“Mr. Struthers!”
“What time is it?”
“Early!”
“Get Daddy! Or, go get Livvie!”
“You get Livvie! I’ll get the door.”
Barefooted and wearing just my pajamas, I hurried downstairs to the back porch. The fog was so dense, I couldn’t see Mrs. Simpson’s house next door. But I could see Mr. Struthers’s unshaven face through the screen. He looked very old to me, with spurts of white whiskers among the black ones. Even in November, he wore sandals.
“Mornin’ Susan.” Mr. Struthers’s voice was very somber. “Y’all awake? MC up yet?”
“No, sir,” I said. “Come on in. Happy Thanksgiving!”
I offered the greeting hoping to cheer him. I looked at the clock. Five-forty-five. I heard Maggie’s and Livvie’s footsteps behind me. Then, no one moved. We all looked at Mr. Struthers. He was here to tell us something terrible. I knew it, like Livvie knew things.
“Yeah, God. Thanksgiving,” he said. “Y’all bess go get y’all’s momma. I called your Uncle Louis. He’ll be ’eah in a minute. Let’s make us some coffee. It’s gonna be a long day.”
“What’s happened?” I said, feeling queasy. Mr. Struthers hadn’t asked for Daddy. Just Momma.
“Go on, now. Get your momma up,” he said, sidestepping my question politely.
“Lemme go fetch her,” Livvie said. “Maggie, honey, put the coffeepot on.”
Mr. Struthers looked so awful standing there in the kitchen. My throat grew lumps. Momma always said he was so handsome but it seemed like all he ever did was tell bad news and deal with people’s troubles and every bit of it showed on his face. Being mayor wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“Should I wake up Timmy and Henry?” I asked. This was about Daddy. He must never have come home last night. I knew then that Daddy was dead.
“No call for that yet. Let them sleep a little.” He smiled at me.
Livvie came back in and took the orange juice from the refrigerator. The next thing I knew Aunt Carol and Uncle Louis were coming through the door. They said nothing to Maggie or Livvie or me, which was strange. Usually Uncle Louis at least would greet Livvie and all of us. The room was filled with adults whose anxious, labored breathing was contagious. Maggie and I exchanged knowing looks of anxiety, the fatal kind we learned about when Tipa died.
I began taking cups out of the cabinet. I found the creamer and filled it with milk. Maggie opened the plastic bag of bread and started making toast.
“Is MC up yet?” Uncle Louis asked.
“Be down in a minute,” Mr. Struthers said.
Momma appeared in the doorway, a specter in a zip-front terry cloth robe and wild faded auburn hair. She took one look at Mr. Struthers’ s expression and began screaming.
“No!” She collapsed against the doorjamb and Uncle Louis grabbed her and put her in a chair. “Oh, God! Please, no!”
“I’ll go call the doctor,” Aunt Carol said, and disappeared.
Livvie stepped across the room between Maggie and me and looped an arm around each of us. We all turned to face the table. Mr. Struthers sat down next to Momma and took her hand.
“MC, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Please, just listen. There’s been a terrible accident. I’m so sorry. Hank’s dead. His car must’ve gone out of control coming down the last span of the bridge and he went into the marsh. Could’ve been a heart attack or maybe it was the fog. Could’ve been the brakes or something. We don’t know. There’s most likely going to be an investigation to find out what happened. I’ll try to handle most of that for you. But for now, you need to make some arrangements for him. The autopsy will begin as soon as possible today. I’ll call the coroner’s office to double-check, but I’m reasonably sure they’ll release his body by tomorrow. I’m so sorry, MC, you know I am.”
“Oh, dear God,” Momma mumbled. She put her head down on the table and wept. “I can’t take it. I can’t.”
Uncle Louis began to sob and Aunt Carol put her arms around him. He had really loved my daddy. Even Livvie cried. “Oh, Lawd! Oh, Lawd!” She searched her pockets for tissues. Maggie turned back to the toast she was making and her tears fell on the bread as she tried in vain to butter it, the knife tearing the bread instead. I put my arm around her. I couldn’t make sense of it, the tragedy of it.
