Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere

by Julie T. Lamana

  I whipped around to face Memaw. She sat there blowing poofs of air out of the side of her mouth, making the stringy moss flop up, then settle back down in front of her eyes again.

  “Do you like my hairdo?” Memaw couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “I like it, Memaw,” Georgie hollered from across the yard.

  “Me too,” giggled Sealy.

  “Me too,” said Khayla.

  Memaw looked at me with her bottom lip forced out in a pout. I rolled my eyes and curled up my lip. She blew out another loud poof and the moss-hair flew up again. It was funny the way she sat there with the gross clump on her head. I couldn’t keep from smiling no more.

  Memaw smiled with me and started pulling the mess of moss off her head. I helped her. I threw a handful of it into the air when the wind caught hold of it. The moss sailed up toward the roof and settled there. “This is nasty, Memaw.”

  “Yes, indeed,” she said. I picked the last few strands of muck out of her hair. She reached up with her hand and refluffed her real hair till it looked normal. “Come sit back down,” Memaw said, tapping the seat beside her where Kheelin’s name was carved in the wood.

  “I want to sit with you too, Memaw.” Sealy came butting right in, like always. Memaw scooched over and made room.

  Memaw leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “We’ll talk about your cousin’s mama later.” She rubbed my leg and pushed off with her feet, sending the chair into a swing. I let out a loud sigh. Memaw pushed Sealy’s head down onto her other shoulder and went to waving her fan again. Whatever. Sometimes I hated having brothers and sisters.

  I took my finger and traced the letters of my dead Uncle Shelton’s name carved into the arm of the swing. S-H-E-L . . .

  “How many hurricanes have you been in, Memaw?”

  Sealy and her stupid questions.

  “Oh, my, more than I care to remember.”

  “Really?” Sealy sat up and faced Memaw. “What’s it like?”

  I kept on tracing the letters, but I put my focus on my ears.

  “Well, every storm is different,” Memaw said. “They’ve all got their own personality, I guess you could say. Some aren’t so bad: Ya get some rain, some wind—might even lose electricity. And others, well, others you just get down on your knees and thank the good Lord ya came out on the other side alive.” Memaw had that faraway look in her eyes. Her body somehow got heavier on the swing.

  “What kinda storm do you suppose Katrina’s gonna be?” I asked. “You figure it’ll be one of them get-down-on-your-knees storms?”

  Memaw planted her feet so fast I had to grab hold of the arm of the chair to keep from flying out and landing on my head. “Child, don’t you even think that!” Memaw looked straight into my eyes with her face all ugly-scrunched. She squeezed her eyes shut, mumbled some words to the Lord, took in a big suck of air, and pushed it out with such force it caused her lips to vibrate.

  Then, just as quick as ice melts in August, she settled back in the chair. The fan went back to fanning, and her face smoothed out. She gave the concrete a nudge and we went to swinging again.

  Memaw pushed my head down on her shoulder, forgetting to be gentle about it, and patted my leg. “We’re gonna be fine. Yes, indeed. We’re gonna be just fine.” I blinked about fifty times and breathed in some of that thick, muggy air.

  After Mama and Daddy got back from the store, the sky felt alive. It had turned a dark, pink-orangey-brown color. It was pretty, but I got to thinking how I ain’t never seen that color painted across the sky before. It was like God was right on the other side of them colors. I shivered.

  Looking at the black of the night through my bedroom window made me worry about what might be out there that I couldn’t see. Usually I don’t like sharing the bed with Sealy, but right then, I was grateful to have the feel of her up next to me.

  I was all but sound asleep when Sealy threw back the sheet, hopped out of bed, and grabbed her book sack off the stack of stuffed animals piled in the corner. She opened the sack, looked inside, zipped it up, put it on her back, then jumped back into bed.

  “Sealy, what are you doin’?” I yelled in a whisper.

  “Nothing, Armani, go to sleep.”

  “What do you mean nothing? You can’t be bringin’ that ol’ dirty bag of yours in my bed!” I started pulling back the sheet to make it easier for her to get up. But Sealy wasn’t moving.

  “First of all, my book sack isn’t dirty, Armani. And, second, it’s my bed too. Just go to sleep.”

