The Land of Mango Sunsets (20 page)

She called Harrison’s cell phone and gave him a grocery list. I could hear him laughing through the phone from across the room. He thought it was really hilarious when she asked for a bag of Oreos and a pint of Chunky Monkey.

“Well, we may as well go the whole way to hell, Harrison!”

As she hung up she looked at me and said again, “Did we have fun
fishing? Sure. Then Liz and I went for a walk on the beach while Harrison cleaned up the boat. Let me tell you this. There’s a lot about Liz Harper you don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“How about a cup of tea?”

“Sounds good.”

Mother put the kettle on to boil and I brought mugs and spoons to the counter. When Miss Josie suggested tea out of the blue, a considerable block of time might follow the invitation, so I settled on a bar stool and told myself to get comfortable. When the tea was brewed and I had stirred a spoon of clover honey into my mug, Mother began to talk.

“Miss Mellie, this is not something that should be repeated to anyone without Liz’s permission. We were talking about your childhood here and she said something like, boy, I’d give a lot if I could say I grew up like Mellie! Then here came the saga. I have to tell you that I was appalled and heartbroken at the same time. But what’s really peculiar is that Liz told it all to me as though she was describing any old memory. Her tone of voice was devoid of any emotion, as though all these horrible things had all happened to someone else.”

“Good heavens, Mother, what did she tell you?”

“Well, for starters, when Liz was just a little girl, her own father abused her.”

“What do you mean
abused
? Do you mean he had actual sex with her?”

“No. He used to come into her bedroom at night and touch her inappropriately.”

“That is completely disgusting. Didn’t she tell her mother? Another adult?”

“Yes, but no one believed her. But she said she noticed that her mother began drinking and then drinking heavily and taking pills to calm her nerves, which to my mind meant her mother knew it was all true and did
nothing about it. When Liz went crying to her grandmother she called Liz a liar and beat her with a belt.”

“Oh, Mother. Oh, that poor child. I presume this was her father’s mother, protecting her disgusting son?”

“Naturally. She lived with them on their little farm outside of Birmingham in the country. Old Granny probably thought that if her son got kicked out, she herself would have nowhere to go. So she accused Liz of doing all kinds of things and Liz’s mother believed the grandmother. She would say things like Liz stole money from her purse or that Liz broke something that in fact her grandmother had broken. Or that she was sassy.”

“What is the matter with people? This world is so filled with evil.”

“Well, sometimes it sure looks like the devil is winning, doesn’t it? Anyway, eventually her grandmother died and her father left, but only after Liz’s mother actually caught him coaxing Liz into an obscene act.”

“How obscene?”

“I didn’t ask for details, but it was obscene enough for Liz’s mother to finally throw the Satan out and divorce him. After that, Liz’s mother supported them by working double shifts at a grocery store. She eventually remarried when Liz was about eighteen.”

“And he was a nice man, I hope?”

“No. He was not. Liz began attending some small local college and she still lived at home because there was no money for her to board in a dormitory. Very quickly into her mother’s new marriage, this joker, his name is Ed, I think, he starts giving Liz the eye. Liz and her mother fought about it like two cats in a bag and it became clear that Liz had to leave.”

“Why? After what she knew about her father, shouldn’t her mother have believed her? Shouldn’t Ed have left? Press some kind of charges? Get the creep locked up?”

“Of course he should have been locked up. He should have been shot!
But Liz’s mother didn’t want to believe Liz’s side of the story and, in fact, accused Liz of trying to come between her and Ed.”

“I’m sorry. That’s just crazy. If I were Liz I wouldn’t have taken that.”

“Well, Miriam, Liz knew that her mother’s marriage was all her mother thought she had.”

“Basically she chose this creep over her daughter?”

“Yes, you could put it that way. These are uneducated, simple people who don’t have money and don’t understand that they have other options. It happens every day.”

“But not just with poor people, Mother. I mean, we both know abusive relationships happen everywhere. At every level of society. It’s horrible.”

