PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Mari Kaye had spent the majority of the day out of the house in preparation for the evening’s festivities. First thing she had to have her usual tennis lesson at the club. Papa Roosevelt used to tell her that society ladies spend an indecent amount of time and money learning the right way to strike a tiny rubber ball with a racket. Mama figured if it was good enough for those women it was good enough for her. Mostly I think she secretly had the hot jollies for them instructors in their tight white shorts. Second thing, Mama had to have her nails done up in a fresh coat of paint to match her makeup. Then she was off to the caterers to pick up the food. By the time Jayden arrived, and I knew he’d be first what with him being right next door and all, Mama was having herself a well-deserved bath complete with candles and sherbet- scented bubbles. I called to her before I answered the bell to warn her about prancing through the house in the altogether which had been known to happen on occasion.

  “Mama, Jayden’s here!” And I hung a thick towel over the doorknob to play on the safe side.

  It was the first time I’d seen him since I woke up from the Pacachi. I reckon part of me forgot that when it came down to handsome, Jayden had that particular trait all sewed up right. I offered him a small smile.

  “Hey, Jay. Come on in,” I said and stepped aside.

  While he’d never been inclined toward spontaneous displays of emotion, Jayden Collins tossed his arms ‘round my neck and pulled me in tight. “It’s great to see you, Tru,” he spoke into my left ear. “Really, really great.”

  I waited for him to let go and back away, the way an ordinary hug would end over the course of a minute or two. But he held on so tight I felt the muscles in his chest heave and ho with his breathing.

  I had pretty much forgot that once upon a time Jayden had been my fairy tale, that being this close to him was the thing I wanted more than the sun, the rain, the summer, and my birthday.

  I also forgot that Ridley was fixing to be along early, too.

  “Truly, Jayden.”

  Our arms fell apart right then, at the sound of Ridley’s voice in the air behind Jayden’s head. But our eyes kept up the embrace, only for a minute longer, until Ridley moved alongside me and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “Oh heavens me! Looks like we got us some guests and here I am still covered in bath salts! Come on in, boys. I best be slipping into my shiny and brightest before my gentleman calls.”

  With that Mari Kaye sped by us in nothing but that thick towel. You had to love Mama for her faulty modesty.

  We stood there, the three of us, the way we’d done that night on Skinners, six arms and six legs and six hundred thoughts flying ‘round inside our heads. There wasn’t nothing else we could do in that moment. Nothing at all. So we laughed. At Mari Kaye. At everything and nothing at the same time.

  Four

  Calvin A. DuPont had a natural part sliced way over on the left side of his scalp. Then his pitch black, wiry hair went on to follow a crooked road till it dropped off at his forehead, which was deeper by far than the average forehead. When he smiled, his eyes didn’t wrinkle up at the edges the way most folks’ did. Mama didn’t seem to observe these strange attributes, but I did. Shortly after I started to take notice, I begun to jot ‘em down, in mental note style, so I could fill her in later when she wasn’t busy being all bubbly and impressed.

  Was Mr. DuPont attractive? I suppose there was something in his physique, something else in the strong cut of his chin, his steely blue eyes. If I was squinting and if I was in the mood to be real generous, which for Mama’s sake, I tried to be.

  Mari Kaye looked about as pretty as I’d ever seen her, all sparkly and poofy and colorful. I referred to that as her Look of Hope. She wore it every time there was a new scoundrel come sniffing ‘round like a stray hound in heat. The Hope told her maybe this one would turn out to be different from the rest of ‘em. Usually didn’t take long ‘for that look started to fade. A lie or two or three’s all there was to it. Then she didn’t fret over fixing up so much.

  It gave me a good case of the warm tingles when Mama wore the Look of Hope.

  I had no blessed idea what Mr. Calvin A. DuPont’s look was called. But I’d never known a man to see fit to dress his feet in closed-toed sandals in April—or ever. That fashion faux-pau surely had to go on the list of offenses.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Truly Kaye,” he said to me, exactly like such. Not a Southern man. In fact I could barely detect any trace of an accent in his voice which in and of itself made the little hairs on the back of my neck spike up short and straight. That’s the typical way the Magical Knowing had of showing up on my skin with a signal. Right it was, too. What sort of a person had no dialect, no hint at all of where their roots was sprung?

