Daddy had never been one to raise his voice at Mama. Even when he was angry with her, he kept calm and quiet, measuring each word.
He’d grit his teeth together, working to hold onto his self-control.
Even when Mama’d scream or stomp her foot, Daddy stayed even.
So when I heard him holler at her, I grabbed hold of the sheets on my bed, clutching them in both my fists so hard my knuckles hurt.
“What is this?” Daddy yelled.
“It’s nothing,” Mama answered. She didn’t yell but her voice was icy. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me, Mary.”
“Were you going through my things?”
“Why do you have a letter from Abe in your jewelry box? Tell me why.” Neither of them made a sound. Then Daddy let his voice quiet a little. “Are you having a love affair with him?”
“It’s just a note,” Mama said. “That’s all.”
“I don’t want you seeing him,” Daddy said. “I want you staying away from him. Don’t invite him to supper anymore. No more going for walks or calling him on the telephone. You hear me?”
She didn’t say she would do as he said. She didn’t say anything at all. “You see him on the street, you’re to turn and walk away,” he said. “I won’t have you tearing this family apart.”
“It’s already torn, Thomas,” she said. “Don’t you see that?”
I felt my arm, resting my fingers on the scratches Mama’d made there just that morning. They were still sore.
“Why, Mary?” Daddy asked. “Just tell me why you’re doing this.”
“I do, too, Mary. I love you dearly.”
I wanted Mama to tell him that she loved him, too. To say that she’d never so much as look twice at Abe Campbell ever again. I wished so hard that she’d fall into Daddy and beg him to forgive her for letting her heart stray.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she went on and on, her voice shrill. She yelled about how Beanie would’ve still been alive if Daddy’d moved us away from Red River like she’d begged him to. She screamed on and on about how if he’d cared he would have never let Eddie DuPre into our home. I mashed the pillow on my head, holding it tight on my ear so I wouldn’t hear her anymore.
I started humming, my eyes clamped shut as hard as I could force them. Humming and singing anything I could think of. Hymns and radio songs and little ditties I’d learned at school.
My voice crackled and choked with my crying, still I kept on. It was all I could think to do.
Ray and I were the only ones home the next morning. I went in every room of the house, calling for Mama, but she wasn’t anywhere I looked.
“She ain’t here, Pearl,” Ray said.
His eyes were red rimmed and for having been outside all summer long, he looked awful pale. I didn’t think he’d slept much more than I had the night before.
“He’d never hurt her, you know,” I told him.
“I know,” he answered.
I went to the bedroom she shared with Daddy, thinking maybe she was still in bed. Pushing open the door, I stepped inside, my heart beating so hard I could hear its rushing in my ears.
I let out a relieved sigh when I saw she wasn’t there.
Mama never liked me to be in her bedroom unless she’d invited me. She didn’t want me snooping in her things. Still, I didn’t leave. I stepped in and closed the door behind me.
Hanging on the wall was a gold-colored frame with a picture inside it, the kind of photograph made special in a studio. It was of the four of us. Daddy, Mama, Beanie, and me. Daddy and Mama sat side by side on a bench. Beanie was on Daddy’s knee and I was on Mama’s lap. Mama had her arm around my waist, her hand resting on my stomach.
She’d kept me safe then.
I couldn’t hardly stand looking at that picture for the way it reminded me how good it’d been once upon a time.
A fairy tale that had a very unhappy ending.
I saw a shoe in one corner of the room. It was a shoe with worn soles and a buckle that was polished just enough to shimmer. It lay, abandoned, on its side. I squatted beside it, my finger tracing the shape of a scuffed-up spot on the black leather near the heel.
It had happened, that scuff, when she was carrying a basket of dirty clothes out back before scrubbing them on the washboard. She’d tripped just enough that she stumbled, turning her ankle and rubbing part of her shoe against the wood of the porch.
Daddy’d offered to buff it out with some of his shoe polish. Mama’d said it was fine, though. Not to worry. They were old shoes anyhow.
Turning, I saw her basket of mending full of hose that needed stitching up. She’d worn those stockings so long they’d tear if she so much as looked at them.
Daddy’d told her to go buy a new pair. Maybe a couple pair, even. We had the money for it if she needed. But Mama’d said it was fine. Not to worry. She’d never been one to buy new when she could fix the old.
On her dresser was the gold band Daddy’d given her on their wedding day. It didn’t shine the way I imagined it had those years before.
He’d promised to get her another, one with a bigger diamond and smooth gold. But Mama’d said it was fine. Not to worry. She said it had good memories in every scratch and dull spot. The promise she’d made to him on their wedding day held still, no matter how fine the ring.
I slid it on my finger, bending my knuckles to be sure it didn’t slip off. There on the dresser, propped against an old glass ashtray, was an envelope with Daddy’s name written on it in Mama’s neat penmanship. I traced the T-H-O-M-A-S with my fingertip. I’d never liked it when Mama used Daddy’s given name.
I remembered to take the ring off my finger, careful to set it back on the dresser right where I’d found it. Mama would’ve been real mad at me if I lost it. She’d have been sore that I’d been in her room in the first place.
I made sure to close the bedroom door behind me and to hold the letter with firm but gentle fingers.
I looked out the window to our back yard. All I saw of Ray were his bare feet dangling from the branch of the tree. That was fine by me.
The way I figured it, I needed to take that letter to Daddy and I needed to go all by myself.
I thought about leaving a note for Ray, but wasn’t sure he’d be able to read it on his own. Besides, I did believe I’d be back before he even knew I was gone.
Soon as I stepped foot out of the house, a feeling a lot like dread settled into my heart. Much as I wanted to, I didn’t look in that envelope.
Walking down Main Street with that letter in my hand, I moved my feet like I would have any other day. I smiled at folks passing by. When they said “hello” I said it back to them.
What I’d learned about hard times was that no matter how bad things got I could force a smile like nothing was wrong at all.