Chasing Lilacs

by Carla Stewart

  “I… I… can’t face anyone.” Her eyes widened. “Mike, oh my gosh. Mike Alexander will never speak to me again. You know football players only want to go out with cheerleaders.”

  “They may want to, but so what? There are only four cheerleaders and how many on the football team? Thirty? Maybe more. It doesn’t add up.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, but when I was searching all over the place for you, I checked with Mike, and he was looking for you too. Hurry up or we won’t get to sign up for stuff and we’ll be stuck in study hall all semester with the goofballs who never do anything.”

  We went back to the auditorium. I dashed over to the school newspaper table.

  “Signing up for the newspaper?” A tall, thin lady smiled at me. Her hair, twisted into a knot, was held in place by two wooden sticks with rhinestone tips sparkling like antennae.

  “Yes, if I’m not too late.”

  “I’m Mrs. Gray.”

  “Sammie Tucker.”

  “I’ll need a copy of some of your writing—schoolwork, poems, anything you’ve done in the past. Bring it by Room 12 tomorrow, and I’ll make a decision by Friday.”

  She had a sweet laugh, and her friendliness made me like her right off. Now, more than ever, I wanted to write for the newspaper.

  I hurried off to catch the bus. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mama about Howdy Doody and Mrs. Gray and Gina Hardy’s slumber party. I climbed the steps and turned to find my seat over the tire hump.

  “I’m home, Mama!” Scarlett bounced up and down doing her basketball impersonation the moment I stepped into the house. Dropping my books into the rocker, I scooped her up and buried my face in her fur. Through the puppy slobbers, I didn’t notice the mess in the front room at first. Magazines and books from the squatty bookcase littered the floor and teetered in a lopsided pile in front of the television. Then Mama came from the bedroom, her eyes wide and wild-looking. Her whole body trembled, shaky and ruffled.

  Nervous breakdown flashed in my head.

  My body froze, but in my heart I prayed, No, God, please don’t let this happen!

  [ SIXTEEN ]

  MAMA, WHAT IS IT?” Her eyes flashed when I stepped toward her. Does she even know me?

  “I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find them.” She aimed the comment at the room in general.

  “Find what?” I whispered.

  “Oh, you know. Those… pictures of you girls.” Her eyes had a scared-rabbit look. “They’re around here somewhere, I just know it.”

  “I think they’re in the hall cabinet. Why do you want to look at pictures?”

  “It’s a long story. It’s… Sylvia. This morning I realized she would have started second grade today, and I tried to picture her climbing the steps onto the bus, leaving me….” She stopped and got that fuzzy look again. “When I tried to remember her face, all I could see was a round, doughy lump. No eyes. No turned-up nose. Not even the teeny, pink mouth.”

  Mama’s fingers trembled. Taking her by the arm, I steered her toward the couch.

  “It’s all right, Mama.” Like a robot, she sat down. I sat beside her as Scarlett wriggled her way up between us and rested her chin on Mama’s lap.

  “Well, anyway…” She took a deep breath and focused somewhere behind me. “I know this sounds silly, but my mind has played the awfulest tricks on me since those treatments. Nasty things. Meant to help me forget the bad memories so I can cope with the present.” Her voice got stronger as she held my hand, squeezing it until I thought she would crush my bones. “You ask me, it’s a shot in the dark. How do they know where to zap my brain? What if they get off a fraction of an inch and fry the good parts?” Her eyes flashed. “Where does that leave me?

  “Here’s the crazy part. After a while it’s hard to tell if I’m remembering something that’s real or forgetting something that’s not. Like today. Had I imagined Sylvia? Had she even existed? I started looking for her pictures, to prove she had been real, and I couldn’t even remember where we kept the pictures.” She rocked back and forth. “I couldn’t remember….”

  “I’ll get the box, Mama. Hang on.” I went to the wall cupboard between our two bedrooms, a narrow set of doors, the inside shelves just deep enough for books. I found a blue shoe box on the bottom shelf and took it to Mama. She patted the couch next to her for me to sit down.

