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Chapter 48 of 64

Chapter 34

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Now I’m asking you to make yourself useful in this family. Can you do that for me, Meg?

I nod.

I want you to tell me the truth: Is anybody drinking liquor in that house?

She watches me close. It is the one damn question I cannot answer with truth. If I told on

Lucille, she would return me so fast my eyelids would flap from the speed of the car flying.

I don’t move a muscle when I say, No ma’am. There is no drinking liquor.

If either one of them gets to drinking, will you come and tell me?

Yes ma’am. I will come and tell you.

She cups me under the chin. My bottom lip starts to wobble. Her rings are cool against

my hot, swolled-up face. Her dark eyes are crinkly but they are strong and draw you in like she is

counting on you, oh you are the only person in the world she can count on now. She stands up

and nods like she is satisfied by what she sees.

I want this to stay between us, alright? If Tom or Lucille asks why I called you over here,

tell them you came to get fitted for school dresses. Now, you go on down to the parlor with the

others before the seamstress goes home.

Yes ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.

I’ll come by the house soon and check on things, she says. Don’t let me down, Meg.

Chapter 34

When I get back to our house, it takes me some time to stop shaking to where my teeth quit

chattering. I got to go in my room and shut the door awhile.

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I barely even remember getting fitted for school dresses. By the time I went downstairs,

all the girl cousins had gone home so it was just me and some older boys. When I was done, Mr.

Oney went to open the truck door for me and I flat-out told him, It is all right, Mr. Oney, I don’t

need the special treatment anymore, you just do the driving. He is a sweet old man who shakes

and does not ever say much to me. I thanked him for the peppermint candy he gave me, but I

couldn’t stomach the thing yet.

Wouldn’t you know it, Lucille has got up before ten o’clock this morning. What was that

all about? she asks. What did she want with you? I guess Willy May told her where I’d gone.

She just wanted to fit me for dresses. Get me some clothes ready for school.

Lucille narrows her eyes. I know she is thinking it is her job to order me around, not Mrs.

Heidelberg’s. But Tom says, I think Mama’s grown fond of you, Meg. As she should. He tousles

my hair that I combed down flat.

I wish I could tell Tom what she has me doing. Lucille can go sit naked in a fire ant bed

far as I’m concerned, but I know it would hurt him bad. Even though he is a grown man, Tom is

what you call sensitive. The man would not last a week at the Orphan. And at his age, who wants

to hear you’re getting spied on by your mother? I spend the afternoon in my room, out of

Lucille’s way, and practice my lying faces in the mirror.

That night, Lucille fixes herself a whole pitcher of liquor alcohol. I get the jitters

watching it even though I have not known Mrs. Heidelberg to come here after dark. Then I get to

wondering could she smell it over the telephone if she called? I have never used the thing or even

touched it. Lucille is drinking them down one after the other, working herself up, getting angrier

and angrier at Tom for saying they didn’t need the money, what kind of idiot goes and says

something like that?

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How many drinks are you going to have tonight, Lucille? Tom finally asks her. How I

hope he has had it up to here with her.

Lucille snarls her red lip at him. If she snapped one of his fingers off with her teeth, I

would not be surprised. How many do you think I should have, TOM? To forget all your broken

promises. To forget how rude your mother is to me. To forget how bored I am all day? How

many, Tom?

Tom looks away. He does not want to answer that. I don’t know if the liquor alcohol

makes Lucille STUPID like Mrs. Heidelberg said, but it sure makes her meaner.

All through this, I stare at the empty bottle she left sitting out on the kitchen counter. I do

not relax again until she takes it outside, throws it in the trunk of her car, and then wobbles up to

bed. I search the rooms for any evidence she could have left behind.

I do not fall asleep easy for worrying about that liquor. When I do finally rest, I get woke

up to a terrible sound of snarling outside. I think it is a whole pack of those wild dogs chasing

after some poor tired animal in the yard. But it might just be something going on in my head.

The next morning, when I hear Mrs. Heidelberg roll up the drive, I run downstairs and

check again that everything is still perfect. Not a cork or a glass or even a fingernail’s worth of

that red wax on the floor. I know Lucille is bound to have one of her hangover headaches, but

when I sniff her, she is smelling regular. Least I don’t have to worry about Tom. He lives the

straight life.

