Wings of Glass (20 page)

“You, Callie Mae Johnson, are a real-life angel,” I said. The mention of chicken made my stomach grumble. “I’m starving. The nurse offered me Jell-O, but do you think they might let me have some real food?”

She shook her head. “Already asked. They said liquids tonight, but you can eat tomorrow.”

I sighed. “What sense does that make?”

“Between you and me, I think medical people are secret sadists. You should hear what they did to me during my colonoscopy.”

“No offense,” I said, getting a visual I could have lived without, “but I’ll pass.”

She sat down in the chair beside my bed. “Well, I guess I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Your old man’s in jail for assault.”

I blinked at her a few times trying to process the information.

“Norma?” I asked, unsure.

She gave me a funny look. “No, Fatimah. Who’s Norma?”

I laid my head back on the pillow and stared up at the grates in the drop ceiling. “She pressed charges.”

“Of course she pressed charges. He pushed her down the stairs with a newborn baby in her hands, for crying out loud.”

“He didn’t push her. He pushed me.”

“Oh, well, my mistake. He didn’t assault a woman who just had a baby, he assaulted his wife who was about to have a baby. Much better.”

We sat silent a moment, as I wondered how much his bail would be and how I’d go about getting the money. What he did was wrong—very wrong—but I so wanted him to meet you, Manny.

Callie Mae started arranging the flowers she and Fatimah had bought in a glass vase. “She probably saved his life, you know.”

I turned my head to look at her as she went on. “He was flying high and trying to get behind the wheel when the cops picked him up. Come to think of it, she might have saved more lives than just his.”

I stared at the ceiling, thinking of all the times he’d driven drunk and all the beatings speaking up against it had cost me. Maybe a DUI would finally get through to him. “I still can’t believe she had him arrested.”

She pulled a white rose from the side of the arrangement and placed it in the middle. “Bad behavior has consequences.”

I leaned my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. “I’ve been praying so long for that man to change, Callie. But my prayers always seem to fall on deaf ears. Maybe God will listen to you. Do you think—?”

She brushed off her hands. “I can pray. I have and will, Penny, but God’s not a codependent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he won’t force Trent to change. He doesn’t manipulate people into doing what they’re not willing to do, no matter how much the rest of us beg him to. Trent has to want to change.
You
can only change
you
. That’s what you should be praying about.”

I thought then of Fatimah telling me the same thing, and it almost clicked.

She said nothing for a minute, then continued. “Your mother and father are coming as soon as they can. You should have heard her crying for joy. She sounds sweet as a sugar cube. She said your daddy was out of town helping his
brother repair a roof or something to that effect, but would drive home the day after tomorrow. They’ll be here the day after.”

“Will I still be here?”

“They said you and Manny should be released that morning, so probably not.”

“Did you give them my address?”

She locked eyes with me a moment. “No, I gave them mine. I think you and the baby should stay with me for a while.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt Fatimah,” I repeated.

She sat in the chair again and leaned forward. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m going to use a little tough love here. How would you feel if he hurt or killed your son? Could you live with yourself if you allowed that to happen?”

The word
killed
made me think of Norma, and her husband who was behind bars, like Trent. Would they be in the same jail? “He wouldn’t hurt our baby.”

She bit her top lip and stared down at the flowers. “Why not? He didn’t think twice about hurting Fatimah’s.”

“He didn’t mean it,” I said again.

“It doesn’t matter what he means. The damage is just as bad as if he did mean it. Would you say that at Manny’s eulogy—he didn’t mean to kill his son? He’s an abusive drunk. You can’t predict what he will or won’t do. Penny, this isn’t just about you anymore. You’ve got a child to protect.”

I glanced out the window at a distant baseball field, several stories below, blanketed in white. “He wouldn’t let me go,
Callie. I’m his wife. This is his son. He’d be coming around, insisting we come home. It could get real ugly. I don’t want you to . . .”

