Flies on the Butter

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  “I eat beans for protein,” Rose replied curtly.

  Daisy lowered her glasses back down on her nose. “Now, listen here, young lady,” she said, her voice sounding very much like that of a mother. “You need food. Real food. Not tofu. Not froufrou. Food. And you didn’t come in here by accident today. Trust me, by the way you’re dressed, I’m certain this ain’t a place you would have picked out if you had choices. But you’re here because you need to eat. And I’m here to make sure you do.”

  Daisy set her plastic tray down on the corner of the table, placed her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot. A visual Rose was certain she had seen at some point in her life on a sitcom.

  Rose was so shocked that she sat there in complete amazement at the audacity of the stranger staring at her, waiting for her to start eating. People just didn’t do this. They didn’t challenge her. They didn’t tell her what to do. But now, here was this woman still tapping her foot, a woman who probably made less money in a year than Rose made in a month. Rose wasn’t sure what made her pick up her fork with its slightly bent third prong and run it through the gravy of her potatoes. She wasn’t sure why she did that. But she had a sneaking suspicion she was eating chicken today. Fried chicken.

  11

  Baby girl, Mamaw’s got your dinner ready,” Mamaw called from the front porch. “You and Christopher come in and get washed up. And don’t you bring a lizard in here with you either.” They waited until the screen door closed behind her to resume their conversation.

  “You think he’s dead?” Rosey asked, staring at the stiff lizard lying in the grass.

  “Well, I think the way you threw him up against the house pretty much did him in,” Christopher said, kneeling down to get a closer look.

  Rosey squatted and touched the lizard with her finger. It was hard as a rock. “Well, I didn’t mean to kill him. You think his mama will come looking for him and be heartbroken when she finds out I killed her baby?” Rosey fought back the tears welling in her eyes.

  Christopher just shook his head as he picked up the stiff critter. “I don’t know that lizards have mamas.”

  Rosey blew a stray curl from her face. She stood up, dug her nails into her palms to avoid crying, put those fists onto her hips, and said, “You don’t think lizards have mamas? Everything has to have a mama!”

  “No, they don’t.” He looked up at her with a frown. “What does a little six-year-old know? Plus, it seems like I read somewhere they just are dug up out of the ground or something. They call it archaeologisism, or something like that.” He stood up next to her and walked over to their box full of still-vibrant yet a few tailless lizards.

  Rosey would’ve challenged him on how a few years gave him so much more wisdom, but she felt too heartsick over the lizard. “So do you think if we put him back in the dirt that maybe he’d come back alive?”

  He puckered his lip and shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’s worth a try.”

  Their daddy came up behind them and scooped Rosey into his arms. “What’re my babies doing?” he asked, peppering her face with kisses.

  “Daddy, stop. I’ve got to see where Christopher buries the lizard!” she protested, pushing against his chest.

  “Okay, okay, let me go watch too.”

  Their mama came up behind them. “Ooh, what are you kids doing? I hope you haven’t been swinging lizards around until their tails come off. That would just be cruel.”

  With her foot, Rosey tried to push the box housing their evidence a little farther from her mama’s view. She and Christopher had tried to keep their lizard excursions secret, but this little burial with Daddy and Mama present wasn’t exactly going to help their cause.

  Christopher told Rosey, “I’ll check back in a couple days, and if he’s gone, we’ll know his mama won’t come looking for us.”

  She patted Christopher’s back to let him know he’d done an excellent job.

  Their mama wrapped her arm around Rosey’s shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get washed up for dinner. You heard your mamaw call.” She whispered excitedly into Rosey’s ear, “I think she made fried chicken.”

  “Fried chicken!” Rosey said, dancing herself right out of her mother’s arms and up the steps. She jerked the screen door open, catching sight of the hole in it and feeling glad that trouble was over. She didn’t let the smack of the door against the house stop her as she ran inside. “Mamaw! Mamaw!” she shouted, stopping abruptly, then jumping up and down when she reached the kitchen. “You made my favorite today?”