  Sealy must’ve bumped her head. She took that bag with her everywhere, but she sure never brought it to bed. “As long as it don’t come on my side. You hear me, Sealy?”

  Sealy made a huge yawn sound, “Yes, I hear you. Good night, Armani. I love you.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I flopped to the left, then flopped to the right, trying to find a comfortable position, making sure Sealy knew that dumb bag was making the whole bed uncomfortable. It didn’t work, though, ’cause she fell asleep faster than Mama could fry an egg and I was left wide awake, listening to the sounds that were bringing in the storm.

  I tried to force my brain to think about my party and what I might be getting for a present. But all I could do was think about the colors in the sky. Daddy buying water. The scrunched-up worried look on Memaw’s face. Sealy sleeping with her stupid book sack.

  The Babineauxes evacuating.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sunday, August 28, 2005 – 8:18 A.M.

  It was finally my birthday morning.

  I ain’t lying when I say my feelings were hurt when I realized Memaw didn’t even seem to notice. But then I seen that Memaw wasn’t noticing much of nothing. She acted like whatever the triflin’ weather people were blabbing about was more important than acknowledging the fact that it was my birthday morning.

  Instead of fussin’ about whatever Memaw was fussin’ over, I went for breakfast—my first meal being ten.

  Sometime after breakfast, Memaw asked if she could talk to Mama and Daddy in private. Every time she did that, us kids knew something was wrong. What I couldn’t understand was why they thought we weren’t gonna be able to hear them, just ’cause they walked off to the kitchen. There wasn’t nothin’ but a corner separating the two rooms. They acted like the kitchen was some kind of soundproof room or something.

  So when Memaw told them they should consider canceling my party, I heard her plain as day. I flew around the corner and slid into the kitchen the second the crazy words came out of her mouth.

  “Oh, please, please don’t cancel my party!”

  “Armani, this discussion doesn’t concern you.” Daddy didn’t sound normal.

  “Of course it does, Daddy. It’s my birthday! I don’t understand why . . .”

  Memaw walked over, took hold of my hand, and pressed it to her chest. “NeeNee, there’s a terrible storm comin’.” She hadn’t called me by my baby name in a long while, and right then, I didn’t much like it. I pulled my hand loose from hers.

  “But Memaw, Mama made my cake, and Daddy said we could do the Slip’n Slide. And, and . . .”

  “That’s enough, Armani. Take the twins and go on outside.” Daddy pulled off his glasses, squeezed his eyes shut, and pinched the top of his nose. My brain knew it was time to shut up, but the message didn’t make it to my mouth.

  “But . . .”

  Daddy slapped his hand down on the gym-floor supper table, catching me so off guard I jerked backward. My eyes went to blinking. Mama’s hands flew up to her mouth and Memaw turned away altogether and stared out the window up over the kitchen sink.

  “I’m sorry,” Daddy said in a tired voice. “Just get your brothers and sisters and go outside.” He finally looked at me. His sagging eyes matched his voice.

  “Yes, sir.” I rolled my eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

  I stopped before going all the way around the corner to the living room. I turned and looked at the three people who could ruin my day if they saw fit t
o do it. I didn’t say a word, but I sure did give them the most pitiful pout I could get my face to make. My shoulders were all rolled forward and my arms just dangled there, hanging as low as they could go.

  Slow as a slug, I made my way to the next room, never taking my droopy eyes off Mama and Daddy and my troublemaking Memaw’s back.

  I sat on the swing, flicking paint chips, and watched Khayla and Kheelin try to keep up with Georgie and Sealy while they all ran around like fools, chasing leaves that were blowing off the trees. The whole while, I was thinking that this was turning into the worst birthday ever. Didn’t anyone understand the importance of what day it was?

  Everything was headed in the right direction when Mama made me birthday biscuits for breakfast, and Sealy woke up singin’, “It’s your birthday, it’s your birthday!” over and over again. But, just ’cause of some annoying storm, everyone wanted to go half-stupid and cancel my party. I hated Hurricane Katrina. I didn’t care where the idiot storm went. People can’t just go around canceling other people’s birthdays.

