There were no words spoken for a few moments, as each was lost in their own thoughts once again. There was a rhythm in the fingers of Ms. Tandy, creating a perfect pattern of skill upon Paisley’s head that relaxed the young girl and caused her to rest her head upon Ms. Tandy’s knee. The breeze of Spring and the salty smell of the Gulf met both ladies under the McComb, Mississippi sun. Ms. Tandy started to hum an old song that her own mother used to sing and the melody permeated her ears until she found herself singing along with the memory.
“As I went down to de valley tuh pray, studying ‘bout dat good ole way, when yuh shall wear de starry crowns, oh Lord, show me de way . . .”
Her fingers moved as if by memory, tears quickly gathering at thoughts of her mother’s voice and the melodies associated with being Home. She thought about what her mother must look like these days . . . wondered if she was still alive. She thought about the last time she had been close to her mother, cooking Christmas dinner with her in her shack on the bayou. She smiled when remembering how she and her siblings had danced the night way, full of liquor and holiday cheer. She suddenly felt Paisley gripping her leg tighter, comforting her from below and knowing without knowing that she needed to be consoled.
“Oh, Baby less go down, less go down, less go down . . . Oh, Mama less go down, down to de valley to pray . . .”
“Oh, Chile . . . I don’t know what put dat song in mah head. Mah mama use ta sing dat ole’ song when we was youngins. I loved her voice, lil’ Miss Paisley. I be sittin’ dere, lookin’ at her beauty an’ sangin’ right ‘long wit’ her. Boy, we be sangin’ all day, ‘specially when we was cookin’. Cain’t nobody sang like Mama.”
Paisley sat in detached emotion, scouring her mind for moments that had been shared with her own mother that would allow her to relate. She then realized that the way that Ms. Tandy spoke of her own mother was how she felt toward Ms. Tandy . . . the beauty and awe and wonder of a woman you admire making you feel loved and accepted.
“I wish I had a Mama like that.” Before she could catch the thought, she vocalized the feelings within her. Ms. Tandy heard the soft whisper and the voice of God simultaneously. The realization made her heart flutter and ache and she had a brief moment of understanding. Ms. Tandy was loved and cared for during her young life, so she had no idea the loneliness and emptiness the younger lady felt daily.
“Yuh know lil’ Miss Paisley, I ain’t neva been too much of a ‘churchy churchy’ as a grown woman. But I be thankin’ ‘bout some-a de stuff dey use-ta talk ‘bout when I was a youngin’. Yuh know, dere’s a story in de Bible ‘bout Jesus in da Garden. An’ His Daddy God done tol’ Him dat He had a job tah do here on Earf, sayin’ Jesus got tah die fa’ erry’body’s sins. But Jesus say it was more den He could handle! So He was like, “Daddy, don’ make Me do dis! But Yo’ will be done, not Mine!” Dat’s how it be sometime, Miss Paisley. We keep pushin’ even when we don’t want tuh. Yo’ mama is yo’ mama . . . she prob’ly ain’t gone change none. But don’ let dat stop yuh from doin’ what ya gotta do. Yuh here for a reason . . . YOU’S here for a purpose. Yo’ Mama brought yuh here but she ain’ gon’ keep yuh here. Mama or no . . . YOU gon’ be somebody. Mark mah words!”
As Ms. Tandy spoke to Paisley, she also spoke to herself. She knew that she was destined to take on the young life before her and that both lives would be forever changed. As Ms. Tandy finished the last, neat braided row on Paisley’s head, the sky started to swell with the promise of rain. Dark purple clouds hovered ominously overhead, and swollen raindrops fell heavily on every surface with an angry urgency. Paisley looked down the street in the direction of her apartment building, knowing that she would have to battle those raindrops to get home only to sit in silence waiting out the storm for her mother’s delayed return. As if reading her mind, Ms. Tandy spoke in her usual authoritative way.
“Get yo’self inside dis house. I got a pilla an’ blanket an’ a extra room. We sort it out in da mornin’.” Paisley noticeably exhaled, feeling as if she could jump for joy. She looked down at her dirty clothes and felt herself too unclean to enter the sanctuary of Ms. Tandy’s home. As the front door opened, she became baptized in the feeling of home. “Yuh wait . . . I got some-a Genevieve old clothes here . . .I bet yuh ‘bout da same size a’ her.”