  “Shh, now, baby girl. I made all your favorites today,” Mamaw said, laughing. “Now, go get cleaned up so we can enjoy it while it’s hot.”

  Rosey danced to the bathroom, singing at the top of her lungs. An original tune, of course. Rosey was her own composer. She heard Christopher groan, but she ignored him. When she made it to the table, everyone was in their place. And even though Mamaw and Granddaddy had seven other children, it was Rosey’s family and sometimes Charlotte’s that usually had meals with them. But that was fine by Rosey, especially considering her mama’s cooking.

  Rosey sat down next to her mama. She took her mama’s soft hand in hers and smiled up at her. “I love you, Mama,” she said.

  “I love you too, sweetheart. Would you like to say grace for us?”

  “Sure.” Rosey folded her hands and bowed her head. She confidently prayed, “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. By His hands we all are fed. Give us, Lord, our daily bread. Amen.”

  And amens sounded from every corner.

  Rosey took a small breast and put it on her plate. It was the one her mamaw always cut just for her, and then she and Christopher got to make a wish and pull the wishbone. Whoever came up with the largest portion would get his or her wish to come true. Rosey and her brother were about even on the winning scale.

  Rosey rested her gaze in turn on each person around the table. She noticed for the first time that Mamaw and Grand-daddy looked old. Not old in a bad way. Just old in an always-flies been-old way. Then she looked at Christopher. He was inhaling his chicken and caught her looking. He grinned wide and bugged his eyes out at her. That made her laugh. She and Jenny might be best friends, but Christopher was her bestest friend. Then she looked at her mother. How pretty she looked today with her small pearl earrings and pale yellow dress. And her daddy looked so happy at the end of the table. He caught her eye and said, “What are you thinking, baby girl?”

  “Nothing,” she said with a shrug. And after winning the wishbone contest, she was certain her wish would come true, that they would all always be as happy as they were at this moment around this table. And that the lizard’s mama wouldn’t come looking for her. And with that, she took a big ol’ bite of her fried chicken.

  Rose felt something touch her hand, and she caught sight of her surroundings. “You better catch that tear, darlin’, before it falls onto your empty plate.”

  Rose felt the cool trail her tear had made on its way to her chin. She saw the napkin that Daisy was holding against her hand and used it to dab her face. Then she looked at the empty plate in front of her. She didn’t even remember eating it. But the weight in her gut assured her she had.

  “Here you go, sugar. This will help you wash it all down,” the other waitress said as she placed another Coke in front of Rose and removed her empty glass. Her name tag identified her as Delores.

  “Where’d you travel to just now?” Daisy asked, slipping into the booth.

  Rose hesitated. She didn’t like intimate questions. Intimate questions made her uncomfortable. Nor was she crazy about Daisy’s intimate proximity. “Oh, nowhere. Just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

  Daisy picked up her glasses hanging from her neck and began cleaning them with the edge of her apron. “Home has a way of doing things to you.”

  “What makes you think I was thinking about home?”

  “Well, the way I see it is like this.” She lifted her glasses up to peer
through them. Her eyes looked like a fly’s. Then she folded them and let them fall to the top of her chest. “That a classy woman like you, with your nice car and pretty clothes, who is trying her best to disguise any hint of a Southern accent, is trying to get away from something, but I have a feeling you’re coming instead of going, and that’s why your face is looking so troubled. If you were headed out of here, you’d be wanting a piece of everything I’ve got in here. But you must be headed back in, and that, darlin’, is a whole different story.”

  “I haven’t seen my mother in more than ten years,” Rose said, gripping the fork still in her hand tightly.

  “It’s been ten years since you’ve seen your mama?” That got Daisy’s attention, and she leaned onto the table to get a closer look. “How does someone not see their mama for ten years? She must have torn your heart out good.”

  Rose puffed. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be psychoanalyzed by Daisy nor why in the world she had shared such an intimate fact. Yet more still flowed. “Well, let’s just say she’s not the woman I thought she was.”

