Whistling Past the Graveyard (9 page)

I don’t know how long I laid there wrapped up in that quilt, hanging somewhere between sleep and feelin’ sorry for myself. Truth be told, I didn’t have a lot of experience with feelin’ sorry for myself—not like being hoppin’ mad, or feeling like I’d come out of my skin if I didn’t try something. Those were plenty familiar. Feelin’ sorry was a place for babies and wienies. I wished I could just go to sleep for a long time, but sleep wouldn’t settle in.

Back home when I was too worked up at Mamie to get to sleep, I reached deep into my memories and pulled out one that made me feel happy. It was so old that it was worn down to sounds and feelings and not a real picture in my head. We—Momma, Daddy, and me—lived in our own apartment in the upstairs of a nice old lady’s house. She gave piano lessons. I remember hearing the beautiful mystery of her music coming up thorough the floor. . . . I also remember the
plinkyplonky
sounds of her students. Daddy helped her by cutting the grass and whatnot so we could afford to live there (I don’t remember that part, but Mamie tells me about it when she’s mad at Momma for being lazy and irresponsible). Momma and Daddy had tucked me into bed, both of them together. My room smelled like baby powder and Momma’s hair. Mr. Wiggles was soft against my cheek, held tight in the crook of my arm. Momma and Daddy were talking real soft in the other room, Daddy’s voice low and kind of rumbly, Momma’s light and happy. Momma laughed . . . not in a big ha-ha way, but quiet like water tripping over itself in a creek. Those sounds wound themselves together and wrapped me up, just like a blanket. My insides got all quiet, which didn’t happen often ’cause my insides was always busy. I floated on the cloud of their voices. It was the best falling asleep ever.

I ran that memory over and over in my head, but it didn’t do any good.

Later, when Baby James woke up crying, Eula came and took him out. She didn’t bring him back. I was too broke down to worry about him. A dark, wet blanket had covered my mind.

Eula brought me food. I couldn’t even look at it. I pinched my nose and breathed through my mouth so I couldn’t smell it. She asked me how I was feeling and I ignored her. She sighed, patted my shoulder, and went away again.

Sleep stayed away, but the mind darkness came back.
At some point Wallace raised his voice so I heard it clear. “Gimme ’nother jar of that catdaddy.”

Eula’s soft footfalls were followed by the sound of the jar hitting the table. I kept my ears perked, since Eula said the juice made Wallace to forget hisself. I smelled baking again. Eula hadn’t left, so I wondered how much pie two people—even if one of them was a giant—could eat.

Sometime later I heard him grouching around and Eula helping him to bed. The springs squeaked. Two shoes hit the floor. Once I heard him start snorin’ good, I finally relaxed.

Crickets chirped and a hoot owl called from the trees. Eula tiptoed into the room and put baby James in the cradle.
After she tucked him in, her footsteps stopped right beside me. I pretended I was asleep, eyes tight and breathing slow.
Just go away.
She got down on her knees and stayed there a long while. When I heard her whispered “Amen,” I knew she was praying over me. Then her hand settled soft as a butterfly on my head. She let it stay there gentle and kind as she pulled the quilt away from my shoulders—I was hot under there, but pretended to sleep on.
“Oh, baby girl,” she sighed. “I will keep you safe. No matter what.”
Her lips brushed my hair and then she stood up.
I’d never been tucked in so tender. A tear rolled across the bridge of my nose, but I was careful not to sniffle.
I waited to hear the door open, but it didn’t. Instead I heard her rustling, then sigh. When I sneaked a peek through tiny eye slits, I saw she was over by baby James’s cradle, laying on her back with her arm over her eyes. She was so skinny she was barely a shadowy bump on the floor, except for that sharp elbow stickin’ up.
As I listened to her breathing even out and slow, sleep finally come over me.

I felt him there right before I smelled his sour, juiced-up breath; right before the big hand closed around my throat. I tried to kick, but he’d straddled me, his weight settled on my stomach and his feet hooked around my ankles holding them to the floor.

