Isle of Palms

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  I put my plate on the table and went to the kitchen to pour us some orange juice. The omelet was golden and fluffy. I decided to use cloth napkins. In my world, cloth napkins designated the event as extraordinary. I even threw bread in the toaster and ran outside to cut a few blooms and put them in a bud vase for the center of the table, along with jam, sliced butter pats on a little plate, and cream and sugar in my best containers. By the time Jim joined me, it wasn’t just breakfast we were having, but a Sunday morning event. At least it was to me.

  In between bites, we began talking about his plans for leaving.

  “I thought I’d see if I could get a flight Thursday. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do for Hyatt and I probably have a foot of mail.”

  “And, you thought you might stop off in Ohio to see Gary. Am I right?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. You know, Anna, I just can’t let him sit in his parents’ house and rot away while his parents tell him he’s going to hell when the day comes.”

  “If they won’t let you in the door, call me.”

  “They think he made a ‘sinful lifestyle choice’ and that this is his fault. It’s his fault, all right, but being careless isn’t the same thing as committing a sin that would damn you to hell for all eternity. I just don’t believe that. Tell me this. Who on this earth would choose to be gay? When is the world going to realize that some people just are?”

  “I don’t know, Jim. I don’t. I mean, there are all these fundamentalists who say that with massive therapy it can be overcome. But look, I love you and I don’t care what people do in the dark. Shoot. You’ve been a wonderful friend to me all my life and a great parent for Emily. I have nothing but love for you. You know that.”

  “Yeah, well, I say true Christians don’t judge, that’s what.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir here, bubba.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “While we’re on the subject, Emily asked me the other day just how she was brought into the world.”

  Jim spit his coffee all over his fresh lavender Ralph Lauren golf shirt. “What?”

  “To be specific, she wanted to know if she was conceived by you and me in the regulation manner.”

  “Holy shit! What did you tell her?”

  “If I recall correctly, her exact words were something like, ‘Is Jim really my father? Did y’all—you know?’ I said, ‘Lemme tell you something. Jim is more than a father, now go to sleep.’ It was one of those late-night chats. She hasn’t said anything else, but, sooner or later, she’s gonna.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then, I think we noodle and figure out something. I mean, I don’t want to lie to her. She’s entitled to the truth, but honestly Jim, she’s so hot and cold lately that I’m afraid to tell her. She won’t understand.”

  “Who won’t understand what? Morning, y’all!”

  It was Lucy. She had walked right through my back door without knocking. I hated when someone did that and knew I’d have to say something. This wasn’t the right moment to do that.

  “Hey! Get yourself a cup of coffee and join us,” I said. “We were just discussing Emily and her temper.”

  “She gets that from your daddy, I can tell you that much. Do you know that now he’s mad at me again?” she said from the kitchen.

  I pushed my plate back and put my forehead down on the table. “I can’t take it,” I whispered to Jim.

  “There now,” he said and patted my head.

  Lucy came in and sat down. “Yeah, he’s as hot as a goat’s fanny in a pepper patch.”

  Jim burst out laughing. “Goat’s fanny? What did you do to the poor man?”

  “His nurse found my web page on AOL. She showed it to him. I said, ‘Look here, Dougle, when you cough up a rock for this finger, then and only then do I quit dating!’ He thinks he owns me!”

  “That’s Daddy!” I said.

  “Men assume ownership of women like dogs do of chairs. If they get settled in it, it’s theirs.”

  “Y’all making Bloodys?” Lucy said. “It is Sunday morning, isn’t it?”

  “Girl? I slept for twelve hours last night and one vodka would put me back in the bed for another twelve. But if you want one, be my guest. Everything’s in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, “otherwise how will I ever get my nerve up to ask you about how Emily did make it into the world. She’s over there with David, watching Star Trek. They’re not coming over here for at least an hour. We can talk.”

  Jim and I stopped breathing, staring at her in disbelief. Was she giving me permission to tell her what hardly anyone on the earth knew?

