Rain

by V. C. Andrews

  "This is a fine way to treat the man of the house. The hell with you all!"

  He rushed out the door, not even closing it, Mama put her fist in her mouth to hold back her moans. Roy, gasping for breath, looked at her and then flopped in a chair. His face was beaded with sweat and his eyes were as wild as a trapped alley cat's.

  "You're becoming just like him," she said. She pointed to the door. "Go watch him walk away so you'll know what's in store for you."

  Then she turned and went back to her bed. Roy looked up at me, his face filled with remorse.

  "I couldn't help it, Rain," he said. "I... just couldn't take any more of him and his complaints about the rest of us."

  From the way he shifted his eyes, I wondered if some of Ken's complaints weren't directed mainly toward me.

  I went to Roy and put my hand on his shoulder. He put his hand over mine and looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot from his drinking and fighting.

  "You won't be like him, Roy," I said. "No matter what Mama said, I know you won't."

  "I will if I stay here," he said. "But I'm not staying."

  "What do you mean? What are you going to do?" I asked, frightened at the thought of his leaving us.

  "I'm going into the army. I decided yesterday, Rain. It's a way out for me and I need time ... time away from you," he said softly.

  "Roy--"

  "No, you don't understand. You just don't know how painful it is for me to come home every night and go to sleep just on the other side of that wall. I can't help but listen for every sound you make. It's no good." He gazed toward Mama's bedroom. "She's got too much tearing her up right now for me to add something like this."

  "But Roy, the army? Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. I can get trained in something worthwhile. I'll still be able to send you some money from time to time. I won't need much and with me gone, there'll be fewer mouths to feed."

  "Mama's not going to like this, Roy," I said.

  He smiled.

  "She's the one who suggested it," he revealed. "Mama?" I started to shake my head.

  "That's one great woman," he added nodding toward her bedroom. "She never thinks of herself, only of us." His face hardened. "That's why I hate him," he added. "He's never thought of anyone but himself. Good riddance to him. If I never see him again, it will be too soon."

  How could I bear the thought of Roy leaving? With Beni gone, it seemed like the end of our little family. I started to cry softly. He turned and wrapped his arms around my waist and put his head gently against my hip.

  He held me for the longest time and then he rose and went into his own room, leaving me without saying another word.

  I straightened out the chairs and cleaned up the mess the best I could before returning to bed.

  By the time I woke the next morning and washed and dressed, Mama was at the table, her hands around a mug of coffee. She looked like she had been there for hours and she looked so tired and thin. The events of the last few weeks had aged her. Her hair was grayer and there were dark bags under her eyes.

  "Good morning, Mama," I said.

  She lifted her eyes as if they were heavy as lead and gazed at me while she took a deep breath.

  "Where's Roy?" I asked.

  "Gone to work," she said. "He didn't want breakfast. He said he'd get something at the garage."

  "Last night, after the fight, he told me he was going to join the army. He said it was your idea. Was it, Mama?" She nodded.

  "If he stays here, he'll die. You saw what happened last night. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm only glad it wasn't worse."

  "Did Ken come home?" I asked looking toward the bedroom.

  "No," she said straightening firmly in her chair, "and if he does, I'm throwing him out," she said. "I've made up my mind about that. Get yourself some orange juice and something to eat, Rain. I want to talk to you," she said.

  Her voice seemed to have the ring of doom in it. My heart started to beat quickly, and my fingers fumbled and nearly dropped the container of orange juice. I sipped some and sat across from her.

  "I'm better, Mama," I said. "I'll be returning to school on Monday," I added, thinking that was what was upsetting her too.

  "I hope not," she said.

  "What?"

  "I hope you never go back to that school, Rain. The trouble's never going to end there. Never." She sipped some coffee.

  I hadn't thought much about the dire comments Mama had made at the hospital because she never mentioned them during the week, but suddenly those words came rushing back like words spoken in an old dream, words you wanted desperately to forget and never hear again, but words that lingered in the darkest closets of your memory.

  "You and I have a lunch date today," she continued.

