Lilly

by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

"He's Mama's responsibility, not mine. Sorry, you guys. I'm not staying." I got off the swing and walked down the thirteen steps to the front yard, down the sidewalk to the blacktop, and turned right. I kept walking until I reached the Quarters fifteen minutes later. No one followed me.

  I couldn't believe what I'd just encountered—my siblings expected me to leave New York and come to Jean Ville to take care of a father who had abused me my entire life, all because my mother gave up on him. Well, he was her responsibility, not mine. As far as I was concerned, they could put him in a nursing home.

  I was indignant when I walked up on Catfish's porch and plopped into the rocker. Lilly ran up the little steps, hugged me, then ran back into the yard to play with her cousins. Oh. Her cousins, I thought.

  It hit me that Lilly was actually with her biological family. Marianne and I were half-sisters, so Marianne's nieces and cousins were related to my daughter. In fact, Rodney’s Uncle Bo was married to Marianne’s Aunt Jesse, so their children were related to Lilly, too.

  Catfish's house, now Marianne's, was on the end of the row in the Quarters, closest to Gravier Road. Next was Tootsie's, then Sam's, Catfish's oldest son, and his family, then Bo and Jesse’s cabin. The last house belonged to the second brother, Tom. Tom and Sam's kids were starting to have kids of their own and some of them lived in the three new cabins facing the five originals.

  Marianne walked out of the house with a pitcher of sweet tea and three glasses.

  "Lucy's on the way over. How'd it go at your dad's?"

  "Did you know my mother skipped out?"

  "Mama told me. She's been gone over a week now, I think."

  "They want me to leave my life and move back here to take care of him."

  "Oh, my. Well?"

  "I'm not going to do it."

  "Don't blame you." Lucy must have parked in front of the house because she walked around to the back and climbed the little steps to the porch. She pecked Marianne on the top of her head and shook my hand.

  "I've heard a lot about you." She sat on the floor of the porch with her legs dangling over the edge. She was a bit masculine, but pretty, with short, brown hair that had been ironed straight and hung over one eyebrow. Her skin tone was copper and she had dark eyes and brows and wore a small gold stud in the side of her nose. Lucy was thin and lanky, almost athletic, and spoke in a husky voice. Her dry wit was magnetic. She laughed a lot and was fun to be around. I soon forgot about the dysfunction at the antebellum house on the corner of Marshall and Jefferson Streets.

  Marianne fired up the charcoal grill and laid out a couple of chickens, then she opened a bottle of wine and poured some into three jelly glasses. The three of us watched the children and laughed while evening fell around us and the chickens cooked. I called to Lilly and she came in, tired and dirty. I washed her up at the kitchen sink, dressed her in the pink pajamas we'd packed, and fed her a bowl of cereal. She was too tired to eat a meal. She fell fast asleep on the pull-out sofa in the next room.

  Marianne's little cabin had three rooms, in shotgun fashion, which meant each room had a door into the next. "No halls," Catfish had told me. "That's a waste of space. Plantation owners called them 'shotgun houses' 'cause they said you could shoot your gun through the front door and kill a chicken in the backyard." Catfish laughed when he told me that, several times.

  The room on the rear of the house, off the porch, was the kitchen. It had a stove, a sink with a faucet with running water, and a small refrigerator, which was new because Catfish had an old-fashioned icebox. There was a round table with four chairs and an old pine cabinet that held dishes and glasses. The middle room was the sitting room and Marianne had installed a black-and-white television across from the small sofa. There was also an old rocking chair.

  The last room, on the front of the house, was a bedroom. I hadn't been in it since after Catfish's funeral. At the time it had a small bed, a dresser and a rod across one corner where he hung his clothes. A picture of Jesus had been over the bed. I wondered what Marianne had done to change the room, but didn't ask. I'd see it later.

  The three of us polished off two bottles of wine and one of the chickens, and laughed until we were all exhausted. I asked about the bathroom and they looked at each other funny.

  "You still have an outhouse?" I looked from Marianne to Lucy.

  "We're just pulling your leg. I built a bathroom with running water, even hot, on the front porch. Just go through the bedroom."

