by Hattie Mae
“Mais, no. Leave them be. I'll have them done in no time. After my morning smoke. Come pass the time with me on the porch,” MaeMae said.
MaeMae lit her pipe and sat back in her chair. She glanced at Mansir on the steps, gazing at the bayou. “It's beautiful, isn't it?”
“This place has a certain raw beauty,” he answered.
MaeMae leaned back in her chair and puffed on her pipe. And watched Mansir as his face revealed his thoughts. She would give him all the time he needed to search his mind for forgotten words and memories.
Mansir stretched his long legs as he sat on the front porch and leaned back on his elbows.
“What does one do without a sense of who he is?”
“I know I've said this before, but give it time. I don't believe for a minute that you won't regain your memory.”
“I hope you're right, MaeMae.”
Mansir allowed a grasshopper to land on his shoe, and watched as it rubbed its legs together.
“This place is like a sedative. I don't understand the peace I feel even with the turmoil raging inside. I try to concentrate on names and places, I find myself listening to the sounds in the dark. I can't focus.”
Nudging the grasshopper off his foot, he drew his legs up. “Talk to me, MaeMae. I need to keep my mind from racing, before it drives me crazy.”
MaeMae cleared her throat. “One thing I know is that you can be at peace wherever you are, if the world's right with you and you are right with the world.”
“Is the world not right with T-Boy and Joelette?” he asked. “Something's made both of them distrusting and sad.”
“A little bit of both I think, but they are both still heartsick.”
MaeMae tapped her pipe upside down on the lip of the old Crisco can that sat on the edge of her table. She coughed to clear her throat. “A Cajun has thick skin. If we can't solve the problem after trying many ways, we take a deep breath and try to make the most of it. Now, I’m not saying we’re not prideful and more than a little stubborn, but mostly we’re flexible. Most of us hide our hurts beneath a smile and a sassy response. But sometimes, oh sometimes that hurt goes almost too deep to breathe.”
MaeMae closed her eyes and sat back, before she repacked her pipe and took another draw.
“Three years ago, T-Boy and his dad, Otis, my boy, were getting ready to go hunting down the bayou. T-Boy could hardly keep his little body still. He'd been up since the crack of dawn. Otis told him to run in the house and put on his rubber boots. I was fixing them a sack lunch. Joelette and Ozamae still slept. We heard a gunshot and T-Boy beat me to Otis. It looked like he’d dropped the gun and it discharged hitting him in the chest. Blood was everywhere.”
Mansir sat up and started to stop MaeMae but she held up her hand, and shook her head.
“T-Boy cradled his dad's head in his small lap, rocking back and forth tears pouring down his small cheeks. Otis gasping for breath opened his eyes and told him to stop crying. 'Stop that crying. Real men never cry,' Otis told him.”
MaeMae took a deep breath to still her shaking insides and put her hand over her heart to keep it in one piece. Reliving this tragedy took almost all her strength.
“Please MaeMae, you don't have to tell me anymore.” Mansir said, but MaeMae hushed him.
“I believe you need to know why Joelette and T-Boy act the way they do, so you can give them patience, let me finish.” MaeMae pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve.
She wiped away tears, and continued, “T-Boy tried so hard to stop. I'll never forget that little boy as he gulped air trying to hold back the tears that rolled down his face. 'You're the man of the house now son. Promise me you won’t let any man take my place', Otis whispered, and then passed out.”
She rolled the corner of her apron back and forth between her fingers as she talked. “T-Boy kept repeating ‘I promise, daddy, I promise.’” She shook her head. “Damned fool asking so much of a child.”
MaeMae closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked over at Mansir. “Joelette and I carried Otis to the quiet room and worked on him for what seemed like hours, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. One of the hardest things that happened that day was with all my knowledge of healing; I could not save my own son. I guess his time on earth was over.” A heavy sigh escaped from MaeMae's throat. She sat still for a while, took a deep breath and continued.