Daddy’s dead, I said to myself, and I felt light-headed and dizzy. At least Timmy wouldn’t get beaten anymore. But poor Henry would be heartbroken. Henry was Daddy’s favorite. Well, at least he was nice to somebody.
Uncle Louis blew his nose, sat down on the other side of Momma and rubbed the top of her back.
“Now, MC, I don’t want you to worry. Carol and I will be right here for you every step of the way. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. He was like a brother to me.” He choked up again and then collected himself, clearing his throat. “Listen, we’ll figure out what to do about money and everything, so don’t think about that. I’m going over to the city this morning to check on Momma and I’ll go to McAlister’s and make all the arrangements. All right?”
Momma nodded her head and threw herself into his arms. My uncle began to cry again and Momma just wailed and wailed.
“You’ll be alright,” he said. “I swear, MC, you’ll be alright. All the children too. Please. Let’s get hold of ourselves. We’ve got to.” He looked around the room. “Did anybody call the rectory yet? Father O’Brien needs to be called.”
“No, I came straight ’eah from the police station,” Mr. Struthers said. “The wrecker got the car out the marsh and it’s over to the Phillips 66 station by the Cooper River Bridge.” Mr. Struthers’s answer had little to do with the question and I wasn’t so sure I wanted all the details.
“I’ll do it right now,” Aunt Carol said, once again leaving the room, rubbing her eyes.
Livvie put her arm around me again and squeezed. Everyone was crying except me. I choked up then, but it was rage I felt and fear.
“Now what?” I asked. “Tell me. What’s going to happen to us?”
I looked up at her and even Livvie, in all her wisdom, knew I was right. Daddy’s death would mean an instantaneous and magnificent downslide for our family. Momma didn’t work—she didn’t even drive. Livvie hugged me so hard I thought she’d never let me go.
All I could manage was a series of deep sighs.
We’d be poor and fatherless orphans. Momma would go to pieces. Maggie and I would raise the twins. We wouldn’t be able to afford Livvie anymore. That was the worst scenario I could imagine. I broke away from her and ran to my room.
I threw myself on the bed and considered running away, but, pathetically, I had nowhere to go. Finally, I started to cry. My tears burned. I heard my door open.
“Susan, please.” Maggie was still crying. “Please talk to me.”
I continued crying but eventually I rolled over and faced her. “What’s the use of living, Maggie?” I asked. “If you can tell me what’s the use, I’d give you anything.”
“I don’t know the answer to that and I don’t know why Daddy’s dead. I don’t know. This is so awful, Susan. Please don’t shut me out. You’re all I’ve got!”
“No, she ain’t.” Livvie was in the doorway with two cups of coffee for us. Her face was dry and she had put on her apron. “Whether y’all likes it or not, y’all got me. Amen.”
She handed us the coffee. Maggie took a sip. I took it but didn’t want it.
“I don’t drink this stuff, Livvie. Thanks anyway.” I smelled it and put it to rest on my bedside table.
“It’s a grown-up drink, ’eah?”
“Yeah, tastes bitter.”
“Life’s bitter. Gone, drink it. Y’all bess be growing up today. Y’all got little brothers and little sisters to take care of. People gone be coming like cattle to this ’eah house. Good thing I clean for the holiday. Least we don’t have to worry none about that. Drink him, Susan, and both you girls ’eah me good. This is a terrible thing done happen t
o y’all, but that don’t mean you ain’t got nothing to do except wail and moan about the injustice of it all. Don’t talk to me about injustice. Humph. This ’eah is sure enough bad news, but Gawd got His plan.”
“Oh, come on, Livvie. Where was God when Daddy was beating the slop out of Timmy?”
“Susan!” Maggie said, shocked.
I was good and mad.
“You listen ’eah, Miss Susan, don’t be disrespectful about Gawd to me!” Livvie said. “You ain’t got no right! I don’t know why these thing happen! They just do! Maybe Gawd think this family be better off with Mr. Hank gone! How do you like that? Maybe He need him in heaven for some kinda work. Or maybe the devil need him to sharpen pitchforks! I don’t rightly know. You gots to be a woman, not a ugly-minded, angry chile! Just like when your granddaddy die, people gone be coming around with cake and ham and such. We ain’t got no time for wallowing.” She looked at us, and then she said more gently, “Now go on, wash your face and put on some clothes. Both of you! This day ain’t over yet!”
