by Rhett DeVane
They waited on Karen’s signal before Elvina and her two young charges, Moses and Tameka Clark, high-tailed it to the porch.
“Wanda’s gonna fall out when she sees these two younguns.” Evelyn gathered the black children to her and smashed them to her breast. “How y’all doing up there in Birmingham?”
Tameka, the nine-year-old, said, “Fine, I’m going to be taking jazz dance classes next year.”
“Well, ain’t you a big girl!”
Moses said, “Aunt ’Licia’s letting me start football, too.”
“I’m just so proud of you both, I could bust wide open.” Evelyn gave them another squeeze and turned to motion behind her. “This here is my daughter, Miz Karen.”
Tameka studied Karen. “Why you don’t have no hair?”
Evelyn frowned. “Now, honey.”
“That’s okay, Mama.” Karen knelt down in front of the petite child. “I’ve been sick and the medicine made my hair all fall out. Made most of my eyebrows and eyelashes disappear, too.”
The child’s almond-shaped brown eyes echoed kindness. “It gone come back?”
Karen smiled. “I do believe it will. If not, I’ll just polish up my head till it shines.”
Tameka giggled. Her long beaded braids danced and tapped together.
Elvina gathered the children and herded them toward the corner of the front porch. “Y’all stand right over here, now. When Miz Wanda comes out, we’ll be ready to give her a big surprise.”
Hattie and Holston’s gold SUV pulled into the driveway, closely followed by Bobby, Leigh, and Tank in Bobby’s faded blue pick-up. When Karen saw D. J. emerge from the back seat of Hattie’s automobile, her throat constricted slightly.
“ ’Bout time y’all got here!” Evelyn called.
Hattie plopped Sarah on one hip and grabbed a bulging diaper bag. “We were on time until Sarah and Spackle decided to play in a puddle by the front faucet.”
Sarah clapped her pudgy little hands.
“Come to your Auntie Evelyn, little Chinaberry.” She plucked the toddler from her mother’s arms. “Glad you could come, Donald.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” His intense gaze rested on his fiancée.
Jake and Jon pulled up in the 4Runner. Melody and J. T. slid from the back seat. Simpy and Stephanie arrived in the GMPTV van.
“Okay! Party can start now. The fun crew has arrived.” Jake wore pinstriped jeans with a chambray shirt and leaned on a coordinating denim-printed cane. Not to outshine his partner, Jon had opted for blue jeans and a white Polo shirt.
“I feel kind of underdressed for a wedding,” Stephanie said, brushing the wrinkles from a simple sundress.
“You look just fine. I know Wanda Orenstein. If she said she’d belt anyone who dressed up fancy, she meant it,” Evelyn said. “I wish more weddings were this way.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Holston said. “The thought of putting on a tie in this heat—”
The front screened door slammed. Pinky Green stepped onto the porch wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt. “Everyone here? Wanda’s about ready to come out!”
Evelyn glanced around. “Joe? Anybody seen Joe? Now, where is that husband of mine?”
Pinky pointed toward the barn. “Think I saw him and Bull walking off that way.”
Evelyn snorted off in search of her husband while the Reverend took his place underneath the oak tree.
“There wasn’t a thing my mama couldn’t cook. If it could be fried, baked, or broiled, it best stay away from Piddie Longman’s kitchen. Give her an iron skillet and a couple of bowls, and she could cook up a storm. My favorite? Her chicken ’n’ dumplin’s. Absolutely heaven on earth! I can’t tell you how many pots of dumplin’s I’ve eaten in my lifetime. Used to be, back when I was a little girl up in Alabama, Mama would have to go out and wring a chicken’s neck in the back yard, then scald the feathers off and clean its insides out. That part always made me a little queasy. Much better now that we can get chicken parts already cleaned and cut-up.”
Evelyn Longman Fletcher
Chapter Thirty-two
“Watch, Auntie ’Vina!” Tameka took several running steps and executed a perfect somersault followed by flip twist. Her yellow sun dress flounced over her head.
Elvina and the others sitting underneath the oak tree clapped. She motioned for the child. “That was mighty good, sugar-pot. You’re as cute as a bug’s ear. But maybe you should wait till you have on the special little bloomers so your underpanties don’t shine.”