  “Well, by george, you better let it go, or you’re going to be missing a lot more than fried chicken in your life.”

  Suddenly the room felt chilled again. Rose put down her fork and brought her wrap back up around her shoulders. “Well, life isn’t as easy as you may think it is. Plus, I’ve dealt with enough issues today. So if you’ll excuse me,” Rose said, grabbing her things, “I think it’s time for me to be headed to my destination.”

  “It’s time for you to head home. You need to call it for what it is.”

  Rose reached in her bag and took out her matching Louis Vuitton wallet. She pulled out a credit card.

  But Daisy had apparently already nodded to Delores, because Delores arrived at that moment to give Rose a big ol’ piece of chocolate pie with meringue. Then a clean fork was laid down in front of her, and her dishes, virtually licked clean, were removed from the table. Daisy got up and walked away.

  Rose gazed at the chocolate pie in front of her. Daisy was evil. She looked up to spot Daisy as the waitress busied herself at the main counter. Apparently Rose wasn’t going anywhere until she ate some chocolate pie.

  12

  The last time she had gone home, her granddaddy was sitting out on the front porch when she pulled her car into the church parking lot. He had a look on his face as if he were expecting someone. He squinted to try to see who was behind the wheel. Rose watched him in his familiar spot. She hadn’t been home to see her grandparents in almost a year. For the first part of their marriage, she and Jack would come and spend time with them almost every six months. Jack adored them, and they adored Jack.

  They were such a constant in Rose’s life, but this past year had been busy. And if she were being honest, her latest decisions had made her want to hide from those she loved instead of hang around them. Because people who love you can see things that you can hide from everyone else.

  But now, with the way things were going with her and Jack, and the weight of the secret that she had been keeping from him, well, it made her want to see the two people who always made life seem okay. She needed them. The girl who would never admit she needed anyone needed these two people desperately. So she had loaded up the car and come home to surprise them.

  Her granddaddy’s face lit up when he realized who it was. “Mama!” he hollered, raising himself out of his chair as fast as he could. “Red’s here, Mama! Red’s here!”

  Mamaw came barreling out of the house, apron tied firmly around her stomach. Her slippered feet almost caught up with Rose’s granddaddy as he did a hobbling jog down the side staircase, tugging on his suspenders at the same time, as if they would hold him upright.

  Rose let the emotion saturate her. No one else in this life, except Christopher, of course, seemed to care whether she was around or not. But these two, these two were running. They were running to her. They were excited because she was home. And she fought the tears. She fought them even while she broke into a run of her own.

  They all stood there in the parking lot, laughing and blubbering over each other. Then Mamaw interrupted the moment with a swat to Rose’s backside.

  “Ow! What was that for?” Rose laughed.

  “That’s for not calling and letting me make something special for you before you got here.” Then she popped her again.

  “Ow! And that would be for what?” Rose asked, rubbing her behind.

  “That would be for waiting too long to see us! We could have died ten times since you’ve been here last.” Her mamaw straightened her apron and smiled at her.

  Rose wrapped her arm around her as they walked toward the house. “You’re too ornery to die,” she assured her.

  Granddaddy wrapped his arm around Rose from the other side, and they all walked up the steps together. “Well, don’t let her fool you either, Red. Mama’s been cooking all day. Said she had a feeling someone might be coming by.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Rose’s head. Even at seventy-three, he still towered over Rose’s five-foot-seven frame. “And I did too. That’s why I came out here to sit on the porch. But Lord knows He’s made me happy as sunshine that you were the one He brought.”

  “I can smell dinner from here,” Rose said, returning a tap to her mamaw’s cushy behind as they walked toward the screen door that still had the same fist-size hole in it. Rose stopped to examine it. “Mamaw, why haven’t you ever fixed that hole from when Christopher threw the ball through it?”

  Mamaw looked down at the hole and tilted her head to ponder. “That there, Rosey, is a treasure of my grandbabies. I don’t have any plans for patching treasures. I only cherish treasures. And every time I look at that hole, I see my Christopher.”