“To what?” She crossed her arms. “Go ahead and finish the sentence. You were going to say “get hurt,” weren’t you?” She smiled tightly. “He doesn’t scare me. But he sure better scare you.”

I’D AGREED
to stay with Callie Mae, at least until Trent was out of jail. On the way home from the hospital, she brought us by the house so I could pick up some of the things we would need.

Thankfully, Trent had cleaned up the mess I’d left on the floor, but other than that, everything was as I’d left it. He hadn’t called, so I didn’t know how much his bail would be, or the jail time he might be facing. I couldn’t wait for him to meet you, Manny, but I was glad for the chance to think things through without him around to make up my mind for me.

Callie Mae set you and me up in her guest bedroom. It couldn’t have been prettier, with its canopy bed, cottage furniture, and sunny yellow paint. In the corner of the room sat an antique crib she said had been hers as a baby, and her mother’s before her.

Atop a small dresser lay a stack of diapers, wipes, and the
baby clothes she had brought to the hospital in that teddy bear gift bag.

You and I had just dozed off for a nap when the doorbell rang. I heard Callie Mae’s voice, then Mama’s and Daddy’s. With a knot in my stomach, I laid you down as gently as I could in the crib. Breathing a sigh of relief when you didn’t wake, I tiptoed out of the room and softly shut the door.

Mama was thanking Callie Mae for the directions. When she saw me, her mouth dropped. I must have looked a sight with all the weight I’d gained from the pregnancy.

She looked just the same as I remembered, save a little more gray and a wrinkle or two. Daddy, however, had gained at least fifty pounds, and didn’t look nearly as tall as I remembered him. I rushed into Mama’s open arms. She held me for the longest time, then finally pulled back and put her soft hands on my cheeks, examining my face. Tears glinted in her eyes. “Oh, my word, Penny Elizabeth, you’re a woman!”

Smiling, I put my finger to my lips to remind her of you.

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Sleeping?”

I nodded.

She took my hands in hers as she looked me over, head to toe. “Oh, look at my baby. Beautiful as ever.”

Now that I was a mother myself, it hit me just how much my mother must have loved me. “Thanks, Mama. You too.” I glanced over at my father, who had his hands buried in his jeans pockets. He’d always looked uncomfortable anywhere but in the field. Time, apparently, hadn’t changed that.

“Daddy,” was all that would come out of my mouth. With
my heart in my throat, I walked over and ventured a hug. He still smelled like that musky aftershave he’d always worn. After barely a second, he pulled back and cleared his throat. “So, where’s this grandson I keep hearing about?”

With a proud smile, I waved them down the hallway. When we got to the room you were sleeping in, I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it to the right, cringing as it clicked open. The last thing I wanted to do was set you off crying again.

Mama tiptoed over to the crib and peeked down at you. With a hand over her heart, she bent her head to the side and admired you. I could tell it was love at first sight for her, just as it had been for me. After a minute, she looked over her shoulder at your grandpappy and waved him over. They watched you sleep for what had to be a good five minutes. Finally, we joined Callie Mae in the kitchen, where she fixed them a pot of coffee, gave me a cup of tea, and set out store-bought cookies. “Y’all make yourselves at home,” she said, buttoning up her jacket. “I’ve got to get on down to the food bank before we have a riot on our hands. The delivery’s late, and the crowds are getting restless.”

After we said our good-byes, Mama and Daddy sat across from me at the kitchen table. Daddy’s eyes fixated on the now-yellow bruise around my wrist, while Mama’s gaze darted around the kitchen. It was at least four times the size of hers. “This place is beautiful. Is it yours or Callie Mae’s?”

It dawned on me then that Callie Mae might not have filled them in on more than just an address. “Oh, no,” I said.
“Our house isn’t nearly this nice. Manny and I are just staying here until Trent comes home.”

“Where is he?” Daddy’s nostrils flared so slightly no one but Mama or me would have even noticed.