“Otis was not a good husband or dad. He tried, but he always searched for the easy way out. He wanted the fastest way to make money, to do work, anyway but the right way. He expected little from himself, but too much from everyone else, including his wife and sons.”
MaeMae stared at the water. “My mother used to say 'when your child is small, they walk on your feet but when they are grown, they walk on your heart.' This proved true with Otis, but I loved him in spite of his faults. He was my heart, my only child. Joelette is afraid T-Boy will take after his dad and she’s at a loss how to change that path.”
“You have all been through enough. No wonder T-Boy is such a sad little boy and Joelette so protective. How do you get over something like that?” Mansir asked.
“Some of us work through things easier than others. You never forget; never are without the pain. You find other ways where you are wanted and needed. And if you're lucky, you find other people to love. Joelette and T-Boy are both struggling. Someday Joelette will fill the hole left in her heart. And T-Boy will find the hero he desperately needs.”
She rubbed her hands together and wiped them on her apron.
“My smoke is finished, and I’m expecting Mrs. Savoy, so I better get her tonic together. She says nothing makes her feel better, I know it's the gin she adds. Don't forget no heavy work today. Do you need anything?”
Mansir massaged the knot on his head. “I hate asking for things I can't supply for myself, but I will pay you back. Do you have an old notebook and pen around that I might have?”
MaeMae chuckled. “Come with me.” She pulled open a cabinet door in the kitchen that revealed a stack of assorted notebooks, binders, packs of pens, pencils, and crayons. The writing supplies filled two shelves.
“Will this do? One of my patients owns the Dollar Store and this is how he pays me. He has chronic back pain. Comes in handy for the boys. Help yourself. Anything else?”
He chose a small notebook and a larger one. Then he picked up a black ballpoint pen. “Thanks. You are full of surprises, MaeMae.” The small notebook he placed in his shirt pocket with the pen. He started to his room with the other notebook. “One more thing. Do you have any tools I might borrow? I can't sit and hope a light will come on in my head and I'll return to normal. Who knows? Maybe I'm a carpenter.”
“Mais Non, from the look of your hands, you were never a laborer. You, my friend worked behind a desk. As far as the tools help yourself, my husband owned one of everything I think. They are in the shed along with scrap wood. Don’t over do.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The shed proved to be a woodworker's haven. Every tool one could imagine hung in order on pegboards surrounding the walls. A lamp dangled from the ceiling, flooding the large room with light. Two large windows that faced the bayou offered a portal to natural light. A wooden table with several vises sat under the windows with two stools placed under the table. This was a well-loved room.
Mansir sat on the stool and retrieved the small notebook and pen from his pocket. In concise letters he wrote. I owe MaeMae, two notebooks and a black ballpoint pen. Then after a second thought he added, the clothes on my back, food, and doctor fees. This small act gave him control, a start. He laid the notebook and pen aside to add items later.
He inhaled the familiar smell of oil and sawdust. On a peg board behind the workbench hung several small tools used for woodcarving. He knew immediately what each one was used for. His heart rate increased. Was this the beginning of his return? He sat still for a long time, no memory of his past returned except the knowledge of the tools and the familiar feel of the shed. He de
cided to busy his hands and mind with the hopes that some memory would drift by.
After an extensive search for the right piece of wood and tool, Mansir sat on the stool and began to carve.
A knock sounded on the door. He looked up from his carving and realized he’d been working for a couple of hours. MaeMae came in with a plate containing a sandwich and fruit for lunch. A large glass of cold lemonade accompanied the meal.
“I won't interrupt, I know when one is busy with his hands the mind is also occupied,” MaeMae said.
Mansir sat the tray of food down and picked up his carving. He turned the piece over in his hand and held the small crane up to view it better from another angle. He might not remember his name, but he obviously remembered how to carve. Some little guy would be quite pleased with this.
The moss swayed in the breeze and covered the window like a dark cloud from time to time. Sunlight peeked between the clouds. If only he could close his eyes and when he opened them, the cloud would lift.
