I, Gracie

by Sharon Sala

  "Of course," Darlene said.

  They ate in mutual silence for a few minutes, and then Darlene finished and watched Gracie. She ate like she was starving. And she was so thin.

  "Did you all go hungry?" Darlene asked.

  Gracie shrugged. "It's over, honey. No need to drag up what can't be changed."

  Darlene's eyes were blazing again. "I will say it now, and only to you, but your siblings have to be the most self-centered, selfish creatures on the face of his earth, and I officially hate them for what they left undone."

  Gracie laid what was left of her food aside and looked up, emotionless, her voice calm, the words delivered in a stark, matter-of-fact tone.

  "Hate was the first four years without them. After that, they ceased to exist."

  Darlene shivered, then quietly stood and helped Gracie clean up before they both went out onto the back porch. The bleakness of the view put a knot in Darlene's gut.

  She turned and gripped Gracie by the shoulders.

  "Look at me, girl."

  Gracie shifted her gaze.

  "You are the strongest woman I will ever know. You have more honor in your little finger than your whole family combined. You will go far, and be happy, because you deserve it. Do you hear me?"

  "I hear you. I just hope God's listening, because His attention has been otherwise occupied when it came to me and Mama for a long, long, time."

  Darlene sighed. "Come inside. The kids sent you a present."

  Gracie smiled. "They're not really kids anymore, are they? The last pictures you sent, Caleb looked like a man, and Joanie a young woman."

  "I know, but they'll always be kids to me," Darlene said. "You sit. I'll get the present. She ran back to the living room where she'd left her things and grabbed it, then slid the box in front of Gracie. "They didn't wrap it, but Caleb said to tell you it's locked and loaded. All you'll need to do is set up your own email and internet when you get settled."

  Gracie frowned as she popped the tape on the flat box, and then opened the flaps.

  "Oh my God! Are you serious?" Gracie cried. "A laptop? Mama broke mine years ago, and I saw no need to get another. This is awesome," Gracie said, as she took it out and opened it up. "You tell my nephew and niece that they rock."

  Darlene grinned. "I will. Caleb said you can't go job hunting without one these days."

  Gracie sighed. "And I'm sure he's right. This is wonderful. Thank you so much."

  A short while later, Darlene was gone, leaving Gracie with a belly full of barbecue, and something to think about.

  She did deserve happiness, and she didn't have to settle for less ever again.

  Daphne got a text from Mamie.

  We're here. James is here. Do you want to go eat?

  Daphne frowned, and responded.

  Did you go see Mama, yet?

  Silence. Then Mamie responded.

  Did you?

  Daphne rolled her eyes and shifted from text to call.

  "Hello," Mamie said.

  "Yes, of course I went," Daphne said. "It was the first thing I did after I got my room. That and throwing up."

  Mamie sighed. "Oh sister, I'm sorry. I forgot how nervous your tummy gets."

  "You guys go see her. And then I'll meet you wherever you want to eat."

  "Eew, that will just ruin my appetite," Mamie said.

  The tone of Daphne's voice shifted into high. "We are not here for a party, Mamie Leigh. There are rules and rituals to burying a loved one, and we've failed our sister. Let's try real hard not to dishonor Mama, too."

  Mamie whined. She was still suffering the looks from Joel that scared her, and she didn't want her sister on her case, as well.

  "I just don't know if I can do that," Mamie said.

  "Then why did you even bother coming?" Daphne shrieked.

  Mamie started crying. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not making myself understood. Of course I know that we will do this. I'm just afraid, that's all."

  "I was afraid...and ashamed, too. So, get your ass in gear, and you three get to Decker's and see Mama, dammit. I haven't had an appetite since the day Gracie called, but I had the guts to go face her in a casket, and I expect you and James to do the same. We will eat later. Call me to let me know where you want to meet."

  And then Daphne hung up and covered her face. "God, just help us get through this without killing each other. That's all I ask. We don't deserve anything more."

  Mamie hung up and looked at Joel.

