Whistling Past the Graveyard (22 page)

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e had a real nice Sunday. Everybody at Reverend Freeman’s church acted like it didn’t matter that my skin was white. The reverend said a sermon that talked all about how Jesus forgives us no matter what wrong we done. Lots of folks said, “Yes, brother,” and “Amen.” I took Eula’s hand and squeezed it, hoping she got the message and didn’t worry no more about killin’ Wallace—that man was too mean for God to care. We sang hymns, which was mostly the same as my white-church hymns, but they sounded a whole lot prettier in this church for some reason. Maybe that’s why Eula felt about the good Lord like she did; music in a colored church was real upliftin’.

Then we was asked to a potluck dinner in the basement to celebrate Mrs. Thomas’s ninetieth birthday. She even let me and all the children help her blow out the candles on her cake—there was so many it looked like the whole cake was on fire. Everybody loved baby James.There was so many hands wanting to hold him, I didn’t hardly get to touch him all day. But when it was time for him to get fed, I was the one to do it ’cause he knew me best. Eula worked with the ladies serving and cleaning up after. I liked seein’ her so happy, talkin’ and smilin’—she seemed a lot less shy than she had when we was getting used to living with Miss Cyrena. Maybe it was being away from Wallace for so long.

That made me wonder how his body was holdin’ up down there in the springhouse. We’d been gone from Eula’s house over two weeks. I knowed she still felt bad about leaving him like that ’cause I heard her crying in the night over it, beggin’ God to take his soul.

I decided to stop thinking about Wallace ’cause it started up the bees in my belly.
After the dinner, everybody sat around talking and whatnot. Then a man got out a banjo and started to play. He was real good. Some of us kids got to clapping and dancing.
After he’d played all his songs—I knowed that to be the case ’cause everybody asked for more, but he said he didn’t know no more—I got to thinking about music and my momma.
As he was putting his banjo back in its case, I went up and asked him, “You know a lot about music?”
He smiled. “Run though my veins like blood.”
“Well, my momma is a famous singer. Maybe you heard of her, Lulu Langsdon, or maybe Lucinda Claudelle.” I had to make sure I gave all her names, just in case.
“A singer, you say?”
I nodded.
He rubbed his chin. “Don’t recall that name.”
“Well, me and Eula are lookin’ for her. I was hopin’ somebody could tell me where she lives.” I tried not to sound too disappointed, but I wasn’t sure what to try next. Our money was running out and Eula hadn’t bought the ingredients to replace the church’s yet.
“Some of the music folk mix it up—only when they’s playin’ though. Most the white musicians hang out down on Broadway . . . near that Opry of theirs.” He puckered his lips like he was thinking hard. “Might try a place called Tootsies. Might be somebody know of her there. They don’t open till afternoons though. Music people are mostly night owls.”
Tootsies? Now that name poked my memory. I dug deep trying to remember when I’d heard it.
Nobody talked about Momma when I was around, so it had to be when I was sneak-listening to Daddy and Mamie. Think. Think. Think.
Yeah, Tootsies! It was when Daddy and Mamie was talking in secret; after Daddy come home and said he’d heard from Momma and she was working again.
I run and told Eula what I’d remembered.
She grinned bigger’n I’d ever seen. “Well, now we know where we’re headed tomorrow. I told you the good Lord’d show us the way.”
I just let her think that it had been the Lord and not the banjo man; it seemed to make her feel good.

Turned out Tootsies on Broadway was easy to find. It was purple. The whole name was Tootsies Orchid Lounge, which must mean a bar, ’cause it had beer signs in the window and said nobody under twentyone. Neither me or Eula could go inside, which made a particular problem in talking to people and finding out about Momma.

It was late afternoon when we got there. We’d had to wait for baby James’s washed diapers to dry before we could pack up and leave the church.

I told Eula, “Go on down and wait at the corner.” After all the misery I’d caused her, I’d made up my mind I was gonna be extracareful she didn’t get caught with baby James. It’d been risk enough her and me walking here together draggin’ suitcases after we got off the bus from Jefferson Street. But it turned out in this town, lots of folks toted cases of some sort.