  “I’m sorry, y’all, I heard everything.” She stood there in front of us in her bulging turquoise halter and white pants that were like second skin. “Believe me, I won’t tell a soul.”

  I didn’t believe that for a minute.

  “Why don’t I make a batch of Bloodys for everyone?” Jim said.

  “Good idea,” I said. “Okay, Lucy. Sit.”

  Over the next half an hour, Jim and I told Lucy the story of Everett Fairchild, Emily, and us. Even Lucy was shocked and then she wept.

  “First of all, can I just tell y’all how much I respect y’all for loving that girl and keeping her. I never told you this either, Anna, but when I was a little girl, just twelve, my daddy and momma ran off and left me and my little sister—David’s momma—in a cold trailer with no money and no food. We were living in the country outside of Greenville and lemme tell you, it was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. We wound up living in foster care until we finally got my daddy’s momma to come get us. I think it’s why . . . I think that’s why . . .” She started to sob. “Oh, shit, y’all, I’m sorry. Why I never had any kids of my own. I was too scared. How could somebody like me take care of a child? I never saw my own momma and daddy again. They might be dead for all I know. That’s one reason I learned how to use the Internet, you know? So’s I could try and find ’em.”

  “Jesus. There are too many stories like yours, Lucy,” I said and blew my own nose. The woman never ceased to just clobber my opinion of her. “And too many unhappy children in the world. I mean, even though Jim and I were never, well, you know . . .”

  “Shit,” Lucy said. “Who cares about that?”

  “Well, Anna drove me bullshit trying to get in my bloomers, if you must know.”

  “Must you tell every person in the universe about that?” I said.

  “I don’t blame her,” Lucy said.

  It was a droplet of comic relief. We all smiled.

  “Another Bloody?” Jim asked.

  “Sure,” Lucy said, “what the hell.”

  “Not for me, thanks. I have a hot date this afternoon, you know.”

  “Anna,” Lucy said, when Jim went to the kitchen, “I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Please. We haven’t told Emily and it would be devastating to hear something like that from anyone other than us.”

  “Well, since you brought it up,” Lucy said, “why haven’t you ever told her?”

  “I just couldn’t find the right time or the right words. But I will.”

  Later, Emily and David came waltzing through the house as though nothing had happened earlier that morning. Actually, that was okay with me if Emily wanted to forget about her tantrum earlier in the morning. Teenagers had flash flood tempers. We both knew that and sometimes it was just better to let the little geysers evaporate.

  “We’re going to the beach,” she said, “be home by five.”

  “Wear sunscreen!”

  “Miss Anna?” David said. “I don’t want you to worry about Emily when she’s with me. Really.”

  “I always worry,” I said.

  “I know, all moms do, but seriously. I wouldn’t let anything ever happen to her. I’m a careful driver and a strong swimmer. We don’t go in the ocean if there’s a strong undertow and I won’t let her go over her waist.”

  “Real
ly? Okay. I’ll worry a little less.”

  He grinned at me and I grinned at him and I thought, Wow, what a nice young man.

  They left and Jim and Lucy both said the same thing.

  “Okay, he can marry her,” Jim said.

  “Isn’t he something?”

  “Yeah. He really is.”

  Jim went to see a friend of his West of the Ashley and I decided to work in the yard for a while. The yard had continued growing like nothing I had ever seen. Must have been the Miracle-Gro. I was digging up hostas to separate when I felt someone looking at me. Just on some general principle, I decided not to look up. It was probably Miss Mavis. It was.

  “Go to church today?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  I heard her rustle through the bushes, going back to her house. I wasn’t very nice to her, not that she was nice to me. But old ladies like her didn’t think they were required to be that nice. They just said whatever popped into their minds. It was sort of an amazing phenomenon that old people believed in as a privilege of certain years.

  I heard the rustle again.

  “Had dinner?”