Pain stabbed my throat. Air wouldn’t come.
Eula!
My voice stayed silent.
I tried to buck, bow my back, but I was pinned.
A thudding swish filled my ears.
Help me, Eula! You promised.
My eyeballs felt ready to pop.
Promised. Promised. Prom—
A scream shot through the air, wordless, shrill and terrified. Eula!
Wallace suddenly rocked to the side, his grip loosening enough that

I jerked in a breath before he tightened it again. There was a crash. Eula’s scream cut off.
No, no, no, no . . .
James cried, but it was getting farther away.
Suddenly the hand left my throat and Wallace’s weight shifted to
the side and he went limp. Something heavy thudded to the floor. Air tore down my throat, hurting as much as Wallace’s cruel grip. Eula screamed, “Oh, Lord, oh, Lord, oh, Lord!”
Her hands pulled at my shoulders. I pushed with my feet. Once my
legs were out from under Wallace, Eula wrapped me tight in her arms.
I tried to pull away, needing space, needing air.
“What have I done? Oh, Lord, what have I done!” Eula’s voice slid
to a pitiful whisper. “Wallace?” She let go of me and crawled toward
him. “Wallace? Wake up. I didn’t mean—” Her words disappeared into
sobs as she got up and ran out of the room.
I was still gasping when she ran back with towels and a lamp. She
pressed the towels to the bloody dent in the side of Wallace’s head. The
light showed a dark puddle on the floor. Eula’s iron skillet was next to
him.
“Come on, Wallace. You be all right,” she mumbled as she held a
towel to the wound. “You be all right.”
It didn’t look to me like Wallace was gonna be all right ever again. And I was glad.

Eula sat at the table across from me. Four pies was sitting between us. None of ’em been touched. The lamplight made her cheekbones stand out over the shadows below. Her eyes looked strange and I would have thought she’d gone away from herself again, except for her hands. They was restless and twitchy on the tabletop, twisting, drumming, palms sliding over the surface, then twisting again.

