The Darkest Child

by Delores Phillips

  “We’re leaving now, Miss Rosie, ”Velman said, leading Martha Jean toward the hall. “We can sign them papers whenever you want. I understand this ain’t a good time, but just whenever . . .”

  I expected Mama to leap up from her chair and grab Velman, but she didn’t, and no one else tried to stop him from taking Martha Jean. I stood in the doorway and watched them disappear around the bend, and it seemed to me that Velman was carrying my sister on his hip and Martha Jean’s feet were dragging against the surface of the road.

  The armchairs and the round table had been moved into Mama’s room. Folding chairs and paper fans cluttered the front room, and in the center of it all, Judy lay on display in an unadorned pine box.

  Laura clung to me throughout the day, threatening to rip the threads at the waist of my dress. She cried for Martha Jean. She would not go near the pine box, and she refused to believe that Judy was in it. She cried until she was hoarse, and I wanted to strike her, to prove to myself that I was incapable of love. Finally, I took her and Edna into the woods, hoping they would find comfort there as I so often did.

  I knelt at the fence, and Edna dropped beside me.We began to pray. Laura stood silent until we were done, then she urinated on the ground.With her eyes wide open, she dropped to the ground and stretched there with her feet resting in the puddle she had made, her thumb clamped tightly between her teeth.

  I picked her up and carried her back to the house where friends and acquaintances passed through our front room, placed food on our kitchen table, and embraced our mother. Jeff ’s family, Mattie’s family, and so many other families passed through with nods and condolences, and I could not cry for my sister.

  That night as we began to stack the folding chairs, a car pulled up on the road, and I went to the door to see who was arriving at such a late hour. From the passenger side of the car, the old midwife emerged with a quart-sized jar in her hand. She struggled up the embankment, removed the lid from her jar, and began to sprinkle a liquid into the yard as her voice rose in a shrill chant.

  “What is that?” Mama asked, coming to stand beside me. She glanced down, saw the midwife, then staggered back the entire length of the hall. I turned to see her standing in the corner that was reserved for the slop bucket. She was whispering, “No, no, no,” and banging her head against the wall, over and over again.

  twenty - eight

  “Sam! Sam!” Mama called out.“I drove almost to Tennessee yesterday.Went all the way through five counties before I turned around. Next time I’m going all the way ’cross the state line.”

  Sam waved a hand.“That’s good, Mama,” he called back. He was in the field with Maxwell and Hambone, using sling blades to clear a patch for Mama to park her car.They had positioned themselves at angles in order to maneuver safely out of reach of each other. Hambone worked the back, Maxwell had the center, and Sam worked closest to the road.

  “What you writing there?” Mama asked, turning her attention to me.

  “A letter to Mushy,” I answered. “It’s been a long time.” It had been more than three weeks since I had written to Mushy about Judy’s death, and she had not responded to my letter, making me wonder if she had received it.

  “A letter to Mushy, huh? Let me see it.You better not be saying nothing bad about me in that letter.”

  Tarabelle stepped out onto the porch. She was wearing blue pedal pushers and one of Sam’s old T-shirts. “It sho’ is hot today,” she commented, taking a seat on the top step.

  “It’s summer, Tarabelle,” Mama said, forgetting about the letter. “What you want from summer? You want ice all over the place?”

  “I want a breeze, Mama. Just a cool breeze, ”Tarabelle answered, tugging at the T-shirt.

  “They sho’ making a mess of that field,” Mama said.“All I asked for was a little spot to park my car. Hay truck came ’round the bend the other day and nearly hit it. Now Sam got them boys trying to cut down the whole damn field.”

  I finished my letter, remembering to tell Mushy how we were not allowed to mention Judy’s name in our mother’s house, as though she had never existed, and of how much I missed my sisters— all of them. Just as I sealed the envelope, the sound of shouting made me glance toward the field. Maxwell had dropped his blade and was running toward the road.

  “I bet a snake done got a hold of ’im,” Mama said.

  Out in the far field, Hambone stood with his blade held over his head, ready to swing. “What happened?” he called. “Hey, Sam. Man, what happened?”