  "Lunch date? With whom, Mama?"

  "With the woman who is your real mama, Rain. I've been calling her all week and finally, I got to speak with her. She wasn't jumping for joy when I told her what I wanted, but I could hear the curiosity in her voice. She wants to have a look at you. It's only natural."

  "Natural?" I spit back. "What would she know about being natural? She sold me, didn't she?"

  "Well, she didn't have much choice, I imagine. That's a story she going to have to tell you herself. I can't speak for her. I never spoke with her before or her daddy. Ken did all the talking in those days. I told you, I wasn't for it in the beginning, but once I took a gander at you, I wasn't going to turn you away."

  "You want to do that now though, don't you?" I charged. The anger that rose and put fire in my eyes stung her, but she didn't flinch.

  "I don't want to, no. But what I do want is for you to be safe and healthy. I want you to have the best things and I want you to become someone, Rain. You've got something up here," she said pointing to her temple. "Why, there's nothing you can't become if you set your mind to it, I bet."

  "But Mama..."

  "But what, honey? Look around you," she said holding her arms out and nodding at our run-down apartment. "What can I give you, huh? What's here? I know what's waiting for you out there and it scares me to death to think of it. I got your brother set on leaving and I'm glad. In my heart I'm glad even though I hate to see him go. I need to do something-for you too, Rain, before it's too late."

  "I can't leave you, Mama. You're throwing Ken out. Roy will be gone. Beni's dead. You'll be all alone," I said shaking my head.

  "No, I won't. I'm going to go live with my aunt Sylvia in Raleigh. She's all alone now with Uncle Clarence gone and she would welcome my company," she said.

  For a moment I couldn't speak. Mama had been planning all this? Could she really leave me? Leave Roy?

  "You're just saying that," I said smiling. "You know you wouldn't get up and go somewhere else."

  "Yes, I would, Rain. Yes," she said firmly. "I'm tired of all this, tired of the battling and the hardships. I'm tired of worrying myself to death. I told you before. I'm not losing you to the streets, too."

  I started to shake my head.

  "You want to be a burden to me all my life, the little I have left of it?" she asked.

  Tears burned my eyes.

  "I'll never be a burden to you, Mama," I wailed.

  "Yes, you would. Yes," she said. "If we stayed here and I had to worry myself sick every day you went off to that school and walked these streets, yes, yes you would."

  "I'll get a job. I'll quit school."

  "Oh, that would be just fine. I'd really feel good about that," she said smirking. "My one great contribution to your life is to make you someone's waitress or maid or maybe you'd get a job alongside me in the grocery, huh? Maybe you could stack cans, too, and mop up when some child knocks a bottle of sauce off the shelf?"

  "We could move, Mama. We could go somewhere else and I'll start school in a better neighborhood," I suggested.

  "Move? Where? How? Aunt Sylvia's barely got enough room for me. You know how silly you sound, girl, and you aren't a silly girl. You have a real head on yo
ur shoulders, Rain. You just sit there a moment and you give all this a real think and I'm sure you'll agree I made the best decision I could."

  "What do you expect will happen at lunch, Mama?"

  "I expect the right thing will happen," she replied. "Finally, I expect the right thing. Now, after you have some breakfast, you pick out your Sunday best, Rain, and you make yourself look the prettiest you can. We're meeting her in Georgetown and you know that's the ritzy area. Lots of well-to-do folks will be around us and we aren't going to be embarrassed for ourselves. No ma'am, no sir, hear?"

  I looked down at the table. I could feel the tears filling behind my eyelids.

  "Some day maybe, you'll thank me," she said sadly.

  Then she rose and with her shoulders slumped, she went into the bathroom to shower and make herself as presentable as she could.

  What did it take more of, I wondered, a great deal of strength or a great deal of fear to hope someone else will become the mother of your child?

  I was her child, blood or no blood. There was no way I could love the woman who gave birth to me the way I loved Mama, but Mama had a deep faith in the power of heritage and family. She thought blood would overtake everything.

  I thought it would do nothing more than drown me in my greatest sorrow.

