A Cup of Dust

by Susie Finkbeiner

I shot him a look full of sass. All it did was make him laugh at me.

  “I mean, you ever feel like you’re supposed to be somewhere else?” He spit. “Like maybe you ain’t meant to be in this house, with this goody-goody family. Maybe you’re supposed to be somewhere else, but you got pulled out of where you belong and put here instead.”

  “You’re not making sense,” I said.

  “Do you ever get the feeling that you ain’t who you always thought you were?” He touched the side of his head with his pointer finger. “You think on that, Pearl. Think on that.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  Our back door sometimes stuck in its frame, catching and rubbing when it was opened. I heard the rough sound and turned. Mama stepped out on the stoop, a rolling pin in one hand. She gripped it so hard the veins stuck out on the back of her hand.

  “Who are you?” she asked, glaring at Eddie.

  Meemaw poked her head out behind Mama and waved for me to come up on the porch. I obeyed and let her wrap her arms around me.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  Mama lifted the rolling pin, like it was a sword she meant to use on Eddie. “I asked you who you are.”

  “Evening, ma’am.” He leered at Mama, up and down in a way that made me feel small. He fanned himself with one hand and smiled. “Sure is hot tonight, ain’t it?”

  “What are you doing bothering my girl? Isn’t it a bit late to be standing in folks’ back yards?” Mama’s voice was hard as rock. She rested the rolling pin on her shoulder.

  “Just looking for a bite to eat, ma’am. Maybe a little make-work.” He winked at me. “Ain’t that right, little lady?”

  I tried crossing my arms and standing firm, but it just made me feel smaller yet.

  “I’ve got nothing to give you. Best move on now.” Mama cleared her throat. “Don’t let me find you around my house again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eddie tipped his hat at Mama. “You have yourself a good evening, ma’am.”

  Mama rushed us inside and shut the door, locking it. She watched out that back window until she was sure Eddie was gone. Only then did she let her arm drop with the weight of the rolling pin. Meemaw pulled me even closer to her, burying my face into her soft chest. I didn’t cry, even though I wanted to. All my shaking made her think I was, though.

  She hushed me until I could stand still.

  “He didn’t touch you, did he, darlin’?” Meemaw asked.

  I told her he hadn’t, which wasn’t true. I didn’t tell her he’d put his arm around me. Something told me that wasn’t the kind of touch she meant.

  The minute Daddy got home and before he could step foot inside, Mama went after him to drive all the hobos out of Red River. She shook and waved her arms around her head. As strong as her voice had been with Eddie, it was weak and quivery with Daddy.

  “I don’t like it, Tom,” she said. “Not one bit. Strange men coming around, asking little girls for food. It’s not fitting.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm,” Daddy said, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him.

  “Go on up and ask your mother. She saw him, too.” Mama reached around Daddy and locked the door.

  “Mary, don’t worry.” Daddy took hold of Mama’s hands and kissed them both. “I’ve been down to the Hooverville half-a-dozen times this week with Millard. All that’s down there is families and a couple men tramping around. They’re harmless.”

  “You didn’t see that man, Tom.” Mama’s voice trembled. “The way he was talking to Pearl, it was just—I don’t know. It made me so uncomfortable.”

  Daddy turned toward me where I sat on the davenport. “He scare you, darlin’?”

  I nodded. “It was that same man from before.”

  “From before?” Mama asked.

  “He was at the rabbit drive,” I answered.

  “That man’s not going to do any harm.” Daddy puffed up his cheeks. “If he comes around again—”

  “He’s not going to. I told him to stay away. And I told Pearl she isn’t to talk to him again. Not ever.” Mama brought her fist down on the table, making a pounding sound. “I just wish you’d send all them out. Hobos or whatever. I don’t want people near my house like that.”

  “Mary, sugar.”

  I loved it when Daddy called Mama “sugar.” I didn’t believe she liked it so much. But when he said it, his eyes would get all wrinkled up in the corners. “I don’t have it in me to kick them all out. They’re just down on their luck.”