  This time I stopped and stood up to face her. “No, ma’am. I didn’t.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, I appreciate the invitation but I’m kind of a wreck here, all covered in dirt.”

  “Your yard looks nice. Go wash your hands and come on over. Five minutes. All right?”

  What could I say? “Thanks, Miss Mavis. I’ll be right there.”

  Twenty-six

  Miss Mavis Says, Cluck, Cluck

  I WAS reclining in my pink chair, reading about all the latest weddings in the Post & Courier. Heavenly days, some of the brides were so fat and some of the dresses were so tacky, it made me wonder where their mothers were. It truly did. And, their hair! Mercy!

  Speaking of hair, I thought that child Anna would eat us out of house and home. I know her life is none of my business, but there’s something funny going on in that house. Funny business, that’s what. That girl is carrying too much on her shoulders. Entirely too much. As a good Christian woman, I had an obligation to help her. But I didn’t know where to start, besides a good meal once in a while and some advice. Well, I could discuss it with Angel.

  “Angel? Angel?”

  No answer.

  “Answer me!”

  “I heard you, Mavis, what now?”

  “What?”

  Angel stood right in front of me with her hands on her hips, looking at me like she was going to spit. I hated her when she did that.

  “I said, I hear you the first time. I was just drying my hands. Lawd, I wish you’d get yourself a hearing aid.”

  “I don’t need a hearing aid, thank you.”

  “Humph.”

  “No comment from the peanut gallery, if you please. Sit down for a minute. I have something to discuss with you.”

  “You want a glass of tea?”

  “No, thank you. If I drink too much tea, I have to run to the little girls’ room and I’m plenty comfortable right now.”

  “You want a cookie?”

  “No! Can’t you just stop for a minute and sit? Good grief!”

  Finally, she put her bony bahunkus down on the hassock opposite me, and folded her hands in her lap.

  “All right, Mavis. Tell me what’s on your mind now.”

  “Anna. We’ve got to do something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That child has too much on her plate. Did you see the way she ate? Good Lord! And, she’s so skinny! And why is her ex-husband staying in her house? What are they doing? And Lord in heaven with all His angels and saints, what did he do to her salon? It looks like a bordello! And her daughter?”

  Well, don’t you know that she started laughing so hard I could all but see her tonsils and a gold crown that she had on a back molar. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you.

  “Come on, Angel. Quit laughing like a fool and talk to me!”

  “Oh! Lawd! Mavis?” She paused to catch her breath. “Don’t you remember what it was like? Now, you ain’t never had no business to run like hers, but you sure had a pain-in-the-butt husband and your two chillrun sure ’nough did give you a run for your money! Did you already forget what it was like to be busy all the time?”

  “Well, she worries me. Turn down the air conditioner, will you? I’m having a hot flash.”

  The next thing I heard her say under her breath was, “You ain’t had no hot flash in thirty years, old woman!”

  “I heard that!”

  “Well, you ain’t.”

  “Fine. Just turn it down. Thank you.” I fiddled with my afghan until she sat down again. “Now, you tell me this. What kind of example is it for her ex-husband to be sleeping there? What could her child think? Isn’t it immoral?”

  Suddenly, Angel looked at me like I was an incompetent old ninny. It was the expression I hated the most.

  “Mavis? I’m gone tell you what and I mean for you to listen to me. I’m your oldest friend, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Do you know how to spell trouble?”

  I just looked at her.

  “B-u-s-y-b-o-d-y! That’s what this is. You’re all the time looking for something where there ain’t nothing and, as the Lawd is my witness, you ought to know by now that sticking your nose in other people’s business ain’t gone do nothing but bring trouble to your door. Yes, ma’am. Just tell Trouble to come right on in and sit chea on your sofa.”

  “You listen to me, Miss Know-It-All. Last night when I got up to powder my nose, it must’ve been two-thirty. I heard a rustle outside and looked out the window and what do you think I saw with my own eyes?”

