Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (35 page)

telling hilarious stories about the deceased.

At four o’clock on the day of Tipa’s wake, Livvie lined us

up in the kitchen, fussed over our appearance and wet-combed

Timmy’s and Henry’s cowlicks into obedience. She tucked in

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their shirts, pressed rosaries into their hands and straightened

their neckties.Then she gave us all a good lecture on protocol.

“All right. ’Eah me good. I ain’t gone be hearing no stories

about y’all carrying on at the funeral home, am I? Y’all be dig-

nify and keep yourself straight! Remember, this is for y’all’s

granddaddy, and every eye gone be on he grandchildren, watch-

ing to see iffin y’all behaving! Iffin y’all feels like crying, try to

hold on till y’all get home.Then y’all come to me and we let it

all go. Iffin y’all don’t want look, don’t do him. Just stare over

the casket like Livvie showed y’all. Now, y’all ready?”

As far as the boys were concerned, she may as well have

been talking to a pile of lumber, because within five minutes of

arriving at the funeral home, they had their shirttails flying, and

their sweaty faces were overheated and red. The boys ran the

halls with the other children who were there. The poor man

who ran the place, Mr. Wilbur, I think, kept asking them to

quiet down, to respect the dead, but he didn’t know who he

was dealing with. The boys never even came in the viewing

room, which was freezing cold to keep Tipa from melting, I

figured.

I was in the back of the room with Maggie, talking to

Mr. Struthers and half of the Island, just yakking my head off

about school and things like that, enjoying the macabre celebrity

that death brought, when I spotted Mrs. Alice Simpson signing

the “Book of the Dead” at the door. She looked downright

respectable, in a blazer and skirt, unlike anything I’d ever seen

her in.

Every head turned when she came in, and she refused to

make eye contact with anyone and she went directly to my

mother’s side.

I could hear the old guard sucking their breath in. I knew

that if somebody didn’t exhale soon every flower in the room

would be wilted. I wasn’t about to miss one bit of this, so I fol-

lowed on her heels.

Mrs. Simpson knelt by my mother.

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“MC, your daddy was such a nice man,” she said. “I’m so

sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Alice.Thank you for coming.”

“My daddy died when I was sixteen. Suicide.”

Silence from Momma.

“You’ve been very lucky to have had your daddy for so

long,” Alice said, her face starting to quiver.

“You’re right, yes, you’re right.”

“My momma left my little brother and me the next year

and I never saw her again.Then my brother died in Vietnam last

year.”

Finally, my mother looked at her square in the face.

“Alice! I never knew that. I’m so sorry.”

To the complete astonishment of the entire universe, Momma

and Alice started hugging each other and the next thing you knew,

Momma invited her over later for a drink. Holy moly, I thought,

holy moly. Sullivan’s Island would be there in droves tonight when

this got around. Poor Mrs. Simpson.Who knew?

Alice stood up, squeezed my mother’s hand, blotted the cor-

ners of her eyes with a tissue and walked out.

The din in the room gradually grew back to such a level

that you’d have thought they
would
wake up Tipa. The Knights

of Columbus honor guards had arrived. It was the parting of the

Red Sea as the crowd allowed them in. Six men wearing solemn

black tuxedos, chapeaux with enormous plumage (which looked

to me like Napoleon’s hat), capes, gloves and swords approached

the casket. I could almost hear my own heartbeat it was so quiet.

I had worked my way to the back of the room. I wasn’t too

thrilled about getting stuck next to the casket with Tipa in it

and my mother acting like the leading actress from the
Night of

the Living Dead
. Momma seemed to be luxuriating in her bath

of tears, tremors and grief, her chair faced away from the casket,

as she had adamantly refused to look at her father’s corpse.

I followed the lead of the others as they made the Sign of

the Cross and began to say the rosary. It seemed like we said two

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thousand Hail Marys and then it was over. The honor guard

filed out and people began saying good night to Momma and

Grandma Sophie.

“Now, MC honey, if there’s anything we can do, just call me,

okay?”

“Mrs. Asalit, I knew Tipa all my life. I’m gonna miss him.

Such a lovely man.”

“Thank you.Thank you for coming.”

The crowd had dwindled down to the twenty or thirty

diehards who would no doubt follow us home. I hoped there was

a doctor or a bartender among them because Momma needed a

shot of something.

“Time to go, MC,” my father said to my mother. Her face

showed total bewilderment. “Do you want to say good-bye to

your daddy? I’ll help you, MC, come on, I’ll stand with you.”

It was the single most decent thing I’d ever seen my father

do. He knew that Momma couldn’t accept her father’s death, but

if she’d see it, maybe it would help her come to terms with it.

He helped her to her feet and she was shaking all over. I

held my breath as she turned. She knelt on the white leather

prie-dieu and Daddy stood behind her. My mother began to

weep and wail like nothing I’d ever heard. I could see that

Grandma Sophie was furious. Momma just kept going on and

on, weeping like a baby. It was horrible and endless. Finally, she

slowed to gulping sobs and I realized I was crying too. I looked

around to find Maggie,Timmy and Henry, and all of them were

crying.The remaining guests waited in sympathy at a distance.

Grandma Sophie stood up from her chair and went to

Momma’s side.“It’s time to go now, Marie Catherine,” she said,

not very nicely.

Daddy stepped to Momma’s other side and together they

helped her get up. Momma leaned over the casket and kissed

her father tenderly on the forehead.

“Good-bye, Daddy,” she said.

Daddy put his arm around her and led her out, with

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Grandma Sophie on his other arm. She’ll never get over this, I

thought, never. I was getting plenty upset.