  Mama put on her Sunday church dress and I put on a dark-blue cotton skirt and blouse. I didn't really have a nice jacket so I put on a cardigan sweater. My nicest shoes were flats, but they were a little scratched and scuffed.

  As I sat before the mirror brushing out my hair, I felt a little steel ball of nervousness begin to roll around the bottom of my stomach. I was hurt and angry and very anxious, but I couldn't keep back the rush of curiosity either. What was my real mother like? What did she look like? What would she say? What would she think of me?

  How could I face her or speak to her knowing she had been willing to give me away? Mama had too much hope, I thought and it wasn't like her. She wasn't a dreamer. Maybe there was a time when she was just like the rest of us, but the disappointments and the tragedies had soured all the cotton candy fantasies and put clouds forever and ever in her blue skies. What did she really think would happen? Why was she doing this?

  "You ready, Rain?" she asked from my bedroom doorway.

  Getting to Georgetown wasn't going to be easy. We were going to walk and take the metro.

  I looked up at her. She tried to smile and when she did there was a flash of what once had been her youth and beauty in her eyes.

  "You look very nice," she told me, but when I stood up and finished buttoning my blouse, she gasped. "Rain, where's your chain and cross?"

  I hesitated. With all that had happened since Beni and I had gone to the pawnbroker, I had forgotten.

  "Oh, Mama," I said.

  "You lost it? Someone take it from you?"

  "No, Mama. I had to pawn it along with my bracelet to get the money for Beni. I'm sorry," I said.

  She was silent a moment.

  "The only thing we have left to pawn is our souls," she said, "and we aren't ever going to do that. Let's go," she said with even more determination.

  I put on my cardigan quickly and followed her out of the apartment. I couldn't remember the last time Mama and I had gone anywhere together. When I was little, Mama would take me and Beni with her to go shopping. She took all of us to a fair once. Roy was too bashful to hold hands but Mama made him anyway. I smiled at the memory.

  It was a beautiful spring day, which made our walking at least pleasurable. I was surprised at how spry Mama was considering how tired she had been lately. There was a purpose in her steps and her eyes rarely wavered from the direction we were heading.

  I had never really been to the Georgetown area. I knew it had many upscale restaurants and shops and the population was mainly professional people. Mama had the address written down. We were going to the three thousand block of M Street N.W. Neither of us were seasoned travelers in the city. Mama was very nervous, but she hid it well and maintained the look of someone who knew exactly where she was going and how to get there. When we got to the station, I read the map on the wall and we were off.

  "How did you get her to meet with us, Mama," I asked, "if Ken couldn't even talk to them?"

  "Mothers speak a different language:' she muttered. I smiled to myself and she looked at me. "If you heard Ken on the phone making demands, would you want to talk to him?"

  "No," I said laughing.

  Mama squeezed my hand for reassurance. We rode on, neither of us saying much more. Our thoughts were too cluttered and our nerves too jumpy.

  "Where are we meeting her, Mama?" I asked when we arrived at the station. She looked at her note paper.

  "Cafe St. Germain," she replied, only she pronounced it Cafe St. German. Then she asked, "What in blazes is it?"

  "A French restaurant, Mama."

  "French? I don't think I've ever eaten anything French, except fries," she quipped.

  I laughed. It eased the tension between us and I took a deep breath and looked about the street. There were fancy shops with their windows stocked with expensive looking clothing and shoes, gourmet food stores, chocolate shops, and restaurants and cafes with people sitting on patios, talking and eating. Everyone looked happy and successful. How different it all was from the streets around our apartment.

  "Which way?" Mama wondered aloud. She turned a bit frantically. "We're going to be late."

  "This way, Mama," I said noting the numbers. A few minutes later, we stood before Cafe St. Germain.

  Through the large front windows we could see a very elegantly dressed crowd. Most of the men were wearing jackets and ties. The women wore so much jewelry they glittered like Christmas trees. All of them had styled hair. Their clothing looked even more expensive than the jewelry. I imagined every famous designer was represented by someone in there. Even the waiters looked rich in their black slacks, white shirts and black bow ties. A hostess who might have been on the covers of yesterday's fashion magazines stood near the entrance talking on the telephone.