As he ate his sandwich, he watched the antics of two cranes bobbing for food on the edge of the bayou. They were persistent forging for their lunch. He wondered if the Cajun people had gotten their endless work ethic from watching nature. Mansir resumed work and soon became engrossed in his project.
While he polished his masterpieces, he heard the rattling of the truck as it arrived home. Joelette's home. Maybe she’d heard some news in town. Also she’d said she would pick up a newspaper. He decided to join the small family group, so he set aside his carving. Besides he’d decided this project would be a surprise. He wrapped four small-carved objects in a rag and stuck them on the top shelf. Cleaning up his mess, he put everything back in place and wiped his hands, and walked to the porch.
“Hey, I thought about coming to check on you. MaeMae said you'd been in that shed all day.”
Her deep throaty voice tore through him. She was beautiful. “I'm feeling great. It felt good to work.” He returned the smile.
“If you are feeling so energetic, how you’d like to come crabbing with me and the boys when T-Boy gets home? Mrs. Savoy brought MaeMae a big bunch of fresh green onions from her garden in exchange for her tonic. MaeMae's cleaned and chopped them and they are waiting for a good crab stew. Ever been crabbing?”
Mansir took a deep breath, finally a chance to help furnish food for their table. “Not that I remember. How hard can it be?”
Ozamae came bouncing out of the house. “T-Boy's home. Can I go meet him, Mama? Can I? Hi, Mansir. Are you going crabbing with us? Mama, can he come too? Please?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Joelette said laughing. “You let T-Boy grab some cookies and milk and don't ask him a million questions. Mansir and I will get the crabbing gear together. Coming?”
“How does one go about crabbing?” he asked. He increased his pace To match her, she was always in a hurry.
“It's about as easy a catch as you’ll make. Just tie a piece of meat to a line, throw the line in the water, and wait until they bite. Then pull them in close enough to catch them in a net. Just hope that what bites and what you pull in is a crab and not a gator.”
“Gators? You mean alligators? There are alligators here?”
Laughing, Joelette turned and looked into his eyes. “Of course there are alligators here. You're in the swamps of Louisiana. Don't you hear them bellowing at night?”
“Hear them?” The hair on his arms stood on end. “I don't know. What does an alligator sound like?”
Mansir had lain awake at night thinking of the horrors that could have happened to him in the swamp, but never had an encounter with an alligator crossed his mind. “Do they come far inland from the water?” Moisture ran down his back. “I could have been a meal for one of them when you found me.”
“You could have been a meal for two or three of them. They've been known to wander into someone's yard or onto the road, but that's a rare occasion.” She waved her hand. “Don't worry. They're just as afraid of you. Show your respect and don't taunt one.”
“That, m'lady, you can count on. I don't plan to get close enough to taunt one or show ill respect.”
Joelette started to pick up a step stool to retrieve two nets hanging on the wall of the carport.
“Let me,” Mansir said. He reached up with no effort and handed her the nets. Today, he would let the past rest, and enjoy the gaiety of this family. Smiling down at Joelette he said. “See, I'm not so bad to have around.” It felt good to be useful.
Armed with two nets, two large burlap sacks, an assortment of strings and odd cuts of meat, the four of them set out for their adventure. Ozamae held Mansir's hand and Joelette walked in front of them with T-Boy in the lead.
“Here we are”, called Joelette. “Catch.” Joelette threw Mansir a sack containing several small cheesecloth bags.
“What's this?” he asked, as he smelled the sweet odor emerging from the bags.
“Dip a bag in water as you need it and wring almost dry. Pat any exposed skin you have. This is basil and will keep the mosquitoes away.”
Doing as he was told was one thing, believing this would work was another. After the third mosquito bite, he used the bags.
They tied the meat onto one end of the string, and the other end of the string to a stick they pushed into the ground. Almost immediately the lines pulled taunt. “We have one,” Mansir yelled.
“Wait until we get all of the lines out, they won't let go. We'll catch them later,” Joelette said as she continued down the bank, setting out the crabbing lines.
“Why don't you and T-Boy work that end and Ozamae and I will take care of this end of the bank,” she said handing Mansir one of the nets.