“True enough. But Liz said she just looked at her mother’s swollen ankles night after night and at how tired and worn out her mother was, and she couldn’t stand it anymore. As long as she remained at home, she was a financial burden to her mother and a threat to her marriage. Liz had two options. To stay, which was intolerable. Or, Liz could leave Alabama, borrow money, complete her education somewhere else, and try not to look back.”

“Good grief. If I were Liz I would hate my mother’s guts! And my father’s! And Ed’s!”

“She probably does. But you have to understand that Liz probably felt some kind of guilt, too.”

“For what?”

“Do you want a piece of pie?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, I’m going to have some. Because victims always feel guilty.” She sliced a piece of an organic apple tart from Whole Foods and put it on a plate. “The perpetrator tells the victim something like, you know, if you tell, you’ll be in big trouble, so it continues. How would a twelve-year-old know that it’s a trap? Or even a teenager? And telling did her no good.”

“No, I know you’re right. That’s some horrible predicament for a young girl. I mean, could
you
just bail out and not look back? I couldn’t. Could you?”

“Heavens, no! But you have to imagine that her feelings about her mother are terribly conflicted and probably that warehouse of resentment is the source of how she found the strength to leave.”

“Yeah. Sheer hate would have propelled me out of there! You know, she’s never said a word about it. I’ll be darned. So what in the world did she do?”

“She had a friend from school who had a widowed aunt in New York. In exchange for keeping her house clean and running errands, Liz was able to stay there and attend night school at SUNY Purchase and finish her degree. Then she moved to the city, and I think you know the rest.”

“I had no idea. Boy, she’s some tenacious fighter, isn’t she? I wonder what happened to her stepfather and her mother? Does she speak to them?
I
sure wouldn’t.”

“Not a word. Her stepfather was and probably still is a horrible person, but he’s all Liz’s mother has. In other ways Liz understands that Ed is reasonably good to her mother—doesn’t drink or gamble or anything like that. And he brings home a paycheck.”

“Oh. Let’s just lower our expectations one more time. Coming in on the heels of a pedophile father, he just tried to take sexual advantage of his stepdaughter and ruin her mental health for the rest of her life, that’s all.”

“And we think we have problems.”

“We have no problems. None at all. I mean, this sure explains why she was fooling around with a man so much older than her.”

“Miriam Elizabeth? I gave up practicing psychology without a license a long time ago and suggest you do the same. Now, would you like some of this pie or not? Or a little lunch?”

“Are you serious? Who could eat after a story like that?”

“You have to eat to keep up your strength for the rest of the day.”
Mother got up and inspected the contents of the refrigerator. “There’s a little soup here and enough chicken for a sandwich to split. More tea?”

“Sure. Okay. Whatever makes you happy, Mother, is fine with me. Poor Liz!” I turned up the gas under the kettle and got some more tea from the cabinet. “So can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Do want mayonnaise?”

“Just a little. When’s the last time you had a physical? You’re looking a little thin to me and a little drawn.”

Mother started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I had a physical six months ago and you don’t have to worry about me! The reason I’m losing weight is going to make you laugh. Do you want toast?”

“Plain bread is fine. What?”

“Harrison and I are taking tango lessons! Remember the last time you were here and we talked about the things we wanted to do that we had not? And I said—”

“That you wanted to take tango lessons! Fabulous! Do you love it?”

“I adore it! Harrison is the most wonderful partner—you’d never believe how light he is on his feet! Now, put this soup in the microwave for me.”

“In a perfectly green world you wouldn’t use a microwave, you know.”

“If it was solar-powered, I would.”

“I want to see you tango with Harrison. I mean, I have to see this.”

“You will at the wedding! I can hardly wait!”

She put my half of the sandwich on a salad plate in front of me.

“Thanks. So did I tell you that Manny is coming to be my date and that I asked Dan and Nan to stay with me with the children?”

“Manny said he would come to New York?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Seems like a big step, but what do I know about the dating world? What about Kevin?”

Was she saying she was not dating Harrison or that she was in a committed relationship with him and just didn’t get dating around?

“He’ll be Liz’s date. Don’t you think?”

“I guess.” The microwave chimed. “Stir that thing, sweetheart, and give it another minute. Seems like you should warn him, though. Now tell me about Dan and Nan.”