  I checked on Lilly as I walked through the sitting room. She was sound asleep. I opened the door to the bedroom and it no longer looked like the one I remembered. A large bed sat under the windows on the right and a big dresser with a huge mirror was across from it. On the far wall, next to the front door, was an armoire that I figured held Marianne's clothes. Nice, navy draperies hung from the two windows and there was a bedside table with a lamp on each side of the bed.

  I opened the front door and, instead of a porch, there was a modern bathroom, complete with tub, toilet, and sink. I was impressed.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I walked in on Marianne and Lucy kissing and turned around and closed the door between that room and the sitting room. I went into the bathroom, took a hot bath, dressed in my pajamas, and crawled into bed with Lilly. I was asleep before my eyes were totally shut.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ***

  Stay or Go?

  I heard voices, and when I opened my eyes, rays of sunshine made fingers of light like a prism on the wall. Lilly was snuggled up against me, so I propped a pillow under her back and crept out of bed. I walked through Marianne's bedroom to the bathroom, put on my jeans and a T-shirt, and tiptoed into the kitchen. Tootsie was sitting at the table having coffee with Marianne.

  "Did you ever go to bed last night?" I joked with Mari as I hugged Tootsie. "It's so good to see you, Toot."

  "You, too, honey-chile. How you been? You looking good."

  "Doing fine. How about you?" Tootsie told me about each of her other four daughters and her two baby granddaughters. She lit up when she described how Betsy's older daughter, Celeste, was going to be a beauty and so smart. The baby, Leah, was six months old and just beginning to sit up. I loved the way Tootsie talked, her animated gestures, how her eyes got big as peaches when she discussed something that excited her, like her grandbabies.

  "Are you going to work today?" I twisted a strand of red hair that had fallen over my eye and tucked it behind my ear, then I got up and poured a cup of coffee and returned to the table.

  "It's Saturday and I don't work weekends, but I be heading out to your daddy's house in a few minutes. I need to check on him and make sure they got something to feed him over the weekend."

  "What's going on over there?"

  "Hard to say. Your Mama, she done left. Left me and Sissy to take care of him. And he sick, too."

  "Look, Toot. My siblings ganged up on me yesterday. They expect me to leave my job, my friends, my life in New York and move back here to take care of him. I'm not doing it."

  "I don't blame you none, honey-chile. He not your responsibility."

  "He's not yours, either."

  "Well, somebody got to do it."

  "So Sissy stays with him at night and you take care of him in the daytime while she's at school?"

  "She don't complain but I know she need help. Your brothers help out on weekends, but she there most of the time." I thought about how unfair it was to expect a fifteen-year-old to take care of a sick man, but I couldn't get sucked into feeling guilty and giving up my life.

  "How are you getting there this morning?" I looked from Tootsie to Marianne.

  "Mari gonna take me."

  "I can't leave Lilly," I said. "I'll be down there later when someone is here to watch her."

  "Who's Lilly?" Tootsie looked at Marianne who shrugged her shoulders and looked at me. I was surprised she hadn't told her mother.

  "Lilly is the daughter of my friends,
Joe and Emalene. She's five. Emma is in the hospital. I had already agreed to keep Lilly before I found out about Daddy, so I brought her with me."

  "Oh. I'll be back by noon and be happy to watch her so you can go see your Daddy," Tootsie said.

  "I'm not working this weekend. I'll watch Lilly," Marianne said. "You two take my car."

  "We can walk," I said.

  "I ain't walking," Tootsie raised her eyebrows and looked at me over the top of her coffee, her chin down, her eyelashes up. Marianne and I both laughed at the face she made.

  Lilly stumbled into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and climbed into my lap. She laid her head on my chest and wrapped her little arms around my neck.

  "Hi, sleepyhead." I rubbed her back and she leaned back to look at me.

  "Are we still in Jean Ville?" She smiled and her breath smelled like sour milk.

  "Yes. Still at Marianne's house. This is Tootsie, Marianne's mama." I turned her around in my lap so she was facing the table. Tootsie's eyes got big, her eyebrows lifted, and she looked at me with a sheepish grin.