Lucille puts on a big phony smile, thinking everything is fine. It is sort of hard to watch.

When she says, Why, Isabelle, doesn’t that pink suit make you look smart! Mrs.

Heidelberg says, I am smart, Lucille. I don’t need a pink suit to do that.

It is fascinating how that insult rolls right off Lucille. I could stand to learn that myself.

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Tom walks in and his mama gives him a big hug. I’m afraid I can’t visit today, Mama. I

need to keep working.

I understand, Son. I just wanted to come by and say hello. The way she looks up at him, I

know she longs for him to tell her the truth. I hate to see him make a fool of himself, but I had no

choice in the matter. I hope you know your father and I are so proud of you.

Thank you, Mama. You know that’s all I want, is to make you and Daddy proud.

When he leaves the room and it is clear to Mrs. Heidelberg it’ll be just Lucille and me

having a morning talk—Well, I probably should get on home too. I brought y’all some lemon

icebox pie, Lucille. You’ll want to keep it chilled. Meg, walk me to my car, please?

Lucille looks twice at me. But I follow Mrs. Heidelberg out, and when Mr. Oney opens

the car door for her, she says low, Anything you need to tell me, Meg?

I look her in the eye and say it good and firm. No, ma’am, there is no drinking going on

in this house, just like I practiced.

Good girl.

This time when Lucille asks why would she out of the blue ask me to walk her out, I look

very genuine and above the law. Just likes my company, I guess. Which I hope will eat her alive.

I am getting better at this.

***

Let me tell you something: there is nothing better than riding up front in the car with the

windows down. The company aside, this day could be perfect. Lucille drives a lot faster than

Tom. One hand on the wheel, the other propped on the window with her cigarette lit. She only

cranks hers down a couple inches, but I take mine all the way down. Since it is just the two of us,

I get to sit up front this time. When we turn on the main dirt road, she flips the radio on, and it

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goes right to playing a song called “Ten Cents for a Dance.” Lucille hums along to it and I try

and do the same.

It was a edge-of-your-seat situation in the kitchen this morning. Tom was in there waiting

on coffee to boil, and Lucille was waiting on somebody to pour it. I was enjoying a breakfast of

pancakes with syrup and butter, wondering what in the hell I could do different today. I am

getting bored staying at the house all day. What used to sparkle new now just kind of feels like a

regular old thing. Then Willy May made her big announcement. It was timed so perfect you’d a

thought we’d rehearsed the thing.

You cousins going to the little sto today, Meg, Willy May said. Like I said, she did this

kind of thing often. But this morning she said it extra loud.

What’s the little sto? I asked. I made sure Tom and Lucille heard me ask.

Mr. Little sto over by the railroad tracks. You cousins going shopping fo they school

materials. Why you don’t go with ’em? You gone need things fo school too.

I looked quick up at Tom standing by the stovetop. He looked at Lucille. She raised a

eyebrow at me sitting next to her at the little table.

Shortly after, Tom said, Thank you, Willy May, we can take it from here.

Tom was sitting down when he said, Willy May’s got a point. Meg’s going to need things

for school soon.

In nine days, if you count Saturdays and Sundays, I said. Lucille gave me a look for

interrupting.

Why don’t you and Meg go to the Little store with the others? Tom said.

Lucille took a sip of her coffee and said, Tom, not today.

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Lucille didn’t ever want me to have any fun with those cousins, but school was

necessary. I was itching to get my hands on some school materials to organize them all perfect

on my table. I like to be prepared. I want to be the readiest person ever to walk into sixth grade.

Darling, it’s starting to look strange how we keep Meg away from the rest of the cousins,

Tom said. And frankly you too. You shouldn’t be so standoffish with the other mothers.

Lucille lit her cigarette. I wish she would not do that while I was eating. I’ve tried, Tom,

but there’s no use. That Sarah is a bitch and Rowena is a liar.

I don’t know either one of them good, but it did not surprise me about Gloria’s mama.

They’re just jealous, darling, and probably a little intimidated. We show up here from

New York City, and Mama and Daddy give us this house and a car right away.