  I asked him, flat out, during our very first course, when Mama set out the tossed green salad complete with bacon flavored croutons cut into perfect half-by-half-inch squares and green olives stuffed with tiny red peppers. I said,

  “Mr. DuPont, where was it you say you was born?”

  And Mama stopped chewing like a lady long enough to spare me one quick eyeball as if she was fixing to blurt out a warning to the effect of “Truly, now don’t you be so nosy.”

  Ridley, who was seated to my left, was passing pleasant grins with Mr. DuPont right easy, like it didn’t matter none that they was complete strangers. Mr. DuPont used his thumb to dab at the collar of his pressed canary-yellow polo shirt. “I come from Rhode Island originally, Truly, but my family relocated to New York for a while, then to Jersey, then to Pennsylvania. My father was employed in management with a major courier service, and they sent him wherever they needed him to be.”

  Mama arched her back and spoke out, “Well that musta been simply awful for you as a young child, having to leave your friends behind so often.”

  Mr. DuPont beamed at my mother. “Yes, Mari, yes it was difficult to keep friendships alive. I read a lot. And I always had a pet. Cats mostly.”

  Seeing as how Mama knew I had a soft spot for animals she piped up loud. “Oh! You see that, Tru! Calvin loves kitties!”

  “I don’t recall hearing him say he loved them,” I said, and my mother let me know, using only her brow, that she didn’t appreciate my tone.

  “But I do, Truly. I had three cats I grew up with. We were quite close.”

  I checked Jayden, who was sitting directly across from me, for a read of what he thought of this piece of information. Yet all he did was shift in his chair and give me little shoulder shrug which wasn’t real helpful.

  For an hour or so this type of thing went on, with Mr. DuPont doing his best to be sweet as shoo-fly pie, saying “please call me Calvin,” which I did not, and Mama giggling like a schoolgirl, and Ridley keeping his deepest thoughts under wraps, and Jayden looking as if he was sitting on a keg of dynamite.

  But I was alive and Mama had a new man-scoundrel and it was all worth celebrating. I decided to ease up on the suspicious thoughts I’d been entertaining if only long enough to enjoy the fruit punch, in Passion Pink to match Mama’s makeup palette. It was just like Mari Kaye to spike our beverages with a hint of rum, to “put the life back into the living,” she always said.

  Didn’t matter none that we wasn’t of age to be partaking. Mama never cared much for rules.

  Ridley helped himself to two glasses, and right ‘round then he begun to relax, allowing his arm to find its way over my shoulder which made Jayden’s eyes grow bigger and rounder and meaner.

  Even still, I didn’t see it coming. Even knowing how a little taste of alcohol brought out the slippery tongue in Jayden. Still, I was blindsided.

  “So Mrs. Kaye, isn’t it cool about Truly moving to South Africa with Ridley?”

  You coulda heard a gnat take a nibble out of a horse’s ass. Mama, who’d been busy laughing at one thing or another that Mr. DuPont was saying, dropped her fork, which was loaded up with a fresh load of chicken gumbo, right onto her lap. An onion rolled to the floor
and planted itself under the table. Ridley pulled his arm back to his side.

  “Goodness!” Mama said, and Mr. DuPont collected as many free napkins as he could gather to lend a hand. “Well, look at me, ole’ butter-fingers.” My mother proceeded to clean herself off while Jayden’s sentence lay out there, waiting on her to pitch a proper fit.

  I passed a steamed look at Jayden, but he kept his eyes pinned on his plate.

  The clock in the corner of the room was ticking rhythmically, slow and steady as though the very movement of time saw fit to dawdle some.

  At long last, as soon as Mama got her dress fixed up, she turned to me. Our eyes met and I don’t know if it was the Magical Knowing or just knowing Mari Kaye as good as I did, but I fully expected what came next.

  Mama smiled, real soft and light. Yet her eyes didn’t match her lips. She looked over at Jayden and spoke.

