by Ashton Lee
Things had not improved between the two of them when Periwinkle had married manipulative Harlan Lattimore at her tender age of twenty. “Mark my words, Periwinkle Violet, that man is just no good. His reputation spreads far and wide. Even all the way over here to Corinth. He’s just one a’ those pretend-cowboys with his boots and hat and line dancin’, and he’ll do you wrong as soon as your back is turned.”
The fact that Mama Kohlmeyer had sized up Harlan perfectly from the beginning had only made things worse between mother and daughter. Harlan had indeed cheated frequently, had even built a room in the back of his Marina Bar and Grill on the lake to “entertain” his busty young conquests. The ensuing divorce had been particularly nasty, and then years later, Harlan had tried to win Periwinkle back when her Twinkle, Twinkle Café had taken off, leaving him in the dust and in the red. She had eventually seen through his financially motivated, second marriage proposal, and he had returned to his hometown of Jefferson, Texas, with his tail between his legs. From Periwinkle’s point of view, it was strictly good riddance.
Still later, when Periwinkle had announced her intention to marry Mr. Parker Place and then had actually done the deed without fanfare in the Cherico African Methodist Episcopal Church instead of her mother’s Baptist church in Corinth, Mama Kohlmeyer’s icy behavior had reached arctic proportions. She had refused to attend the wedding, and the rift between them seemed close to irreparable.
Why then was Periwinkle even bothering on her day off to drive to her mother’s house in Corinth to tell her about the pregnancy? Maybe the more recent news that they were going to have a little girl would soften the blow. As she drove along the winding back road from Cherico, she almost felt she was sneaking up on the inevitable confrontation. She had passed only two cars so far. There would be almost no witnesses along the way to her masochistic mission. And without her Parker by her side to boot. He had wanted to come and be her sturdy backup, but Periwinkle had nixed the idea vigorously no matter how passionately he argued in favor of it.
“I just don’t want to expose you to her right now, Parker. Not until she’s had a change of heart. It seems I’ve been letting her down all my life.”
“Have you ever thought it might be the other way around, Peri?” Parker had told her with some conviction. “That she might be the one who’s letting you down? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Periwinkle had conceded his point but stood her ground. So she was making the journey alone while Parker held down the fort at The Twinkle, and it felt like the audition of her life. But what was she hoping to accomplish? Did she think acceptance could possibly be ripe for the taking? It seemed unlikely considering her history with her mother.
As the turnoff to the country road leading to her mother’s house came into view, she began to toss around various approaches in her head.
First: “I know how you feel about my marriage, Mama, but maybe you’ll feel different when I tell you you’re gonna become the grandmother of our little girl.” Periwinkle shook her head. No, it sounded accusatory, as if she wanted to pick a fight. They had both had enough of those over the years.
Next: “I have some wonderful news for you today. Can you guess?” This time, Periwinkle frowned outright. This was no time for twenty questions. This was a very adult subject—not a child’s game.
Another try, complete with a wide-eyed expression on her face as she glanced at the rearview mirror. “News flash: Parker and I are gonna have a little baby girl.” Was that too direct? That almost sounded like she was one of those glib, smooth-talking, TV anchorwomen with the smile that wouldn’t quit and hair that wouldn’t move.
Then it occurred to her that she had no business being remotely apologetic about her pregnancy. So what if some people had antiquated views on the subject of mixed marriages and the children who might result from them? This was the millennium, and the world was changing fast. She had to at least try to get her mother to embrace her approaching grandmother role. If she and Parker and their child were to be shut out over the long haul, then so be it. Better to find out now. Because she simply could not leave things the way they were.