“Dan? Talking to him is like talking to a robot. Apparently he and Nan are still miffed with me.”

“About the children’s names?”

“Yes.”

The microwave pinged again and I carefully removed the hot bowl of soup. It smelled wonderful. I ladled it into two mugs and put them on the counter with our plates.

“Bon appétit!
Well, for once I agree with you. This needs salt.” She reached for the shaker, sprinkled her soup liberally, and continued. “If you want to change your own name to something stupid, that’s your business. But to hang a name on a child that is going to give them endless taunting? Isn’t it hard enough to be a child today?”

“Well, they’re supposed to call me back and they haven’t so far. Who knows? Maybe little M.F. and Indy May will place the calls themselves. Goodness. I can’t stop thinking about Liz. That poor girl.”

“It’s the most heinous sin of all. To rob a child of their innocence. To steal their trust? Absolutely unforgivable.”

“Well, I won’t say a word. I’ll let her bring it up.”

A few minutes later, the sliding door opened and Liz stepped through. She brought the blue light of late afternoon with her, streaming through the clouds and across the porch like prisms. Harrison stepped in behind her with three bags of groceries in each arm, and testosterone filled the air. I noticed the sounds of birds singing and the rustle of Mother’s palmettos.

While Mother had revealed Liz’s terrible truths over our simple lunch, my mind had been in that dark and frightening place of suspended reality. Now that they were home, Harrison and Liz, the real world, the lovely world, began to turn again. It was only Mother and I who truly belonged to each other, but it was clear that Liz’s survival depended on our support. Somehow, as much as Harrison seemed to give Mother’s life structure and joy, just being in any part of his orbit gave me a kind of reassurance that I never knew I needed so badly. I was very far away from admitting I had any feelings for Harrison other than platonic ones because to say it would have broken my mother’s heart. It wasn’t unusual for older men to take a shine to a younger woman, so why was it any different for a woman to have her eye on a younger man?

Before dinner that evening, with a glass of wine in hand, Liz, Harrison, Mother, and I stood on our porch and watched yet another magnificent sunset. As usual, Mother Nature did not disappoint us and began working her magic with a red-and-orange spell.

I told them about my phone call with Kevin and said, “So, what do you think about Agnes and Truman? Isn’t that something?”

“Hopefully, they’ll move to the back half of Madagascar,” Harrison said.

“How utterly stupid people are to each other!” Mother said.

Harrison remarked that it would be so nice if Liz had a nice fellow to run around with, and that if she would like, he could beat the bushes.

Liz smiled and said, “Well, that would be a first!”

“Having someone beat the bushes for you?” he asked.

“Nope. Having a nice fellow to run around with.”

Mother said, “You know, Liz. I see no reason why you have to rush back to New York so quickly. Why don’t you stay for a while?”

Liz looked at me and I said, “Well? Until you lose that sling, your ribs quit hurting, and you have your lung capacity restored, there is no better place I could think of to convalesce than on our sacred little Island under the watchful eyes of Miss Josie and her barnyard friends.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to go back?” Harrison said.

I didn’t answer them right away, but I had my reasons. I had a wedding to plan for my new daughter-in-law and my “born again” son. I had my friend, Kevin, to whom I owed a great debt. And last, I had that blasted town house that wasn’t worth a tenth of the trouble it caused, and I saw it then for the first time, as clearly as a D-flawless diamond. That town house was no better than Marley’s chains.

“I’ve got a few things to do,” I said, “but I’ll be back. Very soon.”

I caught the glint of pleasure in Harrison’s eye and he looked away that same instant. He didn’t need to say a word to me, but I knew from the slope of his shoulders and the way they straightened up. I knew from the deep breath he took and the time it took him to exhale. He was pleased. Maybe he wanted the three of us to be his island harem, the thought of which made me grin, too. I was completely bewitched.

Three absolutely wonderful things happened the next day. Dan called to say that he and his family would love to stay with me during the weekend of Priscilla and Charlie’s wedding. He actually said
love to stay.
He and Nan must have had some heart-to-heart discussion and decided the rift between us had gone on far too long. I was thrilled by the news. My whole family would be together and I would make certain they would have a marvelous time. I would take lots of pictures, maybe on a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty, and I would bake something chocolate just so my grandchildren could lick the bowl.

