Slow Way Home (32 page)

“The lady with hairlike daisies,” I said.

They laughed at the same time, and I felt even freer.

Millicent tapped my shoulder. “She’s one of your biggest fans. Senator Strickland just jumped at the chance to have you stay with her.”

Nairobi cut her eyes towards Millicent. “Brandon, as soon as we learned what had happened, I wanted to take you in myself . . .”

“But it was determined . . .” Millicent raised her eyebrows.

“But it was determined,” Nairobi continued, “that it would be best if you stayed with another party. I contacted Senator Strickland and, well, that’s when she stepped forward.” Nairobi bent down towards me.

Her long necklace of beads twirled around in circles. “I’m sharing these things so that you will know just how many people want you.”

All the way to the new place, I held on to Nairobi’s words as tight as I’d hold a fistful of lightning bugs.

Senator Strickland lived in a part of Raleigh that I thought only existed on TV. The cream-colored blocks of her tall house matched the suit she was wearing. She stood by a hedge cut into the shape of a golf ball. The brass lion’s head on the door looked down at her like he would scalp her yellow hair any minute.

A woman with a black uniform that was filled out at every angle stood in the background wiping her hands on a dishrag.

Nairobi and Millicent got out of the car at the same time, but all I could do was sit there and look at the fountain in the middle of the driveway. It was only when Nairobi opened the car door that I slinked out.

“Hello, hello,” Senator Strickland said. “You remember me now, don’t you?” She batted her long eyelashes and bent down so low I could see a mole on her chest. When she hugged me, I felt a roll of fat clinging to the side of her skirt.

Senator Strickland motioned towards the door and the woman
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wiping her hands stepped forward. “This is Esther. She’s been with me for, oh Lord, how long now, Esther?”

“Since time began, I suppose.” Esther’s nasal words made me think she must’ve been swimming in the water fountain. Her chin pointed forward, and she sniffed when she spoke.

Senator Strickland smiled big enough for both of them. “We’re just a little family. And we’re just pleased as punch to have you with us.”

When we went inside, I remembered the day my school visited the governor’s mansion. Her house looked even bigger and caused my insides to tense up. I cautioned myself not to touch anything for fear of breaking it and being sent back to the torture of reading ink splashes.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled as if they were Senator Strickland’s own private star collection. The front room was filled with white furniture, flowers, and paintings of Chinese people.

“Welcome to my sanctuary. My sunroom,” she said. The sofa we sat on was covered with some kind of flower print. The material made her hair look so yellow that I figured she was supposed to be the sun part of the room.

She scooted close and the sweet-smelling perfume helped to melt away the tension. “Now sweetheart, you just make yourself right at home. Now, I thought one thing that might make you feel better about all this is having you call me some pet name. You know a name of endearment. I got to thinking about it this morning and came up with one.” She opened her eyes so big I could see the red lines that zigzagged around blue circles. “Now before I tell you, I just want you to know that I don’t have any use for that Miss business. That’s a name fitting for old ladies, and I’m hardly old. Anyway, the name I came up with is Aunty Gina. Do you like it?”

By the way she smiled and nodded her head all at the same time, I figured there were no other options. Besides, I was still trying to figure out why she thought she was young. Her hair was bright and the skin on her face was tight, but the brown spots and raised veins on her hands could have fit on Nana easy.

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She hugged me again and this time patted my head. “Oh, you and Aunty Gina are going to have the best time.”

Walking through the stores with Aunty Gina was like walking in a parade. Every step we made there were people who knew her by name.

And she never paid for a single thing. “Just put it on my account will be fine,” was her standard response.

At Belk’s department store two salesladies tried to help me and Aunty Gina both at the same time. They fluttered around us like birds protecting their young. By the time we had stopped for lunch at the cafeteria, the boxes and bags we carried seemed fitting for a real-life Santa Claus. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering how this would all work. I decided I’d treat the shoes, shirts, and pants with the same extra care I was giving every other item in her house. If Nana and Poppy had to pay her back for my new clothes, we could just return everything to the stores in good condition.