  “Thomas, I can’t see how you don’t.”

  I sure didn’t like it when Mama called Daddy his given name. It meant she was sore at him. Her eyes would get real narrow when she said it.

  “How do we know that man didn’t mean harm?” she asked. “He had evil written all over his face.”

  The smell of Daddy’s fresh-lit cigarette wafted over to me. “Them folks have been kicked out of every place from here to the other side of the country. They’ve got more nothing than anybody I’ve ever seen. From all I hear, California isn’t gonna be much better. The least I can do is let them find a little rest here for a day or two.”

  “My lord, Tom. It’s one thing to stay over at a place. It’s another to come around, begging for food from little girls.” Mama rubbed her eyes. “I swear, if I see that man here again, I’ll crack open his head.”

  “I’ll see to him.” Daddy looked over at me again. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, sir,” I said.

  “He just scared you?”

  I nodded.

  “Strange men’ll do that sometimes.” Daddy walked to me and kneeled next to my seat so his face was right next to mine. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come around here again. Okay?”

  My eyes filled with tears, and I didn’t know why.

  “His name’s Eddie,” I whispered.

  Daddy pulled on his cigarette, letting his eyes squint.

  “That’s real good, darlin’,” he said. “You catch his last name, too?”

  “No, sir.”

  He blew the smoke out toward the ceiling. “Eddie should do just fine. I’ll catch up with him.”

  Daddy got up on the davenport next to me and patted his thigh. I climbed onto his lap, wondering how much longer I’d fit there.

  “Now,” he said, holding his cigarette away from me. “That revival’s done, ain’t it?”

  “I don’t mind Pastor’s preaching, but I’ll be glad not to sit in service for a good while.” Mama leaned against the wall. “I don’t remember a revival ever wearing me out so.”

  “One day until Sunday and you’ll be right back in church,” Daddy said. “Were it up to me, I’d give y’all a week off from it. Pastor, too.”

  “Just what would we do instead?”

  “We’d all go to the theater to see a movie. Seems like forever since we seen a movie.” Daddy gave me a peck on the cheek. “Anything exciting happen at the revival? Any clowns show up? I mean, other than Pastor Ezra Anderson and Mad Mabel.”

  “Tom,” Mama scolded but smiled anyway.

  “You know That Woman? The one who lives at the cat house?” I asked. “She came and stood in the back.”

  “Winnie did?” Daddy turned to see Mama’s nod that agreed with me. “What was she doing there?”

  “Don’t know.” Mama shrugged. “But she sure did get an earful from Pastor.”

  “I’d have thought she’d know better than to show up at a revival.”

  “He called her bad names,” I said.

  “That so?” Daddy drew in the last of his cigarette and pushed out the lit end in a dish Mama brought him. “He go on about the lust of the flesh?”

  “Tom,” Mama said, shaking her head. “She’s heard enough for tonight.”

  “Well, did he?”

  I nodded.

  “Pearl,” Mama said. “You go on up to bed now.”

  “Yes, Mama.” I hopped off Daddy’s lap and made my way up the steps. I didn’t go a
ll the way into my room. I stayed outside the door and listened.

  “You best be careful who you say such things to,” Mama said. I thought she meant to whisper, but I could hear her just fine. “You’ll turn everybody away from Pastor talking like that.”

  “That man knows more of Winnie than most men in town.” Daddy cleared his throat. “I reckon half the tithe money ends up on her bedside table.”

  “You don’t know that for a fact.”

  “Don’t I?” Daddy coughed. “Even if he weren’t a customer of Winnie, I don’t like what that man’s spouting. It’s just ugly what he preaches.”

  “Your mother seems to think he’s bringing hope to the people.”

  “He never gave up the ringmaster act, Mary. He’s playing this town for fools.” Daddy’s voice got lower in tone. “I’d trust Si Jones before I’d ever go to Ezra Anderson for anything.”

  “Si’s a drunk.”

  “Still, he ain’t standing with a Bible in his hand and playing at something he’s not, is he?”