“Oh, Dan! This makes me so very happy! You just don’t know…”

“Well, good, then. We’re looking forward to it.” He said, “Are you sure you have room for all of us?”

Even though his words sounded wooden, I could detect an undercurrent of happy anticipation. A mother knows her son’s heart, doesn’t she? Doesn’t every grown man want to sleep in his old bed, feel like a kid again, and have his mother wait on him hand and foot?

“Absolutely,” I said. “You and Nan can stay in your bedroom and the kids can sleep in Charlie’s old room.”

“I spoke to Charlie. I’m going to be his best man, Mary’s going to be the flower girl, and Penn’s going to be the ring bearer.”

Apparently they had adjusted the children’s names, and they sounded so normal I wanted to congratulate him, but I kept my big mouth shut.

“Well, that’s just about the nicest news I’ve had in years!”

Of course, Dan’s family staying with me meant that Mother would have to stay elsewhere, but as soon as I hung up the phone, Liz immediately offered her apartment. Mother accepted. I would find a nearby hotel for Manny and Harrison. There were so many luxurious but reasonably priced boutique hotels springing up like weeds all over Manhattan that I knew it wouldn’t be a problem to find one. I hoped.

Right before noon, Kevin called. He was completely breathless and I thought something tragic had happened.

“What? What?” I said.

“Honey chile, baby girl? You just won the lottery! Tom Britt offered you three times as much as I thought he would and I said yes! Of course I was very cool about it. Apparently we haven’t been following the silver market very closely!”

“Of course you were cool. What did he say?”

“He said, ‘I’ll take the whole lot!’
You got the picture?
He’s a great guy. You’d love him.”

“Oh, Kevin! That is fabulous news! And how’s my sweet Harry?”

“Well, I just taught him to say ‘jackpot’! He’s a smart bird, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But why? Because you taught him a new word?”

“No, actually. Last night I caught him chewing on the arm of your chintz chair by the fireplace.”

“What? That’s my favorite chair!”

“And don’t think he doesn’t know it either. So I said, ‘Harry, if you don’t stop that right now you’re going night-night.’ On my mother’s grave, he looked right at me and said, ‘So what?’”

“Well, how do you like that? The little devil. Tell him his mother is coming home tomorrow, so he had better straighten up.”

Finally, right before Mother, Liz, and I were about to walk over to High Thyme for lunch, Manny called.

“When are you headed back north?”

“Tomorrow, I think. Unless the sky falls. Why?”

“I wanted to make dinner for us tonight. Just us. You free?”

“Sure. What can I bring?”

“Whipped cream?”

“You’re a little weird, you know.”

“Yeah. But you have to admit, I’m fun. I’ll pick you up at six.”

We hung up and Liz was standing there, ready to walk out the door.

“What’s weird about him?” she said.

“A lot, I think. Where’s Miss Josie?”

“She just brought in the eggs and she went to wash her hands. Those eggs really are better than the ones you buy at the store, aren’t they?”

“It’s because she gives them some special enriched organic feed. At least I think that’s the reason.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this. If I had two good arms, I wouldn’t mind helping her milk that nanny goat of hers. You know, get her up on that milking stand and sing her a little song? But you couldn’t pay me any amount of money to gather eggs. No, ma’am. Chickens are as mean as snakes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I grew up on a chicken farm—not a chicken farm that makes you rich. One that barely keeps you fed. And we had goats.”

“Really? Good heavens! I didn’t know that!”

“Oh, Miriam, someday I’ll tell you all about it. But that’s why I understand your mother so well. She’s growing all this stuff to see if she can live off the land if they drop a bomb. And keeping a goat is interesting. But we grew a lot of the same stuff because we had to put food on the table.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah. They have personalities.”

“If you say so.” I looked at my wristwatch. Mother had been upstairs for what seemed to be a very long time. “Criminy! She sure is taking her
time, isn’t she?” I went to the base of the stairs and called out. “Mother? Let’s go, Miss Josie!”

“Coming!”