“Ain’t leavin’ you standin’ here with all them men drinkin’ right inside,” she said, a real stubborn look on her face.
“It’s daylight. And I ain’t goin’ in. You’ll be able to see me from down there just fine.”
She hugged James close and took a quick look around. “What you gonna do?”
“I’m workin’ on some ideas. But you standin’ with me just makes for more explainin’.”
“I ain’t leavin’.”
“We got to find Momma today. We don’t want folks askin’ about James. And we’re outta money.” After buying ingredients to stock the church and more milk for James, the bus back to Broadway picked us clean. Neither of us wanted to take more from the church unless we had to. I pointed toward the corner. “So get on down there and let me find Momma.”
Just then a bus rumbled by with its brakes hissing. I’d never seen one like it. It didn’t say Greyhound or Trailways on the side. It was silver and green and white and had a lady’s name on it instead. Loretta Lynn. I’d heard of Loretta Lynn. She was a famous singer at the Grand Ole Opry—which was right around the corner. Patti Lynn’s momma listened to the Opry on the radio—Mamie didn’t allow any music ’cept Bible music on our radio. I figured it was ’cause she didn’t want Momma singin’ in her house.
The bus turned out of sight and I wondered if Momma had her singin’ bus yet. I decided to go to the Opry again if we didn’t find out about Momma at Tootsies.
“You’re wastin’ time,” I said to Eula.
Eula puckered her mouth, picked up her grip, and walked down the sidewalk a ways, but stopped before she got to the corner. She turned around and looked at me, like to say, I ain’t goin’ no further.
The door to Tootsies was standing open. I heard someone playing a harmonica somewhere inside. But it was so dim in there, I couldn’t see much from where I was. I kept getting closer until I was right at the doorway. I stood there for a minute, with my shoulder against the doorframe, waiting to get used to the light.
The place was foggy blue from cigarettes and it smelled like sweat and smoke. The walls was all cluttery with pictures and whatnot. I wondered if there was a picture of Momma in there.
The long bar was on the left side close to the door. A lady wearing glasses and a green print dress stood behind it. She looked more like a Sunday-school teacher than a bar lady.
“Pssttt!” I leaned so far my head was inside the door. I figured you had to have your whole body inside for them to call the police if you wasn’t twenty-one. “Pssst.”
The lady looked up and squinted. She waved her dishrag to shoo me away.
“You Miss Tootsie?”
Some of the people sitting at the bar looked up.The lady walked out from behind it and come to the door. She brought the rag with her. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at me. “You’re too young to be hangin’ round a bar, young lady.” She pointed to my Barbie suitcase. “What are you up to?”
“I’m looking for my momma. She’s a famous singer, and I heard all famous music people come here.”
The lady smiled. “That they do.” Then she cocked her head and got kinda frowny. “What’s your momma’s name?”
“Lucinda Claudelle. But her famous name is Lulu Langsdon.”
“Huh.” Her chin went up and she flipped the rag. “I reckon
famous
means different things to different people.”
“You know her?” I asked, my mouth getting dry. It was hard to breathe. Did she still have a ponytail? Would she recognize me with my black hair?
“I know Lulu Claudelle. She doesn’t have kids.”
I stood up straight and looked her in the eye. “Well, here I am, so I reckon she does.”
She raised her eyebrows, like she was surprised I’d sassed. “Where’d you come from?”
“I been livin’ with my mamie.”
“And where is that?”
“Cayuga Springs.” I could tell the truth ’cause I was in disguise with my black hair. “If you’ll just tell me where Momma lives, I’ll be on my way, ma’am.”
She looked at me for a long while, like she was making up her mind. “Wait right there for a minute.” She went back inside. There were lots of people; once she got deep enough in the bar, I couldn’t see her anymore.
I glanced down the sidewalk. Eula was standing there, looking nervous as a toad in front of a lawn mower. I smiled and gave her the A-OK sign.
She didn’t look any easier. I could see her frowning brows right clear.
Then I got to wondering if Tootsie was getting Momma’s address or calling the police. My heart got to gallopin’ and I backed up from the door and made myself ready to run, just in case.
In just a bit I saw Miss Tootsie go back behind the bar. I was ready to call to her when I saw someone shovin’ through the crowd, coming fast toward the door. She had on a checkered blouse and black slacks like Laura Petrie wears at home on
Dick Van Dyke
—but this lady was out in public. Good thing Mamie wasn’t here, she’d have a conniption fit.
The lady’s hair was so . . . big. And it was so blond it hardly had any color at all. She looked like her head had been wrapped in white cotton candy.
Disappointment started to get on me, and right then I realized I’d been hoping Momma was actually here. But then I thought, maybe this lady knows where Momma lives, that’s why Miss Tootsie went to get her.
My stomach flipped like it did on the Bullet.
The lady stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk. She leaned right down in my face, bringing the smell of cigarettes and perfume. “Where in the hell have you been for the past two weeks?”
I was so surprised I couldn’t get any words out.
“And what did you do to your hair?”
How could somebody this mean be friends with my momma? My hair might be black, but I still had red rage inside. I leaned right back at her. “I just wanna know where my momma is.”
“For God’s sake, Starla, I am your momma.”

25
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blinked, trying to look past the crazy hair and raccoon makeup and see my momma. I hadn’t seen her since I was three, sure, but this lady didn’t look nothin’ like what I remembered, or the old picture of her. Nuh-uh. This was just a trick to make me stay here long enough for the police to come.

