“Not my brother, Mr. Lindsey. Skipper Kornegay. He raped my sister not far from where he was killed. Not that day, but some months before. Marcus found this out the day Skipper was killed.”
Mr. Lindsey leaned forward, locked both hands behind his neck, and stared downward. Without looking up he asked, “Did the Chief know?”
“Miss Ora says she told him.”
“When?”
“Just before Eldred Mims confessed.”
“Son of a bitch,” Mr. Lindsey muttered at the floor.
Part 2 – May 2001
21 – Patrice
Miss Ora had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and I had promised to take her. I’m worried about these spells she’s having. I’m even more worried about Gracie. She’s sleeping way too much, which could be depression like she says it is, but it could also mean much worse. I tried to get her to come with us but, as usual, she refused. Our appointment was for 11:30, and it ran late. Then they wanted an X-ray, which had to be done at the hospital, so Shawn and Rochelle made it home before we did. In the short time between when we left and the children got off the bus, Grace managed to connect with a dealer, get high, and start a cleaning frenzy. We found Shawn and Rochelle in the living room, looking shell-shocked and trying desperately to focus on their homework as Grace buzzed in and out between the pantry and the kitchen table.
“Oh, my,” Miss Ora said, stopping in the middle of the living room to gape at the mess in her kitchen.
There were boxes and cans of food stacked across the tabletop, various seldom-used appliances on the chairs, and a bucket of brown soapy water on the counter.
“What’s going on?” I asked Rochelle. I guess I assumed it would take a female perspective to make sense of the chaos.
“Um, she’s cleaning?” Rochelle’s eyes were wide and her body tense.
My sister had yet to acknowledge we had even come in. She spoke every now and then to herself, but not to us.
“How long has she been this way?”
This time Shawn answered. “Since before we got home, I guess. It looked like that when we walked in. She opened a can of baked beans and poured them into bowls. Cold. Told us to eat.”
“Dammit,” I said under my breath. “Y’all go get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute. Take my keys.”
“I’ll walk them out,” Miss Ora said. I just looked at her for a minute. Was she really going to leave me alone to deal with this? Apparently, yes.
I learned years ago that it is never a good idea to greet an intoxicated person with anger or authority. It just makes the entire situation worse. I took a deep breath and went into the “Gracie mode” I’d learned years ago.
“Hey!” I said on her next trip in. I said it as if we had not already been standing there unnoticed for several minutes. “You’ve been busy.”
“Oh, hey! I didn’t see you come in,” Grace swiped her forearm across her face. “I was just trying to get this pantry cleaned out. Miss Ora’s gonna be so happy when she sees it. She likes things real clean you know, but Mama ain’t been here for years. It’s all dusty and half the boxes are out of date. I threw some stuff out she don’t use, and I labeled her Tupperware with a magic marker so she’ll know what’s in ’em.”
Grace never stopped moving as she spoke. She wrung out the dish towel and finished wiping down the now-empty shelves, then started taking cans back into the pantry. She selected alphabetically, which took some time.
“Can I help you?” I asked. “I’m afraid Miss Ora might freak out a little when she sees everything turned upside down.”
“Oh, she won’t be mad, Sister,” Grace said. “I ain’t thrown out anything valuable. I’m just making it so she can find things. It’s depressing just sitting around all the time. She go’n love it, you watch. Hey, help me find all the beans and carrots. Those go next.”
I hesitated a minute. “Why don’t you go outside and work in the garden a little bit. I’ll clean this mess up.”
“It’s not a mess, Sister,” Grace protested. “It’s all clean, look! I scrubbed everything, even this old toaster and I don’t even think she uses a toaster. I oughta just throw that out, too.”
“Grace,” I lost the last bit of hold I had on my temper. “You can’t just go into people’s pantries and start throwing stuff away.”
“If she doesn’t use it, why keep it?”
“It’s not yours to throw out, Grace,” I said as she passed by me for the third time. I reached out and grabbed her upper arm. “Stop!”