And no money, Lucille said. I never asked for a house like this. I was perfectly happy with

a classic six on the park.

Far as I could tell, they didn’t know what Marybeth told me. That Gloria’s mama hates

Lucille because she is the reason they had to move out the red house. And I wasn’t going to be a

little fool and tell her either. She was grumpy with a hangover headache this morning.

It would probably help if you at least pretended that you liked living here when you’re

around the other mothers, Tom said. Instead of always complaining to them how it’s not like

New York.

Lucille inhaled her cigarette, blew it out. I waited for the argument. But she said, What do

you suppose I would buy these school supplies with? Store scrip?

Scrip was fake sharecropper money, that was a known fact. But Tom got up and came

back and handed Lucille some real cash money and change. I have two dollars and fifteen cents.

That should be enough for school supplies. I’m sorry it’s not more.

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Well you should’ve seen Lucille’s jaw drop—two dollars and fifteen cents was what he

expected her to go shopping with? I got ready for the argument. I was about to exit myself from

the room so as not to have to listen, when Tom pulled out his ace card.

If you want to be on good terms with Mama and get back on the dividends, I’m telling

you. It would be smart to spend time with your sister-in-law.

Lucille watched him close. She could not resist the smell of money. She set her coffee

cup down and said, Fine. I’ll go get dressed.

Since I have never been in the car alone with Lucille, I figure I might as well get some

facts out of her. I learned with Lucille it is best to start with what she wants to discuss.

What exactly is a classic six? I ask.

She laughs low. Classic six is what every girl in New York City wants, sugar. It’s a two-

bedroom apartment plus a maid’s room. It’s the only place I’ve ever been able to breathe.

I heard the air up there is very dirty from factories and all the people, but it does not

surprise me that Lucille can suck that in better than the air here. Some days she looks like the

breath is getting squeezed out of her, looking around at the house like she can’t remember how

she got there.

Why did you and Tom leave New York? I have heard a few sides to the story, but

Lucille’s answer is bound to be interesting.

Why indeed, she mutters. New York’s a very expensive place to live, and Tom’s parents

didn’t want to pay the bills anymore. So his mother decided to jerk him back home so we’d stop

hemorrhaging cash.

But didn’t you have a job working there for a man named Bill?

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Sure, but a secretary job isn’t enough for a decent living. And Tom couldn’t keep a job to

save his life. I watch her while I listen. From the side, Lucille’s nose with the tip end raised and

her square jaw make a strong outline. If a artist cut her face out of black paper and framed it, you

would know it was Lucille. I heard a man at that reception party say, That Lucille is a good-

looking woman, but . . . I could think of a couple ways to end that sentence for him.

Honestly, she says, I would’ve liked to’ve kept my job, but I had to quit because I got

pregnant. They won’t let a woman work in an office when she’s pregnant. That’s a man’s rule

because they want us to keep our figures, not remind them of their fat wives back home.

Where is the baby? I wonder is it up in New York? Then I think about Miss Garnett

having the baby dead inside her. And the mama dog with the dead puppies inside and I got to

shut my eyes a second. Did it die while it was inside your body?

Yes, and they blamed me for it. Her voice shakes a little. Men do that too, you know. They

won’t let you work if you’re pregnant, expect you to sit home alone, and then say it’s your fault if

you lose it. Then they want to try all over again like they learned nothing from what you just

went through.

Well. Men are slow learners, I tell her.

You’re damn right about that, Meg.

She turns onto another road and up into a gravel area. The Little store is just a small

wood building set off from some others, near a railroad stop about fifteen minutes from our

house. Three or four black cars and a couple mule wagons sit out front. A row of kids are

hanging their feet off a front porch, eating ice cream cones. A saggy old woman up on a stool is

turning a crank on a machine.

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Lucille turns the car off and tucks her pocketbook up under her arm. Two dollars and

fifteen cents might be a paltry sum to her, but that is still good money to me. She takes a big

breath to prepare herself.

I tell her, Don’t worry, Lucille. I know what to say to those cousins about where I came

from. Because she still thinks that lie is alive. And I try and give her a hug to show her. She

stiffens and sort of pats me on the ear area. Half a loaf is better than no bread at all.