  She lifted out a handful of pictures and sorted through them. Me holding Sylvia. Mama leaning against a car, pulling up the hem of her skirt, showing her leg to whoever was taking the picture (Daddy?). Mama and Daddy getting married. Me holding an Easter basket. Baby pictures of Sylvia with a bow stuck on top of her bald head.

  Mama held them to her chest. “Thank goodness, I haven’t lost my entire mind.” She pulled out another stack and laughed at a snapshot of Daddy in a fishing hat.

  And that’s how Daddy found us—the house in a terrific mess, Mama looking a wreck, both of us giggling and pointing at the pictures.

  “Looks like a tornado in here,” Daddy said.

  “Pert near.” Mama shoved a picture at him. “Look at you, all gussied up. Thought you were the cat’s pajamas, didn’t you?”

  “Handsome devil, that’s what you always said.” Scarlett pranced around on the floor. Daddy scooped her up and let her out the front door. “What’s the occasion? Why’d you two decide to look at these old pictures?”

  “It’s a long story.” Mama winked at me.

  “Look at this one. Is this me or Sylvia?” I showed her a picture of a baby in a bonnet, screaming her head off.

  Mama’s eyebrows went together into a V as she pulled the photo in close. Her expression changed. The sparkle left her eyes as she pinched the edge of the picture.

  “Poor thing. Crying all the time. Never could get her to stop. Colic, that’s what everyone said. You’d think her own mother could ease it, though, wouldn’t you? Not on your life. The more peppermint water bottles I gave her, the more she cried. Practically wore out the floorboards walking her.” Mama’s voice sounded far-off. “Never could do a thing with her. ‘Just give it some time,’ people said. I never got the chance. She was gone before I could make her happy.”

  “Sugar, let’s not start the guilt again. You were a perfectly wonderful mother. Look at Sis here. She ain’t turned out half bad.”

  “I miss her so much.” Mama didn’t take her eyes off the picture of the crying Sylvia. “If only…”

  “Uh, Mama, Goldie told me not to question why God does things. Actually she said ‘the Almighty,’ but it’s the same thing.”

  “I don’t think I do that. I’ve prayed until I’m blue in the face, but the ache I feel, the longing to hold her, never leaves.”

  Daddy reached down and took Mama’s hand. “I know, sugar.” He pulled her up and said, “What say I help you clear this stuff away, and then Sammie can tell us about the first day of junior high.”

  “Right. Just clean up the mess and everything’s fine again. I don’t think you’ll ever get it, Joe Tucker.” Her eyes narrowed into slits, and I could almost feel Daddy flinch as if struck with an arrow.

  I had my own ache inside. Selfishness, I know that’s what it was, but sometimes I wished Mama would remember me. Just me—Sammie. I picked up my school things and went to my room, closing the door behind me. She hadn’t asked one word about my first day in seventh grade.

  Gathering up copies of the Dandelion Times to give Mrs. Gray, I could hear Mama and Daddy arguing. It was hard not to listen, so I crept over to the door and as quiet as I could, I turned the knob on my door and inched it open a crack.

  “I’m trying to understand, but the doctor said he wanted to see you back in a couple of months.”

  “What does he know? Being committed the first time wasn’t my idea if you remember correctly. But then I don’t suppose you do. You just want to take me back so they’ll lock me up again.”

  “That’s a crock and you know it. Zeb Thornton said he takes his
wife back periodically. Preventative, so the spells don’t come back. All I want, sugar, is for you to be well. No more of this up-and-down business.”

  Leaning closer to the crack in the door, I slipped and the door went shut with a thud. But not before I heard Mama say, “I would rather die than go back to that place. You’ve no idea….”

  Sweat beaded up on my forehead. Daddy had Mama committed? My mama? I couldn’t catch my breath, like the air was there, but when I heaved my chest, it wouldn’t go in.

  Yanking on the doorknob, I walked into the front room and looked at both of them. Their eyes darted back and forth at each other.

  “What did you mean, when Daddy had you committed? Last summer? Getting shock treatments was Daddy’s idea?” It made sense now, how he’d talked to Zeb Thornton and decided that must be what Mama needed.

  Daddy cleared his throat, and I could see his neck turning red above his shirt collar. “It was a joint decision. Doc’s, your mama’s, and mine, that’s all.”