Tameka’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Yes’m. Can me and Moses go see the goats?”
Elvina glanced toward the gathering of men around the brick grill. “Go ask Mr. Pinky if it’s okay. Don’t go getting in the pen. You’ll soil your pretty dress.”
“Yes ’um.” Tameka skipped off.
“Amazing how happy she is now,” Evelyn said. “I’m so glad Hank Henderson’s evil didn’t taint that child.”
Elvina’s gaze followed Tameka and her brother as they walked hand-in-hand toward the barn. “I was most concerned about Moses, but it seems he’s put the unpleasantness behind him, too.”
Wanda jumped up and hugged Elvina. “You bringing those kids to my wedding was the best present of all.” She planted a kiss on the old woman’s wrinkled cheek.
Elvina smiled in spite of herself. “I can’t take all the credit. Lucille was struck by the same notion. Do believe Piddie tapped both of us so we’d be sure to get the message.”
Wanda shook her head. “I just wish Pinky and I were going to be around to spend more time with them.”
Elvina adjusted her straw sun hat. “Y’all need to get on off on your honeymoon. Me and Lucille have plans for the younguns, anyhow.”
“How long are they staying?” Hattie asked.
“I take them to the airport a week from today.” Elvina smiled. “My old tomcat Buster’s took to Tameka like nobody’s business. And Moses, he’s gonna help me set out a butterfly garden by the back steps.”
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “Why, Elvina, I never took you for a person who liked children.”
Elvina sniffed. “Just ’cause I never birthed any, don’t mean I don’t like having them around sometimes.”
Lucille joined in. “We’re taking a busload from the church up to that adventure park near Valdosta on Wednesday.”
Mandy clapped her hands. “I wanna go! I wanna go! I love that place.”
Lucille nodded. “We could always use an extra chaperone.”
“Means I’ll have to reschedule a day’s worth of clients now, Mandy.” Elvina shook her bony finger.
“I hardly ever take a day off during the week,” Mandy said. “Bull’s home off the road for the week. I’ll get him to go, too. It’ll be a blast!”
Elvina dragged a pen from behind her ear and a notepad from her pocket. “I’ll get to work on the books tomorrow.”
Lucille turned to Karen. “When you starting back on your treatments?”
Karen’s smile faded. “Monday at one. First, chemo, then on to radiation.”
“Your young man, is he staying down right on?” Lucille motioned toward the barbeque grill. The scent of sizzling chicken wafted through the air.
Karen glanced at D. J. “Maybe so.” He looked her way and smiled.
Elvina clapped her hands. “Whoop! I almost forgot! Hattie, tell everybody the story about your glasses. This is a good one!”
Hattie rolled her eyes. “I really don’t—”
Jake leaned forward. “C’mon, Sister-girl. I never get to hear your adventures anymore, now that you’re all happily married.”
Holston jiggled Sarah on his lap. “It is pretty amusing, hon.”
“All right.” Hattie sighed. “Well, you know I’m more and more like Mama every day. She used to put her foot in her mouth on a regular basis.”
Elvina frowned. “Spare them the build-up, Hattie. You give way too much detail sometimes.”
“Ain’t that th
e truth,” Jake said. “If we were all lost, she’d take charge and lead us around in circles for hours.”
“You want me to tell the story, or what?” Hattie said.
Jake blew a make-up kiss her way.
“Okay, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—I was over in Tallahassee last week for a doctor’s appointment—”
Jon asked. “You okay? Nothing we need to worry about?”
Hattie shook her head. “Oh, no. Just a routine follow-up with the oncologist. I’m fine.”
“Quit interrupting her, for Heaven’s sake,” Elvina said.
Hattie continued. “I had a bunch of errands to run and right in the middle of it all, my glasses fell apart.”
“That’s a pain,” Evelyn agreed.
“Yeah, well. I stopped by my regular doctor’s office, and he was out of town. So, I decided to go to that vision place in the Governor’s Mall. See if they could do a quick repair. I was having a late lunch with one of my friends on that side of town.”