Paisley looked around at all the beautiful pictures. She saw pictures of a caramel-colored young girl with long pigtails along the walls. The girl was dressed in the most beautiful clothes, almost as if she was a doll. She looked too perfect to be real. She also saw Ms. Tandy in her younger form, shining like Queen Sheba on the throne. Paisley stood in open admiration, never having seen such beautiful, perfect pictures of people in her short lifetime.
In her own home, there were no framed memories of Paisley’s life, almost as if she did not exist. She closed her eyes and imagined her face upon the images, wearing the nice dresses and posing as a princess. She gathered her dated dress and envisioned it as lace and she danced slowly in circles feeling light as air.
Ms. Tandy felt a melancholy mood descend like a slow burn from the crown of her head to the tips of her fingers as she prepared a warm bath for the young girl. As the water ran, she ventured into the unused bedroom to find something for Paisley to wear. She always tried to keep memories of Genevieve tucked away at the furthest recesses of her mind, but having Paisley around made her long for a child’s love. Paisley looked at her in a way that Genevieve never did . . . Paisley had a need for her that Genevieve never did.
Despite not seeing her daughter for almost a decade, Ms. Tandy kept all of Genevieve’s clothing neatly hung and folded away. Wherever she was, Ms. Tandy was preserving the memory of her presence in that old cedar wood closet. Just as she suspected, there were many things from Genevieve’s childhood that Paisley could fit. She opened a brown cardboard box at the back of the closet and retrieved a pink silk nightgown. She held the material between her fingers, letting the memories connect and take her back in time when she knew and felt love.
“You want me to turn the water off?”
Paisley interrupted her reverie and reminded her that she needed to leave the past where it was. “Genevieve ain’ neva comin’ back,” she nodded to herself in affirmation as Paisley looked at her having an internal conversation with curiosity and amusement. Paisley turned toward the small bathroom and the pristine porcelain bathtub that sat high on what looked to be lion paws. Ms. Tandy gently brushed past her, setting the clothing on the lid of the toilet, returning to her emotionless stance.
“Now, you gon’ get in dis tub and wash yo’self down. I gotcha a towel an’ soap an’ I betta see yo’ behin’ clean as a penny, Miss.” Ms. Tandy exited the bathroom and held the door open in order for Paisley to enter, then softly shut the door behind her. As Paisley undressed, she took in the scents of the bathroom, soft and floral. She noticed the rows of neatly positioned angel figurines amongst the multi-colored soaps along the wall and thought to herself that this is what a normal home must feel like.
Ms. Tandy was in the kitchen, patting together Jack mackerel cakes in breadcrumbs to prepare them for frying. She had some collard greens stewing and cornbread in a black cast iron skillet on the stove. Her radio was tuned to 94.5 FM and Muddy Waters was singing Hoochie Coochie Man. She joined in with the melody, losing herself in the repeated riffs of the harmonica and guitar that helped to drown out the sound of the thunder outside. She flipped her cakes in the hot grease and put a toothpick in the cornbread to make sure it was cooked all the way through.
Paisley walked timidly in the kitchen, fresh faced and renewed. She took a while in the bathroom to parade in front of the mirror in her nightgown with her newly braided hair and clean brown skin, feeling as if she had traded places with royalty. She could not take her eyes away from her reflection. Ms. Tandy noticed the way that Paisley appeared, looking as if she should have been a model in a magazine.
“Well, don’t yuh look pretty as a pic-cha? Sit yo’ self on down here an’ get
ready fo’ da BEST fish cakes yuh done eva’ had dis side-a Heaven!”
The light outside of the window illuminated as if God had flooded fluorescent in the sky. The thunder rolled loudly, shaking the wooden frame of the house, interrupting the radio signal temporarily. Ms. Tandy turned the dial until it clicked OFF and motioned for Paisley to have a seat at the modest wooden table. As Paisley took her seat, Ms. Tandy put the plate of fish cakes before her, followed by the pot of collards and the skillet of cornbread. Ms. Tandy got down her plates that she reserved for company and placed a heavy white plate with floral imprints in front of Paisley, followed by a fork and spoon made of real silver.
Ms. Tandy filled both of their plates as if preparing for a famine. Paisley’s eyes grew wide at the food before her, feeling as if she was a dignitary at a royal feast. Ms. Tandy filled up two tall crystal glasses with the sweetest of sweet tea. She took her place at the head of the table, and reached out for Paisley’s smaller hand.