  "We need to go see Mama at the funeral home, and then we'll call Daphne. She'll meet us wherever we want to go for dinner."

  Joel nodded. He'd been thinking long and hard about Mamie and this revelation. He shouldn't have been so shocked. She'd always been selfish and self-centered. He'd just accepted and ignored it because he wasn't suffering from it.

  But seeing that turned on Gracie had been eye-opening. He was ashamed of himself. He was ashamed of them. And Mamie, being Mamie, had just admitted the truth of herself to Daphne and didn't even know it.

  Mamie was afraid—of everything. Of not being smart enough. Never having the confidence to get a job on her own. Living a shallow existence to keep herself busy when he traveled because she was afraid to be alone. He didn't hate her. But the shine was definitely gone.

  "I'm going to call James," Mamie said. "He can ride with us."

  Joel nodded.

  A short while later, the trio was on the way to Decker's, and the silence within the vehicle was painful. It didn't get easier as they entered the funeral home. Being shown to the viewing room felt like walking a gauntlet. They signed the guest book, got the memory cards, and stepped inside.

  Mamie gripped Joel's hand as they moved toward the casket.

  Joel sighed and put his arm around her shoulders, then they were there, staring down.

  "Her hair turned white," James said.

  "She looks real pretty," Joel added.

  But Mamie was staring at the dress.

  "What the hell is she wearing? What was Gracie thinking putting that on her?"

  "Mamie, for the love of God," Joel whispered.

  And then Willis Decker walked in.

  "Hello, I'm Willis Decker. I just wanted to pay my respects to the family. James. Mamie. It's been a while since I've seen you."

  "Yes, sir," Mamie said. "This is my husband, Joel Freemont."

  Willis nodded. "I won't bother you further, but I did want to tell you how touched all of the visitors have been seeing your mama in her wedding dress. It was Delia's wish to be buried in it, and as I told Gracie, I don't think I've ever had that happen before. But as I'm sure you also know, Gracie has been adamant about following Delia's last wishes. Your mama even wrote her own eulogy and picked out the songs for the service. She was something else."

  Mamie swallowed, just nodding as if she'd known all along, but she couldn't talk for the lump in her throat. She'd just stood in front of her mother's body and disparaged her last wishes. This couldn't get any worse.

  As soon as Willis left, Mamie walked straight up to the casket.

  "I am so sorry, Mama. For everything. Gracie hates us."

  James frowned. "Stop tattling. You were always the worst tattler. Gracie has a right to her feelings." And then he looked down into his mother's face and saw the woman who'd raised him. Her eyes were closed, and her face was so serene. The crazy was gone. Hell, all of her was gone.

  "I'm sorry, Mama. We didn't do right by Gracie. She has every right to hate us. And I'm sorry we let you down, too. Just because you forgot us, didn't mean we had to let go of you. It was cowardly, and I am ashamed. I love you. And it's real easy to see why Daddy married you. You look beautiful in that dress."

  Joel waited, standing back, and when they were leaving, he looked back, half-expecting Delia to sit up and give all of them a talking to. It would have made him feel better. But it was too late for all of them. They had to live with the guilt of what they'd left undone. They walked out, squinting against t
he lowering sun, and paused at the curb.

  "Where do you want to go eat?" Joel said, and then glared at Mamie, daring her to play the victim card.

  She shrugged. "You men pick, then I'll call sister."

  "Let's get in where it's cool to talk," James said.

  And so they did.

  "We could do Buck's Steak and Barbecue," James said.

  Joel nodded. "Works for me."

  "I'll text Daphne to meet us there," she said.

  The sun had gone down. The fan pulled in cooler air from the open window as Gracie stood in the kitchen. An old Zac Brown Band song called Roots was playing on the radio. The song spoke to Gracie. Her roots had always been with the land, but she was about to cut herself free.