I looked down at my hands wrapped around my cup, wishing for the phone to ring or you to wake up.

When I glanced back up at Mama, she was giving him a look that begged for him to leave it alone.

She forced a smile. “So, how much does he weigh?”

I was so thankful for the change in subject I could have cried. “About one-ninety,” I said with a smirk.

Mama slapped my hand playfully. This time her smile was real. “Oh! You know I meant the baby.”

“Five pounds, four ounces.”

Daddy took a sip of his coffee. His worn wedding band was so tight around his finger it made the hairy flesh above it bulge. “Exactly what you were.”

Mama made a face. “Don’t listen to him. You were not, neither. You were seven-four.”

He shrugged. “Close enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, phooey. That man, I swannee he’s getting that old-timer’s. This year he gave me a card on your birthday instead of mine.”

I laughed. “That’s not Alzheimer’s, that’s just him. Remember when he—”

“That’s enough,” he said without humor. “We didn’t come here to talk about me.” He set his cup down, then surprised me by reaching over and giving my fingers a squeeze.
His hand wasn’t half as hard and calloused as I remembered, and I found myself hoping his heart wasn’t either. When I squeezed back, he dropped my hand, looking embarrassed.

I turned to Mama. “I think Manny’s got your smile.”

“They don’t smile that young, do they?” Daddy asked.

“Not really.” I took a sip of tea and realized I must not have mixed the sugar off the bottom well enough.

Mama winked at me. “Just when they mess their pants.”

“Or dream,” I added. “He smiles sometimes when he’s dreaming.”

A strand of gray worked loose from her ponytail and she tucked it behind an ear. “You did that—smiled when you slept. Your Nanny used to say you were dreaming of angels.”

“I miss her,” I said, thinking of my four-foot-nothing Nanny with the tight white bun and hands always covered in flour. She was the best grandmother a girl could have hoped to have. Always baking pies, telling terrible jokes, and laughing—always laughing.

Mama reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “I miss
you
. You didn’t have to stay away.”

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say.

“Yes, she did. Because of him.” Daddy’s jaw set. “She stayed away because of him. You never answered my question about where he was.”

Before my conscience could catch up with my mouth, I blurted, “Away on business.” It wasn’t entirely untrue, I told myself. He was away, and he certainly had business to take care of.

Mama snatched her hand from mine. “Penny, tell the truth, now. He’s in jail for assaulting a mother and baby, ain’t he?”

Daddy shook his head at me in disgust, as if he were any better. “What kind of man does that?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“He give you that?” Daddy jabbed his thumb toward the bruise on my wrist.

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” I could have killed Callie Mae.

When I think of lying to them to protect your father, shame fills me, Manny. But that’s what an abused wife does—she covers. Covers for her husband’s drinking. Covers with his boss when he’s too hung over to work, and even covers up his abuse of her with lies to friends and family—even when the lies are as obvious as the bruises. I wasn’t the first woman to “walk into a door” to explain away a black eye, and unfortunately, I won’t be the last.

Mama glanced up at me, then back down at her coffee that was more milk than anything. “So what happened, then?”

I managed to keep my tone light, but I could feel my hands sweating. “He was just nudging me to hurry up and get to the car so he could take me to the hospital. My water broke and there was blood.” Mama still wasn’t making eye contact, so I focused on your grandpappy, whose expression I couldn’t read. “When he did, I tripped into Fatimah. She fell down the stairs. The baby wasn’t hurt. It was an accident.”

Mama frowned. “That’s not at all how your friend made it sound. Why would they arrest him for that?”

“They wouldn’t,” Daddy mumbled.

I waved my hand like the whole thing was silly. “Fatimah and he don’t get along, is all. She thinks he did it on purpose.”

My parents exchanged an unsure glance between them.

Just to make it more convincing, I added, “She thinks everybody does everything on purpose. She’s one of those conspiracy types.”

“But she had him arrested,” Mama said.

