Cissy dropped into a fretful sleep, the kind with dreams that shift and turn just enough to make you suspect they’re becoming nightmares, yet the boogeyman never appears. When she woke, she wondered if her aching jaws had to do with the dreams or her jump into the pool.
She sat up quickly, forgetting she was naked, and grabbed for the sheets to cover her chest.
“I’ve seen you naked since you were a little baby. No need to be shy in front of me.” Grandmother sat in a chair at the round table in the corner of the room, illuminated by a lamp that hung from the ceiling and cast light straight down on her head. She’d drawn the shades, so Cissy didn’t know how long she’d dozed and if it was light or dark out.
“Could you hand me something to wear, Grandmother?”
She reached for the closest thing, which was her own nightgown draped across the other chair, and tossed it over. It smelled of talcum powder and Chanel No. 5. Cissy held it against her face long enough for Grandmother to comment that gowns are for wearing and not for sniffing.
When the tears started rolling down Cissy’s cheeks, both of them were confused as to the reason.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Grandmother. I’m sorry.” The deepest sadness Cissy had ever known entered her bones and she hadn’t the strength to hide it.
“Don’t apologize, child. You’ve had a rough time. Not just this summer, but your whole life.” Grandmother put down the tourist magazine she’d been reading and joined Cissy on the bed. They leaned up against the headboard, and Cissy slumped down so she could place her head on Grandmother’s shoulder.
“You and Dr. Guttman and Mama all think I’m sick, but I don’t know what you think needs fixing.”
“Cissy, I don’t think you’re sick, but I do think the things your daddy did keep you from living life fully. I want you to know what it’s like to fall in love and see the world and have children and be happy.”
“Please don’t talk about those things, Grandmother.”
If Cissy had her wish, no one would mention her daddy again. Each time they did, it got harder and harder for her to keep his memory locked away. A person didn’t have to be alive to keep hurting others.
“Maybe talking is exactly what you need to be doing,” Grandmother said, and hugged her close. “Sometimes things draw in more power the longer they’re hidden.”
Cissy hoped the conversation would end if she didn’t answer. Grandmother’s grip never loosened and Cissy wondered where she found the strength. After all those years Grandmother shied away from touching her granddaughters, she turned out to be the best hugger in the family. Cissy hugged her back with all her might and then slumped down even farther into the bed, hoping to close her eyes and fall asleep again. Facing nightmares seemed easier than facing whatever else Grandmother was going to say.
Grandmother’s heartbeat and steady breathing sang to her like the sweetest music she’d ever heard. Cissy imagined how easy it would be to stay wrapped up in her love forever, never leaving the Howard Johnson. When Grandmother pulled away abruptly and refused to look at her, Cissy’s stomach lurched.
“Did I do something, Grandmother?” Cissy asked.
“It’s not you, dear.” She swiped at her cheek. “Give me a minute.”
Cissy sat helpless while her grandmother shook her head in a silent conversation. After a couple of minutes, Cissy’s discomfort grew so great she moved over to hug her tightly. Grandmother appeared both very old and very young in the same moment. Cissy stroked her white hair until her grandmother turned to face her again.
“When I was thirteen years old, a cousin of my daddy raped me,” Grandmother whispered. “I didn’t know if I should tell you, but I figured you could handle the truth.”
The horror washed over Cissy. She chewed on the revelation until its truth took hold of her heart and threatened to squeeze the life out of her.
“I never told anyone, Cissy. Not my mama or daddy. Not your grandfather. Not even Ruth, who was my best friend at the time,” she continued. “I never trusted anyone to say those words out loud, until now.”
Cissy had no words to convey the heartbreak she felt. Still more confusing was the relief that lay beneath that heartbreak. Grandmother had held her secret shame for almost sixty years. She understood the very weight Cissy carried in her own heart.
“I want you to know we can survive the bad people who enter our lives,” Grandmother said gently. “I want you to know you’ll survive, too. I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry for that.”
Cissy thought back to Dr. Guttman’s assertion that she could draw comfort from knowing others had gone through what she’d gone through; that she might feel less alone. She had challenged him that day, certain she’d feel no such comfort. Yet, here she was, lighter in heart than she’d been for a long while. A great shame took hold that she could feel better after what Grandmother had said. Cissy rolled over so she could bury her face deep beneath the covers.
“Cissy? Cissy, talk to me.” Grandmother’s hand rubbed her back through the thick coverlet on the bed.
Cissy’s muffled cries sent hot breath into the cocoon she’d made and she had to peek out from beneath the covers just to breathe.
“I’m sorry, Grandmother. About what happened to you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, child. I suffered one terrible night while you suffered most of your childhood. Please don’t cry for me.”
Cissy dug even farther into the covers.
“Do you think you could talk about what happened to you?” Grandmother asked. “You don’t have to carry it all alone.”
Even though Cissy wanted to jump out of bed and run from the room, she kicked back the covers. If Grandmother could share such a painful secret, Cissy felt it was wrong to hide her own hurts, no matter how much she didn’t want to discuss them.
“When I was very little, I thought that’s just what daddies did,” she said, measuring her words. “Yet, as the years went on, I convinced myself I was being punished in some way, but could never figure out how to be better.”
