Rush

by Lisa Patton

  “You’re welcome, baby. You let me know what else I can do for you. You hear?” I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m supposed to be at Aunt Fee’s in twenty minutes. It’ll take me twelve to get over there and my car’s in the satellite parking lot, a quarter mile away.

  “I will.” She smiles at me with those pretty blue eyes, then hugs me goodbye.

  After watching her take a few steps, I start to shut the door, but she turns around. “Miss Pearl?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Hearing her words makes me want to cry again, but I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from it. “I’m worried about my auntie. She’s like a mother to me.”

  “I understand. That’s how I feel about my grandparents.”

  “I’m headed to her house now to bring her supper.”

  An abrupt look of surprise springs across Cali’s face. “Hang on one second, would you? I’ll be right back.”

  Before I can stop her, Cali runs off down the hall. Two minutes later she’s back holding a stuffed orca in her hand, breathing heavily.

  “Please give this to Miss Ophelia. And tell her—” She pauses to catch her breath. “The new Alpha Delt pledge class can’t wait to meet her.” When she hands it to me, she beams.

  Hesitantly, I take it from her. “Didn’t you receive this today?”

  She chews her lip, tilts her head. “Yes, ma’am, but I can get another one.”

  “That’s yours. You keep it.” I try handing it back, but she pushes her hand out.

  “Honestly. I want her to have it.”

  I learned a long time ago, when someone aims to do something nice, it’s important to be gracious. Telling her no might rob her of a blessing. “Thank you, baby. I’ll give it to her. I’m going there now.”

  She grins. “And tell her I hope she feels better.”

  “That’s mighty sweet of you, Cali. You run on now. You need to be enjoying yourself.”

  She hugs me once more, then waves as she’s walking back to the party.

  I knew there was something special about that sweet little redheaded girl.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  WILDA

  Where are Haynes and Mama? My preoccupation with watching Ellie interact with her new pledge sisters, and getting to know their mothers, has made me lose track of their whereabouts. A hideous thought crosses my mind. Did Mama ask him to take her to Martin to see Ellie’s room? I dismiss that notion as soon as I consider it. She’s been sufficiently warned. They’ve most likely found a couple of chairs in an out-of-the-way corner. Neither of them can stand large crowds. But I am surprised Haynes hasn’t left for home. He has court in the morning.

  Watching my daughter, completely in her element amidst the Alpha Delt Bid Day splendor, has been like eating a giant piece of caramel cake. I’ve been savoring every single second of it. Well, the stolen seconds she’s allowed me. Lilith, who I knew would be acting like Queen of the House, has been flitting around welcoming the newest members of her court. But she’s avoided me like the plague. She’s done the same thing to Gwen and Sallie. The irony, which has totally escaped her, is that we’re all glad. We want nothing to do with her.

  Mama, on the other hand, won’t stop singing Lilith’s praises. I wasn’t able to witness their introduction, but apparently a new friendship has blossomed. From what Mama told me they played the do-you-know game for nearly an hour. Gag me with a spoon, please. I can only pray Mama wises up soon. On the way home, I intend to recount every single detail of Lilith’s impropriety.

  For the third time I call Haynes’s number, but it goes straight to voice mail. My goodness; I hope everything’s okay. I glance at my watch. It’s six thirty already. I’m one of only a few mothers left, hovering around the House like a helicopter parent, the very thing I swore I’d never become. Sallie and Gwen left a long time ago. Lilith, of course, is still here, the one and only alum on the back porch. She’s been in the middle of the Bid Day party—the entire time—acting like she’s one of the girls, casting her bewitchery on every one of them. That’s the paradox. She’s utterly charming when you first meet her.

  I walk out onto the front porch considering calling Haynes again, when I spot him and Mama walking briskly up Sorority Row. I can’t quite make out what he’s holding, but there’s something hanging from his hands and the closer they get it looks like … Oh God. It’s one of the furry throws from the girls’ dorm room.

  Hurrying down the steps away from the House, I meet them in the street. “There y’all are. I’ve been calling you.” I reach out to take the throw, but Haynes tightens his grip. “What are you doing with that?” I ask, my heart blasting out of my chest. My eyes dart over to Mama, but she won’t meet my gaze.