She pulled away so hard she stumbled and almost fell.
“I think you need to sit down and tell me what you’re on,” I said.
She stopped dead still and glared at me. “I ain’t on anything. I am working as hard as I can to do something nice for Miss Ora, and you’re spoiling it, like you always do.”
“What did you take?”
“I’m clean, Sister. I didn’t take nothin’! Why you doin’ this?”
“I could ask the same thing. Why? Why in God’s name, when you have a beautiful roof over your head and people working hard to make sure you’re okay? You tell me, Grace. Why?”
Her energy seemed to drain in one breath. She exhaled and sunk inward. “I just…I just needed to feel something, Sister. It’s just crank, that’s all. It ain’t a big deal. I wanted to do something nice for Miss Ora. I wanted to thank her for all she been doin’.”
I gritted my teeth and stared at her for a long moment. “This is not how you do it. It’s not. How’d you get the money? Did you steal it from her?”
Her head snapped up and she glared at me. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”
I rolled my eyes. It does no good to accuse an addict. They lie when the truth will do them better. The front door opened and Mrs. Beckworth stuck her head in.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Gracie was just going to her room to lie down. I’ll finish up in here.”
When Grace had gone to her room, huffing and puffing and acting mortally wounded, Miss Ora and I stood for a moment and just looked at each other.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” she said.
“I have. Many times.”
“Go on home. The kids look like they need you. I didn’t know what to say to them.”
“I can’t leave you with this,” I said. “It won’t take me long.”
“It won’t take me long, either. And I’ll get everything back in where I can find it.”
Miss Ora picked up a stack of cereal and pasta boxes and headed for the pantry.
“I’ll say this much for her,” she called as she stacked boxes in their place, “she has this thing cleaner than it has been in years.”
I waited for her to come back into the kitchen before speaking.
“I’m worried that she stole something to pay for the drugs she took. Can you check all your valuables and let me know?”
Miss Ora looked stricken then, but it only lasted a few seconds and she recovered.
“Well, I’ll look, but I don’t think Gracie would…of course she wouldn’t. Of course not.”
I looked at her without speaking. She sighed and sank into the nearest chair.
“I’ll do a little inventory and take my irreplaceable things to the bank. Most of what I prize is sentimental, but…” She trailed off, her throat catching as if she were about to cry.
“I can take her home, Miss Ora. There’s no reason for her to stay here when Mom’s house is just sitting there.”
“I won’t hear of it,” she said. “That child needs me more than ever. I’m not giving up on her again. No matter what.”
“I’ll call Kamilah in the morning,” I said. “I think she should come talk to her. In the meantime, she’ll be revved up for a bit longer and then she’ll crash. She’ll probably sleep for a good fifteen or sixteen hours, so don’t be surprised. If she has more stashed, you’ll figure it out pretty quickly. Let me know if that happens or if she gets ou
t of line. I’ll call Chip and get him to come scare her into compliance.”
“So what do I do if things get out of control?” She looked terrified.
“Call 9-1-1. Then call me.” I said. “Best thing to do right now, though, is to leave her be. Don’t try to reason with her. If she insists on a conversation, just listen and nod. Don’t argue. It’s pointless and will likely push her into an agitated state. I think she may be a little embarrassed right now, so I’m betting she stays in her room. Watch her though. If she sneaks out, call me right away.”
Miss Ora nodded and went back to work. I left her then and took the kids out for pizza. It seemed like the best way to distract them, and it worked. For the time being anyway.
22 – Grace
I woke up in the middle of the night, starving half to death. For a minute, I couldn’t figure out where I was. The moonlight through the window was enough to illuminate the room. Miss Ora’s room. Her house always smelled the same, so I might have known just as easily if I’d kept my eyes closed.