* * *
Mama Kohlmeyer’s living room in her little house with the screened porch just outside of Corinth looked exactly the same as it had when Periwinkle was growing up. The only thing that ever got changed was the blue and purple hydrangeas in the tall vases on the end tables, and even they would never have been switched out were it possible for flowers to remain fresh in water forever. Otherwise, the long blue sofa with the plastic cover, the comfortable chair with the blue and white afghan, and the turquoise throw rug on the highly polished wood floor had become iconic fixtures of the cozy, little household that Mama and the late Papa Rex Kohlmeyer had called home from the first month of their marriage.
Remaining predictably the same, too, was Mama Kohlmeyer. She never left the house without being perfectly coiffed and attired. Curlers, flip-flops, and ill-fitting housecoats covering up everything beneath were anathema to her, and her opinions were rigid and frequently unforgiving of everything from politics to religion. There were never two sides to anything for her, and she had made it clear to Periwinkle that her husband, Parker, was not welcome in her home. The very notion was unthinkable.
“You’re on your own. Why on God’s green earth did you have to fall for a . . . umm . . . a black man?” Mama Kohlmeyer had said when her daughter had first broken the news of their engagement.
Periwinkle fully realized the impact of the pause in her mother’s question. There had been times over the years when coarser words had emerged from her mouth regarding racial issues, and Periwinkle felt guilty that she had never called her mother on it. Not that it would have made any difference in the outcome.
Things had deteriorated further when Periwinkle had answered with a question, desperate for the resolution she knew would likely never come. “For that matter, why did you fall in love with Papa Rex? Who knows why these things happen? For the most part, they just do.”
“Don’t you dare compare your father to this short-order cook you’re playing around with!” came the reply. Mama Kohlmeyer’s nostrils were flaring as her lips curled up in ugly fashion.
“He’s a very talented pastry chef, Mama, not a short-order cook. You do that just to annoy me, don’t you?” was all Periwinkle could think to say. “And we’re not playing around. We’re serious about each other. I’d think you would realize that by now, considering that we’re getting married.”
Mama Kohlmeyer’s eyes were moving around like pinballs at the mercy of flippers gone wild. “That’s your mistake, then.”
Would there be more of the same this time around?
* * *
Periwinkle did not have long to wait for her answer, once the two of them were settled in on the living room sofa. “So, what’s so all-fired important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” Mama Kohlmeyer said. “I don’t like secrets, as you well know. They’re the work of the Devil.”
Periwinkle steadied herself, placing both hands on the sofa’s plastic cover, recoiling slightly at the artificial feel of it. “That’s why I wanted to tell you this in person, Mama. I felt it deserved more than just a phone call. I went to the doctor recently and—”
Mama Kohlmeyer looked alarmed as she interrupted. “Are you gonna die of some terminal disease? Is that it? How much time do you have left? This isn’t one of those three-month deals, is it? Please don’t be puttin’ me through that.”
Happy for a way to some levity, Periwinkle was unable to repress a hearty chuckle. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mama, it’s nothing like that. I’m happy to say that I couldn’t be in better health.”
“Then get on with it and stop scarin’ me to death.”
Periwinkle struggled to get the revelation out amid the pauses and throat-clearings, but finally she managed. “I’m having a baby. Parker and I are gonna have a little girl.” It was perhaps the most difficult sentence she had ever uttered in her
life.
The right side of her mother’s face hitched up dramatically, as if she were having a stroke. Then a couple of facial tics appeared, followed by a simple but devastating response. “Are you gonna keep it?”
Periwinkle could hardly believe what she was hearing and said nothing. It was the last thing she had expected, whatever else she had imagined.
Mama Kohlmeyer persisted, her voice dripping with impatient cruelty. “Well, are you?”
Recovering her senses, Periwinkle dove right in. “Mama, you’re the last person in the world I would ever have thought would bring up abortion. Not with the way you never miss a Sunday in church.”
“I didn’t say the word abortion. That was your interpretation, my girl. You could always give it up for adoption, you know. That’s what I meant, and that’s what I think you should do. If more people thought about adoption, this would be a much better world to live in.”