  “Sending it to the dry cleaners,” he says, with a tone that slices through the night air—and me—like a razor blade. When he slings the throw around his neck he gets a stern look in his eye. I’d seen that look once before when he found out about a failed business venture that his little brother had coerced their mother into investing in. She tried protecting his brother and lied about it to Haynes for months. He felt terribly betrayed and—oh my God. “Did you like the room?” I ask Mama, hesitantly.

  “Utterly spectaculah!” she says. “I told Haynes our Ellie has hit the jackpot with Miss Annie Laurie Whitmoah. Both she and her parents are so elegant. Why just look at the outfit Lilith is wearing today. Simply stunning. And that Gage Whitmoah. If he isn’t the man of the hour I don’t know who is. Lilith told me he flew in this morning on their Lear.”

  That same engorged forehead vein, the one that was throbbing at the Whitmores’ Grove party, is pulsing again, even harder.

  But Mama doesn’t notice. She keeps on singing the Whitmores’ praises. “And their historic home. Why the pictures on Facebook have me convinced it’s the grandest in Natchez. I feel sure it must have been home to one of our Confederate generals. It’s so—”

  “Will you stop it!” Haynes bellows with both hands covering his ears. “I can’t hear another word of this.”

  Mama whips her head around to see who may be listening. By the grace of God no one is near.

  “Is there anything else about that family, besides their money, that you deem utterly spectacular?” His eyes dart from Mama to me, then back to her. “Excluding that dorm room?” Now he’s staring at me, but pointing at Mama. “That she paid for.”

  I look at Mama in utter devastation. She gives me an earnest look of her own.

  His fists are clenched and I can see the whites of his eyes. “G—dammit, Wilda. You lied to me.”

  “Haynes. Watch your language!” Mama says. “You are in the presence of ladies.”

  He completely ignores her comment and glares at me. “After thirty-four years I thought I knew you. Obviously, I was mistaken.”

  “You do know me!” I reach out to touch him, but pull my hand back, unsure. Tears are bubbling behind my eyes. So I squeeze my face with all my might.

  “Really? Then what made you feel the need to spend that kind of money on a dorm room? Then turn around and lie about it to your husband? Can you answer me that?”

  “I—I don’t know.” His last question has opened my floodgate. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I feel like the lowest form of life on earth.

  “Was it to impress the Whitmores? To make them think we’re rich like they are?”

  “No. Hell no. There’s a lot you don’t know, Haynes. We’ve been apart so long I haven’t had a chance to tell you what I’ve learned this week. I was waiting till I got home.” I can’t believe my mother is listening to this.

  Even in the dark I can tell his face is red. “Learned what? How to live even higher on the hog?”

  When he takes a step away I reach out and clutch his arm. “Of course not. I’ve … Can we please talk about this at home?” I’m pleading with him, but he won’t turn my way. “Haynes, please, look at me.”

  For a long moment he does loo
k. Actually he stares, but doesn’t speak, just shakes his head ever so slightly.

  “Lilith and Gage Whitmore are—”

  “Profligate, racist nutjobs.” Now he’s pointing toward Martin. “This is 2016. Who brings the help with them from home, four and a half hours north, to carve prime rib and shuck oysters at a Grove party? Do you suppose they provided them with hotel rooms? Or did they make them drive all the way back to Natchez at midnight?”

  “Who said anything bad about colored people?” Mama asks, straightening the front of her jacket. “Certainly not I.”

  After giving Mama the evil eye, he shoves both sleeves up his arms. “I never said you did, Eleanor. I’m talking about them.” He points at Martin again. “Do you know anything about what kind of people they are?” He pauses, waiting for Mama to answer. She merely looks down and tips her head to the side. “How about the way they treat others?”

  I can tell by the way she’s hanging her head that she feels terrible. Even still, she never answers him.

  “And now Ellie is living with their daughter. Really, Wilda, are they the kind of people you want as her role models?” The sorrow in his eyes shakes me to the core. Of course I don’t want Ellie bearing any resemblance to them. I made a mistake—lots of mistakes. Somehow I have to convince him I regret all of it—the lie, the need to fit in, letting her use me. Somehow I have to make it up to him.

