“Don’t worry, girls,” Mrs. said. “I’ll replace the money you raised.”
Upon hearing that, Vonetta began to dry her eyes with her shirtsleeve and Fern shouted, “Yay!” Then Pa said, “No, Marva honey. You can’t do that,” and my sisters wailed, “Papa! Papa!” and “Yes, she can,” and “Surely can, Papa. Surely can.” I would have wailed along with them, but I knew Pa’s mind was set. Once set, Pa didn’t bend.
“Hush.” He spoke firmly. My sisters and I heard the promise of a whipping behind that kind of hush. Vonetta’s and Fern’s wailing simmered to whimpering.
“But, sweetie,” Mrs. said, “they worked so hard. They held up their end.”
Pa told her, “I don’t expect you to understand, but these are my girls and I’m raising them right.”
Except for the whimpering, there was a silence you not only heard, but one you could see on Mrs.’s face. The way it changed.
“Your girls? Your girls?” The silence stood between them. When Pa made no move to correct himself, Mrs. turned on her heel and was gone. First their bedroom door slammed. Dresser drawers opened and slammed. Not long after that, the front door slammed.
Pa didn’t go chasing after her like they do in movies. He stayed cool. “She’ll see right.” Which meant he was right and she’d come back after she cooled off.
Cecile didn’t come back.
The girls whimpered on. I whimpered with them but mine was stuck in my throat and only showed in my raised eyebrows.
“Not everything can be fixed,” Pa said.
Between sobs, Vonetta said, “But she was gonna fix it.”
“She was, Papa,” Fern said.
“Listen here,” Pa said. “I need you to hear what I’m saying even if you’re too young to understand. You can’t have everything in life that you want. Some things are meant for you. Some things just aren’t.”
What did being young have to do with—
“But what about working hard, Pa?” I said. I’m no back-talker but my mouth opened. With my sisters crying, I became one of those loudmouths that Mrs. talked about. I couldn’t stop. “Vonetta and Fern did chores. Vonetta put the savings jar and the chart together. She kept count over the money. She made sure we saved our money and didn’t spend it on everything we wanted, and we wanted things.”
Come what may, I had to speak up for my sisters.
“All of that’s good, Delphine,” my father said calmly. “But that’s what you’re supposed to do. Help out at home. Save your money. Work toward goals. Here’s the part you’re too young to understand,” he said to me especially. “You don’t get paid for that. The reward is in the doing.”
He was right about being too young to understand. How can you work hard and get nothing? I just couldn’t “yes” him because I didn’t understand and I didn’t agree. But I knew I had another point and I had to make it.
I said, “Papa, you said if we did those things you’d give us half of the money to buy the tickets. That was your word, Papa. What about keeping your word?”
My point was good. I knew I’d won. He should have “seen right” in everything I said.
He nodded and said, “I know, Delphine. I know.” Then he said nothing for a while and I knew, I just knew, he’d seen right and I had saved the day for my sisters and me.
But then he said, “If you girls get over this disappointment, you’ll get over the rest of those to come.”
And then Vonetta yelled, “I’m never doing any chores or saving, EVER!”
The silence around that was brief.
“Vonetta.” Papa was cool. So cool I stepped in front of her. “You won’t get none today but never raise your voice to me in my house. You got that?”
She sniffled and nodded, but Papa wasn’t taking no sniffling and nodding.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Papa.”
He got up. “Y’all girls cry about it tonight, but come tomorrow I don’t want to hear none of this sniffling and moaning over those finger-popping hoodlums.”
Then Fern jumped forward. “Michael is not a hoodlum!” Her fists balled at her sides.
Papa, who was at the door, turned around, and Fern jumped behind me.
We just sat on Vonetta’s bed. The three of us. We sat and cried all night.