  Mama looked as though the sight had nailed her feet to the sidewalk. She swallowed hard and clutched her pocketbook. Now she seemed ready to turn and sprint back to the trains.

  "Do you know what she looks like, Mama?"

  She shook her head.

  "Well, she doesn't know what we look like," I thought aloud.

  "She told me to just ask for Megan Hudson Randolph's table," Mama said.

  I looked through the window again, searching for a woman sitting alone.

  "Well, we're not late," Mama said. "We're right on time. Let's go, honey."

  She gathered her courage and hoisted back her slim shoulders before stepping through the door. I followed right behind her. The hostess looked up with an expression of half amusement, half disdain. It seemed to me that everyone in the restaurant paused in their conversation to look our way. Suddenly, my cardigan felt like a rag and I was never more selfconscious about my battered shoes. Mama kept her eyes focused on the hostess.

  "Can I help you?" she asked before we reached her. It was as if she thought her words would stop us or put up some protective wall.

  "We're here to meet Megan Hudson Randolph for lunch," Mama said.

  The young woman's amused smile hardened into plastic. She shook her head slightly, maybe to replay the words in her diamond studded ears.

  "Mrs. Randolph?"

  "Yes, that's right," Mama said firmly. "We're not too early and we're not late," she added.

  "Oh." She gazed at her chart. "Yes. Mrs. Randolph has booked a table for three at one o'clock. She's not here yet," she added. There was a pregnant pause, one that could give birth to a scream if my anxious lungs had their way. I stepped forward.

  "You could seat us at the table," I suggested. "Mrs. Randolph might appreciate that."

  "Oh. Yes," she said. She turned and signaled to a waiter. He hurried over. "Daniel," she said, "would you show these ladies to number 22, s'il vous pl
ait."

  "Oui, Mademoiselle," the waiter replied.

  Mama's eyes widened. She turned to me as we started behind the waiter.

  "They speak French, too?"

  "It's just part of the act, Mama," I said.

  The women and men we passed along the way all gazed at us with quizzical smiles. One woman looked upset, however, and whispered to her lunch date, who laughed aloud. Number 22 was a table all the way in the rear of the restaurant. I was positive Megan Hudson Randolph had asked for it to be less conspicuous. That was also why she was arriving late.

  The waiter pulled out the chair for Mama and she sat. He did the same for me. Mama ran her hand over the tablecloth.

  "It's good cotton," she said.

  I had to smile.

  "I'm sure this is a very expensive restaurant, Mama. The customers expect the best."

  She nodded and looked up when the busboy set a basket of warm French rolls on our table. Another busboy poured water from bottles of Evian. Mama watched everything with the eyes of someone who had just been let out of prison. The most expensive restaurant we had eaten in was Joe Mandel's Beef and Ribs Diner, and not that often either.

  Now that I was actually here, my nerves grew even more frazzled. Every time a single woman entered the restaurant, I felt a terrible pounding of panic. Although we were seated, people were still stealing glimpses at us.

  I imagined every whisper, every laugh was about Mama and me. Finally, a brunette in a dark blue pin-striped suit entered and approached the hostess. I saw her turn and nod in our direction. It made me wish I could shrink into that small hiding place in my brain where I could feel safe and unafraid.

  Mama was studying the menu, complaining about the French words.

  "How are we supposed to know what

  everything is?" "Mama," I said nodding toward the front of the restaurant.

  She turned slowly. As the woman who might have been my mother drew closer, I held my breath. She was about my height, but she was wearing high heeled boots. Her hair was styled and the length was an inch or so above the nape of her neck. She was slim and small boned. I thought she was very pretty. I saw immediately that we had the same color eyes and practically the same shape jaw. Her lips remained taut until she was only a few steps away. Then, her eyes rested on me and her lips quivered in the corners, almost forming a smile. It was as if they wanted to, but something stronger held them back.