"Daddy loves me more than he loves you."
She did a little spin again and drew closer to
me. My eyes felt locked, unable to turn an iota to the
right or to the left. Her face was mesmerizing. When
she spoke, she spoke in a little girl's voice.
"Daddy carried me up to bed. I had just finished
my cup of hot milk and he said I should go to sleep
now. I didn't want to. I wanted to stay up longer, but
he said I had to go to sleep or Mother would be angry.
She had left it up to him to take care of us tonight
while she was at her charity ball meeting and he had
better do it, he said, or he would get put in the
doghouse.
"'Do you want me to sleep in the doghouse?' he
asked me.
"Of course. I shook my head, my face frill of
terror at just the thought of my getting him into
trouble, and he laughed and looked at me with the
softest face I have ever seen him have, even softer
than when he looks at you. Yes, much softer," she
happily concluded with firm nods.
I couldn't speak. Her face was so close to mine
now that she frightened me and I was afraid of
interrupting. I could see the tiny freckles under her
eyelids and a light, small birthmark otherwise hidden
under a corner of her nostril.
"Come along." he said and he reached out for
me. His hand is so big, isn't it? My hand looked
swallowed up when he closed his around it. I couldn't
see my fingers.
"'I can't see my fingers. Daddy,' I said and he
laughed and said. 'Let's see if they're still there.' "He opened his hand and touched my palm with
his long, thick left finger and said. 'There they are.' "I laughed and Daddy smiled at me and then he
surprised me by pulling me closer and lifting me up as
if I was made of air.
''Here you go.' he said. 'Upstairs to bed and
don't go near Megan. She's got the measles and you
will certainly catch them,' he warned,
"He carried me all the way up to my room and
lowered me to my bed and then he caressed my face
and ran his hand over my shoulders and down my
chest to my stomach where he tickled me and made
me laugh,
"Daddy never did that to me before. I know he
did it to you, but never to me.
"Then he said. 'I bet you're catching up to
Megan, aren't you? You're twelve. Girls catch up
when they're twelve. Let's see.' he said and lifted my
nightie to see below, 'Yes, you are.' he said. 'I've got
two big girls now.'
"He made me feel good and kissed me on the
cheek and his face was so red and hot that it almost
burned mine when mine touched his.
"So he loves me." she concluded and did
another little turn. "Daddy loves me too."
She stopped and looked at me. I had no idea
what she was going to do next, but she lifted her hand
slowly toward me and touched my face.
"Cool," she said. "but not cool enough even
though your skin looks better today. Why, you almost look half alive, although you've lost weight, haven't
you? All your boyfriends will be upset, won't they?" She wiped her fingers on the bed as if she had
touched something slimy.
"I'm very sick." I whispered. "very sick." "I know, You feel terrible. It makes you feel
terrible, but you'll get better," she said, her eyes small.
''And then you'll be the pretty one again and Daddy
won't look at me as much."
She knelt beside my bed. Her smile became
vacuous, her eyes losing their light, flickering and
going pale and distant.
"I watch him when he's with you. I heard him
say you were so lovely you could bring love to
anything. I see the pleasure in his eves, the pride he
has, the pride of an artist who created something so
beautiful all the world would congratulate him." She paused and then looked at me angrily. "Why don't you stay sick a while longer? You
won't have to go to school and worry about tests and
homework. You'll continue to be waited on hand and
foot, just as you like it. Huh?"
I shook my head.
"I know what. I'll help you stay sick," she said. "Water," I pleaded in a whisper. I'm so thirsty.
Please get me some water."
Her eyes brightened.
"Water? You want a drink of water? That's
good. I'll get you a drink of water."
She rose and went into the bathroom. I waited
to hear the faucet running. Just the sound of water
would give me pleasure, I thought, but I didn't hear
that. Instead, I heard the toilet seat go up and then I
heard her dip a glass in it and return.
"Here you go," she said. "Just drink this." I
shook my head.
"Please," I muttered through my dried lips. It
was painful just to separate them.
"You said you were thirsty, didn't you?" she
nearly barked, her voice so gruff. "Drink some of this
water." She smiled, "Maybe it will keep you sick a
little longer," she said. "Drink it," she commanded. I shook my head and then she leaned over and
brought the glass to my mouth. I kept it closed as she
poured the toilet bowl water over it, letting it run
down the side of my chin and onto the bed and my
neck. She squeezed my jaw, my mouth opened a little
and some of the water got in. I coughed and spit. She
watched me a moment and then got up and returned
the glass to the bathroom.
I started to dry heave and did it so many times,
my stomach ached.
"Good,I'll let everyone know you're sicker,'
she said gleefully.