I dipped my spoon into my cup, stirred the bottom, and scooped out the teabag. Glad to have something to look at besides my parents, I wrapped the string around the spoon and pressed the teabag against the inside of the cup. “Like I said, she thinks he meant to do it.”

Daddy cleared his throat. “So, how’ve you been? You have everything you need?”

I set the used teabag on my saucer. “We’ve been getting along fine. There’s been some tough times, especially when Trent lost his sight, but he’s back to work now, so we’re good.”

When Mama gasped, I remembered they hadn’t known about Trent’s accident. After I filled them in on the story, they both seemed to soften toward him.

“Well, I don’t wish that on no one,” Daddy said. He studied the pot rack hanging from the ceiling as if those stainless steel pans were really something to behold. “I tell you, girl, leaving the way you did made your mother so sick I thought she would never be the same aga—”

“Don’t,” Mama blurted, giving him a stern look. “That’s behind us. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Daddy pressed his lips tight, looking between her and me. “Well, somebody tell me what we
can
talk about, ’cause I am out of ideas.”

“How about that grandbaby?” Mama said. “We can talk about that sweet thing all day long.”

I pushed back my chair, maybe a little too eagerly. “You want me to wake him?”

“Only if you want us to get hold of him before we have to get on home,” Daddy said.

My heart sank. “Home? I thought—”

“Penny, honey, we can’t stay.” Mama looked even sadder than I felt.

“Why?” My voice cracked.

“Your daddy’s getting a tumor removed day after tomorrow.”

My breath caught. As many issues as I had with my father, Manny, I sure wasn’t ready to lose him. “Tumor?”

“I told you not to say anything,” he grumbled halfheartedly.

The look she gave him could have frozen Niagara Falls, and I wondered if maybe she had done some changing in my absence. I hoped so. “I’m not going to have my daughter think we’re dying to get away from her. Besides—” she turned back to me—“it’s benign. He’s been putting off the surgery, but it’s going to start pushing against his heart. Doctor says it can’t wait anymore.”

I turned to Daddy. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He twisted his mouth like the whole conversation was nonsense. My father could have an ax in the side of his head
and get mad if anyone tried to make a big deal about it. “Naw, I get tired easy, but doctor says once they remove that thing, I’ll have the energy of an eighteen-year-old again.”

Mama raised an eyebrow at him. “God forbid.” She turned to me, her smile back. “Could you imagine?”

Daddy had always been the restless type, always working, always moving, and when you tried to make him sit still, his leg bobbed around like he had to use the bathroom.

I tried to return the smile, but couldn’t. “It’s definitely not cancer? They’re sure?”

When she looked me square in the eye, I knew she was telling the truth. If there was one thing my mother was not, it was a liar. “Don’t worry. They’re positive. Doctor Whiting says he’s going to die someday, but not from this.”

We all sat silent, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and trying to think of something to say.

“I’m sorry I left that way,” I finally said.

“It hurt me,” Mama said softly. “Your father’s right about that, but finally getting that call from you, and now seeing you. Heavens, and now a grandbaby. All’s right with the world again. We’re not sore, honey. Just so grateful to God to have you back in our lives.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked to my father for absolution.

He gave a half nod, which was twice as much as I’d expected.

As if you’d been patiently waiting for the conversation to be over, you started to cry.

“My baby, a mother,” Mama said. “How in the world did this happen?”

“Please,” Daddy said, “there’s some things parents just don’t want to know.”

“Oh!” Mama blushed and slapped his arm.

Your cry grew to an impatient shriek and we all stood.

Mama made it to your crib before I could and scooped you out. You gave her the funniest look, like she was an alien or something.

She set her forehead against yours. “I’m your grandma, Manny.”

This made you cry harder. Your face was as red as fire.

She pulled at the side of your diaper, then turned to me. “I think I might know what the problem is.”

I looked over my shoulder at your grandpappy. “You remember how to change a diaper, don’t you, Daddy?”