PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

“Can you tell us?”

  The way she said “us.” It made me aware that it wasn’t only my mother hovering in the room. I looked ‘round without moving my head. Ridley stood in the far corner, closest to the window, and Jayden was at the opposite side nearest the hallway, the full weight of him holding up the doorframe. They each was crying, in their own way. Ridley was blinking his lids in rapid succession and running his hands through his hair. Jayden swiped at his nose with the back of his palm. “Can you tell us what happened, Truly?” the woman repeated.

  I searched for my thoughts. It seemed they wasn’t right there waiting. It took me a minute to gather ‘em up during which time I looked back and forth from Ridley to Jayden. They was worried, and not only about me. They was worried I might say something that would implicate them. At last I opened my mouth. Squeaky, tight words dribbled out.

  “We was, we was having a walk is all and . . . it started to rain and . . . I slipped and fell. That’s all I remember.”

  Deceit wasn’t any easier when you was lying flat on your back, half-dead or half-alive.

  Ridley took a small step toward me and then Jayden did the same. But another woman blasted through the door and both boys held back. She introduced herself to me quickly, with a strained grin. She was Dr. Everton. She was glad to see I was awake. I’d had her concerned, she wasn’t going to lie.

  Dr. Everton shined a miniature flashlight into my pupils while she hung over me. She smelled soapy and clean, sterile. She didn’t look very old, maybe thirty at best. My mother followed each step the doctor took, sizing her up along the way until the kind Dr. Everton requested that everyone wait out in the hall for a few minutes while she completed her exam.

  Jayden and Ridley complied right away.

  “Mrs. Kaye? Do you mind?” Dr. Everton had a scary sweet voice.

  “Oh! Well, she’s my little girl. Surely you don’t need me to leave the room, do you?”

  “It’s okay, Mama,” I said.

  “It’ll only be for a couple of minutes, Mrs. Kaye. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Kaye. My mother never bothered to correct anyone. Even though she was nobody’s wife. Never had been.

  Mama was born Marilyn Loretta McKaye. A long time ago she’d changed her name to Mari Kaye, as an ode to that famous makeup lady. Mama was fixated with coloring her face in all sorts of shades of pink. (There was over thirty of them, so she claimed.)There was only one way to describe my mother, only two words that fit the bill. She was the Other Woman. The Side Lady, as she preferred to say. She didn’t mean to be. Always said it wasn’t her fault. Always said that most men was no better than common scoundrels, especially the married ones. Mama never stayed with these men for very long; only till it became real clear that they wasn’t fixing to leave their happy little homes on account of her. Then she’d be on her merry way—swearing off men in general and scoundrels in particular.

  But it wasn’t long before she’d be with another one, another creep with another string of promises he’d surely break soon enough.

  “Don’t learn from me, Tru,” she would say. “If anything let this serve to teach you what you shouldn’t do.”

  Mama always feared that she’d be punished, by the universe or the powers that be, for carrying on with the husbands of other ladies. “Those scoundrels! They’ll bring me bad fortune one day. They will secure me a spot in hell,” she’d say. The bigger problem, as I saw it, was that Mari Kaye believed herself to be something of a scoundrel too. She wasn’t though. My mother tripped over herself to make sure I was happy. She worked hard being a cleaning woman and a waitress when I was little to keep a decent roof over my head. Until the day she began keeping company with ole’ Franklin Roosevelt, her last married boyfriend who’d been named for the president of the United States. Franklin bought us the house we live in now, the one right next door to Jayden. Papa Roosevelt (which is what he insisted I call him) was about a hundred years old when Mama met him. He had lots of money on account of he was real good at investing it, and he was cute in a wrinkly sharpei puppy way. And did I mention he had lots of money? His wife was real old too, and Franklin told Mama his missus didn’t care for sex much anymore. It gave me the willies to think of my mother having to sleep with Franklin and all of his accordion skin. Though it didn’t seem to offend her any. So Mari Kaye became Franklin’s Side Lady up until the day he died one year ago. He left us the house, free and clear, which Mama said was the kindest thing a man had ever done for her in her entire life. Besides that, there was a whole mess of cash tucked away in her name so that my sweet Mama never had to worry about washing rich ladies floors or slinging hash ever again in her life.