  “And every time Christopher sees that hole, he remembers the switch he had to pull off the tree for his own behind to be whipped.” Rose nudged her.

  “And he turned out to be a wonderful boy, didn’t he, now?” she said with a sly smile of her own.

  Inside the kitchen, the table was set the same way it had been for all of Rose’s growing up. Every serving dish from Mamaw’s china collection held something, and steam was rising from each one. “All this for two people?” Rose asked.

  “No, like your granddaddy told you, I had a feeling someone was coming by today. Now, sit, baby girl. Sit down here and tell us everything that is going on in your world.”

  They all sat down in the familiar golden vinyl chairs and held out their hands. Rose looked at the two precious, wrinkled, loving hands reaching out to hold hers to give thanks for the meal they were about to receive, and she felt ashamed and angry and all the things she didn’t want to feel when about to give thanks with her grandparents. But she took each of their hands in her own and squeezed them. As if their hearts could in some way purify her own.

  “Would you return thanks?” her granddaddy asked. Rose bowed her head, waiting for her mamaw to pray. Nothing was said for a few moments. Rose peeked with one eye, like she used to do when she was little, and she saw a small tear trickle down the cheek of her mamaw. The additional wrinkles on her face showed how she had aged since Rose had seen her last. They had both always looked old to her, but now, here, she really saw it. And her heart ached.

  “Dear Lord, how can we thank You today for bringing our Rosey home to us? We knew You had something special planned today, but You’ve gone and surprised us good. And for that we are so grateful. Bless our sweet baby girl, and make her wise, and careful, and obedient. And Lord, . . .” Rose heard the slight waver in her mamaw’s voice. “Don’t let her be fooled by what life calls happiness, but let her long for the real life that You bring.”

  Rose felt a tugging inside of her. She knew happiness. When she was younger. When obeying and praying and all of those things were a part of her life. But she had grown so past all of that now. That silliness. That foolishness. Yet still she felt the same tug. And listening to the words of her mamaw, she heard no foolishness or silliness. A burni
ng sensation crept its way through Rose’s being and reminded her again, as it had multiple times over the last year, that there was still a desire inside of her heart for something. Anything.

  “And bless this food that we are about to receive, and bless the loving hands of my sweet husband, who planted most of it, and You who made it grow. In Your precious name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Granddaddy responded.

  Rose just nodded her head.

  “Take you one, baby girl,” her mamaw said and slapped the largest fried pork chop on Rose’s plate you’d ever want to see. Rose had yet to break the news that she was a vegetarian. So she always just cut up the meat, swirled it around, and ate the vegetables.

  A pound of mashed potatoes were heaped on her plate next. They were followed by collard greens. “Jenny and I used to have a friend in school whose name was Corliss Green,” Rose said. “But Jenny and I always called her Collard Greens.”

  They all laughed together.

  “How’s our Jack, Red? Didn’t he want to come with you?” her granddaddy asked.

  Rose felt the bite of mashed potatoes expand in her mouth even as she chewed. She swallowed hard. “Jack’s been pretty busy lately. His job with the State Department is demanding—”

  “Well, the two of you are going to have to slow up at some point and have children,” Mamaw interrupted.

  Rose set her fork down and looked wearily at her plate. She had fought so many battles lately. She didn’t have the strength for any more. So she just asked quietly, “What’s wrong if people don’t want children, Mamaw? Would that be an awful thing for someone?”

  The full, round face of Mamaw searched Rose’s eyes for a moment. “You’re asking a woman who birthed nine babies,” she chuckled, then wiped her mouth. She placed her napkin back across her round legs. “I guess everyone has the right to do what they want; all I know is the treasure children are. And then the treasures they produce.” She reached over and squeezed Rose’s hand. “There’s nothing like them. It’s like having your heart outside of your body. You see your meanness and your kindness, and you see them grow up and become something, and then come home and see you again, and it’s a love, baby girl, like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.”