I dressed, but wasn’t aware of doing it, and went downstairs to figure things out. Timmy and Henry finally got up about seven. They wandered down to the kitchen and found all of us there except for Uncle Louis, who had left for the city. Momma was still at the table, head down.
“Momma?” Timmy said.
She lifted her grief-stricken face to him.
“Momma! What’s wrong?” Henry said and they both just started crying.
“Sit down, boys,” Aunt Carol said. “Your momma has something to tell y’all.”
“Daddy. Your daddy’s gone,” Momma said. She choked up and started sobbing again. Rather than rise up and hug her boys, she put her head back down on the table.
“Where’d he go?” Henry asked.
“Dead,” Momma said with difficulty, “car accident.”
“Is this true?” Timmy asked.
“Daddy’s dead?” Henry screamed. “You mean I’m never going to see him again?”
“Come on, son,” Livvie said, “let’s go for a walk on the porch, just us two.”
Henry’s crying could be heard across the water in Charleston, I was sure of it. Bam! Bam! Bam!
“He’s kicking the walls,” Mr. Struthers said to no one in particular. “I’ll go outside and see if I can help Livvie.”
The fog distorted Henry’s cries, sent them pulsating in all directions, until you couldn’t tell if it was Henry or someone else crying. Or maybe an animal.
Timmy had been delivered. Henry and Momma felt they’d been robbed. Maggie and I had to be the responsible ones. My anger was like a bonfire.
The phone rang from the hallway. Maggie answered it. It was Uncle Louis. He wanted Aunt Carol. I heard Aunt Carol gasp and say, “No!” Instantly, I knew. Grandma Sophie was dead too.
The door slammed and I knew she had gone to the porch for Livvie and Mr. Struthers. Aunt Carol wasn’t about to bring that news to Momma alone. She had enough spine to lift her skirt, and enough arrogance to stick her nose up to Livvie, but not enough to face my mother solo.
Timmy, who still sat silently at the table, whispered to me. “Grandma Sophie?”
I nodded my head and he shook his. I jabbed Maggie with my elbow. “Grandma Sophie bit the dust,” I whispered.
Her shoulders lurched, she covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom. Timmy and I just stared at each other. I realized that during this entire morning of unbelievable bad news, Momma had not once tried to console any of us.
“Momma?” I said. “Do you know that Maggie’s in the bathroom throwing up?” And there was no answer. “Come on, Timmy. Let’s go get the twins. Somebody needs to take care of them.”
I looked out the window as a car door closed. The stick-’em doctor was coming up the steps. Momma looked up at me and a shallow line of discontent was drawn between us. I ignored her and left the room with Timmy.
“This is some day, huh, Susan?” Timmy said.
“Yeah. You okay? Shit! I can’t believe Daddy’s dead.”
“Are you kidding me? This is the first break I’ve ever caught! I hope the son of a bitch is writhing in hell with a branding iron up his butt.”
“Timmy! Don’t let anybody else hear you say that!”
“Well, aren’t you glad he’s gone?”
“Yeah, I guess, in a way,” I said. “But if he had a heart attack, I’d feel pretty guilty.”
“Why? What do you think?”
“I don’t know and, right now, I don’t want to know.”
We passed Mr. Struthers and Livvie in the hall. I pulled on her sweater.
“Grandma Sophie, right?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Susan, but it’s for true,” she said, putting her arm around me.
“I knew it,” I said.
“Come ’eah, Timmy.”
She reached out for him and he shrugged his shoulders, wiggling out of her arm.
“I’m okay, Livvie, really. It’s okay. We’re gonna go see about the twins.”
Timmy raced up the stairs and I stood with Livvie for a minute, then I heard Momma scream again and knew that Mr. Struthers had delivered the news. Livvie ran for the kitchen. I called to Henry and Aunt Carol through the screen door.
“We’re out here!” Aunt Carol responded.
“Henry? You okay?” I said. I ignored her, letting the door slam. Henry was lying in the hammock, arms crossed, knees drawn up. Aunt Carol was standing beside him with a tissue pressed against her lips, while her left hand rocked the hammock slowly. She had on khaki pants and a starched blue shirt tucked in tight. Her belt and loafers matched and her hair was sprayed. I had thrown on something and everybody else was still in pajamas. I wondered how long she’d made Uncle Louis wait so that she could accessorize herself.
