It would be nice not to have to ask him everything all the time. True, he was kinder and more patient with me these days, but he could be very short with me and even make me feel foolish and
unimportant.
For now, at least. I decided not to tell him about Flora coming to see me. Besides, it would only make him angry that I talked to her and didn't go to him first. It could cause more trouble and, using his words. I thought we didn't need any more shattered glass.
I got undressed, into my pajamas, and into bed. A strange question came into my head. I wondered about Grandmother Emma. Despite how she was and how she treated us, did she miss us? Was she lonely in that big house with just the maid and the cook? She was taking all her meals alone now, sitting at that big table and looking at the wall. Had she forced Daddy and us to move in with her because it was economical or because she wanted some family around her, even if just to criticize?
I gazed out my window at the night sky. It looked like the moon was trying to outfox the clouds, but every time it got around one, another would slip in and block it again. It made me think of the poem Flora had told us about the butterfly who thought he died on the moon.
Was I really going through a change like the butterfly went through, a change she had described? What did she mean by "one way or another you're going to be a butterfly" even if the medicine worked? Ian was so angry, he wouldn't talk about it. Even now, I didn't think he would tell me anything. Maybe Flora was right. Maybe he didn't understand because he was a boy. Perhaps the only way I would ever know was to talk again to her.
I closed my eyes and started to drift into sleep when I heard a large bang and then Daddy's laughter. "Get up, Christopher," Mama shouted. I sat up and listened. Daddy was still laughing. "You tripped me," he said.
Tripped him? I slipped out of bed and went to the door to peer out at them. Daddy was on the floor looking up at Mama just inside the front entrance. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring back at him.
Daddy reached up for her, but she didn't move.
"Get up yourself. You embarrassed us both at the restaurant. I'll never go back there."
"Have you no mercy, woman?" he cried as she started away.
Daddy fell back to the floor and moaned, but Mama continued walking toward the stairway. She glanced in my direction and saw me and I saw her look of anger change to a look of sadness and concern.
"Just go to sleep. Jordan," she said, "Go on. I'll see you first thing in the morning."
I closed the door and listened to her go up the stairs. I couldn't help but peek out again to see what Daddy was doing. It shocked me to set he was still lying there and had even turned on his side. He didn't look like he wanted to or could get up. Should Mama have left him like that? I wondered. Where was Ian? Hadn't he heard the commotion?
I closed my door again, but I didn't go right back to bed. I just stood there listening for his footsteps. When they didn't come. I opened the door and stepped out. Without realizing I was doing it until I nearly stood beside him. I tiptoed over to Daddy. I heard him moan.
"Daddy, are you all right?" I asked in a loud whisper. He moaned again. "Daddy?"
He stopped moaning and turned on his back to look up at me. Then he smiled. "Well, now," he said. "look who's come to my rescue. Our little precocious young lady." He laughed and then he reached up and I took his hand, "Pull," he cried, and I did with all my might.
He sat. I held his hand while he looked down for a moment and then took a deep breath and started to stand. He was very wobbly and nearly pulled me to the floor with his effort to rise.
"Up," he cried. "Up, up, and away!"
He stood there, looking like he was going to totter over, but he smiled at me and put his hand on my head and then on my shoulder. He started toward the stairway with me walking slowly alongside.
"Good, good," he said. He paused to look at me and smile. "Now that you're on the verge of woman wood. I mean womanhood. Jordan, you had better learn what makes a man happy and what doesn't. Your mother has a knack for the doesn't. And women have it better than men do. Jordan," he said as we reached the first step and he took hold of the banister. "Let me tell you about the birds and the bees here. Women can have multiple orgasms, ten to a man's one. That's not fair, now is it? Huh?"
I stared at him.
"You damn fool!" I heard Mama cry.
Daddy turned and looked up at her, swaying as he stood there. "She's only seven years old!"
"Huh?" He looked at me. "You're talking about the woman I love," he said, leaned down, and kissed the top of my head. Then he stumbled over the first step and fell on the stairway.
"Mama!" I cried.
Ian came to his door and looked out.
"Go to your room, Jordan. I told you to go to sleep," she said, coming down the stairs.
Ian rushed out and helped her get Daddy to his feet. He looked totally dazed and confused. They guided him up the stairway.
"Thanks, Ian. I'll take it from here. Go to sleep, dear," Mama told him. "Get Jordan back into her room."
"Okay, Mother," Ian said.
Daddy said nothing. Mama guided him to their bedroom and Ian came down the stairs, yawning.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Daddy fell on the floor when they came home. Mama left him there and I went to help him' ."
"You should have left him there," he said. "Go back to bed."
"Ian, did you hear what he said to me?"
"No, but I'm sure it was something very stupid, Jordan. Go to sleep."
"It was about that thing, that orgasm," I said, but he didn't hear me. He was already back into his bedroom and closing the door.
I looked up the stairway and then at Ian's closed door and I thought, Flora will know what Daddy meant. She'll tell me.
Ian just doesn't want me to know. He likes it when I have to ask him everything.
But that was when I was a caterpillar, and I was beginning to feel more like a butterfly.