“And why should I give up my child? And it’s Parker’s child, too, remember? Why should he give up his child? What you’re suggesting is cruel and unnecessary. I can’t even begin to imagine where your heart is.”
Mama Kohlmeyer looked uncomfortable, wiggling in her seat while drawing herself up. “You can stop with the insults. I’m just being practical is all. Why should you take all that on?”
“All what on?”
Now there was another level of scorn in her mother’s voice. “Do I have to spell it out for you? You grew up here in the South just like I did. Why would you want to take on having a Negro child to raise? You know what they go through and all. They just don’t . . . well, they don’t fit in. They’re not the same as everybody else. It’s always been that way for as far back as I can remember. I didn’t make up the history of this country. It wasn’t me who did all those things to those people. Wouldn’t it be better to have the child raised by two black people?”
“Instead of her parents?”
“Yes.”
“This is all a matter of color, then.”
“It’s not just that. It’s all the rest. They have different music and different people they vote for, and they talk different, too. All this rap music is just so low-class. You aren’t cut out for that sorta life. Plus, here you are, a menopausal woman trying to have a baby. You’re too old, and they say you run the risk of the bad genes getting in the older you are when you get pregnant. Have you even thought about that for a minute? Prob’ly not.”
“For your information, I am not going through menopause. True, I am working on forty-two, which some a’ those Hollywood stars consider prime time for a baby bump these days. But I’m showing no signs of menopause whatsoever. My obstetrician assures me of that.”
Mama Kohlmeyer pursed her lips. “So now you’re copying all those women on the front pages of those tabloids they sell at the supermarket? I’d thought you were raised better than that.”
“Now you know that’s not true. I’m even sorry I brought that up.”
Mama Kohlmeyer had her nose in the air, making a point of avoiding her daughter’s gaze. “Whatever, Periwinkle Violet. That little girl is gonna have problems. You might as well admit it. Maybe you’d have had problems if you’d had any children by that scoundrel Harlan Lattimore, too, but they wouldn’t be the kind this child a’ yours will have.”
Periwinkle had come this far. She decided not to back down now, folding her arms defiantly. “Go on, then. Tell me more. I’m not sure what you’re about to say, Mama, but I’m pretty sure I’ll disagree with it.”
“Oh, really, Miss Know-It-All? You just need to look at this with a decent head on your shoulders. You know as well as I do what they’ll call this child behind her back in school and on the playground. It’s the human nature of it all. Why, some’ll smile to her face but stick their tongue out as she walks away. She’ll be in for some heartbreak, that’s for sure. It’ll be like the child is not yours at all. She’ll be his, that Mr. Place you’ve up and married like there were no consequences to it all. They’ll only see the black part of your baby. Your part won’t even count, whatever she looks like.”
Periwinkle expelled the air from her lungs forcefully to keep from exploding. When she had gathered herself, she said as calmly as possible, “It sounds to me like you won’t acknowledge this little baby as your grandchild, Mama, and that you won’t have anything to do with her. Despite what you’ve been saying, she’ll have some a’ your genes. Do I have that down right?”
There was only awkward silence as Mama Kohlmeyer faced forward, her fingers contracted into fists.
“You could at least have the decency to answer my question, Mama,” Periwinkle said finally. “I want to know where I stand with you right now. Let’s don’t beat around the bush.”
“It’s a lot to ask of me. I am who I am, and I can’t help it. I’m sixty-six years old and too far along in life to change my ways. You might try to see it from my point of view. The fact is, I’ll never understand you as long as I live. You’ve never done things by the book. It’s always been your way or nobody’s. But this, this decision you’ve made to marry a black man and have his child, this one takes the cake. You act like I’m supposed to accept it as if everybody else in the world thinks it’s nothing. You know that’s not gonna happen. You’ll be judged by people, and so will your child. Is that what you want to be a part of the rest of your life? It’s like you won’t even be white anymore. You’ll be giving that up for this man and his baby by marrying out of your own kind.”
