by Billie Letts
“Old woman,” she said, admonishing herself for such foolish thoughts, making sure not to look at her reflection in the mirror again after she’d shed her skirt and panties. If she got depressed seeing the deep wrinkles in her face, the sagging flesh on her neck, and her white hair, which had once been thick and raven black, how would she feel if she glanced at the rest of her aged body?
As she eased into the bathwater, she remembered the bath of her wedding night. Gilberato had undressed her, then himself, and carried her to the tub, which looked as if it had been frosted with whipped cream because he’d poured an entire bottle of bubble bath into it. Once they were both in the tub, he’d popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. He’d said that since their honeymoon would last only one night in a nice hotel in Nuevo Laredo, it should be a night to remember.
And it had been.
Even now, almost seventy years later, she could recall every detail. The soapy bubbles clinging to her nipples when he’d lifted her from the tub, causing them both to laugh as he’d carried her to the bed in the four-star hotel they couldn’t afford. But, oh, what a night they’d had.
Mama Sim put her head back against the cool enamel of the tub and closed her eyes, which somehow made the memories more vivid. Many minutes later, she was brought back to reality by the sound of the light rain beginning to fall.
She wondered if the girl two doors away was asleep, the girl who had called her a Mexican bitch. Mama Sim had raised her children, some of her grandchildren, and two of her sisters’ children, but she’d never dealt with a girl like Lutie. If only, she thought, she could figure out what possessed this girl, why she was so damn angry. Was it a boy? Her parents? Her home? Everybody, girl and boy, man and woman, she’d ever spent much time with would eventually talk about what was important to them.
Not Lutie. At least not yet.
But maybe if she caught her at the right time, in the right mood, Lutie would let down her guard and talk about what had led her to become this hateful person who had the ability neither to accept joy nor to give it.
Perhaps there was still enough time before she moved on.
Essie, who lived next door to her grandmother, was drinking a cup of tea at the kitchen table while helping her youngest, eight-year-old Morrell, with his homework. Tiki, her daughter who would soon be a teenager, had finished her school assignment and was reaping the reward: TV until nine o’clock, so she could watch her favorite show, Grey’s Anatomy. The volume from the set, still too high even after Essie had told her twice to turn down the sound, was the result of a hearing problem Tiki had had since birth.
Essie, only two years older than her brother, Juan, was the watchdog of the Vargas family, which included their spouses, ex-spouses, children, siblings, and—on occasion—their dogs and cats.
No one had made the decision that Essie would live next door to Mama Sim; everyone simply accepted the living arrangement when Essie divorced her husband, Carlos, after she caught him in bed with one of the Chinese tumblers.
And now, with Mama Sim widowed for over twenty-five years, suffering from diabetes, and having survived one stroke, Essie was content to stay in Hugo year-round so she could take care of her and run the costume shop.
Before anyone in the circus family made a major decision, they went to Essie for advice. Not just because of Mama Sim’s age and medical condition, but because Essie had a head for knowing the best advice to give. She wasn’t bossy or mean, but she was stern. And sometimes that’s just what was called for, especially with the younger ones.
She was asked out from time to time, but she always said no. For some reason she didn’t like the idea of her kids, especially Tiki, watching her pretty herself up for some man. And the way some divorced mothers thought it was okay to bring their men home to their bedrooms late, counting on the kids to be asleep, counting on the man to get up and out early the next morning, that just wasn’t her way.
She yelled at Tiki for the third time to turn down the volume on the TV, and the girl finally did as her mother had asked. That’s when Essie first heard the rain.
By the time Dub unplugged the coffeemaker in the cookhouse and turned out the lights, he knew they’d waited too long. The rain had already started. He and Juan had heard the distant rumble of thunder a couple of times but figured if they were going to get any rain, they’d be lucky. Hugo hadn’t had a drop for over three months.
“Come on home with me, Juan. You try to make it to Mama Sim’s, you might have to swim.”
“I no want to wake Katy.”