“Now, I ain’t fa’got mah roots. We still pray in dis’ house. So go on an’ close dem eyes.” Ms. Tandy looked in Paisley’s direction, waiting for her to show her reverence for the moment. She cleared here throat, preparing to give God His due for the food and His mercy and provisions. “Dear Lord Jesus, we thanks Yuh fo’ . . .”
The prayer was interrupted by furious beating at the door that shook Paisley at her core. Ms. Tandy’s head shot up forcefully, her eyes taking on an evil glow as if temporarily possessed at the interruption. She pushed her chair back and took a powerful stance, preparing herself for what she knew awaited her. She looked at Paisley’s scared face and instantly softened her own. She knew how to handle what was on the other side of that door.
“Now listen, Miss Paisley. Yuh gone ‘head an’ eat. Don’ worry none ‘bout dis. I done cooked all dis food an’ damn sho ain’t gone waste it!” She threw her hand towel down forcefully, then straightened herself as she dazzled Paisley with her brilliant smile, calming the younger woman while the beating at the door gained momentum. Ms. Tandy picked up her pace and furiously opened the door, staring down the woman at the other end of it.
“Where Paisley?”
Princess Parker stood wet, annoyed and boldly with the confidence of a giant despite her petite five-foot-one frame. Ms. Tandy amusingly looked down at her, her expression daring Princess to yell in her direction once more. There was an anger that had been brewing inside of Ms. Tandy for weeks because of how Princess treated Paisley, and she was biding her time for the opportunity to give Princess a piece of her mind. The rain had calmed a bit as if on command in Ms. Tandy’s presence and she stepped forward from the door frame, closing the door behind her to stand on the porch away from Paisley’s ears.
“Miss Paisley inside eatin’. She jus’ took a bath an’ she eatin’ an’ gone go tah sleep so she can be ready fa’ school tomorrow. I ain’t gone let dat chile out in this rain fa nobody tonight. So gone home.”
Ms. Tandy felt as if steam was going to emerge from her ears due to the burning anger inside of her so she turned around as if ending the conversation, leaving Princess momentarily speechless.
“Look here you big, black b. . .” Ms. Tandy turned 180 degrees in what seemed to be a millisecond, and cut the younger woman short with one finger pressed against Princess’s lips, simultaneously shaking her head side-to-side furiously.
“Yuh don’ wanna do dat, Gul. Yuh cuss me an’ I be done beat yo’ raggedy ass up an’ down dis street. Naw . . . don’ do dat.” Ms. Tandy gave Princess a look that sent shockwaves to her very soul and she knew she was no match for the older woman. Princess backed away slowly, staring at Ms. Tandy in disbelief. Meanwhile, Paisley listened intently at the window with her eyes closed, anger brewing inside at the thought of her mother taking her away from the fantasy she was living out. She repeated words over and over in her head, trying to wish away her sad existence and exchange it for the good life with Ms. Tandy.
Mama, go away. Please go away, Mama. Please, please, PLEASE go away . . .
“You can’t tell me what you gonna with MY child. She need to be home.” Princess kept her defiant nature, causing Ms. Tandy to ball up her fist. It took every ounce of strength she had to keep from throwing the younger woman down the front stairs.
“YO’ CHILD?! Yo’ chile been runnin’ roun’ here lookin’ like she ain’ got no home. Yuh leave dat chile every time yuh get a itch ‘tween yuh legs . . . like yah ain’t no betta den a damn dog. Dat chile is HOME alone, eatin’ scraps while yuh livin’ da high life. Don’ come here trynna ac’ like yuh concern ‘bout dat chile. Yuh wanna run ‘roun’ like-a two dolla’ Ho, yuh do dat. But yuh NOT gone keep mistreatin’ dat beautiful lil’ girl right dere. An’ I means dat!”
Ms. Tandy took a moment to catch her breath from the fury she unleashed and it seemed as if the world had gone quiet in the melee. Princess’s face became stone and her eyes started to water as if she had been slapped. Anger subsiding, Ms. Tandy came out further on the porch, closer to Princess in order to speak in a lower tone. She imagined that Paisley was somewhere close hanging on every word and she realized that she needed to maintain some semblance of decorum in front of the younger girl. She consciously softened her tone, hoping to be heard.
“Paisley a special chile tah me. I know yuh her mama. But I don’ like how yuh treat ‘er . . . don’ like it at all.”