  Mama lowered herself to the couch, and that’s when I noticed for the first time that she still had on her terry-cloth robe, hanging open, just like when she used to have her spells. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her head down.

  “Mama said it was your idea.”

  “Sammie, you’re too young to understand. And I’m not trying to put her back in the hospital. Just get a checkup.”

  “What if they do that shock thing again? Did you think about that? What if that happened and Mama couldn’t remember you like she couldn’t remember Sylvia? Or that time about Patch? What if they zapped her so many times she couldn’t remember me?” I ran over to Mama and knelt by the couch and let her robe rub against my cheeks. When tears ran down my face, I felt her velvet fingers wiping them away.

  Mama smiled at me and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, honey. Your daddy’s just a fussbudget. Blowing smoke, that’s what.”

  She patted the sofa for me to sit beside her, and we sat there curled up together while Mama asked me about school and if I’d picked a favorite teacher yet. I told her about Mrs. Gray and Gina inviting me for a slumber party.

  Daddy sat in his rocker, and the way he kept his eyes on the television, it was hard to tell what he thought. One thing I knew. I didn’t want Mama to go away again. Ever.

  On Thursday, Daddy had to work late. Mama said she felt like taking a walk, so we strolled up and down the camp streets, waving to the neighbors and laughing at Scarlett scampering here and there. In front of Tuwana’s house, Mr. Johnson had his sleeves rolled up, rubbing a chamois over the hood of the Edsel.

  “What a magnificent car.” Mama ran a finger along the window chrome.

  “Best thing I ever done, getting this doll for my princesses. I declare, Mrs. Tucker, you might be the only soul in Graham Camp who hasn’t had a ride. Wanna go for a spin?”

  “Oh, could we?” Mama’s eyes widened, and just like that, we hopped in with Mr. Johnson reciting the Edsel’s features. Teletouch drive. Electric windows. I knew them all by heart now. Mama’s hair blew in wild swirls around her head as we rode along with the windows open, just like the long-ago day when I was a little girl. Mama laughed and thanked Mr. Johnson for the ride when he dropped us off later at our house.

  “Wasn’t that glorious?” Mama’s cheeks glowed pink from the cool evening. “So clever of Benny Ray to give his girls such a nice surprise. There’s nothing wrong with being practical like your daddy, but spontaneity is fun too. Believe it or not, your daddy used to drag me off on an adventure once in a while, take me dancing for no reason….” She hummed and did a little spin on the sidewalk as Scarlett pranced at her feet.

  “And you too. He’d come in from working on the rig, load us both up, and we’d go out for coconut pie at Findley’s Diner. He loved showing us off.”

  “I remember that.”

  “I don’t see how. You were just a tiny thing. All that changed after Sylvia, anyway. Everyone thinks I had all the problems, but your daddy changed too. Clammed up tight, that’s what.” She lowered herself onto the top step of the porch and gazed off into the distance.

  A whisper inside told me to put my antennae up and stand guard. Just the mention of Sylvia did that to me now. From the corner of my eye, I watched Mama’s face, looking for signs she might be working herself up. After a minute she lifted her shoulders and smiled at me. “I think I might have handled things better if your daddy had talked to me more. We all got our ways though. Nothing for you to worry about. Everything’s going to be fine now.”

  In my heart I’d never believed anything more than I did at that moment.

  [ SEVENTEEN ]

  THE NEXT MORNING I woke up late and made a mad dash getting ready for school and gathering my things for Gina’s slumber party. The smell of waffles made my insides growl as I yanked the pink sponge rollers from my hair. One side of my pageboy had a crease I couldn’t get smoothed out. No time to fiddle with it.

  “Thanks for making waffles,” I told Mama as I wolfed them down, dripping a blob of syrup on my white blouse.

  “Here, let me help you.” Mama wet the corner of a tea towel and scrubbed the spot. “It’ll dry before you get to school.”

  “Today’s the big day…. Mrs. Gray will tell us who gets to work on the school newspaper. Don’t forget, I’m staying after for Gina’s slumber party.”

  “I won’t forget.” She hugged me and handed me my books.