I tiptoed into the kitchen and raided the pantry first. It wasn’t how I’d have done it, but all the stuff was back in place. She’s not all that great about snacks, but I did find a jar of olives and a can of cashews. I took them to the kitchen table and got myself a plate from the cabinet. Then I hit the refrigerator and found leftover ham and a tray of sliced cheese. I ate my little feast at the table and washed it down with tap water. Nothin’ ever tasted so good as a comedown meal, and I knew for sure I was coming down hard. I could barely finish eating. My arms felt like lead and I hurt all over. I dragged myself back to bed and lay there feeling like hell and praying I’d fall asleep soon.
23 – Patrice
Grace kept to herself until early evening the day after the pantry incident. Miss Ora said she knew she’d come out in the middle of the night and gotten something to eat because the evidence was left on the counter, but Grace was still in bed when Shawn and Rochelle came in from school that afternoon. As a matter of fact, she was still in bed when I stopped by to pick them up. I almost told them to just ride the bus home, but I thought better of it. Best not to change their routines every time their mother has a set-back.
Miss Ora looked exhausted, so I offered to make us all something for dinner and she immediately agreed. “I have hamburger thawed out and plenty of canned goods. Maybe we can just do a meatloaf or something?”
Shawn and Rochelle threw each other looks of disgust, which annoyed me a bit.
“Well, I could just open a can of baked beans for you, if meatloaf doesn’t suit your fancy,” I said, half-kidding.
They both looked horrified, so I backpedaled fast.
“Okay, that was not funny at all, was it? Do you want to talk about what happened with your…with Grace, yesterday?”
Rochelle shook her head.
“You got any peanut butter and jelly?” she asked, effectively changing the subject.
I looked at Miss Ora, who nodded at Rochelle. “I do. I have apricot preserves for you, and grape jelly for your brother.”
“I’m not hungry,” Shawn said and plopped into the chair at the kitchen table, his backpack sliding to the floor beside him.
“I find that very hard to believe,” I replied. “You are perpetually hungry.”
“Not today.” Shawn dragged his notebook and science text from his backpack and got busy looking busy. I sat down beside him and motioned Rochelle into a chair as well.
“Kamilah is stopping by shortly to talk with both of you. I want you to eat something before she gets here.”
“Why we gotta be here at all, Aunt Patrice? I mean, no offense, but I’d rather just go home after school.” At fifteen, Shawn had just enough confidence to speak his mind, and just enough hormonal angst to stay quiet most of the time.
I sat and thought about that for a minute. I couldn’t blame him, really.
“I know this is hard for you guys.” What could I say that made sense? Hell, it didn’t even make sense to me. “We’re trying to get help for your mother –”
“Help her with what? Looks like she’s got exactly what she wants right here.” Shawn said.
Miss Ora chimed in then. “Don’t be too hard on your mama. She’s been through a lot.”
“So have we,” Shawn said, almost under his breath.
“Whoa now,” I looked up from making sandwiches and caught Shawn’s eye. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
“She just does weird stuff,” he said. “And what do her problems have to do with us anyway? Aunt Patrice already said we aren’t gonna be living with her anytime soon.”
“Well, I know, but I think the goal is to get your mama well enough so she can take care of you again.” Miss Ora said.
“Again?” Shawn shook his head. “She never took care of us to begin with.”
“But you lived with her when you were younger. I remember a time when Grace stayed home with you. You remember that, right?” Miss Ora reached over and patted Rochelle on the hand.
Rochelle looked like a deer in headlights. “Uh-uh.” She shook her head and glanced at her brother as if she were making sure it was the right answer.
“You want to know what we remember, Miss Ora?” Shawn sat up straight then. “What I remember is that Mama used to take us with her to a bar over on Pine Street. It had a screen-porch on the back of it and a little patch of grass in front of some dumpsters. She used to set us out there to play and make me watch Rochelle ’cause she wasn’t old enough to know not to go out in the street. I ‘member it was hot and stinky and we were always hungry, even though Gramma kept food at the house for us. And Mama made us swear not to tell Gramma. That’s why ’Chelle’s lookin’ at me like that. She’s still scared to talk about it.”