  “You ain’t who you think you are.” The shaking voice in my flimsy dream echoed. “Think on that.”

  The dark figure in front of me tap, tap, tapped on the side of his head. “Think on that.”

  Another person stood next to him, holding a mirror. “Look into the mirror of scripture,” he hollered. “What do you see?”

  I looked. All I saw was me, my long yellow hair soaking wet and my dress soiled with blood and dirt.

  “I’ll tell ya what I see.” The man’s voice rose so loud, it hammered in my ears. “The whore of Red River. Seducer of the flesh. Pulling that flesh down and down and down until it’s nothing but dust. The dust of God’s hate for you.”

  “Think on that, Pearl.” The dark figure stepped into the light. Eddie’s eyes glowed from his face. “You ain’t who you think you are.”

  When I woke, I shivered for all the sweat cooling on my skin.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Daddy never did force all the hobos out of Red River. He didn’t take down the Hooverville, either. What he did, though, was talk to all the men and tell them to steer clear of the kids in town.

  When Mama asked him about Eddie, Daddy said he didn’t find him around. Folks that knew of him said he must have moved on.

  Still, Mama decided that I wasn’t allowed to wander around by myself until Daddy had found Eddie and sent him to California with a swift kick to the rear.

  “Take your sister with you,” Mama said to me, keeping her focus on the socks she was mending.

  I glanced out the big front window. Ray was still standing on the porch, waiting to hear what Mama would say about me going for a walk with him.

  “I’d be with Ray,” I said. “He would never let anything happen to me.”

  Mama raised one eyebrow and pulled her stitch through, tying it off at the end.

  “Take your sister.” The tone in her voice told me I’d better mind or else. “She could use a little walk, anyhow.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tried not to sound too disappointed.

  When I stepped out on the porch with Beanie behind me, Ray scowled.

  “Mama said we have to take her with us.” I shrugged.

  “I guess that’s all right just so she don’t do nothing to cause trouble.” Ray looked at Beanie. “You gotta stick with us, got it? No running off.”

  Beanie’s nod seemed to satisfy Ray.

  I knew why Ray wanted to get away from town. It was the day the relief truck came, and he never wanted to be around to see it.

  I couldn’t hardly blame him.

  President Roosevelt sent his men with flatbeds full of food to Red River every so often. Daddy had told me those trucks went to just about every town in the U.S. of A. I didn’t care if it went to Egypt. I was just glad it came to our town.

  I’d heard from Meemaw that the bundles on the truck were of flour and beans and cooking lard. Sometimes the men would bring a little meat for all the folks. She said there was never sugar, though. I had half a mind to write to good old President Roosevelt about that.

  I just had to believe he would write back, attaching the note to a crate full of sugar—enough to last a good year. The note would say, “Enjoy the shug-ah.”

  Ray hated to be home when the relief trucks came. He said it made his mother cry and his father mean. Daddy told me that most of the men in town were shamed to death to take the charity. And the women were embarrassed for the sake of their husbands. Daddy had said that, if it had just been grown-ups, most of the people in our town would have let themselves starve. But they took the relief to keep their kids fed.

  A man could make himself die of hunger to save his pride, Daddy had said. He was less like to do so when it was his kids with the empty bellies.

  When the three of us—Beanie, Ray, and I—stepped off the porch, I noticed the old bucket on the ground. Ray picked it up by the handle and carried it as he walked.

  It was already half full of dried-out, sun-bleached cow patties.

  Ray walked in the direction of the old, empty pastures. I rolled my eyes, knowing that he wanted me to help him fill his bucket to the brim with crumbling cow turds.

  Mrs. Jones used them to heat their dugout. Sometimes she even cooked over them. It seemed a dirty thing to have to do, and I hated that anybody found a need for it.

  I decided I’d write about that in my letter to the president.

  We made it all the way to one of the old pastures, and Ray hopped over the fence. I put one foot on the old wood and pushed myself up, hoping it wouldn’t crumble under my weight. Turning to see if Beanie was behind me, I squinted against the dust in the air. She was a few yards back.