I waited there for her, and when she appeared, I watched her come down each step, holding the rail for support. Something was not right.

“Are you feeling well, Mother?”

“I’m feeling exactly like I’m supposed to be feeling. Just a little tired today, that’s all.”

“Then let’s take the golf cart. Come on, Liz.”

All through lunch Mother wasn’t herself. She didn’t seem feverish but she seemed exhausted and distracted and just picked at her food. Liz and I did most of the talking. You could guess that the windfall of the silver sale, the wedding plans, and the history of my hot-and-cold relationship with Dan and his family dominated most of the conversation. Mother must have said at least three times how pleased she was that Dan and I were reconciled and that she couldn’t wait to meet Priscilla. As off-kilter as Mother seemed to be that day, I thought it was so good that she had something to look forward to. As people aged, it was important for them to have plans and events lined up. It seemed to keep them more optimistic, especially if they knew they were needed in the lives of others. It was true even for me. As I continued crawling out of my post-Charles-departure slash museum-fiasco funk, I had to admit that I felt more alive and truly useful than I had in years.

“Can I box that up for you?” the waitress said to Mother when she saw that her chicken Caesar salad was barely touched.

“No, thanks. That’s okay,” Mother said.

“Y’all want to look at the dessert menus?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “We’ll just take the check when you have a moment.”

“I need a nap,” Mother said, on the ride home.

“I think I could use a nap myself,” Liz said. “Maybe it’s the salt air, but I’ve never slept so much or so well in my whole life!”

“Or maybe it’s a combination of salt air and severe bodily damage?”

“Right. I knew there was a reason I felt like somebody beat the crap out of me, pardon me.”

“Yes, because somebody did. I’m sure Kevin still thinks you should’ve pressed charges.”

“Only for the fun of reading about it in the paper. Truman Willis is not exactly a menace to all of society.”

“Just to his paramours. You’re right. He wouldn’t do well in jail. I can just see him looking around for the gentlemen’s squash courts at Rikers Island and trying to find a partner.”

Even Mother smiled at that remark. Maybe I should stick to dry humor.

I pulled the golf cart into its parking spot. Mother and Liz went inside the house through the garage entrance, but I went outside to have a look at Mother’s barnyard.

Cecelia, Mother’s Nigerian dwarf nanny goat, wandered over to the edge of the fence where I stood. Looking at her face and eyes was a little bizarre. Her eyes were too far apart. Her ears stuck out and up so much that I wondered if they caught rainwater and if that was bothersome for her. Cecelia was the patron saint of music. But if you asked me, the sounds that came out of her namesake’s mouth were not terribly liturgical.

I could understand why people had dogs, cats, and birds. In my life, I had given shelter to them all. You could even add gerbils, guinea pigs, turtles, and fish to the list. The desire to possess goats or chickens had never crossed my mind for a nanosecond.

“You’d better watch yourself. If my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Priscilla, doesn’t like you, Miss Cece, you could wind up turning on a spit.”

I was actually talking to a goat who did little to impress me with her personality or intelligence. Yes, I talked to my Harry, but there was a difference. He answered me. And I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that he knew exactly what he was saying.

I continued to watch the chickens pecking around inside their run.
They didn’t seem to be very nice to one another. Cecelia moseyed over to her shed and feeder of grain. Yes, I enjoyed the eggs and the yogurt that came from these animals, but raising them did not hold one iota of interest for me. Wasn’t it enough that I had ceased using hair spray and Velcro rollers? That my cosmetic applications were reduced from Spackle to a little mascara and lip gloss?

When the horrible day arrived that my mother died, I knew this place would come to me. What would I do with Cecelia and all her feathered friends? I could not see myself milking a goat or putting my hand under a chicken’s backside for the mere reward of an egg. It made me laugh just to think of it. No. Bomb or no bomb, I’d take my chances that the grocery stores would stay in business.

I heard a car coming and turned to see Harrison Ford pulling up in the driveway, and my heartbeat trilled. He was growing on me. That was for sure.

“How’re you?” he said, and closed the door gently.

Just as an aside, I liked the fact that he did not slam doors. There was enough noise in the world.