Princess was unaccustomed to answering to anyone about her actions and did not appreciate Ms. Tandy attempting to correct her. She surmised that the older woman was jealous of her looks and her youth, not realizing that Ms. Tandy felt sorry for the younger woman in her ignorance.
“You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me, Lady.” Princess tried to maintain some semblance of defiance as Ms. Tandy’s words bore through her. Although Ms. Tandy tried to soften her approach, she was not in the mind to go easy on the younger woman.
“Chile, I ain’t got ta know nothin’ ‘bout ya. I see dis girl er’day an’ dat tell me what I need tah know. I know she yo’ girl. I know what it like tah be a youngin’ raisin’ a youngin’. I was 13 when I had mah babygirl. Nobody tell yuh what tah do. But I ain’ gone watch ya walk inta a hole an’ not yell.”
In a surprising turn of events, Ms. Tandy slowly opened her arms and Princess flinched, expecting a fight to ensue. Instead, Ms. Tandy pulled Princess into an embrace, feeling her emotions take over and rise up in her throat, tumbling forward through her words as she hugged her. Princess was not a woman that others could easily take to. She was somewhat like a rose . . . beautiful to look at but potentially hurtful to touch. Princess stood stiffly in her embrace, unsure of when the moment would pass but not daring to move.
She released the young woman and by looking at her face, knew that Princess’s toughness was just a façade. Like each of them at the house on Muse St, she just wanted to be loved. Princess stood in silence, not knowing what to say at the turn of events. Paisley leaned her ears closer to the door, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation, but was met with a sudden push that knocked her on her back.
“Thas whachu get fa bein’ nosey.”
Ms. Tandy stood above her with her ever brilliant smile, followed by Princess looking as if she just been reprimanded. Princess was dressed in a short, low-cut pink dress, revealing everything but her ample breasts and barely covering her behind. She walked past Paisley, nodding her head briefly in acknowledgement. Ms. Tandy made her way back to the table and resumed her previous seat.
“Now ya’ll come on ‘fore dis food get cold. Ain’t nothin’ worse dan cold fish cakes! Gone get you a plate an’ sit down. Paisley, gone ‘head an’ finish yo’ food.”
Ms. Tandy could not remember the last time she had guests in her home. She could not recall the last time she had cooked for someone. Yet, having Princess and Paisley there felt like the most natural thing to her. As they ate in the quiet of the kitchen, the rain started to pick up again. Paisley thought about how she could not remember the last time she shared a meal with her
mother. It was a bit nice having her there, though deep down she knew that it was a temporary situation. Princess was not the domestic or motherly type. She needed to be free.
Paisley watched as her mother politely picked over the food while Paisley and Ms. Tandy ate as if there was a possibility of all of the food instantly disappearing. Ms. Tandy looked at Paisley and noticed that at the moment was the happiest and most beautiful she has ever seen the young girl. Princess looked at them both, searching their faces for an opportunity to excuse herself. She sat uncomfortably, finally standing and shifting her high-heeled feet.
“Well, umm . . .thanks for the, umm . . . food. Paisley, you betta’ get some sleep.”
There were no goodbyes as she made her way toward the door. Paisley breathed a heavy sigh of relief, thankful to have at least one night of peace with someone who loved her. She turned toward Ms. Tandy, her expression showing all of the gratitude she felt in her heart. Ms. Tandy didn’t need a ‘Thank You’ . . . she knew what she had to do and why. Ms. Tandy looked amused as Paisley helped herself to another plate, feeling Genevieve’s presence strongly.
“Ms. Tandy, I’m gonna wash the dishes and clean up everything! I clean up everything at home and I can do a really good job for you. I’m gonna clean it better than you! You just watch!” An excited Paisley got up from her chair, wanting to prove to Ms. Tandy that she was capable of being helpful so that Ms. Tandy would let her come back. Her effort was not lost on Ms. Tandy and she gently pulled the young woman’s arm and motioned her to sit back in her chair.
“Dis MY house. I ain’t got no problem cleanin’ nothin’ ‘roun’ here. What yuh gone do is get yo’ lil’ behin’ in da bed. An’ I spect yuh ta be up early fo’ some breakfast ‘fore school. Now git on ta’ bed an’ I be ‘roun’ in a minute fa ya prayers.”
Rain Water Page 2