Neither of us looked into the little bedroom.
Once she’d figured out Wallace was good and dead, she’d covered him with a sheet and had me move baby James’s cradle into the kitchen. She’d pointed to the table for me to sit down and then looked at my neck, her eyes streaming and hands shaking the whole time. Then she’d gone to the pump, wet a cloth, and wrapped its coolness around my burning throat. After that she’d spent a real long time just sitting there crying—even while she fed baby James.
He was asleep now, not knowing anything about what had happened. He was lucky. Lucky, lucky baby.
Mamie always talked about things that once done can’t be undone, how I had to think before I acted, how one second could change everything in your whole life. She’d been talking about things like breaking Jimmy Sellers’s nose and me getting locked in the trunk of the car. But now I saw it was more than that. Being almost killed twice had changed something deep inside me. I couldn’t tell what exactly, ’cause it was just settling in. But I wasn’t never, ever gonna be the same again.
The rooster crowed, even though it didn’t look to be getting light out yet.
Finally, Eula’s hands settled. She blinked and put one hand over her heart as she stood up. She wobbled just a bit and put her fingertips back onto the table. “Reck—” Her voice was low and raspy before it stopped altogether. She cleared her throat and focused her eyes on the door. “Reckon I’d best go get the law.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “What!” My voice was croaky, but she understood me fine.
She sighed, then sniffled. “Tell I done killed Wallace.”
“The law? You crazy? What about baby James?”
Her shoulders curved and she breathed deep, letting it out long and slow. She reminded me of a dog Jimmy Sellers had once kicked. “Don’t matter now. I goin’ to jail anyway.”
I’d been doing plenty of thinking on my own while we’d been sitting there. Wallace was a bad man—no matter how he used to be when he and Eula met. Nobody should care he was dead.
“You only killed Wallace to keep him from killin’ me!” My throat hurt like my neck was being wrung again and I had to stop and take a slow breath. I went on, more careful to keep my voice quiet, “The law can’t lock you up for that.”
“Maybe not. But they’ll know ’bout James.” She looked more brokenhearted about losing that baby than knockin’ the life out of Wallace. “That’ll get me worse’n jail.”
I thought of that man Shorty getting dragged behind a car for being colored and shivered. I couldn’t let something like that happen to Eula. “So you can’t tell!”
Her brown gaze turned to me. “I done killed him.” She caught a breath like she’d been running. “I got to tell.” She turned away from the table and started toward the door.
“Wait!” I jumped up. “Just wait a minute. He ain’t gonna get any deader if we think about this for a bit.”
She came back to me and put a hand on my cheek. “You a good girl. But no thinkin’is gonna make a difference. I done it. Now you stay with James while I go.”
I thought about taking James and running while she was gone. Then nobody’d know she took him. But then I wouldn’t be here to tell the law how she saved me. I had to figure out something.
“No!”I grabbed her arm as she started to turn away.“Just . . . just . . .”
She looked down on me with a sad smile. “It be all right. You’ll get to your momma”—she paused—“or wherever you supposed to be.”
Momma!
I still had hold of Eula’s arm, so I tugged her back to the chair. “I got it!” I made her sit. “You and me and James will go to Nashville! Momma’ll help us. She’ll be so grateful you saved me. She’ll help us figure out what’s best to do ’bout Wallace and the law.”
It didn’t look like I was changing her mind, so I pushed some more. “You’ll know I’m safe with Momma then. And it’ll give us time to think on it ourselves. We don’t want to ‘run off half-cocked.’” Which Mamie said I did all the time.
Eula didn’t say anything.
“Do it for me,” I said. “We’ll figure out what do ’bout Wallace. I promise. But take me to my momma. Please.” Momma would save Eula.
For a long while Eula just sat there, staring at the window that was just graying with dawn. My heart beat fast and I realized I was as scared for Eula as I’d ever been for myself.
Finally she looked at me and breathed out a long sigh. “I take you to your momma afore I go to the po-lice. I owe you that.”
My knees felt wobbly. (Thank you, baby Jesus.)

10

b

y nine o’clock we’d been bouncin’ along in that truck for almost an hour. The air was like a rubber raincoat, which didn’t help my rolly stomach one bit. Baby James seemed fine with the heat, sleeping on the truck’s floorboard between my feet and wearing just a diaper. But Eula looked sickly as she drove so slow we coulda been outrun easy by a turtle. Even creepin’ along, the truck rattled like we was probably droppin’ parts along behind us. I didn’t complain about our slowness. As Mamie was forever reminding me, I needed to count my blessings. At least Eula hadn’t gone straight to the law like she’d wanted to. And we were moving away from that big dead body.

Before we’d left Eula’s house, we wrapped Wallace up in a sheet and drug him down to the springhouse so he wouldn’t rot so fast. I didn’t know why Eula cared, but she did. It was a miserable job and we only got it done because it was downhill and we rolled him most of the way.

Eula’s Holy Bible sat on the truck seat between us, its gold letters rubbed to a thin shadow and its worn-out, cracked-edged cover flappin’ in the wind that rushed through the windows. That Bible had been the first thing Eula had insisted on bringing with us. She’d snatched it up and held it tight to her chest the entire time she packed everything else, like she was afraid to set it down. We brought the picture of grown-up Jesus from her bedroom, too. Course with her hanging on to that Bible like she was, I’d had to stand on the bed and take it off the wall. It was in the back of the truck now with her grip—which is what she called the little tan-and-brown suitcase she’d pulled from under her bed. I’d seen better suitcases in the alley trash. But it held her few things just fine. I can’t say why she brought her church hat, though, if she thought she was going to the law as soon as we got to Nashville. My seeing it go into the suitcase had made me hope she’d come round to my way of thinking.