  "Hi, Lilly."

  "Tootsie? Is that your real name?" Lilly scooted off my lap and was standing on the wood floor, facing Tootsie.

  "Well, my real name is Theresa, but everyone calls me Tootsie." She took both of Lilly's hands in hers and pulled her closer.

  "I like the name Tootsie. It feels good in my mouth, like sucking on a lollipop." Lilly was serious but Tootsie burst out laughing and soon we were all hysterical, with Lilly sitting in Tootsie's lap sipping from Tootsie's coffee cup. I could tell that Lilly and Tootsie would be a great pair. I just worried Tootsie would ask questions I was not ready to answer.

  *

  I stayed with Daddy all day Saturday so Sissy could get out with her friends and take a break. I actually felt sorry for him. He looked so vulnerable and was dependent on me for everything. He couldn't get up to use the bathroom, so I had to handle a urinal. James and Will came over and helped him to the toilet once, and I wondered how Sissy and Tootsie handled that part when the boys weren't around. Daddy was a big, heavy man, even in his weakened condition.

  I tried to be as attentive and patient as I could, but Daddy was a difficult and demanding patient. First he wanted to be turned, then to sit up, then he decided that didn’t work and needed to lie down. He'd ask for a drink of water then say it didn't taste right and could I get him a soda. Then he'd say maybe lemonade. I tried to feed him Jell-O but he didn't like lime, so I made a batch of cherry which took a while to set and he got impatient waiting for it. I fed him soup and he said he didn't eat canned soup, he liked homemade. I drew the line there. The way he was acting, I knew he wouldn't eat it if I went to the trouble.

  He awoke from a nap about mid-afternoon and I was sitting in the corner, reading.

  "Hi." He whispered and coughed a couple of times. "Hi, pretty girl. You still here?" He started to move around in the bed and I got up to help him.

  "Do you need something, Daddy?" I pulled the covers up and straightened them across his chest, under his arms.

  "No. I'm just glad you're here." He patted the bed beside him and moved over a bit to give me room to sit.

  "What can I do to make you more comfortable?" I sat on the edge of the bed, my butt touching his hip through the covers.

  "I'm okay for now. I just want to visit with you a bit." He opened his eyes fully and I could see that the whites were yellow. He was pale and his lips were chapped and parched. There was some petroleum jelly on the bedside table so I put my pinky finger in it and spread a little on his lips.

  "You want some water?" I picked up his glass and held the straw to his lips and he drank a few sips.

  "Thanks. Look, Susie. I know we've had a tough go, but I want you to know that I love you." One solitary tear ran out the corner of his eye and down into his thinning hair.

  "I know, Daddy. You don't have to talk about it." I was shocked to hear him talk this way and thought, he must believe he’s dying.

  "I always knew you were special and I think I was afraid you wouldn't reach your potential. That you would make a bad decision that could ruin your future." He looked at the ceiling and folded his hands together on his chest as if praying.

  "Oh." I was so shocked at his statement that I didn't know what to say.

  "I just want you to know. It was because I love you." He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, as if drifting off to sleep. I took that as my cue that the conversation was over. I left the bedroom and went to the kitchen to freshen his glass of water and leaned on the counter to catch my breath, which is when I realized I'd been holding it, afraid of what Daddy would say and startled at what he actually did say.

  Robby still lived at my parents' house when he was home from college, so he was there when Will and James came over Saturday afternoon. That evening we sat at the kitchen table and opened a bottle of wine. James was drinking beer and was irritated. We discussed the different options available if Mama didn't come home. I kept thinking of what Daddy had said to me that afternoon, but I didn't share it with my brothers.

  James said he was going to Houston to bring Mama home, that it was ridiculous that she would run out on the family at a time like this. We came up with some ideas for how to handle the situation once I returned to New York.

  It almost took permission from the Queen, but I was able to get a week off from work and Joe agreed to let Lilly miss a week of kindergarten. Emma would be in the hospital all week, so if we went home I'd be keeping Lilly anyway.