“It’s not much past eleven. She won’t be in bed. Besides, she baked pies today. I hid one from the boys, figuring they’d take the other one to the tent. And I was right.”
“Okay. For Katy’s pie, I do it.”
Jogging from the cookhouse to Dub’s trailer, they stopped to peek inside the tent. Fate and Johnny were asleep, wrapped in their sleeping bags.
“They’re out like a light. Don’t even know it’s raining,” Dub whispered.
As they went up the steps to the wide porch Dub had built around the trailer, Katy, with a smudge of chocolate frosting on her upper lip, met them at the door with an armload of towels.
“Looks like we might have chocolate cake, too.” Dub kissed away the chocolate, then tossed Juan some towels.
“The boys okay?” she asked. “I thought they might come in when it started raining.”
“They’re fine,” Dub said. “Now, let’s have some of that pie I hid and some chocolate cake if you haven’t eaten it all.”
“Does Raynoldo know you’re here, Juan?” Katy asked as she sliced desserts and poured coffee. “You haven’t seen him in a long time, have you?”
“No, but I must to be going before he comes.”
“Does Mama Sim know you’re going?”
“Yeah. She not happy with me about that.”
“What are you gonna do about Fate and his sister?”
“I think Fate could want to staying here forever. But Lutie, now she some kind of pistol. If I say to her, ‘We leave tomorrow,’ she say, ‘Why not tonight?’ She some kind of pistol, but I no understand what kind.”
“Have you given any thought to leaving them here?”
“I think Mama Sim would keeping them, but she too old, too not well.”
“You’d probably be surprised at all she does,” Katy said. “Your grandmother’s got more energy than I have.”
Just then, a flash of lightning struck nearby, so close they could hear wood splitting in the tree that was hit. At that second, the electricity went out, leaving them sitting in the darkness.
The bolt of lightning struck so near the tent that Fate felt the earth quiver with the force. And what had started as a sprinkle, then become a shower, now was coming down hard, like marbles hurled from the sky, the drops as big as quarters.
“Oh, my God,” Fate yelled as he fished around in the dark for his shoes and one of the flashlights.
“What’s going on?” Johnny asked, much slower to wake than Fate. “What’re you doing?”
“I can’t find my other shoe.” Fate had already wiggled out of his sleeping bag, located a flashlight and one shoe. When he swung the beam of the light toward the opening flaps of the tent, he spotted the mate and slipped it on without taking the time to tie the strings.
He was already scrambling out of the tent when Johnny sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Where are you going, Fate?”
“I’ve got to get to Mama Sim’s. Fast.”
“It’s pouring out there. Let’s just go in the house.”
“No. It’s my sister, Lutie.”
By now, the rain was pelting the tent so hard that some of Fate’s words were getting lost in the noise.
“She has tonitrophobia.”
“What? What does she have?”
But Fate was already on the run, too far away for Johnny to hear him even if he had replied.
Just then, Katy opened the front door and yelled, “You boys get in t
he house. Now!”
“I’m coming, Mom, but Fate’s gone.”
In the few seconds it took Johnny to race from the tent to the covered porch, he was soaked.
“What did you say? Where’s Fate?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. He’s gone.”
Fate was halfway across the winter grounds when a series of lightning strikes created a thunderous roar that seemed to go on and on. As soon as the thunder quieted, Fate screamed, “Lutie, I’m coming! I’m coming, just hold on!” knowing there was almost no chance she could hear him from that distance.
But one creature did.
When Draco heard Fate’s voice, she didn’t hesitate. She crawled from under Juan’s Lincoln, where she had taken refuge from the storm, ran to the door of Mama Sim’s house, and stood on her hind feet, scratching and barking for attention. When no one came to answer her call, she took off. She crossed the porch in one graceful stride, made a beautiful flying leap clearing all five steps, and went streaking across the yard, disappearing within seconds into the deluge.