  I start to respond, but he closes his eyes and drops his chin. “I am going inside to find my daughter, kiss her goodbye, then drive back to Memphis.” He glances at Mama. “Alone.” Then he turns back to me. “You two need to ride together. So you can lie about your means, and talk ad nauseam about Ellie’s utterly spectacular dorm room.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and strolls off. I watch him disappear inside the Alpha Delt House, leaving me alone in the street with Mama.

  I grab her by the arm. And I mean grab her. “Why did you tell him, Mama? You knew how he would feel about it. I asked you not to.”

  “I never meant to, Wilda, honey. It just slipped out.” She flinches and looks at my hand on her arm, so I let go.

  “How? How did it slip?” My voice cracks because now I’m bawling.

  “That elegant room was a disastah!” she says at the point of tears herself. “Clothes strewn about the floah. Makeup covering the vanities … cups everywheah.” She grips her temples and shakes her head. “Haynes picked up a full one and smelled bourbon right away. On the way to pour it out he tripped over something and it went all ovah that gorgeous couch, the wool rug, and that furry blanket. I couldn’t help myself, Wilda. All I could think about was the money I had spent and it just spilled out.”

  “What spilled out?” I’m practically shouting at her.

  “I told him we had to clean it up before Lilith Whitmoah sees it, and that I was sure she wouldn’t take kindly to Coca-Cola and bourbon stains all over their twenty-thousand-dollah dorm room.” At this point, Mama is weeping along with me.

  I gasp. And feel my fingernails scraping the sides of my cheeks. Then I grip my stomach and release a loud groan. I’m about to vomit. I want to go over to Martin right now and throw up all over that damn couch. “Oh my God,” I say, rocking my head in between my hands. “What did he say when he heard that?”

  “He asked me to repeat myself. I tried to covah it up. But I’ve never been a good liar, you know that, so I finally said, ‘Yes, Haynes, yes. It was very expensive, but look what Ellie got for that money.’ Then I told him he couldn’t put a price tag on Ellie’s good fohtune. Why, landing the Whitmoah girl as a roommate is a rare coup. And I told him so.”

  I hold my face in my hands—unable to speak—tears covering my palms.

  “We had to clean it up. That’s what took us so long. Haynes scrubbed that couch, and the rug, too, with such fervah, I’m surprised the fabric isn’t threadbah.” Mama reaches her arms out for me. “I told him I’d have the blanket cleaned, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Instead of folding myself into her arms I pace around her. “I need to go home. If I still have a home.”

  I’m walking off when she pulls my arm. Tears have flooded her eyes. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to Ellie?”

  I stop, look at her like she’s crazy as a loon. “And have her and all her new friends see us like this? Crying our eyes out?”

  Pausing to look up at the starlit sky, I notice the full moon. Mama looks up, too, and then gives me a small shrug. She always said a full moon causes all kinds of madness. Oh, the paradox of it all—like mother, like daughter. I hook an arm through hers and the two of us start the long walk back to my car.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  MISS PEARL

  I’ve got Fee’s dinner plate in one hand, a liter of Coke in the other, and Cali’s stuffed orca under my arm. “Aunt Fee,” I holler. “It’s me.”

  I hear her stirring, but it’s taking her awhile to get to the door.

  Her house is in the last low-income part of Oxford on the east side. It was once Mama’s. She had been renting it for years until William McKinney bought it for her after his mother passed. He gave twenty-two thousand dollars for it back in 2001. Standing out here, I can’t stop my mind from flashing back to the good times and the bad. Of Mama, Mrs. McKinney, and of William.

  I hear the sound of the chain jangling loose, then Fee’s face peeks out. It’s drawn, but she manages a weak smile. “Come in here. ’Fore you catch your death.” Her voice is low and hard to hear.

  “It’s not that cold,” I say.

  “Cold to me.”