  She hummed along with the song as she worked, pouring up cereal and adding a little milk. She didn't like her cereal soaked down and always ate it fast while the flakes still crunched. She wasn't real hungry. The barbecue Darlene had brought earlier in the day had been filling. But she wanted something, and this was all she had.

  She heard the coyotes tuning up outside, and out of spite, turned on the back porch light, just to let them know she was still here, then turned the radio off, and the television on. She watched it while she ate, wondering where the sanity of the country was going, and if she had the guts to venture out into the jungle it had become.

  But then she could just hear her mama's voice, chiding her for the doubt. For letting in fear of the unknown, and so she changed the channel and finished her cereal.

  It was time to go to bed.

  Tomorrow was the finale to Delia Dunham's life on Earth, and Gracie intended to do it up right.

  The siblings all had an after-dark swim in the motel pool, just because it was there. But there was no jovial atmosphere to add to it, and so they soon parted company.

  James went to bed early, because there was nothing else to do, and left a wake-up call for 7:00 A.M. It would give him plenty of time to get down to the free breakfast, then get ready to leave for the funeral home.

  He settled in bed and turned on the TV, but he wished he had someone to talk to. Not for the first time, missing the life he'd had with Darlene.

  He fell asleep with the television on and dreamed he was out on the back porch at home, playing harmonica to Daddy's songs and watching Mama dance across the back porch.

  Joel and Mamie were in bed, lying with their backs to each other. The silence was brutal. Mamie wanted to say something but was afraid that whatever came out of her mouth would be wrong.

  Joel was sick at his stomach. They'd had little spats before, but they'd never gone to bed angry. He was the man of the family. But Mamie had always held the reins of control.

  And he'd let her, and now here they were.

  "Mamie."

  She rolled over. Devoid of makeup, she didn't look much older than she had when they’d married. Her eyes welled with unshed tears.

  "We have to do better," Joel said.

  Mamie sat up in bed, nodding.

  "We will apologize to Gracie tomorrow, and mean it. She doesn't have to accept it. But it has to be said. Understood?"

  She nodded more, the tears rolling now.

  "I am disappointed in you, but I am also disappointed in me. Out of sheer selfishness and neglect, we failed two people we loved. That is unforgivable. Understand?"

  Mamie was bawling now, her face buried against her knees.

  "I'm sorry," Mamie said. "I'm so sorry. Don't hate me, Joel. I will die if you hate me."

  Joel reached for her and pulled her down into his arms.

  "I don't hate you, sugar. We'll figure this out as we go. Tomorrow is for your mama, and afterward is for Gracie. That's what we focus on."

  Mamie nodded again and sobbed herself to sleep in Joel's arms.

  Chapter Seven

  Gracie was dreaming.

  * * *

  "Mama, what have you done?" Gracie cried, eyeing the holes Delia had chopped in her hair.

  "I think I got lice. You have to shave off the hair to get the goop on 'em."

  Gracie sighed, and carefully took the scissors out of her mother's hands, wondering where the hell she'd gotten them. She thought she'd hidden everything in this house that could take mama’s life.

  "Why do you think you have head lice?" Gracie asked, as she slipped the scissors in her back pocket and then covered them with the tail of her shirt.

  "It itches," Delia said.

  "Let me look," Gracie said, and began running her fingers through what was left of Delia's hair.

  At first sight, her heart skipped a beat. Delia's scalp was dotted with little black specks. Holy shit! Maybe she did have lice, Gracie thought, and then realized whatever it was, wasn't living. She leaned closer, sniffing, then picked a few specks out with her fingers and smelled them.

  "Mama...did you put something in your hair?"

  "Medicine...to get rid of the lice."

  "Show me," Gracie said.

  Delia frowned.

  "Mama, how can I make your head quit itching if you don't show me what you've already tried...right?"

  "I guess," Delia said, and pulled a kitchen-size box of black pepper out of her pocket.

  "You peppered your head," Gracie muttered. "Of course you did." Then she added, "I don't see anything on your scalp but black pepper. Let's go to the kitchen sink, and I'll wash the pepper and the lice right out. Then you won't be itchy, okay?"