“It was never your fault, Cissy. I wish you could know that.”
“I know that in my head, Grandmother, but my spirit just doesn’t believe it.”
Since leaving the hospital, a fuller picture of her childhood started coming into focus. Cissy didn’t want to worry Grandmother, but each day, a memory would return like a scene from a movie she knew she’d seen but couldn’t quite remember. They were just pieces of the whole, but she couldn’t deny it was her story any longer.
“Cissy, do you remember being transferred to another hospital?”
“What do you mean by another hospital?” Her racing heart rushed too much blood to her head and she began to feel a little dizzy.
“We can talk about it later, child.”
Cissy asked if she could turn on the television and Grandmother nodded, looking almost relieved the conversation had ended. While Cissy didn’t remember a second hospital, she knew she left this world in some way because there were days she couldn’t quite piece together. She figured there was a mighty good reason her brain wanted to erase that time and she didn’t dare challenge it. The knowing knocked patiently, waiting for Cissy at a door she wasn’t ready to open. Although the tapping grew fainter at times, it was now always with her, and even reruns of Big Valley couldn’t drown it out.
* * *
They’d fallen asleep, Grandmother still in her clothes and Cissy in her grandmother’s nightgown. Cissy stirred first, so she got up and opened the curtains. The intensity of the sun told her they’d slept like the dead while the day had already gotten off to a fine start.
“It’s almost noon,” she said, and yawned. “Rise and shine.”
Grandmother’s arm shielded her eyes against the stream of light invading their little tomb.
“I’m feeling poorly, Cissy. I’d like to lie here a while.”
Her voice was dry and crackly. Cissy closed the curtain and turned on the lamp on
the bedside table. Kneeling on the floor, she rested her head on the mattress next to her grandmother’s hand.
“Walk across the parking lot to the Bob’s Big Boy. You can fetch some scrambled eggs and coffee to go. You’ll be all right,” she assured Cissy. “Just get some money from my purse and hurry back.”
This change in attitude about letting Cissy out of her sight alarmed her more than her grandmother’s weak voice. She tried to suck in her panic by holding her breath and counting the seconds until she had to breathe again.
“Go now, girl,” Grandmother said, and turned over.
She could have slapped Cissy and it wouldn’t have felt so dismissive. Cissy held her trembling lips between her thumb and index finger, and chastised herself for feeling so hurt. Just get dressed, she whispered to herself, and grabbed shorts and a T-shirt, pulling them on quickly. She knotted her hair into a bushy ponytail and didn’t bother to brush her teeth.
Cissy half ran, half walked across the asphalt that the sun had rendered sticky against the plastic of her sandals. Yesterday’s cool breezes had vanished and the oppressive heat had returned. The ice-cold air of the restaurant was merciful and kissed the humidity from her face.
“Sit anywhere you like.” A young woman pointed at Cissy with the half-full coffeepot she had in one hand. Three full plates balanced on her other arm and she scurried to a table in the far corner. The red leather swivel stools looked inviting, so Cissy took a seat at one end of the empty counter.
The waitress raced back from her delivery and put a full coffee cup before Cissy even though she hadn’t ordered anything yet.
“Do ya know what you want?”
The urgency of the question threw Cissy off guard. “I think just eggs. May I see a menu?”
The waitress stared and then busted out laughing, mouth wide open so Cissy could see the hot-pink bubblegum wad she was chewing.
“I guess you aren’t a mind reader. Sorry about that. Don’t know what I was thinking, sugar.” She placed a laminated one-page menu on the counter. “Take your time.”
Cissy had never ordered in a restaurant by herself and felt both giddy and terrified as the choices danced before her. Since Grandmother was likely fast asleep, she decided to eat her breakfast in the restaurant. What could happen in public in broad daylight?
“Miss? I’m ready to order.”
“Call me Rita,” the waitress offered, and opened her notepad. “Shoot.”
Cissy ordered two scrambled eggs, a side of ham steak, one pancake, and a tall glass of milk. She waited for some clue she’d done it correctly, but Rita just commented that Cissy sure was skinny for a girl who could eat so much.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She blew on the hot coffee she’d decided to drink to be polite. “I’m Matilda.”
“Nice to meet ya, Matilda. You a little young to be traveling on your own?”
She explained about Grandmother sleeping in their room, but left out the part about her feeling poorly. Cissy said they were on a road trip, just the two of them, because she was an orphan and Grandmother was her guardian. The words seemed exaggerated and insincere because she didn’t have much practice at lying.
“I’m not interrogating you, sugar,” Rita joked. “Relax a bit.”
“Yes, relax a bit,” God said. “You’re calling attention to yourself.”
Cissy jumped six inches off the stool, knocking the coffee mug on its side.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Rita!” She took some napkins and dabbed at the hot liquid cascading over the side of the laminate.
“Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll take care of it.” The cheerful waitress turned around to retrieve a dish towel.
Cissy glared at God while Rita sopped up the wasted coffee. When she left to get a fresh towel, Cissy hissed at God to stop scaring her in public.