  Maxwell reached the road and began beating at the legs of his pants with both hands. Sam squatted to examine the pants, then said, “I don’t see nothing, Max.What happened?”

  “Rats! Rats, man,” Maxwell said, when he was able to speak.“A whole nest of ’em in a hole. I stepped in that motherfuckin’ hole, man. I ain’t going back out there.”

  “Just some rats,” Sam called out to Hambone.

  Hambone eased his blade down and made his way across the field. “Max,” he said, “man, you ’bout to give me a heart attack. Running like a bitch from some rats? From some rats, man?”

  “Shut up, motherfucka,” Maxwell snapped.“One of them damn thangs was halfway up my leg. I’m telling y’all, I ain’t going back out there.”

  “Both of y’all, shut up,” Sam said.“Don’t y’all see my mama sitting up there?”

  Hambone and Maxwell glanced up, nodded their heads at Mama, then in unison said, “Sorry, Miss Rosie.” Mama waggled her fingers. “That’s awright,” she said, “but y’all gotta get them rats. If you don’t kill ’em in the field, they get in yo’ house, and I don’t want ’em in my house.”

  Tarabelle stood, tugged at her T-shirt, then walked down to the road. I followed, but stopped short when she marched into the field. I could see her bending and searching through the weeds.We were all watching her when she finally returned to the road.

  “Did you see anything?” Hambone asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered nonchalantly, “one fat, ol’ rat dropping a litter.”

  “Y’all gotta get ’em, ”Mama yelled.

  Tarabelle returned to the house, and I went to see the litter for myself.A huge field rat lay on its side, its gray hairy body pulsating, its long tail curled inside the hole around slimy, little hairless creatures that had slithered from its body. I gagged and backed away, and the eyes of the rodent seemed to follow my every move. Back on the road, I leaned toward the edge of the field, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “Don’t you faint, Tangy Mae,” I heard my mother call down to me.“Don’t you dare faint. I ain’t going through no mo’ of yo’ fainting. You had no business going out there no way.”

  I straightened my back and turned to face her so she could see that I had no intention of fainting.That was when I saw Tarabelle approaching the road again. She was carrying the iron skillet, gripping the handle with both hands as she moved slowly along. She stepped past us and back through the weeds, and my nostrils twitched from the burned, meaty odor of used and reheated lard.

  The squeal of the rodent reached us as Tarabelle tilted the skillet and dumped the hot oil.Maxwell swore and hung his head. Sam and Hambone stared silently at Tarabelle as she came back to the road, now swinging the skillet by one hand.

  “You just plain hateful, Tarabelle,” Mama said.

  Tarabelle kept walking.“I thought you said you didn’t want ’em in yo’ house, Mama. Ain’t that what you said?” She returned the skillet to the kitchen, then she came back to the field, picked up Maxwell’s blade and, as hot as she claimed to be, began to swing with all her might at the dry weeds.

  twenty - nine

  My mother’s expenses were mounting. I would see her sometimes scraping pennies and nickels together to buy batteries for her radio, or cigarettes, or gasoline for her car. She paid the insurance man, the coal man, the ice man, and Mr. Poppy. When Harvey gave her money, she would buy food or something nice for herself.

  Sam no longer tried to fin
d work, or if he did, he kept it to himself. Mama would tell him that he was too lazy to be a grown man, then she would turn on me and tell me how I ought to be ashamed of myself.

  Although Tarabelle’s housecleaning job provided our only source of steady income, Mama would turn on her when our food supply was depleted.“Them Munfords ain’t gon’ miss a little flour or meal, or some sugar,” she’d say.“You gotta learn to do like I did, Tarabelle.We need some food in this house.”

  One morning when my mother had four dollars in her fist, she announced that she was going to fill her car with gasoline and cross the Georgia state line. She told Wallace to clean the outhouse, and she told me to go into town and slip a nice dress from a rack for Laura’s first day of school, then she piled Laura and Edna into the car and drove away.

  “She ain’t going nowhere, ”Wallace said, watching as the car moved toward Fife Street.“She can’t leave Georgia.”

  “I think she might,” I said.“She seems determined.”