  “I think it’s right wonderful about Truly going off to South Africa with Ridley. Right wonderful indeed.”

  Jayden nodded and plunged his fork into a piece of meat on his dish. I could feel Ridley settle back into his chair.

  You see, Mama always said there was only one place to wave your dirty bloomers ‘round in the air and that was at the laundromat. She was real big on stuff like that. And she wasn’t keen on letting her true feelings known, specially if she suspected straight out that they was sprung from manipulation. If any man set about getting a rise outta my mother they ought to get up right early in the day and hatch a fool-proof plan.

  When Jayden could no longer avoid my gaze, I smiled at him too. I didn’t lift up the edges of my eyes. I opened my mouth and without using any words I said, “fool.”

  Later on, when Ridley and I got caught up in a quiet moment, just us two, he lowered his voice and aimed for my ear. “When did you tell your mother?”

  “I haven’t yet,” I answered, and that made him more confused than ever.

  I went about giving Jayden the fake kindness act until such time as he went on home. Much as deep down inside I suppose I loved Jayden more than I ever ought to, he was some sort of scoundrel, toting fireworks in his trousers, and Mama said there was no honest future in store with a man like that.

  Hours later, when Mr. DuPont had bid us a good evening, and Ridley and Jayden was long gone, I found Mama standing over the kitchen basin, staring down at her Look of Hope Dress, a big oily stain smack dab in the center of it. She had her back to me.

  “Mama?”

  “Yes, Truly.”

  “I wanted to tell you that Mr. Du - I mean . . . Calvin seems real nice. He sure is sweet on you, too. It’s plain as day. And I think you’re right about him not being some other woman’s husband.”

  She kept looking straight ahead. “That’s nice of you to mention. Ya’ll want to grab me the seltzer water from the broom closet, please?”

  I did as she requested and placed the bottle down beside her. I watched the flipside of my mama as her shoulder blades swayed left and right while she worked that stain with her special paste trickled over with the seltzer, brushing the fabric with a small bristled brush.

  What that woman wouldn’t do in the name of hope.

  Damn Jayden and that fool tongue of his!

  I lingered there waiting to find the precise way to say it. Mama, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving with Ridley. As soon as I receive my high school diploma. I love him and I want to see the world, Mama. And more than anything else, I don’t want to end up stuck here in this pork-belly of a town, bedding down scoundrels for the sake of love or money. Just like you did.

  There was no precise way to say it. None that wouldn’t break her in two.

  I crept on my tippy toes down the hall and up the stairs and into my bedroom. It wasn’t real late, yet staying up with Mama and them hideous, unspoken words was more than I could bear. I took out a notepad and began to jot down my list of Calvin’s offenses, though I didn’t get very far. The silence from down below was crawling up my neck, like a turtleneck sweater made of steel wool. Knowing that Mama was down there waiting on me to explain, to set things right, to say thank you, to say I’m sorry. Waiting on me with her soiled dress soaking in the sink. It had to be done. I retraced my steps, passed the darkened kitchen that still smelled like onion, and returned to find her sitting up on the side of her bed, legs crossed at the ankle, flipping through the pages of one of those Hollywood magazines.

  “Mama?”

  She looked straight at me this time. My eyes begged to scan the room, her paisley printed curtains, her double dresser with the feather boa slung over the mirror. I forced them to keep contact with hers. I pulled up my breath.

  “I was fixing to tell you about South Africa. Nearly a dozen times. I was just afraid that you’d think...you’d think I was leaving on account of it being something you did wrong. And it isn’t that, Mama. It isn’t that at all. The thing of it is, I love Ridley. He’s the type of guy who makes me see my life turning out the exact right way. There’s something special about a boy who gives a girl them kinda feelings, Mama.”

  Mari Kaye let her magazine fall at her side. “I sure bet there is, Truly. I sure bet there is.” “I’m sorry for not saying something sooner. Real sorry, Mama.”

  Mama smiled, and this time her eyes went soft all around. “So then I’m supposin’ you got your mind made, haven’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, it’s a long way from here, Tru, a real long way but . . . ”

  “But,” I said, gently edging her along.