The sun was up now, burning through the fog over the eastern end of the Island. At least the day would be clear.
“Henry, answer me. Are you all right?”
“Guess so,” he said.
“Henry, this is the worst day of our lives, no doubt about it. I love you, Henry. You know that, don’t you?”
“Guess so,” he said.
“Okay, wanna help me and Timmy? I mean, we all gotta pitch in today.”
“Help you do what?” He looked up at me pitifully and my throat buckled.
“About a million things. Come on.” I reached for him and he took my hand and stood up. I gave him a hug and he ran for the door.
“Timmy’s upstairs,” I called out.
He let the door slam. I thought to myself that we’d probably let it slam over and over today and Livvie would say nothing about it.
“You’re a good sister, Susan,” said Aunt Carol.
“Well, I try.”
I leaned over the banister, wanting to tell her what I thought of her, what I had seen her do, blast her away. I fought to hold my tongue. We needed Uncle Louis and I didn’t want to start more trouble than we already had.
“This is so incredible, so awful,” she said. “How could God take y’all’s grandmomma and daddy in one day? I just don’t understand it.”
“Me neither. Momma’s a complete mess.”
“I would be too.”
“Guess we’re all gonna have to get jobs.”
“Uncle Louis will figure it out, don’t you worry. You’re still a little girl, Susan. You shouldn’t have to worry about these things. I’m gonna go help your momma.”
“Yeah, Dr. Whicket’s here to give her a shot. She ought to be collapsing any second now.”
She gave me an odd look. What I’d said had the distinctive ring of impudence to my aunt’s ears. On the other hand, what she said had the ring of pure fantasy to me. Saying nothing more, she left me quietly, alone on the porch. Alone to think.
Not worry, Aunt Carol? I have an aching inside of me that could match the pain of any adult. How would I cope? Was it my fault? I wondered. Had I caused Grandma Sophie’s stroke when she helped me to bed? Did the fight give Daddy a heart attac
k? Would Momma wake up one day and blame us? If he had a heart attack, were us kids responsible? Was it the Klan? Was it an accident? Would the police be here, asking questions?
I wondered what Mr. Struthers thought. Maybe he thought Timmy, Maggie and I caused Daddy’s death. If he were going to have us all put in jail, we’d know soon enough. But it would be hard to prove, I decided.
I started going down the list as I paced the floor. I’d encourage Timmy to shield Henry from the horrors of the funeral. Timmy would help. It wasn’t Henry’s fault that Daddy was dead or that Grandma Sophie had died. This could have a terrible effect on him, I thought, he could start wetting the bed or something. The twins would never know the difference, but Henry could suffer forever.
Timmy would eventually feel guilty about being glad that Daddy was dead. I’d get Maggie to keep an eye on Timmy. I wasn’t exactly glad about Daddy, but sort of relieved to know he wouldn’t be back. The last time I’d seen him he was screwing his secretary. And at least the beatings would stop.
Grandma Sophie, well, she was another case entirely. Eccentric. It was too bad she kicked the bucket, I thought, but, hell, she wasn’t really living. Sitting in that room, stinking up the place, running us around to wait on her, eating the same thing every day, not talking.
I decided to go find Maggie. Maybe she could make me feel better. Timmy was heading for the kitchen to heat up bottles for Sophie Jr. and Allie.
“Thought you were gonna help me!” he said.
“Sorry, I’ll be there in a minute. Promise. Just wanna check on Maggie.”
“Okay.”
“Be right back!” I called back as I ran up the stairs. The twins were crying and Henry was cooing to them like a daddy pigeon. Let him deal with it for a few minutes, it won’t kill him, I thought. Opening Maggie’s door, I stuck my head in. She was lying in bed on her side, her knees drawn up to her stomach.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I just feel like throwing up every two seconds.”
“You sick?”
“I don’t think so. Nerves. Susan, come in. Talk to me.”
“I told Timmy I’d help him with the twins. Gotta feed them, you know. You need anything?”
“Yeah, a new identity.”