  “She can’t. I know something you don’t know. If you help me clean the outhouse, I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Wallace, just tell me.You know I can’t help you. I have to go into town and get a dress for Laura.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you when you get back from town, if you make it back.” He grinned. “They’ll probably catch you trying to steal ’cause you look so scared.You can’t look like that, Tan, or they’ll know you up to something.Tell you what, you help me and I’ll show you how to get that dress without stealing it.”

  If I could get Laura a dress without having to steal it, I would clean the outhouse and dump the slop bucket for a full week. I told Wallace that, and he sat on the back steps and watched me work. When I was done, he made me promise to keep a secret, then he led me away from Penyon Road and through the streets of Stump Town.

  We stopped at a small, white house on Selman Street. My heart raced even faster than when Mama had told me to slip the dress for Laura. I knew where we were without Wallace having to tell me. I followed him through a gate and up to the house.He knocked, and after a short wait, the midwife opened the door. She stepped aside and allowed us to enter a hallway that smelled of age and turpentine.

  “Why you bring her here?” Zadie Grodin asked, as she closed the door behind us.

  “I had to, ”Wallace explained. “I want you to tell her everything.”

  She led us into the living room where we sat on the couch and she took a seat in a chair across from us.There was a Crisco can on the floor beside the chair, and she picked it up and spat snuff into it.“Get me a drink of water, Wallace,” she said.“If I’m gon’ be talking for a spell, I’m gon’ need to wet my throat ever’ now and then.”

  Wallace was obviously familiar with the house. He left the room, and returned shortly with a glass of water. Miss Zadie wet her throat, and brought the glass away from her lips, leaving wet snuff around the rim. My stomach felt queasy. I wasn’t sure if it was from the snuff stains on the glass or just from being on Selman Street and in this house. Everything about it felt wrong, from the odors in the room to the old woman’s bobbing head and unwavering stare.

  “I’m yo’ grandma, gal,” she said without preamble. “John ain’t yo’ grandpa, but I’m yo’ grandma, awright.”

  Her words hit me like a blow to my chest. I found myself sinking back into the cushions of the couch, drawing away from her even as I stared at her. My discomfort increased by the second.

  “I thought I was barren.You know what that mean?” she asked, and did not wait for an answer.“I was ’round twenty-seven, twenty-eight, I guess, and right pretty.We was living just outside of Nashville, and I was a midwife even then. Menfolks thought I was really something to look at, but I only had eyes for John. He always been enough for me.”

  She leaned forward, retrieved her can, and spat.There was snuff on her bottom lip that she wiped away with the back of a hand. I noticed a mole on one side of her nose, and when she turned her head a certain way, it was visible beneath a small flap of skin.

  “They come for me one night, three of ’em. Say Lillie Sheldon getting near her time.Wadn’t ’way from the house good ’fo’ I knew I was in trouble ’cause Mister Sheldon didn’t act like no man in no rush.” She wet her throat, and a long, brown strand appeared in the center of the water and drifted to the bottom of the glass. She seemed not to notice, but I was noticing every little thing about her.

  “That Mister Sheldon come at me first,” she said, “and it didn’t matter none what them others done after that.The damage already been done.They drug me out in a cornfield and stomped me like they was packing dirt.” Her foot moved and seemed to grind at something on the floor, either involuntarily or to demonstrate what the men had done to her. “Left me for dead. Never once worried ’bout dying, though, ’cause I knew I had the devil’s seed growing in me. Couldn’t stand, but I crawled my way back to the house, back to John.” She smiled, exposing dirty, brown teeth.“He say I sound like a little kittycat scratching on the do’, and he had a good mind not to open it. But he did, and there I was, all broken up so he almost didn’t know who I was. Never did heal up right.”

  My hands rested on my lap, and I glanced down at the finger my mother had broken. The knuckle was disfigured and I couldn’t straighten the finger. I thought of my entire body being broken like that, so it would never straighten out again, and I felt sorry for Miss Zadie.

  “That baby come into this world white as one of God’s clouds and wit’ the devil’s own gray eyes. It was born a mockin’ me, and I knew it.Tried ever’day just to put the tip of my finger on it, but I couldn’t. John took care of it, took care of ever’thing.”