Lucille walks us toward the store about like we are going to the belt closet. She is

wearing a simple light blue dress with brass buttons down the front and a blue hat to match.

None of that witchy black drawed on her eyes, only some cherry-colored lipstick and powder.

Me, I got my favorite green play set on and black shoes since it is after Labor Day.

Why, Lucille, what a surprise. I don’t think we’ve seen you since the reception. It is

Marybeth’s mama, who is also pudgy, and already I can feel the chill in the air. She and

Marybeth look a lot alike but her dimples don’t even show when she says it. The other one, with

the thin, harder face, sums Lucille up in about two glances. I bet my school materials money that

one is Gloria’s mama.

Lucille smiles like it hurts her teeth to do it. Shifts in the shoes. Why hello there, Sarah,

hello, Rowena. Meg and I thought we’d come do a little school shopping.

It is strange to see Lucille around other ladies. She rules the roost at home, but there is

something shy and worried in her eyes now. I might not agree with Lucille on much, but there is

nothing scarier than a woman who hates you, much less two. They chitchat a little about

summer, where did the time go. Lucille throws something in there about how nice it is to be out

of the city, enjoy a nice big backyard. I have never once seen Lucille set foot in that yard, front

or back. Lucille is what you call a inside person.

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Gloria’s mean mama gives her a cool look. And how is the red house treating you and

Tom?

I’d like to stick a sign on her back with that word Lucille used at the kitchen table. With a

big B. I tug on Lucille’s hand to go on inside.

But Lucille lets go of mine and clenches her teeth. The red house is just wonderful,

Sarah. It’s so much more room than I even dreamed of having in New York. There are bedrooms

we don’t even use, closets galore. I don’t know how we got so lucky.

If Tom were here, he would be impressed by how hard she is trying. Sarah looks like she

might jump Lucille right here in the parking lot. I can’t bear it and ask if I may please go inside

the store now.

It might not look like much from the outside, but this place is a treasure trove of school

materials. From what I can tell, it is just a regular store for your daily shopping needs, except

today they have pushed a lot of racks aside and set up a special school-shopping section with a

sign that reads School Supplies, Grades 1–6. Under that is a paper tacked to the wall with a

handwrote list called Recommended Purchases by Grade and a column of items for each one. A

note at the bottom says: For those who cannot afford supplies, your child’s teacher will do her

best to find used and donated items.

I spot Marybeth and a few other cousins over by some toys. I wave to her, but this is not

playtime. I get a wicker basket like I see another mama carrying and I study the recommended

purchases list for the sixth grade. I start with the basics, one box of ten yellow pencils, one

rubber eraser, a tablet of paper with lines, one ruler, one jar of ink with a pen you dip it in, and a

metal thing you call a compass. The colored pencils and construction paper and extra items I skip

for now since it already adds up to seventy cents. And then you got your books. This is where the

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real money comes in. It says we need one called the McGuffey Reader for sixty cents, and if

your budget allows, please buy a arithmetic book and a grammar book, which are forty cents

each. I add it up and our budget does allow it, with five cents left to spare!

I skip over to Marybeth. She is with Gloria, but I am hoping Gloria will go away.

Marybeth and I hug hello. Gloria smiles at me cute and says, Looks like Lucille’s been in the

hand-me-down closet again. That was mine about five years ago.

I was wondering why it smelled so bad. Good thing Willy May washed it, I say, and

Marybeth laughs but she covers her mouth quick.

I follow them around while they put all sorts of things in their baskets, windup toys, a

whirligig you blow on to make it spin. In the candy aisle they grab handfuls of the stuff. Not

even penny candy. They’re just piling it into their baskets, boxes of Jujyfruits, chocolate kisses,

Chiclets chewing gum. I didn’t know people lived like that. Gloria smirks at my basket with

nothing but school materials like she knows we don’t have any money, so I pick out five cents’

worth, two chocolates and three hard candies.

They stay close, talking about somebody named Wally. I try to laugh when they do. I

know I sound too loud. Finally Gloria looks back and says, This is a private conversation, if you

don’t mind, Meg?