  I was fixin’ to go back inside to point these things out to Daddy when he opened the screen door. As soon as the twins seen him, they ran to him with their pudgy arms reaching for the sky. He scooped one twin up in each arm, giving each of them a raspberry on the fat part of their necks. I pretended like I wasn’t dying on the inside to know if I was still having my party or what.

  Daddy sat down on the swing beside me. I scooched the tiniest bit away from him. The twins slid down off Daddy’s lap and went back to running about.

  “Today’s important to all of us, Armani.” I let myself look over at him. “We’re going to have your party.”

  “Oh, Daddy! Thank you!” I threw my arms around him the best I could from a sit, smiling as big as my mouth would go. Relief spread through me from my head to my toes.

  “Let me finish, Armani.” Uh-oh. I settled back on the seat. A big chunk of the happy I was feeling fell like concrete to the bottom of my stomach. I had to fight the urge to cover my ears to block out whatever he was fixin’ to say.

  “Your mama’s on the phone calling your friends. We’ve decided that it’d be best for them to stay home.”

  “Stay home?” There went my head—throbbing again. “But why, Daddy?” The answer popped in my head. “It’s because of Memaw, ain’t it?” I was so mad at her! I had never in my life been mad at Memaw, and I didn’t like how it felt. It reminded me of how my stomach gets all tangled up and twisted right before I puke.

  “You watch your tone, miss, or there won’t be a party at all. And stop saying ‘ain’t.’ ” Now Daddy was mad at me. “It’s my decision, Armani, so if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.”

  “But, Daddy, seriously, it ain’t—I mean—it’s not gonna be a real party without my friends. I don’t understand.” Mama’s wind chime was just a-clanging around. We both turned and looked at it.

  Daddy stood up. He took a long, deep breath and pushed it out slow. “The hurricane’s changed its course, Armani. It’s coming closer to Louisiana now.” Daddy walked over and took Mama’s chime down.

  “What does that mean? Is it coming here? But . . . you said we didn’t need to worry.” Some of my mad blew away with the wind when I seen the way Daddy flinched when the words came flying out of my mouth.

  “It means that we’ll definitely be getting some bad weather.” He paused and glanced up at the swirly sky. He sat back down beside me. I scooched closer to him. “It would be irresponsible for us to have your friends over when the weather’s so unpredictable.” He put a hand on my bouncy knee. “Uncle T-Bone’s still coming, and of course TayTay will be here.” He gave my knee a ticklish little squeeze. I swiped at his hand and bit my bottom lip, holding in my smile.

  He stood up and brushed teeny bits of white chips off the back of his faded jeans. “Your mama’s right. I need to paint this old chair.” He stole another look up at the busy sky. “Don’t waste too much time out here pouting. It sure doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to waste a minute of your birthday being mad about something we can’t control.”

  He hollered for the twins. They came hopping over. Daddy scooped them up, but didn’t let out his usual big ol’ belly laugh. Khayla and Kheelin giggled most likely ’cause they were too little to see what I wasn’t seeing in my daddy’s normally happy eyes.

  I watched them all go inside, leaving me there with myself. I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d seen the clouds move so fast.

  The hurricane was coming closer. Stupid storm. I considered the possibility of running inside to tell Daddy about what Mr. Babineaux had said. I decided right then that I’d tell Daddy as soon as my party was over.

  “Happy birthday, Armani!” TayTay held the giant pickle she was nibbling on up in the air and gave me a one-armed hug. I wondered if she could feel the light-green juice running down her arm. She flashed me her famous smile, letting me know that she didn’t care one bit about whatever might be running into her armpit.

  I looked over where Daddy was standing at the big black burner and cooking pot. Him and Uncle T-Bone and Georgie were all standing around, watching steam rise. It never did make no sense to me that some people like to stand and watch food cook. Uncle T-Bone’s newest girlfriend was off by herself, smoking near the bushes.

  “Uncle T-Bone looks happy,” TayTay said, pointing over that way with what was left of her pickle.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I watched my uncle and the way he was grinning from ear to ear, just a-flashing that shiny gold tooth of his all over the place. TayTay was right—it was good to see him happy. After he first got back from Afghanistan, he was acting messed-up in his head. Memaw said that being in a war and seeing people die like that can make a person completely lose their mind. Lucky for us, that didn’t happen to Uncle T-Bone—he just lost his mind for a little while. Course, I thought he’d lost it again when he went and hooked up with Miss Shug.