Lutie, close to losing her battle with full-scale panic, was sitting on the floor by her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them to her chest. Her eyes were clamped shut as she rocked back and forth in the coal mine darkness of the bedroom, wailing like an animal in distress.
At the edge of hysteria, she was trying to focus on an old memory: a doctor; her dad; and herself at five or six, in a hospital emergency room.
She couldn’t remember all that had happened back then, the first time she’d had a seizure. But she did recall that her mother had already died, and for some reason, she was alone at home when a powerful storm struck—constant lightning and violent crashes of thunder that rattled the windowpanes.
Her father had found her convulsing in their living room, then rushed her to the hospital. The doctor who examined her had explained that tonitrophobia—fear of thunder—could, in extreme cases, cause seizures and, though extremely rare, could result in death.
He had encouraged Lutie to practice controlled deep breathing and told Jim McFee to make sure his girl wasn’t left alone during storms. She would need, he said, someone who could calm her, hold her close, make soothing sounds, all to reassure her that she was safe.
But now she was alone, she couldn’t control her breathing, she had no one to hold her, to soothe her with—
She began screaming again when a powerful crack of lightning struck so close by that the room blazed momentarily with light and the air exploded with a furious blast of thunder, which caused Lutie to fall back, prostrate on the floor, her body stiffened beside the bed.
Katy followed Johnny as they ran from the house to Dub’s small workshop behind the trailer.
As soon as the shop door opened, the wind blew them inside, where Dub was showing Juan his newest project: restoring a ’67 Mustang.
“Fate’s gone,” Katy said.
“Gone where?” Dub asked.
“He said he had to get to Mama Sim’s,” Johnny said. “Something about his sister.”
“Lutie? What is wrong?” Juan asked.
“I’m not sure. He said something about her having some kind of disease. It sounded like tonytorbia.”
“Fear of thunder,” Juan said. “Fate told me.”
As Juan raced toward the door, Dub yelled, “Catch!”
Juan turned in time to see a flashlight coming at him. After a left-handed catch, he was gone.
Mama Sim, moving as quickly as she could, fumbled her way out of the tub, then—knowing her path even in the darkness—reached the towel rack. She called to Lutie, “I’m on my way, darlin’,” as she made a few swipes with the towel, half drying herself before she pulled her cotton gown over her head.
Lutie had stopped screaming but was now making a whimpering sound, like a dog taking a beating.
Mama was making her way down the hall to Lutie’s room by letting her fingers trail the wall to tell where she was, when she accidentally knocked loose a framed photograph, which crashed on the floor.
The noise set Lutie to screaming again, but not for long. She soon resumed her whimpering sound.
“I’m here, Lutie. Standing here in your door. Where are you?”
Lutie couldn’t speak, couldn’t make herself find words, but continued whimpering, letting out an occasional sob.
Mama followed the sounds Lutie was making, got down on the floor, and gently pulled the girl with her under the bed, where she held her in her arms and started humming a wordless tune as she stroked her hair.
When Fate got into waist-high weeds, Draco disappeared. All but her tail. It stood up like a beacon for Fate to follow. “Atta girl, Draco,” Fate said. “We’re not far now. I recognize those boulders.”
Draco wagged her tail at the sound of Fate’s voice.
When at last they reached Mama Sim’s house, everything about it looked different in the night. He’d never seen her place after dark without the porch light burning and more light shining from inside through the shades.
He and the dog took the steps three at a time. Not surprised to find the front door unlocked, Fate went in, with Draco right behind him. Fate called Lutie’s name first, but when there was no answer, he was sure he heard singing coming from her bedroom, so that’s where he followed the beam of his flashlight, with Draco following.
“Mama Sim,” he called as he swung the beam of light around the room. “Lutie . . . ?”
“We’re here, Fate,” Mama said. “Under the bed.”
Fate bent and aimed the light beneath the bed, where he found Lutie wrapped in Mama Sim’s arms. Mama was humming a tune as she continued to stroke the girl’s hair.