  Dr. Everton took my vitals and called out the stats so the nurse with the bushy brows could jot them down. She clicked the top of her pen twice after each thing she wrote.

  “Truly, you are one lucky girl. That’s quite a bump on your head. From what I understand those two young men jumped to your rescue.” The doctor was smiling as she touched my wrists, my neck and places where my pulse was hiding.

  “I reckon . . . ”

  “Well, if it wasn’t for their quick response you might have drowned. They reported that you passed out before you hit the water.”

  “Doctor? Did I—did I . . . die?”

  Dr. Everton and her nurse passed a quick look between them. Then she smiled. “No! No, you didn’t die!”

  “Because it was so strange. I saw this light and there was this young woman with crazy hair talking to me . . . ”

  The nurse reached behind my head and carefully propped my pillows. The doctor laid her hand on the bottom of my leg. “In my professional opinion, you’re going to be fine. You can go on with your life. I imagine at your age you’ve got college plans in the works.”

  I didn’t. I had South African plans in the works. Yet nobody knew except for Ridley and me, and now, Jayden.

  I would have to tell Mama, and real soon. High School graduation was a few short weeks away and then we was gonna be off and running. I kept telling Ridley that Mama’d surely understand. After all, she was exactly my age when she left the small, sleepy South Carolina hills under her parent’s rooftop to have me. She had to. They made her go. Yet, she liked to tell it that she’d followed her dreams, to be a mother, and keep the baby that was rightfully hers, even if it was given to her by someone else’s husband. He wasn’t my father Mama always said, since when she told him that she was pregnant his exact words was, “I already have a family, Mari. Here’s a couple hundred bucks. Take care of it, will ya?”

  I’d asked her a thousand times. “Mama what was his name?”

  The reply was always the same. “Don’t recall. Isn’t important anyhow, Tru.”

  She’d used the money to buy a car seat and a few tank fulls of gas, and off she went to stay with Aunt Joan in Butler County, Alabama. Aunt Joan was Mama’s father’s sister and she was the only other person in the family we knew of who had a touch of the Magical Knowing too, so we was common with her in that. She was about as sweet as she could be to offer Mama and me a place to call our own for a while. And we did. Until Aunt Joan started to do things that made Mama real worried, like forgetting to turn off the stove or leaving the bathwater running until it flooded the bathroom floor. Even though Aunt Joan wasn’t even sixty years old, she was getting right close to losing her marbles the way some old folks did. Since she was the one taking care of me when Mama went out to work, it came to be that my mother started to imagine she might come home one day and Aunt Joan would forget where she’d put me. It never did happen that way, though we moved out all the same. Hardly got ‘round to seeing much of Aunt Joan after that.

  Dr. Everton headed for the door. “You rest up tonight and keep getting better and I’ll spring you for good behavior tomorrow.”

  I wanted to leave right then. With Ridley. But my head felt as if it was still filled with the Pacachi River. And when I closed my eyes I saw her there, behind my lids. Bee or Bea.

  She gave me
a chilly feeling all over.

  As soon as the door opened, Mama, Jayden and Ridley poured in as if I was a house on fire and they had to hurry and douse me before I burnt to a crisp. Mama rushed me.

  “I have my little girl back!” She whispered into my right ear.

  Perhaps I’d been putting off telling my mother about my plans to go to Johannesburg because deep down I knew she might not be happy as a lark about it. It had been her and me all these years, through all the scoundrels that had come and gone. I was the one constant in her life.

  Being somebody’s constant was a really huge thing.

  “Truly,” Mama said softly. “The boys . . . they’d each like to have a word with you, alone. Are you feeling up to it?” She had spearmint-coated breath. When my mother was nervous she chewed gum, two pieces at a clip.

  I wasn’t. All at once, looking from Ridley to Jayden and back again, I was dizzy. I was hot and cold. I was like one of them cookies with the black frosting on one end and white on the other. I was cheerful. I was angry. I wanted to scream: Go ahead and kill each other! See if I care! I wanted to hug them both, hold them tight and never let go.