“I ain’t scared,” Rochelle protested.
“Right,” Shawn said. “And you weren’t scared of that nasty ol’ man used to make you sit on his lap either, were ya’?”
Rochelle tilted her head down and went mute.
I stepped in then. “Why haven’t you ever told me this?”
“You haven’t ever asked,” Shawn snapped. “Ain’t nobody ever asked.”
“What was your mama doing while all this was happening?” Miss Ora was too horrified to realize she was treading on awfully shaky ground. I wished she would just be quiet.
“Sometimes she worked the bar,” Shawn answered. “Sometimes she sat there and drank beer. And sometimes she disappeared long enough for ol’ Raymond to start in on us…mostly ’Chelle, ’cause he knew I didn’t like him none.”
“Did you tell your mama he was bothering you?”
“Huh. Lotta good that did. She just laughed and said, ‘Baby, ol’ Raymond ain’t go’n hurt you. He jus’ like kids.’” His impression of her voice was remarkably accurate. “Then one day he brought a Nestle’s Crunch bar for Rochelle and told her he’d give it to her if she sat on his lap, and she did. Mama got mad when she came back in.”
“Well, thank God…” she said.
“Noooo – not at him,” Shawn said. “He kept tickling her, even after she started cryin’ and I bit him on the arm and pulled her down off his lap. She was pissed at me, not him.”
“Did Blanche know all this?” Miss Ora asked.
“I have no idea what Gramma knew,” Shawn said. “Mama made us keep quiet about everything.”
I brought peanut butter sandwiches to the table and put Rochelle’s in front of her. She did not take her eyes off her lap, nor acknowledge that I was even there.
“I think that’s enough for now,” I said to Miss Ora. “We need to wait for Kamilah to discuss these things.”
“I don’t even know why we have to talk about it at all, Aunt Patrice.” Shawn packed up his homework and shoved it into his backpack.
“What are you saying, son?” Miss Ora asked.
“I’m saying, what’s the point? What’s the point of us coming here every day? So she can ignore us? So she can feed us cold beans from a can? Really – w
hat’s the point? I’d rather be home. And so would Rochelle. There ain’t nothin’ to do here. No Playstation, no movies. Just homework and a crazy woman draggin’ shit outta closets. She doesn’t even want to be our mama, so what’s – the – point?”
Shawn raised his voice with each word he emphasized, then slid his chair back hard and left the room. Rochelle just sat there looking embarrassed and confused. I wish Miss Ora would just butt out sometimes. Really, I do.
24 – Grace
When I finally woke up this afternoon, it was to the sound of people talking in the kitchen. I got up and put on some clothes and headed for the kitchen. I stopped when I realized Miss Ora was talking about me to my children. I stood in the hallway and listened. Coupla’ times I started to go on in and stop it. I don’t know why I didn’t. It’s hard to listen to things that ain’t exactly true. Ain’t exactly lies either, but whatever. Shawn remembers what he wants to remember, I guess…not that I blame him, but there were some good times, I swear there were.
Ol’ Raymond never hurt my kids, I can tell you that. I’da killed him and he knew it. I don’t know why Shawn’s making such a big deal of that. It wasn’t like we were there every day or anything. I just helped out sometimes ’cause I needed the money. And I could drink free. Mama didn’t allow beer in the house anyway. She was like that. Anyway, it ain’t as big a deal as he was makin’ it out to be.
He came stormin’ down the hallway after he said all that stuff to Miss Ora. I guess he was headed for the bathroom, but he was lookin’ down and didn’t see me until he ’bout ran into me. I caught him by the arms and held him there for a second.
“Baby,” I said to him, but he wouldn’t look up. “Look at Mama.”
When he finally raised his eyes up at me, I said, “Why you say all those things to Miss Ora?”
He pulled one arm out of my grip. “Because they’re true,” he says, and pulls the other one away, too.
The Truth About Grace Page 8