  "I guess," Delia said, and reached for her head, diligently scratching, then digging out the black pepper from beneath her nails. "Just look at them little buggers. I told you I had the lice."

  "Well, lice aren't black, they're mostly white, but we're gonna wash them out right after I fix your haircut," Gracie said, wondering, at what time in her mama's life this had really happened. Because the reality of it now was her truth again.

  She took Delia outside, set her in one of the old folding chairs, wrapped a tablecloth around her neck for a cape, then started cutting.

  "Don't let those critters get on you, or we'll be cutting your hair off, too," Delia said.

  "No, we will not be cutting anything more on me, Mama. Trust me," Gracie muttered, and kept snipping and combing, and running her fingers through Delia's gray hair, noticing as she cut, how white her hair was turning. Hardly any dark hair left at all.

  She cut until the white cap of hair was about three inches in length. It wasn't the style she would have chosen, but at least the holes were gone. Then she shook off the cape and gathered up her tools.

  "Now, let's go wash away that itch," Gracie said, and they went inside.

  Within an hour of the shampoo, Delia had completely forgotten any of it had happened and crawling up onto her bed, she went to sleep.

  Gracie confiscated the can of pepper and stashed the scissors up in the attic in great-grandpa's army trunk, with all of the other lethal weapons, then went out to the back porch to sweep up the hair.

  The non-existent lice had been dispatched, along with a goodly amount of black pepper, and neither Delia nor Gracie had suffered. It was all she could ask on any given day.

  * * *

  Gracie woke up from the dream. It was a good hour before sunrise, and it was Friday.

  The day had finally arrived.

  She threw back the covers and got up, padded across the hall to the bathroom, and when she came back, stripped all the sheets off the bed, folded them up and packed them. Then she got another set to go with them, added two pillows and some towels and washcloths to the box, sealed it, and carried it into the living room.

  Tonight, the house would be empty, but looking after it was no longer her job.

  She stepped into her slippers and walked through the rooms, pausing in the kitchen to get a Coke, then she got the last honey bun from the pantry and went out on the back porch to watch the sunrise one last time over the land on which she'd been born. By the time the eastern sky began coming to life, her honey bun was gone, and so she watched in silent
rapture as it began.

  Pale yellow wisps of cloud vapor slowly added in some soft pink, then began stringing across the horizon like a weaver carding cotton. The wisps grew into broad strands as the new day approached. Then just before the sun showed its face, the sky exploded, painting slashes of yellow, bright orange, and deep pink all across the sky.

  Gracie blinked away tears.

  "Oh, Mama...what a sendoff!"

  Tomorrow morning when she woke, she would be in another place, looking at the world through a different window.

  It was frightening, but she was ready to see what was waiting for her next. She glanced back at the sky. The sun was coming up now, and the colors were fading. It was the day to lay Mama to rest.

  Breakfast had come and gone. James, Daphne, Joel, and Mamie were dressed and ready to leave.

  "We each drive our own cars," Daphne said.

  "Agreed," James said. "I'll lead the way to the church and you all can—"

  "We don't need a convoy, James. We just need to get there," Daphne muttered, and headed for her car.

  Joel and Mamie got in their car, leaving James to trail along. So, being the eldest in the family did not hold water today.

  He got in his car and left the motel parking lot, following his siblings to the church, accelerating to catch up, so they could at least walk in together.

  Gracie had been at church for over an hour, even though Willis Decker was in charge now. Organizing funerals was what he did, and Brother Harp said the words that laid the dead to rest. All she had to do was be present.

  Gracie was not a fan of funerals in general, although she acknowledged they meant a lot to other people. It was their last way to honor a loved one, share their grief, and be comforted by the presences of friends and family.

  To her, funerals were just ritual and drama in front of people you knew, so they could judge you on how much you did or did not spend, and how hard you were "taking it" when the casket was opened. But it was her mama's desire to do it this way, and so it was.