  I stared at my mother. One thing about her, she could tell what I was thinking by the look in my eye. I would sure miss that when I was setting down brand new roots in South Africa.

  Mari Kaye turned toward Ridley and Jayden. “Truly is so tired, boys. Tomorrow she’ll be ours to keep. Let’s let her rest till then.”

  Those brutal boys, those beautiful beasts, they each looked me over with the hungriest gaze I’d ever seen. Their appetites would have to keep. Mama was right. I was so, so tired.

  Three

  My brush with death in the Pacachi had left me so tuckered out that I’d slept for two-and-three quarter days in a row. During that time the cornrow girl slipped in and out of my dreams as if she had God-given liberty to do so. Mama always said that when folks come calling without proper invitation they wasn’t raised right. I wasn’t sure if that same rule applied to dead people whose acquaintance you made at the bottom of the river.

  Bee or Bea told me she was sure glad I’d made it out of the water okay. She told me I was plain lucky to have such loyal and brave friends. Said Ridley and Jayden was like heroes. Most times she would come and go before I had a chance to utter much as a single word which also seemed a little rude but, hell, I wasn’t one to complain about matters of etiquette.

  Once I got home Mama wanted to fuss over me something fierce. I refused most special treatment, except for the peach ice cream she brought to my bed in a pink bowl shaped like a heart that she’d picked up at the Walmart. Didn’t matter much that Papa Roosevelt had left Mama enough money so that she could afford to shop at finer establishments. Mama said she preferred the company of the hard working folks who wore them hideous blue smocks and big, gaudy nametags on account of she had been employed there as a young’un’ and it brought her some sweet memories.

  On the first full day that I’d managed to wrestle from my exhaustion enough to make it down to the kitchen, it seemed Mari Kaye had stored up nearly a dozen things to talk over with me, and she was hankering to spill ‘em all at once. It was while I was indulging in my third bowl of ice cream when she set down beside me and began blathering on.

  “First off, I been thinking, Truly, we ought to throw a big ole’ fancy supper in honor of the fact that you didn’t die. We’ll invite Jay and Ridley seeing as how they was responsible for bringing you to safety. I figure I’ll give those ladies at the catering house a jingle, ya’ know, the place where they make that real fine chicken gumbo with the baby onions you love. I’ll be sure they send lots of them buttermilk biscuits too. We’ll use the fine china and those napkins made from cloth.”

  When Mama paused to gather a breath I spoke out, “That sounds special Mama, but Ridley and Jayden . . . they don’t get on real well.”

  “Nonsense, Truly. Whatever differences them boys have they was able to put ‘em aside the whole time you was sleeping in the hospital.”

  “It’s not the same, Mama. Then they was scared I wasn’t gonna live out my natural days. Now they ain’t got reason to worry.” I hopped up and planted myself on the countertop, grabbing another dollop of ice cream, and letting it linger all peachy and sweet on my tongue. I wondered if in heaven they had peach ice cream. I thought maybe I’d ask Bee or Bea next time we caught up.

  “Fiddlesticks, Tru! Don’t be a sourpuss! Besides there’s another motive for us having ourselves a little party,” she said, her lips drawing up into a smile.

  I ought to have known. Mama only wore a grin like that for one reason, and usually one reason only.

  “Who is it now, Mama?” I did my best not to sound impatient or anything seeing as how she was beaming.

  “Oh Tru! I been itching to tell ‘ya, like a hound with a bad case of fleas. His name is Calvin. Calvin Alistair DuPont. Ya’ ever hear a name sound so regal, in all your days, well next to Franklin Roosevelt, I mean? We met at the club. He’s gainfully employed in the pharmaceutical game, and I’ll tell ya, sweetheart, he ain’t like the rest of ‘em. Not at all.”

  “How’s that?”

  “This one ain’t married!”

  “For real?”

  “Yes ma’am! I kid you not. Certified true. Mr. Calvin A. DuPont is a single as the day he come into this world! And here’s something else, Truly, he’s super handsome. And young, like me. Ain’t got one foot dangling in the graveyard like my dear, sweet Franklin, may he rest at peace.”

  I put down my spoon and let her have a smile. Mama deserved that much, with a heart like hers that was always looking for love. “Sounds great, Mama.”