"Once again, it will just be me at the dinner
table with Daddy. Well have tea and toast brought up
to you. I'll bring it myself. okay?"
She paused and tilted her head as she scowled, "I don't know why I'm so nice to you. You're
never this nice to me. You always avoid me in school
and act as if we're not related."
Then she smiled again.
"But, I'm not angry. I'm not and at all. Daddy
loves me, too."
She walked slowly toward the door, gazed back
to wave and then closed the door behind her. My eyelids slammed shut almost
simultaneously and I fell into a deep sleep, perhaps as
a way of escaping a living nightmare.
There are times when we all want to rush back
to our Good dreams. My poor troubled brain was
willing to turn itself inside out if it had to in order to
take me away from my own painful, aching body.
Happier memories blossomed like bright flowers in a
dark garden, forcing back the cloak of dread and
sadness and retrieving smiles and laughter. I was a little girl again in that innocent time
before I would be introduced to prejudice and hate,
violence and poverty. I did not vet understand who I
was, where I was and what storms and turmoil raged
and awaited me just outside my precious world of
lollipop fantasies and candy cotton promises. That
would all come soon: that would all come soon
enough, but for no
w. I could still feel safe. What a
time that was.
One memory vividly returned. I could smell
Mama's good cooking and hear her humming and
singing in the kitchen. Beneatha and I were in our
room playing with some dolls Mama had gotten from
the lost-and-found in the supermarket. We heard Roy
come into the house. slamming the door too hard as
usual.
"How many times I tell you not to slam that
door. Roy Arnold?' Mama chastised.
"All Mama. I wasn't thinking about it." he said. "Well, you should. You'll break it off the hinges
and then where will we be?"
"In an apartment without a door," Roy said. "What?"
We held our breath, waiting for her to raise her voice even more when suddenly she just laughed and laughed. We heard Roy laugh too and when I looked out the door, she was hugging him and running her hand through his hair. When he saw me looking at
them. he pulled away quickly. embarrassed. "Aw Mama," he moaned and hurried to his
room.
"Whatcha lookin' at Sugar?" Mama asked me. "Nothing, Mama. Is Roy all right?"
"Oh, he's fine. He just has to learn to be more of
a gentleman. I'm just afraid he's not going to learn it
here though," she muttered.
"Why not. Mama?"
"This ain't exactly the place for ladies and
gentlemen," she said. Then she smiled at me. "But
don't you worry about it. Rain. You're going
somewhere good someday, somewhere special. I'm
sure."
"Where, Mama?" I asked, wide-eyed with
expectation. What secrets about my future did Mama
know?
"I don't know right off," she said. "but I know it
will be a wonderful place where people are dressed
fancy and live in big mansions and have beautiful
things like pianos and gardens and nice cars." "Bentatha's going too, isn't she. Mama?" I
asked looking back at my sister squatting on the floor
by the dollhouse. She wasn't really listening. "I hope so," Mama said. "I hope you're all
going."
"What about you. Mama?"
"I'll be there, too." she promised. "Just leave the
door open."
"What's that mean. Mama? Leave the door
open?"
She laughed.
"I'm just funning with you, child. Come here,"
she said and held out her arms for me to run to. She
held me close and kissed my forehead and stroked my
hair.
"You're the coolness after the hot, burning sun.
Rain. You're the hope."
She let me go and turned back to the
preparations for dinner. When I looked toward Roy's
room. I saw him peering out at me, his face locked in
a soft smile.
Why was I so special? I wondered. In my house
I felt like a star. Mama and Roy made me believe I
could sparkle when I walked and talked. They made
me think I was blessed and protected.
No wonder even the smallest cut, the tiniest
bruise, the most inconsequential ache seemed so
shocking. Gradually, with every passing day. I had to
let go of the fantasy. Someone opened the door and let
me see the world as it was around us and I knew that
even Mama and Roy couldn't keep the pain away. But
they tried, oh, how they tried.
Recalling all this. I know I was lying there with
a cool, happy smile on my face even though my skin
was so hot with fever I was practically radiating from
the bed. The headache dulled. I breathed a little better
and I slept on through the better memories, wrapping
them around me like a cocoon in which I could safely
and comfortably snuggle to wait for the burst of
sunshine around me again.
Nat long after. I heard Aunt 'Victoria coming
up the stairs and waited, praying she had regained her
senses and would realize that if she didn't do
something for me soon. I might die and she would be
blamed. Now dressed in a blouse and one of her
familiar ankle-length skirts, she stepped through the
doorway carrying a tray.
"Here you go," she said. "your tea and toast.