Hattie took a deep breath. “By the time I walked in, it was around noon, and the place was packed—mostly with men. The lady behind the counter spotted me and asked in a loud voice, ‘Are you here for an appointment in the back, or are you picking up a pair of glasses?’ I answered in a loud voice to carry over the din of conversation, ‘No, I just stopped by for a quick screw!’”
The group howled with laughter. Jake stamped his cane on the ground. Tank and Sarah clapped and giggled because the adults were acting so strangely.
“Lord help, Hattie,” Evelyn said when she could finally speak. “You didn’t just put your foot in your mouth. You swallowed the whole dang leg.”
Hattie smiled. “Every man in the room stopped dead and stared at me. It was surreal—like a scene out of a sitcom. My face got all red and hot. I said, ‘Perhaps I should rephrase that.’ That statement brought the house down. I heard them laughing all the way to the rear of the store. The fellow who took me back for the repair couldn’t stop snickering. His shoulders shook the whole time he was replacing the missing screw. Then, he handed them back all fixed and cleaned up. When I asked how much, he said, ‘Honey, you don’t owe me a dime.’”
A second wave of laughter and knee-slapping resounded. Mandy wiped the joy-tears from her eyes. “Maybe you ought to stay away from the mall for a while.”
Jake howled. “They probably have your picture up in the office!”
Elvina dabbed at her eyes. “I got one to tell on my dear friend, Piddie, God rest her soul. Few years back—oh, maybe fifteen or so—me ’n’ Piddie were at the K-mart in Tallahassee, the old one used to be acrosst from Lake Ella. We were in a hurry, and trying to find the snack aisle. Betsy Witherspoon was having a tea, and we were supposed to bring the mixed nuts.”
She smiled, remembering. “We hunted and hunted all over that store. Piddie finally said, ‘We ain’t never gonna find them. I’m gonna ask.’ You know Piddie, not a shy bone in her body. She spotted this young fella up on a tall ladder stocking shelves and stood beneath him looking up. She yelled up to him, ‘Young man, where are your nuts?’ Lawsy, the look on that boy’s face! I can still see it! I walked off and left her standing there.”
The revelry continued through the elaborate picnic dinner and afterwards, between sessions of guitar-picking and singing. Simpy slipped silently among the gathering, video camera in hand.
Karen studied the group. Jake with his maimed leg. Hattie—both parents deceased, with colon cancer behind her. Evelyn still grieving Piddie’s death. Pinky with a beloved sister gone to cancer. Moses and Tameka—victims of a porn money-making scheme. How could so much joviality spring from a group riddled with pain and tragedy?
Later she asked her mother.
“It’s just our way, sugar,” Evelyn said. “Always has been. There’s a’plenty in this old world to be depressed over. If you haven’t had personal tragedy touch your life, all you have to do is pick up a paper or watch TV. Pain is all around. Laughter is good. Helps us forget for a few moments all the suffering humanity puts itself through. Without it, a person’s spirit would be squashed like a bug, sure as I’m standing here.”
“When I was a little girl, my mama made this plain, thin, starchy soup when I was sick. I made it for my own kids when they were sick or just having a bad day. They’re grown now, but still ask for it sometimes.”
Julie Nix, server at The Homeplace Restaurant
Julie’s Mama’s Potato Soup
3 Yukon Gold potatoes, washed, peeled, and diced.
3 cups water
salt and pepper to taste
pat of butter
Place the potatoes in a small saucepan and cover with the cold water. Add salt and pepper, if desired. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to simmer potatoes for 15-20 minutes. You want the potatoes to cook until they’re very soft and fall apart.
Remove from heat and lightly mash with a fork to break up large pieces of potato. Add a pat of butter. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Serve while hot.
You want this soup to be thin and watery if you are serving it to a sick person, especially if they have a fever. The idea is to give them nourishment they can keep down.
Some good variations, if you aren’t running a fever—a cup of chopped, cooked broccoli, ½ cup shredded cheddar cheese, ½ cup cream (reduce water), or add all three.
Chapter Thirty-three
The Nucletron Simulux HP reminded Karen of an oversized praying mantis. The radiation machine looked benign enough, dominating the cavernous barren room. Hard to believe, a machine just like it would fire invisible killer devil-rays at her from its gaping maw.