  "If it's permanent liver damage, it's serious." Josh said when we finally talked on the phone about my dad Sunday night. "He's probably had it for years and now the liver is diseased. Since he's been a heavy drinker, I'd say he has five years; maybe more if he doesn't drink again."

  "What kind of care will he need?"

  "If I were to guess, I'd say he has a virus in his weakened liver that's making him acutely ill and once the virus has cleared up—if it clears up and doesn't end up destroying his liver—he'll feel better. He will have fatigue and swelling, probably some abdominal discomfort, and he needs to limit salt and eat a balanced diet, not high in fat. And mild exercise, such as walking or swimming, once he's over the virus. But, Susie, he'll be a sick man the rest of his life, however long that is."

  "Okay." I didn't say anything for a while. "Josh?"

  "Yes."

  "I… well… I…"

  "You miss me?" He started laughing. I laughed, too.

  "Yeah. You got it."

  "I know, Susie. Hang in there. And, if you want me to come to Louisiana, if you need me…"

  "I'm okay. We'll talk again soon." When we hung up I sat by the phone and tried to hold onto Josh's voice and feel his presence. I DID need him, but I would never ask him to come to Jean Ville.

  *

  I walked back to the Quarters from my dad's house on Monday, just as the sun turned orange on the horizon and sent rays of red, yellow, and white halos over the tops of the moss-draped oak trees. I thought how none of my brothers asked me where I was staying.

  Marianne was home, pulling stuff out of the fridge to start dinner.

  "Let me go get burgers so you don't have to cook tonight, Mari." I put my purse on the table and hugged her.

  "That would be great. I had a long day." She started to put everything back and asked if I'd like a glass of wine.

  "I'll have one when I get back. Can I use your car?"

  "Sure." She took her keys from her purse and handed them to me.

  "Where's Lilly?"

  "She's next door. Mama's fixing macaroni and cheese for her and Tom’s daughter, Anna, and Sam’s, Chrissy." She took a bottle of wine from the fridge and started to wrestle with the cork.

  "They must be around Lilly's age, right?"

  "Yes, and the three of them are thick as underbrush." Marianne laughed and sat at the table.

  *

  The Burger Barn was owned
by Mr. Joffrion, the dad of one of my friends, who stopped me when I walked in to order hamburgers for dinner.

  "Susie Burton. Well how the heck are you? Long time, no see." He came around the counter and hugged me.

  "I'm fine, Mr. Joffrion. Just in for a visit."

  "Where you living now?"

  "I'm still in New York. How's Cindy?"

  "Oh, she's fine. Has three children now. They live just down the street from me and Beverly." He had his hands on my shoulders and was looking at me like he was trying to figure me out.

  "That's just great, Mr. Joffrion." I took a step back and looked up at the menu written on a huge blackboard mounted on the wall behind the counter. He moved back to his spot behind the cash register.

  "I'll have three cheeseburgers with fries, please."

  "Gotcha. Want that to go or to eat here?" He started laughing at his own foolish question, as if I would eat all three burgers. I laughed, too. He wrote my order on a little pad, ripped it off, and hung it on a string under the blackboard, using a clothes hanger to attach it. His back was to me and he was talking to the cook through the opening when I heard the cowbell sound on the door.

  I turned towards the door and froze. There was Rodney standing in the opened doorway, the handle still in his hand, also suspended in time, not moving. I think my mouth was open but no sound came out, nor could I hear a sound around me. It was as though everything and everyone had become petrified and only Rodney and I were in this space where I could hear him breathe and smell the aftershave on his skin, starch in his dress shirt, and toothpaste on his breath.

  A smile crept across his face, slowly, and his eyes lit up. His feet sounded like bullets as they padded across the wood-planked floor when he walked towards me. I couldn't breathe or move or hear him speak, although I saw his lips move and knew he was saying my name.

  He took both my hands in his and I looked at our four sets of fingers, twenty of them, entwined in the space between us. When I looked up he was glaring at me with a huge grin.

  He was still gorgeous. He was dressed in green slacks with sharp creases, a tan, long-sleeved cotton shirt starched stiff, and a brown tie loosened at the neck, the first two buttons of his shirt unfastened, obviously his army uniform.