“Can you believe Mrs. Simpson showed up?” Maggie whis-

pered to me on the way home in Aunt Carol and Uncle Louis’s

car. “Everybody said she had some nerve coming in there like

she belonged with decent people.”

“Shut up, Maggie,” I said, loud enough for the grown-ups to

hear me,“you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

No one said a word after that. We rode over the bridge in

silence.

Mo r n i n g l i g h t b ro u g h t the sound of Livvie’ s voice raised in

yet another song I’d never heard. From down in the yard the deep

velvety sound grew like the glow of a warm fire as she approached

the house.

“Free at last! Free at last!

Thank Gawd I free at last!

Way down yonder in the graveyard walk,

gone meet my Jesus and we gone talk,

On my knees when the light pass by,

thought my soul would rise and fly!”

I hurried out of bed, grabbed a robe and checked the alarm

clock. Seven-thirty. She was very early. When I got to the

kitchen I found her decked out in what I imagined to be her

Sunday best, including a felt hat with a feather on the side.

“Morning, Miss Susan. Everybody still sleeping?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Gosh, Livvie, you look so nice! You’re so

early!”

“Yeah, chile. What you think, that I ain’t got no nice

clothes? Humph.”

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“Good thing I slice up all that ham yesterday,” she said.

“Now we all organized for after the cemetery. Had my nephew

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drive me today. Figure this family gone need all the hands they

can get today.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking in the cabinet for the corn flakes. I

dumped some in a bowl and listened to her go on.

“Yeah, Gawd, Mr.Tipa done rise and fly.You know, I figure

it ain’t so bad to die.When I go I get to be with my Nelson and

be with Jesus, my king. Humph, someday this old woman gone

get she reward for all the dishes she wash for the white people.

Shuh, so many dish!”

I was crunching away at spoonfuls of banana and cereal.

God only knew what the day would bring. This was my first

funeral.

“No, sir, got to put on my good church clothes and help this

family,” Livvie continued. “They got trouble today. I think,

everybody in this house might be crazy but I sure do love y’all

children.”

“I love you too, Livvie.This whole family would go to hell

in a handbasket if it weren’t for you.”

“True enough. When I think back on the wake yesterday I

says to myself, Livvie? There ain’t nothing wrong with them

children, it’s them grown-ups. Did you see your grandmomma

all dressed up and talking like she ain’t got nothing wrong with

her? Well, I tells you a little something, she ain’t got nothing

wrong.We can’t be catering to her iffin we want her to get back

to living.Your momma either. Shuh! No, sir, no more catering.”

“You’re right,” I said.

“Yeah, Gawd, old Mr.Tipa done rise up and fly!”

Over the next few minutes, the Island Gamble came alive

with people coming downstairs. Livvie was scrambling a dozen

eggs with chopped ham and onions. She had the apron on over

her dress and her hat was still on too. Coffee was perking, dishes

rattled and the day began.

Daddy, Timmy and Henry each took a plate from her and

went to the porch to eat.The kitchen table and the dining room

table were still covered in cakes and platters. Uncle Louis and

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237

Aunt Carol showed up like they had a reservation for two and

Livvie turned to greet them.

“Morning!” she said.“Y’all want some coffee?”

Aunt Carol sized up Livvie in her dress and hat and said,

“Why, Livvie. Are you going somewhere?”

“Sure enough, I figure that Miss MC gone be needing a

hand with them twins in the church so I put on my best dress

for Mr.Tipa,” she said.“I stay at home with the babies last night,

but today I gone pay my respect.”

“Really?” Aunt Carol said, as though the word had five

syllables.

“I’m sure my sister will appreciate it,” Uncle Louis said, and

tried to change the subject.“Where’s my brother-in-law?”

“He gone to the porch with the boys to eat. Y’all want

some eggs?”

“No, thanks, come on, Carol,” he said and left the room with

her in tow.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Maggie said.

Silence.

“Aunt Carol stuffs her bra,” I said to Livvie.

Another silence.

“She does. And you should see how she acts around

Mr. Struthers. She talks to him like they’re naked.” It was the

best I had to offer.

I saw Livvie’s shoulders shaking and thought she was crying.

To my complete surprise, she turned to me laughing, slapping

her thighs.The most dignified woman I knew dissolved into an

old country girl when she laughed.

“Honey chile, when a body been colored as long as me, you

get used to all kind of fool. I know I shouldn’t gossip with you,

but what you think? Think she trying to set all the cock to

crowing in the church today? Oh, Lawsy, chile, that woman ain’t

nothing but goat-meat buckra! Buckra is low-class white folks,

honey, and she don’t bother me! I gone to feed and dress them

babies now.We gots to get a move on today.”

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“I’ll come help you,” I said. I got two bottles from the

refrigerator.“I’ll warm these up and be there in a minute.”

“Thanks, Susan.”

While I waited for the water to simmer in the pot, warming

the formula for my little sisters, I thought about my aunt.What

a sorry-ass excuse of a woman she was. I could tell she stuffed

her bra by the way she moved. I tested the milk on my arm,

decided it was warm enough and went to find Livvie. I followed

the sound of her voice to Momma’s room and bumped smack-

dab into them arguing.

“But Livvie! You’re . . . you’re not Catholic! You want to

come to my church?”

“You mean I’m colored.”

“Well, yes. I mean, I don’t want you to be embarrassed, that’s

all,” Momma said.

“You mean
you
don’t want to be embarrassed. You worry

what people gone say, right?”

“Livvie!” Momma said.

“Well, they might say that Gawd made my skin and He

knows what He’s doing, that’s what! Miss MC, I quit. I gone work

for today, but that’s all. I sorry for you today, but I can’t be work-

ing no more for somebody who don’t welcome me in Gawd’s

house. Jesus died for everyone, not just you.”