  I gave her a peck on the cheek, and with my suitcase in one hand, an armload of books in the other, and my purse swinging from my shoulder, I hurried to catch the bus. Just before I got on, I turned around and saw Mama standing on the porch. She blew me a kiss.

  “Running away from home?” Cly asked when I’d made my way down the bus aisle.

  I collapsed into the seat, out of breath.

  “Yes… I mean, no. I’m going to Gina Hardy’s slumber party tonight. What about you? Going to the game?”

  Cly shrugged. “Doobie’s getting his learner’s permit today. We’re gonna see if his pop’ll let Doobie chauffeur, us. Save me a seat, just in case.”

  “I didn’t know Gina was having a sleepover,” Tuwana said. “I wonder why she didn’t invite me.”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say who she asked.”

  “Hmmph.” Tuwana looked out the bus window.

  The suitcase I’d brought wouldn’t fit in my locker, and lugging it between classes looked stupid. I trudged toward the office to ask the secretary if she had any ideas. When I saw her empty chair, I figured I had to carry it around. As I started out the door, Mr. Howard’s voice boomed behind me.

  “Something I can help you with?”

  “Yes… well… I don’t know.” Seeing his red hair and buckteeth shining made me wonder if I’d broken one of the Howdy Doody commandments by barging into the empty office.

  Mr. Howard cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “If you have a question, I’m listening.”

  “I need a place to put my suitcase since it won’t fit in my locker, and I’m staying after school today and spending the night with Gina Hardy and will need the things I’ve brought.” I smiled and pointed to the bag. “The things in my suitcase.”

  “I see. You’re one of the camp girls, aren’t you?”

  “Y-y-yes. Sammie Tucker. Seventh grade.”

  “Well, Miss Tucker. No problem. Miss Golightly—she’s the secretary—will keep an eye on it for you. Better hurry on to class. Don’t want you getting a tardy slip.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.” I fast-walked, imagining Howdy Doody eyes boring into my back, and whooshed into my seat just as the bell rang.

  By fourth hour, I still hadn’t heard anything about the school newspaper and had decided two things. One—Mr. Howard wasn’t as bad as I expected. Two—I must not have made the cut for the newspaper. Make that three things: If Cly came to the football game, I would make sure he had a seat beside me.

  So with all the stuff tumbling aroun
d in my head and Mr. Apple, the history teacher, talking about the Boston Tea Party, I almost didn’t hear my name called over the loudspeaker.

  “Sammie Tucker, could you please report to the principal’s office?”

  Mrs. Gray wants me for the newspaper! Please, please, please, let that be it.

  “You may be excused.” Mr. Apple cocked his head in the direction of the door.

  My heart pounded in my ears as I hurried down the hall, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. Stay calm. Mrs. Gray won’t be impressed by some ninny. I slowed down and gulped one more big breath before entering the office.

  Three people stood in a semicircle in front of the secretary’s desk. Miss Golightly, her face as pale as cottage cheese. Mr. Howard, his cheeks flushed with perfect round circles, one on each side. And Goldie Kuykendall, wiping her hands on her aviary apron, her Buster Brown haircut a mess, and a look of agony distorting her face.

  “You know Mrs. Kuykendall?” Mr. Howard’s voice sounded croaky.

  “Goldie, what’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

  Her arms, sturdy and strong, reached out and pulled me to her chest, smothering me in aviary smells.

  “Sammie, Sammie…” Trembling, she tightened her hold on me. My chest filled with dread, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Breathing through my nose, I pulled away and looked into Goldie’s round face, her mossy eyes rimmed in red. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Tell me.”

  “Your mama… she’s gone.” She swallowed hard.

  “Gone? Gone where? She’s left me and Daddy?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you. She’s… gone. Gone to be with the Lord.” Goldie wrung her hands on her apron. “Come, your daddy is waiting at home for you.”

  She steered me toward the door, and as she did Mr. Howard’s voice crackled. “Your suitcase, Sammie. You might need your things.”

  I clutched the handle and followed Goldie into the fluorescent blue hallway, through the double glass doors, and into the midday sun. Inside I felt ice cold.