“But Mom”, both of the boys said at once.
“As I say, boys. Let's see who catches the most.”
“You and Ozamae will win Mom, I have the rookie on my team,” grumbled T-Boy.
“But I can reach farther out in the water with the net than they can. I might be an asset. Come on and show me how this is done,” Mansir said.
T-Boy shrugged. “Alright, but don’t fall in the water. I'll pull the crabs in and you hold the net in the water until I get them over the net, raise the net fast before they crawl out. Got that?”
“Yes sir!” Mansir saluted. He could hear Ozamae squealing with delight about one they had caught.
“Bring the net. This line is heavy,” T-Boy said pulling the line in as in slow motion. “I think we have two or three on this line.”
Mansir put the net in the water and watched as T-Boy with expert hands, pulled the crabs over the net then gave him a nod. He lifted. T-Boy was right. There were three crabs in the net, huge ones with blue claws.
“Wow, these things are big. Hey over there, we just pulled in three whoppers,” Mansir yelled to Joelette and Ozamae.
“That's just a start. You haven't seen these two boys eat crabs.” Joelette answered.
The next net held one big one. The crab hung onto the net with its claws and Mansir couldn't get it out.
“What do I do with this one T-Boy?”
T-Boy turned his head to the side and said. “Reach in and work him loose. He won't hurt you.”
Mansir reached in and felt the sharp pinch of a powerful claw on his finger. Cursing under his breath he jerked his finger free pulling the claw off the crab in the process. He squeezed his finger to stop the pain and watched it bleed.
“What happened?” Joelette said as she ran over to them.
“That crab just cut my finger,” Mansir said. He looked from the clawless crab and then at T-Boy. The little guy's eyes widened in surprise at the amount of blood coming from the cut. An unsaid plea crossed T-Boy's face.
“T-Boy, didn't you tell Mansir how powerful a crab’s claw was?”
“Yes, he told me,” Mansir said before T-Boy could answer. “I guess I needed to see for myself. You can bet I won't be reaching into a net with a crab in it again.”
“Here, wrap this around your finger.” Joelett
e handed him a strip of cloth. “We'll put some ointment on it when we get to the house. You two stop horsing around. We have supper to catch.” She smiled before she turned around.
Mansir returned to crabbing. “How many crabs do you think will be enough, T-Boy?”
T-Boy's face tinged with red looked up at Mansir. “A sack full.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. I didn't know that crab would break the skin. Thank you for not telling Mom what I did,” he said as he walked off to run another line. “But I’m still the man of the house,” he muttered.
Mansir opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. Now wasn't the time. MaeMae and the Doc both thought time healed everything. Maybe it did. He would give the boy time.
The four of them continued to crab, catching dozens.
“I think we have enough. We better get back so we can clean them for MaeMae,” Joelette said.
“Wait let me check this one.” Mansir pointed to a line pulled taunt. “Bring the net, T-Boy.”
Mansir pulled slowly as he had seen T-Boy do, he could feel the tug on the other end of the line. “This one’s big, maybe big enough to fill you up, T-Boy.” As the line got closer to shore, Mansir saw two round eyes come up out of the water.
“I think you better let that one go.” T-Boy said. “You've caught a gator.”
Mansir tossed down the line and grabbed T-boy under his arm. He ran toward the truck. “Run, Joelette. It's a gator.” He ran past Joelette and Ozamae and then realized she wasn’t running. Not only that, but she was doubled-over laughing.
Joelette tried to catch her breath. “He's not after you. He wants the crabs. I've never seen an alligator chase a man up a hill yet. Now put T-Boy down and take a couple of breaths. You look like you're about to pass out.”
Mansir set down T-Boy.
“I can't believe you're afraid of a little ole gator. I never saw someone run that fast, you picked me up like I was a pile of sticks,” T-Boy said in between bouts of laughter.
Joelette and Ozamae sat beside them. “You should have seen yourself running with T-Boy's legs flopping behind you in the wind. That was the funniest thing I have ever seen,” Joelette said.