Once her clothes had been packed, we’d gathered up all of the food we could eat on the road, which wasn’t much. When we’d finally walked out of that saggy house, she’d stopped dead and looked around. I guess she figured she’d never be back. If I was her, that would be okay with me; who wanted to be reminded of Wallace’s meanness every morning when you opened your eyes?

I know it ain’t Christian, but I was happy that man was dead. Truth be told, Eula should be, too.
I watched the trees, cotton fields, and crooked, tin-roofed shanties go by, chewing on my thumbnail, sorting out the details of my plan. Everybody knows the details color your words truth or lie, so I had to get them straight and keep them straight. Eula’s whole life depended on it. Once I got it all laid out in my head, I’d have to convince Eula it was the right thing, which was gonna take some doing—even with her Sunday hat in the suitcase.
Out of the corner of my eye, the waving cover of Eula’s Bible was trying to get my attention and make me feel guilty over my lie buildin’. I turned my head so I couldn’t see it anymore. I hoped baby Jesus would understand; he couldn’t want a woman as good as Eula to get punished for protecting a baby and a little girl.
Next to the Bible was Eula’s pocketbook, which held all the money we had, four dollars and seventy-five cents from her pie delivery on the Fourth of July—three cherry, one buttermilk, and a chocolate chess. I only knew that ’cause Eula spent the whole time she’d been packing talking nonstop. Some folks was like that, all chattery when they was scared, so I’d just let her talk. Once we got on the road, she’d clammed up tight, even though she still seemed plenty nervous.
For a minute I let myself wonder where I might be right now if those people hadn’t ordered pies from Eula. It turned out Nashville was a whole lot farther away than I’d thought. Eula said it would likely take at least two days—maybe longer since she wanted to stay off the highways as much as possible. How would I have made it on my own with no money and no food?
When I’d asked Eula if our four dollars and seventy-five cents would be enough to get us there, she’d just looked real determined and said we’d make do. Which sounded like we was gonna come up short. I wish we’d found the rest of her and Wallace’s money. But Wallace kept it hid away and we couldn’t find it anywhere. I think maybe he’d been lyin’ to her about having it at all ’cause we even looked in the woodbox and the attic.
As we traveled old, worn-out roads with no traffic, Eula spent as much time looking in the rearview mirror as at the road ahead. Her body was so tensed up she looked like a spring wound a turn or two too tight.
“We ain’t seen but one car since we left,” I said. “You can pro’bly relax some.”
Her eyes jerked to the rearview again. She sucked in a breath.
I spun around and looked out the cracked back window. “It’s only a man in a car, not the sheriff.” The car was coming up fast—well, fast compared to how Eula was driving, so he was likely going regular speed. It didn’t slow up at all until it was almost on our back bumper. The road was narrow, but if Eula got as far to the side as she could, it could pass. “Wave him round,” I said.
Eula shot a look at me like I’d asked her to give him the finger. “He white.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she sunk down into her shoulders like a turtle. She ran a nervous tongue around her lips and fixed her eyes straight ahead.
“He just wants to go faster,” I said, looking over my shoulder. “Pull close to the side.”
Eula slowed down more and edged closer to the ditch.
The car behind us got even closer. We were driving into the sun so I could see the man behind the wheel real clear. He had slicked-back hair and a hateful frown on his face. He leaned his head out the window and shouted, “You and your pickaninny get off the damn road!”
Eula hunched deeper into herself.
My red rage snapped on. I shot up out of my seat and perched myself in the open window, hangin’ on to the wing vent to keep steady. I raised a fist and shook it at the man. “We got as much right to this road as you!” I pointed in front of us. “Go on round!”
“Starla!” Eula hissed. “Get yo’self back in here!”
“No!” I waved the man around again. “He’s got plenty of room to go round.” Just then there was a thud and we jerked forward. I almost fell out of the truck completely. Before I could get myself slid back in, it happened again. That man was running right into us!