12 Show Me
. Mama was a deaf and dumb person the next morning. She came into my room and almost like an actress in a silent movie, she went through the motions of helping me to take my medicine. I was very sleepy. When I started to wake up. I asked her how Daddy was. She didn't answer. She acted as if she didn't hear me and left my room. It wasn't until Ian and I were at breakfast that she said anything.
"I forgot to tell you both. I couldn't get the horseback riding reservations for today. They're all booked. I made it for tomorrow."
"That's okay, Mother," Ian said. "I have some things I want to do today."
Mama nodded and then turned away quickly. I saw her shoulders tremble. She had seen Daddy drunk before, but never looked as sad about it as she did this morning. I glanced at Ian and saw his eyes were narrowed into those penetrating slits he made when he was in deep thought about something. He looked at me and I realized how concerned he was. He rarely looked this upset about anything that happened between Daddy and Mama. At times I had the feeling he saw their arguments as just part of some television comedy show. This week it was this next week it would be that. He could turn it on or off, so it frightened me to set him this concerned.
"Is Daddy still sleeping, Mama?" I asked her. Ian turned to see how she would answer.
"It's more like someone in a coma," she said without looking at us. She took another deep breath. "Finish your breakfast and go outside, Jordan. It's a beautiful day. Don't waste it waiting around for your father to return to the living."
I did as she asked. Afterward. I asked Ian what he was going to do. He said he was going to continue his exploring for carnivorous plants. He wanted to collect them for a study he was making in preparation for his next science project. He entered a science fair every year. Last year he came in second and thought he should have been first.
Left on my own, I took the book Ian had given me for my birthday and went out on our porch to sit and read. It did help me understand the development going on in
my body, but at the same time. I grew more frightened of the possibility that the medicine wouldn't work and I would soon indeed look foolish with a bosom and monthly periods while I was only in the third grade. Contrary to what I had hoped. Ian's book only raised more questions in my mind, especially about the sex act between males and females. I wanted to ask Ian things, but he was in the woods already, and despite his clear and very factual manner of answering. I was still a little embarrassed about it. I had never told him the full extent of Dr. Dell'Acqua's examination. I couldn't remember the word she had used when she was finished, but I knew it meant things were far more serious than Mama had hoped and maybe Daddy's scary question when she had first told him was a real question. Could I have a baby grow in me?
Once again, I thought about Flora's offer to help me. Even though she was a stranger, she was still a girl, and a girl who had been through what I was experiencing. Ian really had been unfair to her. She was just trying to tell me about something so I would know what to expect.
Maybe she was right about Ian. Maybe he was immature, at least when it came to sex. He certainly had a more dramatic reaction to the things she had told me than I had. He was the one who was embarrassed by it. I didn't understand enough and Flora wasn't embarrassed at all.
Listening to her was better than reading this book. I thought. I didn't even see the word orgasm in here. It was hard to imagine the tubes and tadpoles and eggs inside me. I wanted to know more about how those tadpoles got inside me or anyone. How long did it take? How did you know it was finished? Would any boy be able to do it or only a boy you loved?
Ian had told me he was going to make me his Sister Project, but that was so he would learn things about me or from me. I wanted to learn things from him. He was simply using me to do another science project. He even said he thought he might make a big contribution to medical science. What was more important, me or his becoming famous? This wasn't fair.
I closed the book. I thought I would just go inside and ask Mama more about it all. I would make her tell me things, but before I got up, she came rushing out of the house. She had a paper shopping bag in her hand, and without even looking at me, started down the steps toward the car. She looked absolutely furious, pressing her lips together and striding away.
"Mama, where are you going?" I called.
She stopped and looked back at me. "Oh, Jordan. Just hang around. I'll be gone for most of the day. I made your and Ian's sandwiches for lunch. They're in the refrigerator. If your father ever gets up and asks you where I am, tell him I went on an errand I should have gone on years ago," she added, and got into the car.
I stood up and watched her back out of the driveway and then drive off very quickly. I stood there looking after her until the car disappeared around a turn.
An errand? She should have done it years ago? What kind of an errand could that be? Why didn't she ask me to go along with her?
I sat again, confused, and for reasons I didn't understand, feeling very frightened. Not long afterward. I heard Daddy come down the stairs and go into the kitchen. I went inside.
"Where's your mother?" he asked.
He stood there in his underwear. His hair looked like rats had been running through it all night and his face was gray, his eyes like two poached eggs.
"She went on an errand."
"An errand? Why didn't she make any coffee this morning, damn it?"
He started to grind some coffee beans. The noise made him grimace.
"Why didn't she take you along?" he asked, turning back and squinting at me as if he just realized I was there in the kitchen, too.
"I don't know. She went very quickly," I said.
He held the coffee pot and stared at me a moment. "What sort of errand?'
I shrugged and then remembered what she had said. "An errand she should have done years ago."
"What?"
"That's what she said, Daddy.*
"What the hell's that supposed to mean? Damn it," he muttered, put water in the pot, and began to make himself some coffee. "Between your mother and your grandmother. I'm sure to end up in the loony bin," he said.