Between bites of chicken salad, Aunty Gina kept one eye on the people who walked by and one eye on me. Every chance she got, she pulled someone over and introduced me as her new son. After the third time, reading the facial expressions became a game. The eyes of the ladies would widen, and then they’d flash a glance towards me.

Aunty Gina would wink at them, and then they’d nod. One lady with bright red hair that flipped up like permanent wings was particularly curious.

“Brandon, this is one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Raymond McMasters.” Aunty Gina held on to the edge of the woman’s sleeve like she was a misbehaving child.

“Nice to meet you, young man. Are you a nephew? Oh, is this one of Kenton’s boys? How are they?”

“No, no, but Kenton’s fine. Brandon is my new son. He arrived yesterday.”

Mrs. McMasters raised her drawn-on eyebrows to the edge of the red bangs. Her saggy eyes lifted for a second. “Oh, I see. Well, young
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man, you’re in fine company.” With a smile and a bat of the eye, she turned to Aunty Gina. “Now Gina, with motherhood and all, are you still able to meet for bridge next week.”

“I’m still planning on it. That governor keeps talking about a special session, but I just hope to goodness he’ll come to his senses.”

Mrs. McMasters returned to her table. Soon the other three ladies were turning around. They all smiled in that upside-down way that I hated.

“My gracious, you’re already on your dessert. You’ve got to learn to slow down. Be kinder to your digestive system. By the looks of it, you like banana pudding as much as I do,” Aunty Gina said.

“It’s pretty good, but I think my Nana makes . . .” Looking up at her, I tried to gauge whether mentioning the names of my real family was allowed.

Aunty Gina patted my hand. “It’s hard to be separated from loved ones. My late husband, Preston, was my life for so long. But we have memories now don’t we?”

I refused to let her think I was counting Nana and Poppy and even Mama for that matter as dead. “I’ve never had nobody in my family die.”

“It leaves a hole in your heart, but somehow time really is the best medicine. And staying busy helps, of course. Right before Preston passed on, he talked to me about running for his seat in the state Senate.” She kept squeezing the napkin until it became a round circle.

“He was a senator too?”

“Oh, was he ever. The best you could know. The party had talked to him about running for governor and then came the cancer. That’s when I knew that if he wanted me to run, I had to do it. I didn’t have any use for politics, and between you and me I still don’t. But if Preston asked me to do anything, I did it.”

The server appeared out of nowhere. When the ice and tea began to pour into Aunty Gina’s glass, she flinched.

“Anyway, enough about such dreary subjects. Now, Mr. Brandon, I expect we need to find you a suit fitting for church.”

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Before we went to church the first time, I stood in front of the long mirror in my bedroom and wondered who I was. The bow tie had been tied by Esther, and my new black shoes shined to the point of sparkling. It’s just like being a guest star on a TV show, I tried to convince myself. Even so, insecurity was my closest companion on that ride to church. Esther drove the big car while Aunty Gina sat in the passenger seat putting on lipstick. She kept chirping about how handsome I looked while fancy homes and big trees drifted by us.

Looking up, I saw the eyes of judgment. Esther’s gray eyebrows and almond-shaped eyes were framed in the rearview mirror. For a second I thought she was about to ask me a question, but then her eyes darted away.

When we arrived at the Episcopal church, I played the role and stayed right next to Aunty Gina. It gave her the opportunity to mother me with her introductions, and it gave me an excuse not to sit by Esther. During the service I looked around at the rows of balding heads and wide hats all the while wondering what Sister Delores would say about such a fancy place. I think she might have liked how everybody knelt down on the padded footrest and prayed. We got up and down so many times saying all kind of prayers that I wondered how women as old as Aunty Gina and Esther held out. I could just hear Nana, “All that bending is tearing my knees to pieces.” With my hands clasped and knees bent on the soft pad, I almost laughed right out loud. Then wondering what God would think about me laughing while I was supposed to be talking to Him, I bit my tongue.