  I walk past her and she locks the door behind me. As she’s sliding back to the couch, I notice she’s hardly lifting her feet. The backs of her slippers are worn and so is the pink bathrobe she’s probably been in all day. From the way her robe fits, I can tell she’s lost some weight. Why haven’t I noticed it before?

  Grimacing, she lowers herself onto the couch. I set the food and the Co-Cola down on the end table. Then I hand her the orca.

  “What’s this?” She takes it from me and plays with its fin.

  “Sweet new pledge sent it to you. Cali Watkins is her name. From Blue Mountain.”

  “Blue Mountain? Never had anybody pledge from there before.”

  “Now that you mention it, I believe you’re right. How you feeling this evening?”

  “I’ll be better in the morning.” She props the orca on her lap. “That food smelling mighty good.”

  “It’s better than good.” I pick up the plate, move into the kitchen, and pop it into the microwave. Once it’s hot, I transfer everything onto a plate from her cupboard, grab a paper napkin, utensils, and a glass. Then I take an ice tray out of the freezer, crack out a few cubes, and fill her glass to the top. Her lap tray is sitting on the counter next to the sink, so I arrange everything, make it look real nice. The tray is in the grip of my hands when I spy a big fat pill bottle next to the faucet—preening like a peacock—daring me to look at it. I put the tray down and grab it by the throat. Oxycodone 20 mg.

  Seething, I pick up the tray and march out to the den. Every part of me wants to demand that she tell me how long she’s been taking Oxycodone, but once I see her petting on that orca I decide to keep my mouth shut. At least for now. So I go ahead and set the tray on her lap, then fill her glass with Coke. By the time I sit down next to her on the sofa, I’m all worked up.

  “Sure smell good,” she says. “Thank you for bringing it to me, baby.” She puts the orca on the coffee table in front of her, dips a piece of chicken into the maple syrup, then takes a bite. “Latonya fry this chicken?”

  I nod. “You taught her well.” I’m biting my tongue to keep from mentioning the pills.

  Aunt Fee grins. “She’s a good student.”

  I go ahead and fill her in on the day; tell her about the new pledge class. I’m just fixing to tell her about my conversation with Mrs. Whitmore when she stops eating. Seconds later, she puts her napkin back on the tray.

  “Can’t you eat more than that?
You’ve hardly touched a thing.” Now she’s really got me going.

  “Not right now, baby, I’ll save it for later.”

  I can’t remember a single time when she hasn’t finished her dinner. And I’ve eaten a thousand meals with this lady. That’s it. I’m putting my foot down. “I saw that pill bottle,” I say angrily. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”

  She hesitates and I’m convinced I’ll have to fight with her to go, but instead she says, “Maybe in the morning. No, tomorrow your day off. I’ll go the next day.”

  “That’s exactly why we’re going tomorrow,” I say, my heart pounding. “Lord must have planned it that way.”

  “His plan always perfect,” she says. “Don’t have no appointment, though.”

  “Then we’ll sit ourselves down in the lobby and wait till he can see us.” I pause to collect my thoughts. “I can tell something’s wrong with you.”

  In Aunt Fee fashion, she ignores my comment and slides onto something else. “Did you talk to that Whitless she-devil about taking Mama Carla’s place?”

  Despite my frustration with her, she’s made me laugh. “Where in the world did you come up with that?”

  “It’s in the Bible somewhere. Lilith means she-devil.”

  “Say what?” That gets me going again. Then, despite how she’s feeling, Fee chuckles, too. Pretty soon we’re bending over, belly laughing. Can’t stop. It’s good to see her having fun.

  But after a while she stops abruptly, holds her stomach, and squeezes her eyes. I reach over and touch her on the arm. “Please—”

  “I’m okay, baby.” She pats my hand. “Now tell me about that she-devil.”

  There’s no use fighting with her; I’ll let it go—for now. “I talked to her. She’s insisting I call her Mrs. Whitmore.”

  Aunt Fee rolls her eyes.

  “She says the job requires a college degree. Doesn’t matter that I attended for a year.”

  A scowl reshapes her face. Her arms are crossed. Tight. “Forget her. Forget Alpha Delt, too. Go on back to college. You would have been finished a long time ago if things had turned out different.”