That's all you're permitted to have for now:' She set the tray down on the night stand by the
bed and stepped back.
"We're having a beautiful honey-baked ham
and those little potatoes you love so much. I bet you
can smell it up here, can't you? Does it make your
stomach chum?"
"You're going to be blamed," I whispered. "Excuse me? Are you trying to say something,
Megan?"
I closed my eyes and struggled to speak. She
drew closer.
"What was that? You're sorry about how you've
been treating me at school? It's too late for apologies.
What's done is done, but not buried. It will always be
here," she said pointing to her temple.
"You're going to be blamed," I said. louder. She
heard one word at least.
"Blamed?" She laughed, "Me? What can I be
blamed for? I've never been in trouble, never been
sent to the principal, never had a dissatisfactory
checked on my report card, never disobeyed my
mother or father, never came home after I was
supposed to or failed to call if I was going to be late.
Who would blame me?
"Drink your tea and eat your toast. If you're
good, I'll bring you one of your silly movie magazines or beauty magazines. One of those I haven't thrown in
the garbage, that is."
I shook my head.
"Stop," I muttered. "Call the doctor."
"Time for honey-baked ham," she sang and
turned away. We both heard the sound of a doorbell
and she stopped midway to the door. It rang again.
She spun around and glared at me.
"Who's coming to see you? When I'm sick, no
one ever comes to see me. You called one of your
boyfriends, didn't you? Or are they all coming?" Again, the doorbell sounded. It's Austin, I told
myself. Thankfully, it's Austin. He's come for me, just
as he had promised he would,
"Well, no one's going to answer it," she
decided, "Whoever it is away if we just pretend no
one is at home. It's dark enough downstairs and I
won't make a sound."
"No," I moaned.
She walked out and closed the door gently. I
heard the doorbell again and I waited and then I didn't
hear it anymore. My heart shriveled with
disappointment. It was as if someone had brought the
blanket up and over my head. I closed my eyes and
when I opened them again, it was so dark in the room. I thought I really was under a blanket. Overcast skies kept the stars and moon from shining any light through the windows. I had no idea about time, of
course. so I didn't know how late it might be. My fever hadn't broken. It lingered and drained
me. My mind kept wandering. Images of different
people flashed before me. I saw Randall Glenn in
England smiling at me from his bed. I heard laughter
and saw Catherine and Leslie. my French girlfriends
at the School of Performing Arts. giggling.
Then I heard something on my right and when I
looked. I saw my Great-aunt Le
onora rocking in a
chair in her bedroom, holding a large doll in her arms.
Her shy maid. Mary Margaret, stood beside her, her
head down and then looked up at me, tears streaming
down her cheeks.
Off to my right. Mama began to sing. I called to her and then, everyone popped like
bubbles and left me in darkness.
Moments later. I heard the door open and saw
my Great-aunt and Great-uncle's horrid butler Boggs
approaching me.
"You overslept," he accused. "Get up and get to
your chores. Get up orI'll turn your bed over with
you in it. Get up!'"
He reached out and I screamed and screamed. "Stop it!" I heard Aunt Victoria snap. She
turned on the lamp on the nightstand. "Why are you
shouting? Now you want to get out of this room? Who
brought you up here? Not me. I leave for a little while
and you turn this house upside down. What a mess
and I have no maid hired yet to keep after it and clean
up after you.
"Oh my God," she cried looking down at the
stale towel by the bed. "This place is disgusting and
you stink. Where's your mother while all this is going
on. huh? She's off at some Mediterranean resort
basking in the sunshine, drinking cocktails, listening
to music and dancing with Grant while I'm left here
looking after you."
She turned on more lights. At least she's back to
being Aunt Victoria again. I thought even though that
was like being grateful that the devil was only Hitler. "Well, what am I supposed to do with you
now? I can't carry you downstairs, you know. I don't
even want to touch you, you smell so bad."
She stared at me.
"What are you smiling about?" she asked. Was
I smiling.
"You think this is funny? You think you're hurting me? Ridiculous girl. First, you go and scrape yourself up on the driveway and I have to deal with that, and now, you get yourself up here and into my
mother's bed and mess and I have to handle that. too." She shook her head.
"Even I have limitations,"' She sighed. "All
right. I'll do my best. I'll fill a tub and help you into it
and then we'll see about getting you out of here." "Get... me... to the hospital." I pleaded. "Don't tell me what to do. You think I would
allow anyone into the house the way you've messed
it? First things. first."
She went into the bathroom and began to run
the water in the tub. I shook my head.
"All right," she said returning. "I'll drag you in
there, but you'd better help me. I can't do it all. I'm not
Eye of the Storm Page 27