Opening one eye, I looked up at the minister who stood on a special little stage surrounded by winding stairs. A ray of purple light from the stained-glassed window streaked across his bald spot. An air conditioner caused his robe to sway in a way that made me think he could soar above us. He was a powerful giant, and all of the sudden I wanted to stand right up there with him. I’d wave to Aunty Gina and stick my tongue out at Esther. Probably tell her she might go to hell
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for staring at me all the time. Remembering how Sister Delores talked about Jesus telling people they should visit the prisons, I’d stand up there and ask everybody to help me set Nana and Poppy free. I might even tell them about Mama and ask for a special prayer. But before I could move, it was time to kneel back down and pray again.

When the minister began to talk about waiting on God, my attention drifted to the stained-glass windows and high ceilings. Organ pipes stretched above the altar and at the very top hung a gold cruci-fix. From where I sat, Jesus looked pitiful hanging on that cross with thorns on his head. He was much skinnier than the Jesus I had seen.

Looking up at Him, all I could think about were the words Mama had shared before she set out for her destiny. “Every day we got a choice to be pitiful or powerful.”

After the service Aunty Gina stood under a magnolia tree and fanned herself with the church bulletin while Esther pulled the car around. All different sizes of women came by to kiss her cheek and pat my head. Just as we were getting into the car, a man with square glasses with gold frames came towards us. He stepped high like a horse and waved a paper in the air. Seeing him wear the same pokka-dotted bow tie I had on made me want to jump in the car.

“Hold on, Gina.”

Aunty Gina laughed the same way I’d seen my cousin Mary Madonna do in beauty pageants. “Jackson. You’re going to have a heatstroke carrying on so.”

“Have you seen the paper this morning?”

“Do you ever stop with all your foolishness? Right here at church, mind you.”

The man popped the paper open and pointed at one of the stories. “He is doing his best to stop that session. I went over this with him just yesterday, and he told me he would not interfere. Now look here.”

“Jackson, he is the Senate president. There are a few decisions the man can make without consulting you. Besides, as I told you before, whatever he wants to do is fine with me. I’m not bucking him.”

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The man shook his head. “Gina, I’m telling you right now, we’re in a fix. If we lined them up, we’d have cases stretching from here to Charlotte. We’re bogged down. That courthouse annex best get funded—now this is our best shot.”

Aunty Gina fanned and pulled me closer all at the same time.

“Enough of such talk on Sunday. Brandon, I want you to meet one of my oldest friends, Judge Jackson Avery. Judge Jackson is one of the finest superior court judges in the state of North Carolina.”

“You can only flatter for just so long.” The judge smiled at Aunty Gina before looking at me. “Pleased to know you. Put it there, young man.” His wide hand stretched down, and all I could think of was the Santa Claus–looking judge that caused Nana and Poppy to go to jail.

“Well go on, honey. Don’t be bashful. Go on and shake his hand.”

As I stuck my palm in his, I looked down. An edge of cement had cracked away from the street drain. I could hear Aunty Gina and Judge Jackson chuckle. Their voices were in time with the organ music that spilled from the church doors. Kicking a chipped piece of concrete, I wanted to slide down the drain with it. No matter what Aunty Gina said, in my book judges were the same as government women with clipboards who show up at your house to cause problems but never solve anything.

After Sunday lunch the house grew still. Chimes from the clocks and creaks from settling floors were the only sounds I heard. Aunty Gina and Esther had settled in for their afternoon naps. They walked up to their bedrooms at the same time, but went to opposite ends of the house. Aunty Gina took the main staircase with its marbled steps, while Esther walked up the pine stairs tucked in the kitchen corner.

The main staircase swept down into the foyer. One of those big chandeliers hung right in the middle. Rubbing the slick marble railing, I walked up the stairs twice before getting up my courage. A whistling snore came from the end of the house where Esther slept. Straddling the marble railing, I was just about to slide down when a small door down below caught my eye. It was as tall as me and tucked in the space between the end of the stairs and the downstairs bathroom.

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