I look at Marybeth and she looks sorry. Why don’t you do some shopping with your

mama, and I’ll come find you in a little while, she says.

I look, but Lucille is nowhere to be found, so I walk around alone. Up front are the food

items, sausages and meats in a case, barrels of flour. All sorts of can goods line a shelf, peaches

and green peas and all manner of vegetables. Staring at those, I think how it could be Ava who

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stuck those green beans in that can. It gives me a lonesome feeling. Of course then the train horn

has to blow in the distance, not helping things.

Am I really so easy to leave behind?

After a while, I spot Lucille near the front door looking around like she would rather be

anywhere else. I almost go to her, but then I see Marybeth with her mama in the baby goods area.

I stand by a rack of ladies’ rayon stockings and watch them. They really are the spitting image of

each other. Dark shiny hair, pudgy cheeks, wide bottoms. Me and Lucille are both fair, but there

is something very unrelated-looking about us. Marybeth’s mama flaps her hand at something

tacky, and Marybeth watches and does the same. Maybe the difference is I will never, ever act

like Lucille. When they start to gather the necessary school materials, I study how her mama

tucks some hair behind her daughter’s ear, smoothing it back from her face. Get you two a those,

honey, she says, rubbing her shoulders soft. I bet that shoulder business alone would keep a girl

sane. Marybeth won’t ever get the lonesome feeling inside her. Here I already know I’ll feel sad

for the rest of my life every time I look at a can vegetable.

After a while, Marybeth comes over to get me like she said she would. I guess there are

some folks you can rely on in this world. Meg, you have GOT to come look at these cute baby

dolls.

I follow her to a row of baby dolls in boxes where Gloria is also looking. Each box says

Newborn Sized, and there is something clear across the front so you can see in but not get your

dirty fingers on it. That was a smart thing to invent.

Aren’t they the cutest baby dolls you ever seen? Marybeth whines, hugging one of the

boxes.

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I nod to be a part of things but to be honest, I’d rather read a book than fuss with a baby

doll.

Which one do you like? I like the one in the blue bonnet. Meg, why don’t you get the pink

bonnet one and we can have us a baby doll party!

I just have enough for school materials, I say. I don’t think I can—

But you have to! So we can be best baby doll cousins! Marybeth says.

I’m getting the one with the yellow bonnet, Gloria says and puts it in her basket even

though she is too damn old for a damn baby doll. She is just doing it to show off.

Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll put both baby dolls in my basket so Mama’ll buy me two and then

I’ll sneak and give you yours after we ring up. And she reaches up and takes two boxes.

Well. Who can argue with a free baby doll.

At the front door, Lucille is past ready to go home. I hand her my basket, and she lays my

school supplies and candy up on the counter with nary a word. Marybeth and Gloria and their

mamas are in line behind us. When the man takes the money, the shiny register makes the shiny

register sound.

I turn to tell Marybeth goodbye when—

Marybeth, I am not buying you two baby dolls. You need to pick one.

But Mamaaa, I need both, Marybeth whines.

Marybeth, I said no. Now put one back.

But. It’s not for me. She glances my way and whispers to her mama, It’s for Meg.

I put my hands up to show this was not my idea. Lucille is barely listening to this baby

doll business, she just wants to get the hell out of here.

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Real clear her mama says, Marybeth, Lucille can buy Meg her own toys to play with. Now

put the doll back or I won’t buy you either.

Marybeth is dug in, though. She sort of whispers, but she is no good at it. But Mamaaa,

you said yourself Grandmama don’t trust Tom’s white trash wife far as she can throw her. It’s

not Meg’s fault Lucille don’t get a red cent.

Marybeth! her mama says and looks to see if Lucille heard that. Lucille’s eyes have gone

wide. The folks in the parking lot probably heard that.

What did your fat little girl call me? Lucille says.

Lucille! Marybeth’s mama says. Both of you, that is enough!

Lord. All over a damn baby doll I didn’t want in the first place.

Lucille sticks a finger in Marybeth’s mama’s face. You need to wash her piggy little

mouth out, Rowena, and while you’re at it, wash yours out too. You’ll thank me for it. It’ll curb

your appetite for a few hours.