“Well, I’m just fine! Out here talking to Cecelia…you know, having a conversation with a goat. One-way, I might add. What’s new with you?”

“I’m here to collect Miss Josie and take her to our regularly scheduled tango lesson. Did she tell you about that?”

“Yes, and I think it’s great. But you know, I think she may have forgotten because she told me she needed a nap and I think she might be in bed.”

“Not feeling sprightly?”

“She’s very tired today, for some reason. Would you like some tea or a cup of coffee?”

“No, I’m all set, thanks. Well, she has her good days and her not-so-good days.”

We pushed the sliding-glass door open and the house was as still as a tomb.

“Why don’t I just slip up to her room and see if she’s awake?”

He nodded. I went upstairs as quietly as I could, peeked in Mother’s bedroom, and there she was, snoring gently. I pulled a blanket up and over her shoulders and closed her door without a sound. I quietly opened Liz’s door and she was sleeping, too, propped up on pillows. Poor thing. I still felt so guilty about her injuries and I imagined I always would.

When I got downstairs I found Harrison on the porch, staring out across the marsh.

“Look! There’s an osprey.”

“Where? Oh! I see him now!”

“Incredible, right? Just magnificent. DDT almost killed them all, you know. But now they’re back.”

“Yes, they certainly are. But back to the subject at hand, there will be no fandango or tango lesson for Miss Josie this afternoon, I’m afraid. She’s snoozing.”

“Oh. Well, then will you come to stand in for her? It’s only an hour.”

“Oh, Harrison, I can’t tango. Or at least I haven’t since I took ballroom-dancing lessons when I was a child.”

“Ten years ago or so…oh, come on. I’ve only had one lesson, so I’m still in the walking-and-let-the-music-fill-your-soul stage.”

He gestured so dramatically with a fake Spanish accent that his invitation was irresistible.

“Does anyone ever say no to you?”

I left a note on the kitchen counter.
Gone to tango with Harrison. Back at five.

Fifteen minutes later we were in a dance studio in Mount Pleasant. It was classic—ballet barres along the mirrored walls, dust motes in the air, and a lone instructor, a small man with black slick-backed hair who waited on a piano bench, reading the newspaper. The veneer of the upright piano was chipped and abused. I suspected it probably had not been tuned in years. But the instructor stood as we entered and smiled.

“I am Manuel,” he said, and extended his hand. His accent was beautifully and authentically Spanish.

“This is my friend Mellie,” Harrison said. “She’s pinch-hitting for her mother today.”

“It is a pleasure,” he said. “Shall we begin?”

This fellow wasn’t wasting any time. He started the music on a small boom box.

“Now. Please stand straight, close your eyes, and let the music fill your soul.”

“I thought you did that last week,” I mumbled.

“Ms. Mellie? We do not talk while we tango.”

“Sorry.”

“Now. Listen to the music. Hear the beats. ONE two THREE four. The first and third beats carry the weight of the rhythm of the dance.”

He was right. They did.

“Now, as you feel the beats, I want you to put your weight on the balls of your feet and walk to the music, like a great tiger from the jungle. Walk slowly, just toward me.”

I tried very hard not to snicker and walked with my partner, Tony the Tiger, toward Manuel. You may call me Sheena.

“Very good! Very good!”

The next thing I knew we were walking around the perimeter of the entire room like two big cats. Then we walked backward to the music. Meow. Suddenly, Manuel turned off the music and became solemn.

“Now we will learn the embrace! Mr. Harrison is the leader, and you, Ms. Mellie, are the follower.”

“I’m not so sure that’s an equitable arrangement.” I pouted and Manuel smiled.

“It is the essence of the dance, Ms. Mellie. You will see. Now stand together, facing each other.”

Something happened to me when Harrison pulled me toward him by
the small of my back. I felt a flutter in the pit of my stomach. There was no denying it was, well, an urge. An urge about the size of the custom house in downtown Charleston.

“Don’t be nervous,” Manuel said. “Now we will walk in the embrace with our heads turned slightly to the side. Ms. Mellie to the right and Mr. Harrison to the left. I will play for you the famous ‘Libertango.’ Are we ready?”