  Just looking at the way she stood there in her stupid, huge, floppy tangerine hat got on my nerves. “Ugh, I can barely even look at that woman,” I said, and turned away.

  “I like her,” TayTay said.

  “Who?”

  “Miss Shug. I think she’s pretty.” TayTay had lost her mind.

  “Tay—seriously? Miss Shug ain’t even her real name. Uncle T-Bone says we gotta call her that ’cause she’s so sweet—like a big spoon of sugar.” I pretended to stick my finger down my throat. “There ain’t no one that sweet.” I curled up my lip and stole a look back over there at the woman and her fake laugh. “Whatever. I think she’s gross and her hats are obnoxious.”

  “Girl, you need to stop.” TayTay smiled and shook her head from side to side, licking her pickle fingers. “Don’t be so mean.”

  “Mean? I ain’t mean, I’m just keepin’ it real. I know one thing: You ain’t gonna catch me calling her Shug or Sugar. I’m calling her Miss. That’s it, just plain ol’ Miss.”

  “You’re so funny, Cuz,” she said. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Last weekend me and my dad were driving by the church, and there was Georgie standin’ outside Uncle T-Bone’s, practically up in the bushes, staring in the window.”

  “For real? Are you serious?”

  “Yep. But why? I mean, what’s the point in lookin’ in Uncle T-Bone’s window?”

  A tree somewhere made a cracking sound. I seen Daddy turn and look over his shoulder.

  I kept my eyes on Daddy. “I’ll tell ya why—’cause Miss walks around that house with no clothes on all day, an’ Georgie’s so desperate, he’s gotta sneak peeks when he can.”

  TayTay busted out laughing.

  Georgie must’ve heard me say his name ’cause his head whipped around and he looked at me with a big question mark all but painted on his face. I gave him a whatcha-lookin’-at stare and hoped he hadn’t heard us talking about him.

  Uncle T-Bone and Miss lived six blocks over, right next door to our church. Wasn’t no
ne of my business, but it sure did seem to me that if you lived right next to the very place where you worshiped, you should at least put all your clothes on before you went walking in front of big ol’ windows.

  “Hey,” I tried to whisper, “I wonder if she wears her tangerine hat when she does her naked walkin’.”

  TayTay went to laughing again and a cloud of pickle breath flew up my nose.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Tay,” I said, holding my hand up under my nose.

  “I’m surprised I got to come. My dad almost didn’t let me.”

  “What’s wrong with everybody? They act like the end of the world’s comin’ or somethin’.”

  We walked over to where Mama had laid out some Zapp’s potato chips and Jell-O squares. And pickles. There was a whole lot more food than there was people. TayTay was loading up a plate with chips when Miss headed our way.

  Me and Memaw rolled our eyes at the same time when Miss walked by, just a-swaying her apple booty and fanning her over-painted face with a tangerine-colored clutch purse. The woman smiled all fake-like and twirled the ends of her cheap-looking toolong-to-be-real slick black weave. She grabbed a pickle between two tangerine-painted claws.

  I covered my mouth and turned my head quick before the laugh flew out in a disrespectful way. TayTay grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out into the yard. Mama shot me a look that told me I might not be acting my age. I couldn’t help it. Just knowing that the next time my poor uncle tried to get him some sugar, all he was gonna get was pickle vinegar, had me all but rolling in the grass.

  Memaw swatted me upside the head with her Pentecostal fan and winked when she walked by on her way inside to check the latest update on the weather station again. I smiled to myself knowin’ I couldn’t stay mad at my Memaw—not with her swatting me like that and all.

  The little kids were runnin’ and slippin’ and slidin’ all over the backyard. Over summer break, me and Sealy seen one of them Slip’n Slide commercials on TV. The next day, Daddy had made us one in our backyard. Course, ours wasn’t yellow like the one we seen on TV. Ours was dark green, and a lot bigger than the lame yellow one. Mama told Daddy, “Mr. Curtis, I don’t want those trash bags all over my backyard!”