  I sat rigid and quiet. Although I had heard more than I needed to hear, her words seemed to pin and hold me to the couch. I willed Wallace to pull me up, take me out into the fresh air, and tell me it was all a joke, that this old, crippled woman was not our grandmother.

  “Let’s go, Wallace,” I said, louder than I intended.“We need to get on home.”

  He placed a finger to his lips to silence me, and the midwife spoke right on through my outburst. “. . . when we moved here from Nashville. I’d take a strap to it ever’ now and then, but it didn’t do no good.Then I took to saying the Bible.‘Honor thy mother’ I’d say, and it’d turn them gray eyes on me and be quiet for a spell.”

  Miss Zadie drained the last of her brown-tinged water. “That’s how the devil fool you,” she said, as though talking to herself.“No more than thirteen, and done got in a family way. Put the liar’s finger on John, and that hurt him bad. Real bad.‘Get outta here and don’t come back.’ That’s what I said.” Miss Zadie chuckled, as though something was comical about the memory. “Took on the name of Quinn.There was a policy man used to come by here, had that name. Just a sinful shame. If there’s anybody know we kin, they don’t mention it to me, and I don’t mention it to them. But it ain’t right. Me and John getting on up in years wit’ all them grand-chilluns and nobody to see after us.”

  “We can’t help you, Miss Zadie,” I said.“We’re not allowed to come here.”

  “But you here, ain’t you? You want something from me, and I want something from you.” Her voice was suddenly strong, and she seemed to shout the words at me.

  I bolted. I could feel Wallace trying to hold onto my arm, but I shook him off. I fled from the room and through the hallway. Once outside, I stopped running, but walked with haste away from Selman Street and from the old woman, with her cryptic insinuations, who needed somebody—but not me.

  Wallace was breathless when he caught up to me. He rested his hands on his knees while he caught his breath, then he asked, “Why you run?”

  “You should have warned me, Wallace.”

  “You know you wouldna believed me. I got the money for Laura’s dress. Here.” He placed a bill in my hand.“You go get the dress. I gotta go back and see after her.”

  “Why?” I asked.“Why?”

  “I just do, Tan.That�
�s all. I just do.”

  As I walked along, my package tucked beneath my arm, I thought about Laura. Since Judy’s death, she had become withdrawn, always quiet, like maybe she was trying to vanish. Mama had noticed it, too. I think that was why Mama had wanted the new dress, something to make Laura smile again.

  On the curb outside the bus depot, Jeff Stallings squinted against the sun and watched my approach. “Hey, Tangy. How’re you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m okay, Jeff. How are you?”

  “Okay. I’ll be off to Washington in a couple of weeks. Just bought my ticket.”

  “Well, good luck to you,” I said, and stepped down from the curb. I wanted to stay and talk with him; I wanted to go to Washington with him; but I did not want my mother to drive by in her car and see me with him.

  Jeff followed after me. “Can I walk along with you?” he asked. “You know, I was really sorry about your little sister.”

  I shrugged, having weeks ago grown weary from sympathy that did little to ease my grief.

  “Tangy, can you meet me somewhere tonight or tomorrow?”

  “No, I don’t think so. And for what, anyway?”

  “So we can spend some time together before I leave. It’s a funny thing, but when I was buying my ticket just now, all I could think about was leaving without having a chance to say goodbye to you. And then you came along, walking up the street like it was meant to be. Say you’ll meet me. Please.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fourteen, Jeff. My mother let me go to the prom with you, but I’m not allowed to court.”

  “How about the fair? Will you meet me at the fair?”

  “She ain’t gon’ meet you nowhere,” a voice from behind us said.

  I stiffened momentarily, then turned to face Tarabelle. She was wearing her white dress with the tiny flowers, and she held a rolled newspaper in one hand, poised as though she might swat Jeff with it. In her other hand was a bag that I knew contained food, stuff to satisfy our mother. She deliberately stepped between me and Jeff, then kept walking without glancing back. As I rushed to catch up to her, I stole a glance back at Jeff and formed the word “maybe” with my lips.