It took every bit of Periwinkle’s resolve to avoid screaming, but somehow she managed, biting her lip and saying nothing.
“The God’s honest truth is, Periwinkle Violet, you’ve never been a practical person, even if you have made a success of The Twinkle over there in Cherico. I’ll give you that much, but this new thing you’ve undertaken, well, the outcome may not be as pretty and everybody may not be shakin’ your hand like you’ve done somethin’ great. By the way, is that husband of yours taking over the restaurant for you now that you’re pregnant, I hope? If you’re gonna insist on going through with this, you shouldn’t be standing on your feet and slaving over hot stoves all day and night.”
“What an image! But, yes, I’m still working,” Periwinkle told her. “Dr. Jacobs told me I could go right on working up until about four weeks from delivery. He just said don’t overdo it and have some common sense about things. For the record, Parker is doing more now—not at my request but at his. That’s the kind of man he is. He’s very responsible, and you would realize that if you gave yourself a chance to get to know him. The way I see it, the only reason you’re not doing that is because he’s black, and that’s a horrible thing to do to me. To us.”
Mama Kohlmeyer briefly looked away and muttered something under her breath.
“What was that, Mama?”
“I have no more to say, period. Fact is, most people just aren’t gonna approve of what you’re doin’.”
Somehow, Periwinkle found just the right words, suppressing her pent-up anger. “Some people may see it that way, yes, but you have the opportunity not to be one of those people who judge and shake their heads and talk about us behind our back. If what you say is true, you’d be one less person in the world for me and my child to worry about. Don’t you think you should give your little granddaughter that much of a head start?”
“You would find a way to bring up one of those big government programs, wouldn’t you?”
This time, Periwinkle was unable to avoid her disgust. “You are so damned good at deflecting, aren’t you? You always just change the subject when something doesn’t suit you.”
“That’s my privilege as a tax-payin’ American. And by the way, you could have told me this over the phone and avoided all of this if you think I’m so all-fired wrong about everything.”
Periwinkle rose from the sofa abruptly, the waves of tension radiating from her. “Yes, I could have, and I should have, now that we’ve had this conversation. I went back and forth about the wisdo
m of my even coming over to see you while I was driving over here. Believe me, you have no idea how wound up it got me. I prob’ly need to have my head examined.”
“You said it, I didn’t.”
“At least you’re consistent about everything, Mama.”
“I do what I think is right. You’ve known that about me for a long time, Periwinkle Violet.”
Periwinkle briskly headed for the door, turning at the last minute with narrowed eyes. “Then I take it you won’t want me to post any cute Facebook pictures when the time comes.”
“Ha! I don’t believe in Facebook. It’s one of those communist plots where the Russians are tryin’ to break into everybody’s computer and get all their information so they can open credit card accounts in their name. I read about it in the paper just the other day, and then our pastor warned about how evil the Internet was. All this is sneaky stuff.”
“Then it must be true. Good-bye, Mama. You know how to get in touch with me in case you change your mind.”
Periwinkle left in the proverbial huff. Too soon, in fact, to witness Mama Kohlmeyer rising from her seat and halfheartedly uttering the one word under her breath: “Wait . . .”
But Periwinkle had already slammed the kitchen door behind her, and Mama Kohlmeyer was left standing there, frozen in place and feeling vaguely guilty. But the moment passed quickly. Why should she feel guilty about who she was and her view of the world? It was her daughter who was sticking her tongue out at everybody and expecting them to approve. What was the world coming to?
5
The Free Sample Sisters
It all started when Maura Beth had set out on her own one Wednesday to do the grocery shopping for that week. Jeremy had taken it on without complaints since they’d gotten the news about her pregnancy, but he had a series of faculty meetings out at the high school that would keep him long after school hours, and their pantry and fridge needed considerable restocking. Jeremy had even made a list for her so she wouldn’t forget anything.
