fantasy she'd entertained since being seated, Joshua, Alice, and Gabrielle would slip in, take a seat next to her, and enjoy the scene. Kauthon, swept up in the performance, lifted hands in praise to the words being sung, oblivious to her wringing hands. Around the room sat mothers with sons and daughters, aunts, and uncles, enjoying the program and each other. Some of her hall mates were without relatives, but many were joined by their “adopted” kin, young men and women who volunteered at Grand Oak and visited the residents frequently. She'd eyed the door so long, she didn't realize the dance was over. Applause broke the trance the door held over her.

“Weren't the Honeysuckle Dancers marvelous?” said Nancy Ford. Each year the pageant was grander than the last. Nancy took pride in her title as activities director, and this year was the best yet.

Nancy also took the Ugly Sweater Contest too seriously. This year's getup was a red sweater dress with gold tassels around the collar and hem, and a 3-D Santa sewn in the middle of the dress with blinking lights in garland encircling his fat frame. Nancy had taken care to wear makeup and style her hair, usually kept in two flowing braids. The microphone stand had been adjusted earlier to accommodate her petite stature. She stood behind the stand and swabbed her face with a pink handkerchief.

“This is by far the hardest part of the service. Grand Oak Acres is a family, and when we lose a family member, we lose a link in our sturdy chain.”

Residents nodded. A round of whispers arose as volunteers took their place behind a decorated oblong table. Mattie counted the unlit candles on the table, eighteen in all. Soft music flowed from a mounted projector as the words
In Memory
flashed across the screen amid a background of white Calla Lilies. She'd forgotten about the
In Memory
phase of the program. Emma's voice rang out in her ear: “they'd better not put no ugly picture of me on that screen.” Her throat caught as she shook Emma's voice away. This would be the first year she sat through the ceremony without her crony.

Nancy recited their names alphabetically as a candle was lit for each person. Kauthon held her hand when Emma's face emerged. A Gullah Festival photo depicting Emma dancing with a blue ball of cotton candy had been chosen. She leaned over to Kauthon. “Excuse me, please.”

She gathered her purse and went to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, Emma's image renewing her sense of urgency. Grand Oak had been good to her, better than two of her three children, but it wasn't home. She took a few deep breaths, pulled her phone from her purse, and dialed Gabrielle first.

“Gigi, the program is ending soon. Please come join me. I hoped you talked to Alice and Joshua about the rotation. I want to come home again.”

She ended the call and dialed Alice's home number. Beryl had forbidden her to have a cell phone. He'd found the one she'd purchased for Alice and handed it to the trash men on pick-up day. The phone and a few other offenses caused Beryl to toss her from their home. The phone rang three times before Beryl, groggy with an edge of anger in his tone, answered, “Parker residence. How may I help you?”

“It's Ms. Mattie, Beryl. May I please speak to Alice?”

“She's in bed. I'll have her call you tomorrow.”

“It's really important. I need to tell her something.”

“Ms. Mattie, her bedtime is at nine. She has work in the morning and I refuse to disturb her.”

She ended the call without saying goodbye. She knew Joshua would be there; probably too late. She checked her voicemails in anticipation of hearing her children's voices. Joshua's text message helped, but it wasn't his voice. She rubbed the back of her neck and rejoined Kauthon in the rec room.

“I was about to come after you. I figured the tribute would be hard on you.”

“Since Emma passed, I feel like I'm here, but I'm gone.”

“Time'll heal it.”

“Who said I had a lot of time left?”

“Don't say that.”

“That's easy for you to say. Come tomorrow you'll be in Connecticut with your daughter. It's almost Christmas and my children haven't brought me anything, not even a fruitcake.”

Kauthon chuckled, asked her, “Do you really want one?”

They both laughed. They watched as the El Bethel Senior Choir assembled their instruments. The troop closed out the program every year with special requests from the residents. She scribbled “Carol of The Bells” on one of the request slips Nancy distributed two weeks ago. Daniel played a stirring rendition of the song every Christmas until arthritis wouldn't allow him. She glanced at her watch again and settled back in her seat. Kauthon swayed to the songs, his feet tapping with the drummer's rhythm. When the last song ended, everyone stood to their feet with thunderous applause.

Nancy stood behind the microphone stand again, her shoulders moving to the instrumental accompaniment from the band. “This concludes our pageant for the year. El Bethel's Senior Choir outdid themselves this year.” She turned sideways and pointed at them as each member nodded with glee at the acknowledgment. “Please fellowship with them and enjoy the refreshments we've provided.”

Kauthon rose, stretched, and shook his pant legs free. “I'm not much for all this mingling. I need my traveling rest.” He extended his left hand and helped Mattie to her feet. “I'll walk you back to your room.”

She stood as well but swatted his hand. “I
am
in a mingling mood. I plan to stick around a little while longer. You go on back to your room. I'll swing by there when I'm done.”

He tipped his hat to her and gently kneaded her shoulder. “I had a really good time.”

After he reached the door, Mattie uttered under her breath, “maybe in another lifetime.” As he walked away, her heartrate quickened as she touched her right wrist.
Shackle free.
Cathy's Famous Punch was calling her name. She approached the refreshment table as Agatha chatted with Corneila and Harriet.

“They sang better this year. I know it was because of the tenor up front,” said Agatha. She pulled her mink stole closer and winked at him.

Corneila and Harriet exchanged glances.

“Didn't you notice how he looked at me?”

“I didn't notice,” said Harriet, daintily adding finger sandwiches and fruit to her plate.

“Well, he did. I don't see a ring on his finger, either. Maybe he's a widower.”

Mattie couldn't resist the urge to stir the gossip pot. She ladled punch and said, “He'd probably be perfect for you now that Kauthon's leaving.”

“Leaving?” Corneila, Harriet, and Agatha spoke in unison.