  “There ain’t no telling.”

  “I saw her daughter, that Emily—who she thinks is such a saint—walk out the back door and go off with that boy who’s staying at Lucy’s. They were off and over the sand dunes in the blink of an eye!”

  Angel’s eyes grew wide. “You lie. Please tell me you lie!”

  “I do not and you know it.”

  Angel let loose a long whistle. Personally, I have always thought that to whistle was very unladylike.

  “Her momma gone cut her behind iffin she find out. Oh! Do Lawd!” Angel raised her arms up over her head and brought them down, slapping her thighs. (Another gesture I have never used.) “You ain’t gone tell her, are you?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I do know that sleeping with a man you’ve divorced can’t be a good example for a young girl with overactive hormones.”

  “She ain’t sleeping with that little skinny thing.”

  “And just how do you know that?”

  “’Cause she tell me she self. He’s gay. Yes, sir. He’s one of them gay men.”

  “My stars! Do you mean to say that he is a homosexual?”

  “Yes, indeed. That’s right.”

  Angel and I stared at each other, each of us in our own state of shock, I can promise you. Finally, I decided that Angel understood the need for action.

  “Well, now I know why she divorced him,” I said.

  “Amen.”

  “That poor child! That poor child! There’s Anna working herself to a pulp, while her daughter is running around doing what she shouldn’t be doing with that Lucy’s houseguest, and her ex-husband can’t even do anything for her nerves, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. I do indeed.”

  “No wonder she’s so skinny.” I stopped to take a tissue from my pocket and blow my nose. “Angel? I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re gonna have Father Michaels pay her a visit.”

  “Do Jesus! Help us and save us! Miss Mavis gone stir the pot now!”

  “Well, help me up,” I said, and Angel pulled me up out of my chair. “You don’t have to yank my arm off, you know. Good gracious! I’ve got to get busy.”

  “An
d just what are you fixin’ to do now?”

  “Call the rectory?”

  I looked at her and her face just dared me to do it. Meddling. That’s what I was about to do. “Oh, dear, Angel. I can’t send the priest to her house! What can we do?”

  “I say we just watch and wait. Next time you see that girl running the road with that boy, you tell me and I’ll take care of it, ’eah?”

  Twenty-seven

  Rock the Boat, Baby

  GATE so much dinner I thought I wouldn’t be able to zip my pants. Gosh! Could Angel fry chicken or what? So good! I put away all the garden tools when I got home, thinking all the while that tonight was probably the night old Arthur was gonna go for my knickers. Was I going to put up a fight? No, I was not. There was a line of protest in the game of love. He says nothing but starts undoing your blouse or something and you say, Oh! I don’t know if we should be doing this . . . and then, as he knows you’re not seriously objecting, the fun begins.

  What would I wear? Something difficult? A hook-and-eye challenge? Did I have decent underwear? Probably not. That nagging little voice in my head—the one that needed a muzzle—reminded me that Arthur had made this whole stink about getting involved. Fine. We would see what we would see.

  After rummaging my drawers and deciding I didn’t have any lingerie I’d even wear to my own car wreck, I got in my car and raced over the connector bridge to the Towne Centre. In a hair of the time it took me to find a parking spot, I was already on my way back to the house with two bras and two pairs of panties all wrapped in pink tissue from the store that had no secrets. Both of them could cause cardiac arrhythmia, I decided, pleased to death.

  I took a shower, shaved every square inch that needed it, and when I got out, I inspected my armpits in the mirror to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Then I creamed myself with After Tan. Now that may not seem too glamorous, but it didn’t attract bugs. On my island, it was all about bugs. I was in a towel, hair still dripping, wiping the steam off the bathroom mirror, when the phone rang, almost scaring me out of my skin. I was busy in another world, envisioning myself with Arthur.

  “Hello?”

  “Wow! Your voice is pretty husky there, ma’am. Did I interrupt something?”