  “But Ridley don’t strike me as a scoundrel, and if your heart’s calling the shots, ya’ll owe it to yourself to follow.”

  My pulse picked up speed. “Really, Mama?”

  She puckered her lips and squared her sights with mine. “I won’t say that it ain’t gonna be lonely ‘round the house without ya, Tru, but far be it for me to stand in the way of a girl with a full heart and a dream.”

  “Oh, Mama! Thank you!” I rushed her and threw my arms ‘round her neck, nearly toppling her over. Then I dropped to my knees and stared up at her. In that rare instant my mother wasn’t wearing any of her usual makeup. Golly if she didn’t look much older than a big kid herself, her skin all naturally rosy and fair, her cheeks pudgy and freckled. I imagined I might miss her more than my full heart wanted to let on. I rested my hands on her knees. “Ain’t like I won’t be back to see ya’ll, like for Christmas maybe. Or maybe you can come and visit us. It’s exciting, isn’t it Mama?”

  “It’s a golden opportunity, Tru. A golden opportunity, I’d say.”

  In that instant my pulse nearly stopped cold dead. Mama mentioned gold. So had Bee or Bea. All that glitters. The Magical Knowing, which had been real still up till then, began to nibble on my insides.

  I pushed it away.

  Mama was smiling. The wheels was in motion. My dream was within reach, there for the grabbing. And my heart, hands and soul was itching to take it.

  Five

  The student body at Richter Field High School was sixty-eight percent female. One percent of that population was girls I could loosely consider friends. Such a measly figure didn’t right matter much since Mama and I was always about as close as two girls could ever be, even with eighteen years of life spread out between us. So it made perfect sense that, as my friend, Mari Kaye would be knocked clear outta her shorts with glee over my plans to move away with Ridley and create a new life for myself.

  Yet for a full week straight, after the night of our celebration supper when we’d met in her room and she smiled and told me about golden opportunities, Mama had been tossing and turning in her bed at nightfall, so loud I could hardly manage a decent minute of shut eye. Was that squeaky ole’ mattress that gave her away. I didn’t need the Magical Knowing to figure she might have had some secret thoughts about my plans she was keeping safe under her bonnet.

  Still, I was real busy at school trying to catch up and stuff, and Gwendoleen, from my homeroom, (among the one percent) said she was glad to
see I wasn’t dead and gone after my unfortunate river accident. Somehow or another a good chunk of the senior class at RFHS managed to find out about how I’d bumped my head and tumbled off Skinners Bridge almost choking to death on the Pacachi. Near-tragic news made its way ‘round our town right easy.

  Even though Gwendoleen and I wasn’t the type of friends that spent a whole mess of time together, I’d known her for four years and she was always kind. As coincidence would have it, Gwendoleen’s mama worked at the corporate office of Papa Roosevelt’s investment corporation. This gave us a mutual bond or something like that. Twice she loaned me a tampon, and she gave me a lift home every now and again. Gwendoleen was the kind of person made you feel you could tell ‘em most anything and they wasn’t gonna stand in judgment of you. She was born on the island of Barbados, but lived in Alabama for most of the seventeen years of her life. Mama referred to Gwendoleen as my colored friend. Mama was half-wrong on both counts. Gwendoleen was dark-skinned but nobody ever used the word colored anymore, and I already mentioned that she and I wasn’t really friends. I always meant to invite her to spend time at the house, though it never did seem to be the right thing.

  So are you okay, Truly? Gwendoleen asked, via a note she’d folded in half vertically.

  I read it quick and nodded at her. We was in homeroom meditation. Our teacher, Ms. Tripper, required us to sit in forced silence for ten minutes at the start of each day. Said it would clear the cobwebs outta our brains and leave room for the day’s learning. Gwendoleen was never real comfortable with meditation time. She motioned for me to send the note back and I did, sliding it across the desk and letting it dangle on the edge. She took it and began scribbling then returned it to me.

  They say you died and then came back again. Gwendoleen liked to put bubble circles over her I’s.