“Liar. My momma has red hair. And she’d never talk that mean to me!” The lady put her hands on her hips, took a big breath, and looked like she was getting ahold of her temper. “How’d I know your name if I’m not your momma?” She tried to put her hands on my shoulders, but I jerked away and started to run.

“Starla! Wait!”

I kept going. Eula was grabbing her grip off the sidewalk watching me come.
The lady yelled, “I gave you Mr. Wiggles.”
I froze.
“I sent you a buckeye for good luck.”
I looked over my shoulder. That lady could not be my momma.
Coldness fell over me like rain. I turned around real slow.
“Come back here.” Her voice cut deep, way deep.
Right then, I felt Eula standing right behind me. “You all right?” she whispered.
I swallowed. “That’s . . .” I couldn’t make myself say it.
“Your momma.” Eula didn’t sound near as surprised as she should have.
I couldn’t make my feet walk back to that lady, so she come to us.
“Now who’s this?” she put one hand on her hip and pointed at Eula with the other.
“Eula,” I said, trying to find some of my starch. “She brought me here. Made sure I was safe.”
“Well, it would’ve been nice to know! Everybody’s been crazy with worry. Your daddy had to come in off the rig—missed two weeks’work.” Momma looked hard at Eula.“It took two weeks? And you didn’t think of callin’ and tellin’ anyone she was safe?”
Soft as a mouse, Eula said, “I’m sorry—”The Eula I’d seen with the church ladies was gone.
“It ain’t Eula’s fault!” My hackles come up. “How was we supposed to call you when you ain’t in the telephone book?”
Momma’s mouth got tight. Something about that look hit me as real familiar. My stomach got a cold spot in it. I took a step backward and bumped into Eula.
People were looking at us real curious as they passed.
Momma grabbed for my arm, but Eula wrapped her arm across my shoulders from behind me and pressed me close. Eula said real quiet and polite, “If you don’t mind me sayin’, ma’am—”
“I do mind.” That tightness come back to Momma’s mouth. “I got no idea why you brought her here when you shoulda taken her back home. But you can get on your way now.” She flicked her hand like she was shooing a stray cat. Then, like the words were hard coming, she said, “Thank you for bringin’ her.”
“Don’t you treat her like that!” I said, leaning toward Momma.
“No you listen to me, missy, you watch your mouth.” Momma put a finger in my face. “You won’t be talkin’ to me like that over some negra woman.”
“But Eula—”
“Enough! I gotta call your daddy and get back to work.”
“But—”
The smack come before I even saw her hand moving. It wasn’t hard, but took me by surprise. I sucked in a breath and it stuck in my chest. I bit my lip to keep from crying. Everything was moving so fast, and not in the direction I’d been expectin’. Eula’s arm stayed locked around me and I felt some steadier. But she was just a colored woman. If Momma wanted to drag me down the street by my hair, Eula couldn’t do nothin’ about it. And right then, the look in Momma’s eyes said she might do just that. Something fluttered in my memory for a second, but skittered back into the dark, a roach under the refrigerator.
Baby James started to cry. We’d fed him already and he’d been sleeping fine. He knew something was wrong.
I was afraid Eula’d let go of me to comfort him, but she held tight.
“I don’t have time to stand out here foolin’ around, Starla.” Momma said. “Thank the woman and come on.”
She reached for my arm, but I jerked away, bumping Eula a little and making James holler louder.
If I just left Eula standing out here with James a’squallin’, she was sure to get into trouble. We had to get James to his family. Momma had to help. And Wallace . . . I still hadn’t got Eula convinced not to turn herself in to the law. All the sudden that big, dead body was just about all I could think of.
“I can’t leave her. There’s—things you need to know about. Things you gotta know.” Once I got it all explained, Momma would help her. “She saved me.”
Momma had said everybody had been worried, which meant even if she was surprised to see me, she’d be grateful Eula’d saved my life. But I sure couldn’t just blabber right out here on the street that Eula’d killed her husband.
Now people weren’t just staring, they were stopping.
“I ain’t goin’ anywhere without Eula.” I made my legs so stiff my knees were knots.
Momma’s raccoon eyes got so narrow I couldn’t see any of the green anymore. Then she huffed. “Fine. Y’all come on.” She turned around and pushed past a lady with hair as big as Momma’s, but it was coal black; they coulda been salt and pepper shakers.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” Momma said, and gave the lady the stink eye and marched down the street without looking to see if we followed behind.
When I unlocked my legs, my knees got so wobbly I almost fell down—from standing stiff, not ’cause I was scared of my own momma.
Eula nodded for me to start moving. “We here now. Got no choice but to get on and tell the truth.”
“You just let me do the tellin’.” I had a “truth” all worked out in my head. I sure hoped it went better than my ideas about findin’ Momma.
Eula picked up her grip. We followed Momma. James screamed louder.