“I thought you might need someone to talk to,” She said. Her velvety words softened the anger that had bubbled up in Cissy just seconds before.
“It’s hard for me to talk in public,” Cissy said. “People will stare.”
A small part of her didn’t care if anyone stared. She’d grown weary of watching what she said and did, fearful she’d do something wrong. Cissy lived in two different worlds and neither fit quite right.
“Are you scared about your grandmother?” God asked.
“Well, of course I’m scared. She doesn’t look well and I know she won’t tell me the whole truth so as to protect me somehow,” Cissy whispered. “I’m not a child and I can take care of her just as she’s taking care of me. We’re a team.”
“Maybe you could tell her those things.”
Cissy thought hard about the fear that welled up when she heard God’s words. She’d kept the truth about so many things locked away she didn’t feel comfortable speaking them aloud. But she and Grandmother loved each other. Surely you should be able to say anything to those you love.
“I dunno,” Cissy said. “I don’t want to be a burden to Grandmother.”
“When you love someone so deeply, your shared burdens can feel lighter,” God said.
Within a minute or two, Rita rounded the corner with breakfast, including a fresh mug of coffee. Cissy wished she had remembered to tell her it wasn’t necessary, as now she felt she had to drink it.
“You talking to someone?” Rita grinned in a warm way that told Cissy she wasn’t poking fun.
“Sort of.” Cissy took her knife and fork to the ham steak. She couldn’t look Rita in the eyes and risk any sort of judgment she might be forming.
“I like to talk to myself at times. Clears my head,” Rita said.
Nerves had locked Cissy’s shoulders to her ears, but Rita’s friendliness released all the tension built up since she left the motel room. Her breakfast tasted even better than she imagined it could. While Cissy ate, Rita shared her life story. Cissy listened to it the way she’d pay attention to a good book, not wanting to miss even the smallest detail.
Rita seemed a larger-than-life character. She’d grown up in Dadeville, Alabama, but left home when she was fifteen, hitchhiking to New York, where she hoped to become a stage actress first, maybe off Broadway, then a television star. She didn’t make it past Nashville, so she tried her hand at singing country music. While Rita had a strong and clear voice, she’d been told by record company folks it wasn’t anything special.
“Did you give up your dream of being an actress?” Cissy hoped she hadn’t.
“I’m saving up my money. I’ll make it to the Big Apple one day.” Rita’s face fell just a little, giving Cissy the impression that her dream might be fading with each passing day.
“I heard you singing earlier,” Cissy said. “Maybe some big-shot talent scout or agent will drop in to the café to eat a piece of pie. He might offer you his card or ask for an audition.”
“Well, Matilda, I guess it doesn’t hurt to daydream. That’s why I treat every customer as if he or she could be someone important, my ticket out of here.”
“Daydreams are wonderful,” Cissy admitted. “I’m thankful our minds are capable of such because we can shape movies of how we’d like our lives to be instead of how they are.”
“I like your philosophy. All I have now are my dreams.” Rita looked just a little bit sad. Now twenty-four years old, she said she lived in one of the motel rooms with the manager and worked the 5 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift at the restaurant almost every day.
“Honey, when I’m not working, I like to spend every minute by the pool, sunbathing and reading Hollywood magazines. Those movie stars and fashion models are so damn glamorous. It just drips off them.”
Cissy thought Rita had star quality and would surely be famous one day. Beauty seemed to come to the waitress naturally. They were both tall, but Rita had curves in places where Cissy was straight as a board. She liked that Rita’s nose was crooked and her lips full and bright pink even without lipstick. The mesmerizing thing about her, though, was her mismatched eyes—one brown and one hazel. Too bad she had
to wear a uniform the color of canned peas. No one could look like a celebrity in that color.
“Is the manager your boyfriend?” Cissy asked.
Rita snorted. “Not exactly,” she said. “We have a deal. He gives me a place to live and I satisfy his needs, if you get my drift.”
Cissy’s face went hot and her lungs shrunk by half. She dipped a paper napkin in ice water and held it against her cheeks.
“You all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Rita held a hand to her forehead and Cissy flinched.
The living arrangement with the motel manager gave new life to memories of the bargain Cissy had struck with her daddy to protect Lily and Jessie. No matter how far she and Grandmother got away from Biloxi, her mind came along for the ride, threatening to reveal the past like a mean classmate with a secret.
“I’m okay,” Cissy said. “Just feeling a little under the weather. Could you box up my food and add an order of buttered toast and scrambled eggs for my grandmother?”
“Sure thing,” Rita said, and the spark returned to those wondrous eyes Cissy had already grown jealous of. “I’ll be back in a sec with a box.”
Cissy turned her back to the counter and counted the number of chairs in the restaurant, which wasn’t as satisfying as getting up and counting floor tiles, but it would have to do. She skipped the benches in the booths because those didn’t count. They could fit three regular people across or two fat people. Best not to mess up a perfectly good counting game with ambiguity.
When God appeared again, She commented that Rita seemed like a good person and possibly someone Cissy could trust. Cissy agreed and turned back to sip the coffee, which wasn’t half-bad after all with enough sugar added.
Forgiveness Road Page 24