  “Come on, Beanie,” I called, looping my leg around the top rung of the fence.

  She shook her head, wild hair brushing against her shoulders.

  “Mama said you had to stick with Ray and me.” I put my hands on my hips, swaying in order to balance myself. “Now, come on.”

  On a normal day, I would have moved along and let her find her own way home. She might have had it in her mind to stay put in that one spot all day long, to dig in the dirt and watch the clouds sail over. I didn’t need Mama getting mad at me, though.

  “Come on,” I hollered a little more angry than I should have. I didn’t like the way my voice sounded so mean.

  Ray’s bucket clanked on the hard ground. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Don’t know.” I turned from my sister for no more than a second so I could climb down. When I turned back, she had started running the opposite way from us. The way she took off, I wasn’t sure she’d thought ahead to where she was going.

  My sister might not have been the smartest person I knew, but she sure was fast.

  I used the kind of words ranch hands would have said. Ray didn’t hear me, so I repeated them for his benefit.

  “She’s going for the Hooverville,” Ray yelled, running right past me, leaving his bucket behind.

  Ray and I ran after Beanie along the shore of what had once been the Red River. Now it was nothing more than a scar in the earth. Once, long before I was born, a wide line of water rushed through. They’d put the railroad tracks running right alongside it. When the rain stopped wetting the land, the river dried up. That was when a lot of the troubles began.

  Dusters had blown a dune up against a barbed-wire fence, and Beanie stumbled her way up the mound with Ray not too far behind.

  With my shoes on, I couldn’t work my toes into the dirt to gain a hold. All I could do was slide back down once I got a foot or so up. Over and over this happened, draining my energy.

  “Ray,” I hollered only to get a mouthful of dirt. “I can’t get over.”

  He’d already hopped down on the other side. I wished he would have waited just a few seconds for me. I thought about all the names I could call him. Names Meemaw would have blushed at and Mama would have washed my mouth out with soap for. I didn’t say any of them, though, because I remembered that
his baby sister had died. I figured I should be more charitable than that.

  Scrambling and digging into the dirt with the toe of my shoes, I finally got up to the top and jumped down right next to Ray. He nudged me with his elbow. I let him know it hurt and rubbed it with my hand, deciding not to push him back for the same reason I didn’t call him a name.

  “Look,” he whispered.

  Dingy canvases made roofs that hung over old pallets and mattresses. Folks I’d never seen before sat in the shade of their makeshift tents. One woman held a baby against her breast, her blouse pulled up just so. I couldn’t see much of her skin, and I was thankful for that. A couple kids stared at Ray and me, their eyes tired and faces filthy.

  As dirty as Ray was, he was nothing close to as grimy as some of the kids in the Hooverville.

  Ray dug at the dust with his bare toes and looked off to where the tents made zigzagging rows. A kid tossed a handful of dirt in the air and let it fall atop his head.

  “I don’t see her.” Ray narrowed his eyes. The sun had gotten so bright it cast a glare on just about everything.

  It wouldn’t have done a bit of good to cry, and I knew it, even though I wanted to. I choked the urge back. Especially when Ray touched my hand.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find her.”

  “What’s that smell?” I whispered, hoping nobody but Ray could hear my question.

  Ray just shrugged his shoulders.

  It smelled like they’d been using the whole camp as an outhouse. Nobody had gotten around to putting one up, probably because they only fixed on staying a few nights before leaving again.

  Goodness, but did they need to do something about that smell. A body couldn’t live among that too long without getting downright sick. I wondered what Mama thought about it. It wasn’t like her to not throw a fit about something like that.

  I was sure she’d think of some way to clean it up. I knew she didn’t want all of Red River smelling like a barnyard.

  As for me, I was glad I’d worn my shoes that day.

  Ray and I wove our way around tents and rusted-out cars until we found Beanie. She sat on the ground, playing with a toddling child. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. All it had on was a filth-stained diaper and nothing else.