"I could make you breakfast, Daddy," I offered. I could make scrambled eggs and toast. Nancy had taught me and even let me make it twice. I was never sure if Grandmother Emma knew or not.
"Naw. I just want some coffee and some peace and quiet," he said. "Just go play. Don't make any noise, and when your mother returns from her ancient errand, tell her thanks a lot for bringing me up a cup of coffee.'
He flopped into a chair and waited for the coffee. His eyes closed and opened, closed and opened. He looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute. I knew what was the matter with him. I had heard the word hangover a few times before when Mama complained about his being drunk.
"Do you have a hangover from drinking whiskey, Daddy?" I asked.
He seemed to struggle to open his eyes. His forehead filled with creases and he brought his thumb and his other fingers up to squeeze his temples.
"I don't need whiskey to get a hangover from this family," he said. "Go on and play. I'll talk to you later," he said, and closed his eyes again.
I hesitated and then went back out to the porch. Where was Ian? I wondered. He should know about Mama leaving on this errand. I wandered around to the rear of the cabin. The sky looked like God had dipped a paintbrush into a pail of clouds and wildly drew long and short strokes across the blue, some of them thick and others so thin they looked like pieces of tissues. It didn't look like it would rain, however. I ventured closer to the woods and called for Ian. He didn't respond so I walked into the woods and shouted louder.
All I heard were the distant sounds of motorboats on the lake., cars on the roads, and then a commercial jet plant making its way west. Even though I had been in planes like that one when we went on trips and vacations, it was still almost impossible to imagine people up there eating and drinking and watching movies. I watched it until I could no longer see it and then I ventured deeper into the woods until I recognized the path Ian and I had taken to Flora's camper.
Maybe. I thought, he had decided to go back to see her and her butterfly collection after all. Maybe he just didn't want me tagging along, taking their attention away from their exploring. I thought I might just continue through the woods until I could see the campers and see if Ian was there. If he was. I could tell him about Mama's leaving.
I walked slowly, tentatively, nevertheless, thinking that any moment. I might just decide to him around and run back to our cabin. The deeper in I went, though, the more courage I had and the more determined I became. Then I heard some branches cracking off to my right and I stopped to listen. I didn't hear them again.
"Ian?" I called.
The branches of bushes snapped. Was it the black bear?
"Ian, if that's you, you're not being nice trying to scare me like this! Ian?" I shouted, panicking more now.
The snapping and whipping branches seemed to be happening closer and closer. I listened, and then I started to run. I was closer at this point to the end of the woods and the beginning of the field where the campers were located. The branch of a bush caught onto my dress skirt, but I didn't stop, and the force of my lunging forward ripped my skirt, the branch just grazing my thigh enough to make it bum. I screamed and ran harder, bursting out of the woods and into the field. I didn't stop. I kept running until I reached Flora's camper. I hurried up the stairs and then knocked on the door.
I waited but heard nothing so I knocked again, this time harder and longer. Again. I heard nothing. Very disappointed, I turned and looked back at the woods. What would I do? I was afraid to go back.
I started down the stairs slowly and stood there, panting and thinking. My thigh still burned. The thorn of that bush did more damage than I had thought. When I lifted the skirt to look. I saw the scratch, deeper in the center, with blood streaking down my leg. It felt like someone had run a lit match across my skin. The pain brought tears to my eyes.
r /> "What happened to you?" I heard, and looked up quickly to see Flora coming around the rear of the camper. She was carrying one of those little plastic bags and had a living butterfly in it. I knew it was living because it was trying desperately to get free.
"I got caught on a bush," I said. "Is Ian here?"
"Ian? No. Why, did he say he was coming back?" she asked. I shook my head "I thought he might be here."
"Well, maybe he'll come later. Come on inside and I'll get something to clean your scratch and a bandage for it."
She walked past me and up the stairs. The door was unlocked. She opened it and looked at me. "Are you coming or not?" she asked.
I looked back at the woods. Where was Ian? Why hadn't he answered me? Was he watching from the woods? Should I scream for him?
"I haven't got all day to wait," she said.
I started up the stairs and she went inside, leaving the door open for me.
"Where's your mother and your father and Addison?'" I asked after I entered and closed the door.
"They went to the arts and crafts fair. It's the same thing every year with the same people and the same stuff to look at. Boring,'" she sang, and went to the bathroom.
I looked around. The kitchen was still a mess and in fact, their breakfast dishes were yet on the little kitchen table. There were empty or partially empty soda cans on the living 'room table, along with some paper plates with potato chips and what looked like ketchup.
When she came out of the bathroom. Flora saw me looking at it all. "My brother never cleans up after himself. I was supposed to clean up the kitchen, but what's the rush, right?" she asked, and sat on the small sofa. "They'll be gone all day. I have plenty of time. Come here and we'll clean off the scratch with this antiseptic.'" She held up a bottle and a cotton ball.
I went over and sat beside her. She lifted my skirt and looked at the scratch.
"This is why I don't wear skirts when I go into the woods," she said. She was wearing another pair of well-worn jeans that looked stretched out in the waist and rear, the same thick faded blue sweatshirt, and a Phillies baseball cap.