“Imagine you’re on a massage table,” Hattie had suggested. “I’ll give you some of my relaxation CDs, and you can drift off to a sunny beach or green mountain glen. Before you know it, the session will be over.”
Quite a stretch for Karen’s budding visualization skills—from a paint-stenciled, bald, skinny body to a voluptuous beauty queen on a balmy Caribbean beach.
“Welcome to the simulator room,” Dr. McDowell said. “This machine is just a plain x-ray machine, possibly a bit intimidating, but the one you will receive your treatments on—the Linear Accelerator, LINAC—is larger.”
Karen liked everything about the radiation oncologist: freckles, carrot-red hair, eyebrows, and lashes, open-faced expression, and kind blue eyes that smiled even when his mouth didn’t.
Her first appointment had been for a two-hour visit dedicated to the nurses and Dr. McDowell performing an initial consultation: a thorough history and physical examination followed by a lengthy counseling session where the radiation oncologist explained the rationale for radiation and the typical side effects. The second session included a CAT scan and a walk-through of the facility punctuated by Dr. McDowell’s commentary. Karen met two of the RTT’s, radiation therapy therapists, who would guide her though the procedures. Dr. McDowell explained the computer-generated radiation plan and fabrication of the custom-tooled lead shielding used inside of the unit to direct the powerful beam. Paint pens were used to mark her skin to help the therapists aim the machine.
“No radiation this time. Just a test run.” The doctor smiled.
Happy Days—he would fit in with the family on the old sitcom perfectly. Dating yourself again, dear, Karen chided herself. Only one of the two therapists was old enough to recall the show.
“Go ahead and recline, Karen,” the doctor said.
She eased onto the cushioned table.
“Now, your arm will rest above your head on these pads so that we can aim here.” He pointed to the area adjacent to the scar underneath her armpit. “We’ll be treating from several angles—to treat the breast and the area where your lymph nodes were. Usually one to two minutes per field. You won’t feel anything. Just hear a series of beeping and buzzing noises. The therapists will be monitoring you from the control room.”
He pointed upward toward the corners of the room. “See the video cameras? If you g
et scared or need help, all you have to do is wave. Any problems, they will be right on it. There are microphones so you and the therapists can talk if there is an issue. Important thing—don’t move unless you truly have a problem. Let the technicians position you and then stay perfectly still.” Dr. McDowell smiled. “They will scold you, if you start shifting around. I know it’s tempting at first to rise up and try to see what the heck is going on, but it is absolutely imperative that you remain still. You’ll learn not to move your head unconsciously when the therapist is talking to you. Even talking or lifting the other arm to scratch an itch is a no-no. Any questions?”
“These . . . ” she pointed to the lines drawn on her chest, “will they wash off?”
“Not much. We may have to redraw here and there. They’re not permanent tattoos, but they will last for a while. We can use pin-point permanent tattoos at the centers and corners of the radiation fields if you would like. That way, you don’t have to try to keep the lines in place day after day, especially if your skin is oily.” Dr. McDowell said.
“Think I’d rather deal with the wash-off kind, if you don’t mind. I never have been one, much, for body art.”
“Radiation therapy for breast cancer is a breeze compared to chemo. Some other radiation therapies for other body areas are far worse than chemo.” He hesitated. “Just to review what we covered in the consultation session, after a few weeks, usually two to three, you may have what amounts to a bad sunburn. Your skin may be itchy and red. We have special lotions to soothe the irritated skin. Some patients use aloe—up to you—just nothing with any zinc oxide or aluminum. Remember, no deodorants or perfumes.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “I know. I have to go natural for the next six weeks. And in the dead of the summer, no less.” She smiled. “I’ll be lucky to have any friends left who’ll get anywhere near me—bush woman.”
“If it’s any consolation, most deodorants lose potency in our kind of heat and humidity, anyway. I must have five different brands at home.” Dr. McDowell’s freckled nose wrinkled as he grinned. He clapped his hands together. “So, Monday morning, we start out. Park in the front lot. We have several spaces reserved for radiation patients. By the time you come in, slip into one of our delightful designer gowns, have your treatment, and dress—you’re looking at fifteen to twenty minutes, tops. Monday through Friday, with weekends off for good behavior.”