Fate scooted around to the other side of the bed, then squeezed himself in beside Lutie. He held one of her hands while Mama Sim held the other and continued to hum the song she’d been singing. Fate started to speak but decided against it, as Lutie seemed to be calming down. Draco walked around the bed and found room to lie down at Fate’s back.
“I smell wet dog hair,” Mama said.
“Well, Draco is a little wet.”
Mama decided that this was not the right time to make any more of the smelly, muddy dog, so she went back to her humming.
Minutes later, they heard the front door open and then close, followed by the uneven gait that could only belong to Juan. He flashed Dub’s light around Lutie but didn’t see the crowd under the bed; he did, however, recognize Mama Sim’s humming.
“What the hell you all be doing under the bed?”
“Lutie feels safer here.”
“Okay. Yes. Okay.”
Juan settled in the rocker, its squeaking falling into the rhythm of Mama’s song.
The storm was moving away now, but it bowed out with one last, low rumble of thunder. Distant as it was, however, the sound brought a short, shrill scream from Lutie and a rather sad-sounding whine from Draco. But with Mama Sim holding her on one side and Fate on the other, the girl quieted quickly.
Juan hadn’t been in Lutie’s room long when Essie came in from next door. She carried an umbrella the wind had turned inside out and wore curlers in her hair.
“Hey! Where are you, Mama?”
“In here. Under Lutie’s bed.”
“Now, why wouldn’t I have guessed that?”
As Essie walked into the room, the electricity was restored. “See,” she said, “I bring the light.” Five seconds later, the lights went out again.
“Oh, turn the lights back on, sister,” Juan said. “You got the power.”
“Shut up, Juan.” While they were in the kind of argument they’d enjoyed since they were kids, someone else entered the darkened house.
“Mama? You here?”
As much as Juan hated the timing, the lights came on as his father, Raynoldo, walked into the bedroom. But he didn’t ask why so many were huddled together under the bed; he didn’t ask about Draco, who got up and came around to smell this intruder; he didn’t even call to
his mother again.
Raynoldo couldn’t speak, couldn’t take his eyes from the man sitting in the rocker. Juan, his son, was home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JUAN AND HIS father stayed in the kitchen, each finding ways to avoid conversation as one by one the others left the room.
Mama ran Draco out of the house but didn’t bother with a mop to clean up the mud the dog, the boy, Juan, Essie, and Ray had tracked in. Instead, she went to bed and pulled the covers over her ears. She’d wanted to stay, wanted to overhear what was being said in the kitchen, but she knew Juan and Ray wouldn’t talk until they were alone. If they talked at all. She took her rosary from the nightstand, then fell asleep while she was praying.
Essie went home, explaining she’d come over to check on Mama Sim when the electricity went out. A quick peck on her daddy’s cheek and she was gone.
After the storm moved on, Fate made sure Lutie was okay, then helped her into bed.
“Guess Juan didn’t plan on this,” he said.
“Plan on what?” Lutie asked.
“I told you. Juan wanted to be out of here before his papa came home. They had a blowup fifteen years ago when Juan left home, so I can’t imagine what kind of homecoming this is going to be.”
“So we’re not going to get out of here until Juan’s settled up with Ray? That sucks so big-time.”
“I don’t know, Lutie. Maybe Juan will leave tomorrow, maybe he’ll stay a few more days.”
“Well, when he goes, we’re going with him. Right?”
Fate’s response of “Probably” left more doubts than Lutie liked, but he turned off the light and left the room before she had time to nail him down to something more positive.
Since Lutie’s room was nearest the kitchen, she might have been able to hear the exchange coming from next door. But after her night of terror, she collapsed into sleep, missing the entire late night conversation between Juan and his father.
Both father and son endured an uncomfortable silence as they sat at the kitchen table watching their coffee cool. Finally, Ray asked, “What are you doing here?”
“The boy and his sister were in trouble. Didn’t know where else to take them. She was hurt. I knowing Mama Sim would help her.”