  “Oh, he is. And I want you to meet him. That’s the other reason we need to have us this celebration. My little girl is alive and her mama got herself a new man!”

  I stared at Mari Kaye as she popped off the chair and twirled ‘round the kitchen. She was wearing her early spring dress, the blue one with the teeny white daisies all over it. Her hair was baby fine and blonde too, like my given color before the eggplant dye, so she took to having it teased into a head full of shoulder length waves that she slathered with spray to keep from misbehaving. She wore her pink makeup everywhere, even to bed at night, since she said that three a.m. was no excuse for not looking your best. She kept up her figure, even if it meant sometimes skipping those jelly doughnuts she was right crazy about. It was Mama’s eyes mostly that made her as attractive as she was; green as a new pea pinched fresh off the vine.

  “I’m happy for you, Mama,” I said, though something inside me tugged at my honesty. I’d seen plenty of men fib to my mother about being unencumbered by a spouse of their own. Certified true and all that. What made her believe this guy would be different than any of the rest of ‘em?

  “So then it’s all set! Ya’ll wanna let the boys know, and I’ll tell Calvin. Tomorrow night at seven p.m. Right here in our humble abode. Ya’ oughta wear something special, Tru. Maybe that new pantsuit I bought ya’ for Christmas from the Walmart. It looks so cute with them gold buttons and all. And I’m gonna do my makeup in the latest shades of watermelon. Won’t that be something, Truly? I mean, really now?”

  I got up and dropped the bowl into the sink, letting it fall a little harder than I intended to.

  “I reckon. But I ain’t gonna wear that outfit, Mama. Nobody wears pantsuits anymore.”

  I began to walk away and my mother grabbed hold of my elbow. I turned back and she nodded toward the drain.

  “When’d you get to thinking we hired us a cleaning lady?”

  I washed the last of the peach ice cream down the pipes and made sure to put the bowl, real careful, into the dish rack. I hadn’t seen Jay or Ridley since the hospital and something gnawed at me about having them over to supper, both at once along with Mama’s latest love interest. But it was the least I could do seeing as how I was planning to leave her soon and run off to an entire new continent.

  Before she left the room, Mari
Kaye laid a cool hand on my shoulder. “I know Calvin’s gonna love you to pieces, Tru and what’s more, you’re gonna love him, too, just like Papa Roosevelt.”

  I never did tell Mama that I felt such particular affection for Papa Roosevelt. As much as I was real grateful for all he done for us, he was still, for all intents and purposes, a scoundrel.

  And for all I knew, this Calvin Whoever Whatever was nothing more than a scoundrel too.

  I figured the Magical Knowing would be along any time to clear it up once and for all. Then we could all get on with our lives fine and dandy.

  #

  “All that glitters is not gold, Truly.”

  On the night before Mama’s special supper party, Bee or Bea visited me once again. It was only for a minute or two and this time she seemed to be in a pinch about one thing or another. I’d never thought that dead people had much to fret themselves over. And maybe she wasn’t right worried as she was passing me some sort of message. All that glitters is not gold. It wasn’t so much the way she said it as it was the look in her eyes. They was real dark and troubled.

  “Are you trying to warn me of something?” I asked her.

  But she must have had someplace important to be ‘cause she left in a big hurry and never did reply. On account of this I found myself feeling wary on the day of the party. Wary of what, I didn’t know. My Magical Knowing was keeping still so I had no help far as that was concerned.

  I figured it wasn’t fair of me to make presumptions about Mama’s new beau, Mr. Calvin. A. DuPont. If my mother believed he was actually an unmarried man then I ought to believe it too. For her sake.

  When I told Ridley to come on over and that Jayden was gonna be here too, he didn’t react the way I imagined he would. He wasn’t nervous or prickly over it. In fact he was downright excited for the chance to be sharing a meal with us.

  Odd.

  Jayden also agreed much more quickly that I’da bet he would.

  I spent thirty whole minutes debating on wearing the pantsuit. In the end, even hard as I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to dress up like some gold-buttoned fool. I wore my white jeans and a black short-sleeved sweater top. Mama always said black looked real good with my light blonde hair. But now with the eggplant—I suppose I had to wing it.