Eula grabbed the hem of my shorts and I was planted back in my seat. “Stop provokin’ him.”
“He’s the one provokin’!” I started up again but Eula grabbed my shirt. I swatted at her. “He can go round.”
“You get us killed,” Eula said, soundin’ so desperate that I stopped trying to get away. “We gotta be careful if I gonna get you to your momma.”
I felt a little bad, letting my red rage get going and forgetting about how Eula had said we were supposed to travel like we was invisible.
The car rammed us again, just enough to jerk my neck. “Why won’t he just go round?”
“Let’s hope he do.” Eula’s eyes kept shifting to the mirror. “Let’s hope he do,” she repeated in a breathy voice that warned me things could get a whole lot worse.
I felt a little nudge as the man’s bumper touched ours.
Then we started to go faster.
Everything swirled up after that. Eula crying. Me hollerin’. The truck’s nose tilting into the ditch. The sight of the man’s laughing face. His shout of “Little nigger lover” as he passed.
Even before I could yell back at that man, we thudded to a stop. I hit the dash. Muddy water splashed the windshield.
Thank goodness I had my feet braced on the floor and didn’t land on baby James, who was full awake and screaming.
I looked down. He was flipped over onto his belly. I didn’t want to turn him over. What if he was hurt?
Eula squeaked, “The baby! Get the baby!”
I looked over at her. Blood was running from a gash over her eye.
“Baby!” She sounded so sharp I reached down and grabbed him up. I wasn’t careful like I should have been and his head flopped some, but he looked okay to me.
Eula reached over and took him from me. After she looked him over, she asked me, “You okay?”
I nodded. “But you’re bleedin’.” I pointed to her forehead.
“No matter. Long as you and James all right.” She ran her hands over his arms and legs again like she was making double sure.
“What was wrong with that man?”I asked.“Why’d he do this to us? We weren’t hurtin’ him.”
Eula just lifted a shoulder and wiped the blood off her eyebrow with the back of a wrist. “Don’t need no reason.” She sounded more sad than angry.
I sat there for a minute, gatherin’ up my thoughts and discovering I’d bit my tongue when we crashed. Jimmy Sellers didn’t seem to have any reason for his meanness either. But Jimmy was a kid.
“Why ain’t you mad?” I asked.
“Might as well get mad at the wind for blowin’. Some things just be what they be.”
I crossed my arms and felt the hot pricks flair up again. “Well, I’m mad as a hornet. And I think you should be, too.”
Eula just shrugged and fixed on soothin’ baby James. Once he settled a bit, she held him in the crook of her arm and pushed the driver’s door open. It was hard to do ’cause it was uphill now. It clunked into place and she shoved herself and baby James out. When I opened my door, it only went about eight inches before the bottom corner dug into the ground. It was enough for me to squeeze out though. I was up to my ankles in muddy water before I realized it. When I lifted my foot, it sucked my sneaker right off.
I fished around and found my shoe and was more careful when I lifted my other foot. Muddy shoe in one hand, I climbed out of the ditch and onto the road next to Eula. Too late I remembered it was bad luck to walk around with one shoe on and one shoe off. Not that I really thought my luck could get much worse.
We stood there looking at the truck for a long minute with the sun beatin’ down on us and the sound of the cicadas whirring in the air.
“Think you can back it out?” I finally asked, not taking my eye off the rear tire that looked to be at least two inches off the ground.
Eula said, “Don’t look like it.”
I looked up at her. “Maybe if I push?”
Her eyes turned to me and she busted out laughing like I’d told the best joke ever.
“I’m strong!” I crossed my arms and frowned at her.
She kept right on laughing. “Oh, I know. Must come from that red hair.”
Now I was even madder. “How can you just stand there laughin’ when that man did this to us and we’re stuck?”
“Sometimes laughin’ is all a body can do, child. It’s laugh or lose your mind.”
I narrowed my eyes. She had lost her mind once already since I met her. Considering the choice, maybe I shouldn’t be so mad about her having a laugh.
I sat down on the road and put my muddy shoe back on.