It amazed me that Wallace could come and go as he pleased, and although Mama knew where he spent most of his nights, she didn’t make a second attempt to bring him home. Frequently, I caught her watching the road below our house, mumbling Sam’s name over and over again, but mostly she just sat on the porch and sucked up the sun.
I spent lazy summer days convincing myself that I no longer loved her, and it occurred to me that I could kill her and my seat in Hell would get no wider or warmer. Remorse sometimes got the best of me; then I prayed for forgiveness for having those evil thoughts.
On the occasions when Mama ordered me to the farmhouse, I went without protest, as did Tarabelle. At first I had objected, reasoning that Sam’s freedom should have also freed me, but my mother was an irrational woman who did not have to explain anything to me.
She sat on the porch now, smoking one cigarette after the other, watching Laura and Edna play in the yard.They played chase games and ball games. Laura had not touched a rope since the day Judy died, but at least her smile had returned.
“Della’s having a fish fry this evening,” Mama said. “That’s something we oughta do.We got enough space out there in the yard to hold a lot of people, and we could make some pretty good money.”
“We don’t have electricity, Mama,” I said. “Every fish fry I’ve ever been to had music playing.”
She laughed. “Well, we can get some batteries for the radio. Maybe I’ll move outta this house so I can have myself a fish fry.” She was talking crazy, but it was lighthearted crazy so I laughed along with her.
“Do you ever think about moving?” I asked.
“Once or twice I thought about it. But then I thought my children was gon’ turn out different. I thought by now half of y’all would be working and bringing in money. It’s hard on a mother to be disappointed like I been. Just look at what I got outta feeding and raising all y’all. Soon as Harvey could work, he took off. Mushy ain’t no good and never was. Sam running ’round trying to burn folks out, half the time I can’t find Wallace, and Tarabelle’s a fucking bull dyke.” She winked at me through her cigarette smoke. “You didn’t think I knew that, did you? Hope I’m in my grave befo’ folks ’round here figure out what she is. That’s one of them curses they ain’t got no spell to break.”
“What’s a bull dyke, Mama?”
“It’s a full-grown woman running ’round trying to grow a cock like a full-grown man. Trying to like other women. Don’t you know nothing, Tangy Mae? Least ways Tarabelle bring in money. I can say that much for her. I don’t know what to say ’bout you, but I know you ain’t gon’ keep sitting ’round here idle.”
Please, God, don’t let her start on me, I silently prayed.Aloud I said, “Mama, do you want me to get you some bathwater?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m gon’ get on up there befo’ all the best fish gone. Hope Della got something besides whiting. Got me a taste for some perch.”
I readied a bath for my mother, then I joined Tarabelle and Mattie on the back porch. Tarabelle glanced at me, then turned to Mattie.“Mattie, go see if them clothes dry yet,” she said.
Mattie rose from her step and walked over to the lines.We watched as she ran her hands along the row of sheets. She didn’t say anything, just took the basket that had once belonged to Judy and began removing sheets, folding them, and placing them in the basket.
“Tan, can you remember the first time Mushy tried to leave?” Tarabelle asked.
I nodded.
“Mama had the sheriff go find her, then she beat Mushy and tied her to this rail for a whole week.” Tarabelle trailed a finger along the porch rail as she spoke.“Remember? That’s why Mushy waited so long befo’ she left. She waited all the way ’til she was eighteen so nobody couldn’t do nothing about it.”
“Is that what you’re planning to do?”
“Yeah. I figure ain’t nothing nobody can do after that. Mama can’t send the sheriff after me, and she can’t drag me home like she did po’ Martha Jean.Wonder why she ain’t sent the sheriff after Wallace?”
“There’s no reason to,” I answered.“Wallace is still bringing his pay home. When he stops doing that, she’ll probably send somebody to get him.”
“I hope he stops, ”Tarabelle said.“I’m leaving here next month. I’m taking me a room at Miss Shirley’s. She don’t need them rooms now that Max and Becky gone. She said I can have one, and I got me some money saved.You can have some, Tan, if you wanna run off.”
“I can’t run, Tara. I’ve thought about it, but I can’t leave Laura and Edna. Do you think Mama would make them go to the farmhouse if we weren’t here?”
“Yeah. She would, ”Tarabelle answered bitterly. “And some dog out there would be wit’ ’em, too.They wouldn’t even care that they just babies.”
“That’s why I can’t leave.”
“Well, I can, and I’m going to.”
“Does Miss Shirley know about you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“Mama says you’re a bull dyke, that you’re running around trying to grow a thing like a man.”
Tarabelle made a sound like a sneeze.“To hell wit’ Mama!” she said.“She don’t know nothing ’bout me, and I ain’t gon’ spend the rest of my life taking care of her.”
“When do you intend to tell her that you’re leaving?”
“Never. She’ll just wake up one morning and I’ll be gone. I ain’t gotta tell her nothing after I turn eighteen. I used to hate you, Tan, ’cause you was so smart and I couldn’t be. And I used to hate you for staying here even when I knew you couldn’t leave.What good is being smart if all you can do is stay here?”
I glanced over at Mattie who had cleared one line and was working her way along another one. I could hear my mother calling me and knew she wanted me to empty her bathwater, but I ignored her. She finally gave up on me and began to call for Tara.
Tarabelle ignored her, too, and said, “Tan, you don’t read them books all the time no mo’. How come?”
“They made me dream.”
“Bad dreams?”
I shrugged.“Just dreams.”
Mattie started toward us with the basket on her hip. I watched her come and wondered if she was ever going to do anything about her hair. It looked awful.
“You wanna go to that white school, don’t you?” Tarabelle asked.When I did not answer her, she said, “I want you to go, too. But that’s a awful lotta people to have to fight, and you ain’t never been no good at fighting.”