If it looks like trash and talks like trash . . . Gloria’s mama says shaking her head. Lucille

grabs my arm and near drags me out of there.

Here comes Marybeth’s mama after us, calling Lucille’s name. She catches up with us at

our car. Lucille turns around to her with her chin stuck out.

You listen to me, Lucille. Don’t you ever speak to my daughter like that again. Marybeth

was trying to do something nice for your little girl because she felt bad for her. Now I’m sure it’s

real hard not being on the deposits, but you and Tom made your bed so you’ve got to lie in it.

Lucille jerks her car door open and says, Get in the car, Meg, but Marybeth’s mama is

not done. She says, If y’all are that desperate and need things for Meg that bad, I’ll set some of

our old toys out in the yard. You and Tom can come by and pick them up tomorrow.

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On the ride home, Lucille grips the wheel and lights a cigarette. She turns the radio up

loud. While she flies down the road, neither of us speaks. I don’t even know who to be upset

with. Marybeth ought to’ve known better, and Lucille should’ve kept her mouth shut. Mostly I

am mad since this is bound to hurt my chances to play with Marybeth in the future.

Lucille checks the mirrors and pulls a bottle out from under the seat. She takes a long

drink from it, sticks it back under there.

After a while she says, Listen to me, Meg, and listen to me good. Those Heidelbergs will

always treat you and me like they are better than us. They’ve had everything handed to them.

They’ve never been hungry or cold or poor. So do not be fooled by their Christian smiles. I

guarandamntee you if they saw us drowning, they wouldn’t get their clothes wet to save us. You

and I are on our own in this family, and don’t you ever, ever forget it.

***

That afternoon I listen in the hall as Lucille tells Tom the story in their bedroom. The whole

goddamn family knows we’ve been cut off. We’re a laughingstock! Rowena said she’d set old

toys in the yard for us to pick up, like we’re charity cases—

I promise, Lucille, it won’t always be like this, Tom says. If she will just give him a

chance to prove to his parents he can do something right. And put the bottle away, it’s two in the

afternoon—

No. I can’t go back to being poor, Tom. I won’t do it. Lucille has got that sound like the

air is getting squeezed out her throat. I lived too long eating dirt—I fought too hard to get away

from my brothers and my uncles. They did . . . unspeakable things to me. I can’t breathe—I am

trapped here, Tom. I’ve waited long enough. I’m not waiting anymore. Either you ask her to put

us back on the deposits, or that’s it. I’m leaving.

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***

The next morning when Willy May comes in, she does not announce what those cousins are up

to today. Law have mercy, Meg, she says and shakes her head. That’s how I know she heard the

hullabaloo about yesterday.

You cousin wrote a letter fo me to give you. She sets it on the little table in front of me. It

has my name wrote on the front in cursive but not lady cursive. Her handwriting looks like mine

does. I see her set one with Lucille’s name on it over on the counter. I open mine.

Dear Meg,

I am sorry I said that about Lucille at the Little store. Please forgive me. I did not

mean to hurt anybody’s feelings and it was not Christian of me.

Sincerely,

Marybeth

But there is a second page without a salutation to it like we learned in school. It is wrote

messy like Marybeth scratched it fast:

Mama made me write these stupid letters but I am not sorry a bit. Lucille is trash

and if she calls me or my mama fat or piggy again she will rigret it. I wish you did

not have to live with the bich but I am still your best first cousin friend. I hope we

sit next to each other in sixth grade.

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Lord, I want to cry, reading that. And even though something tells me that Marybeth will

grow up to be just like her mama, she is mine for now. The most I can hope is, spoiled as she is,

it will keep her immature for a little bit longer.

After Lucille reads her letter, she goes in Tom’s office. They stay in there a little while

and when she comes out, she has a letter of her own. I doubt it is a apology. She hands it over to

Willy May and asks her to please deliver it this morning.

***

It is well past the reasonable hour, near two in the afternoon, when Mrs. Heidelberg’s car comes

rolling up the drive. Lord, what now. I leave my school supplies in their exact perfect places and

put a petticoat on.

Mrs. Heidelberg walks right on in without even knocking. She is standing in the living

room, wearing head-to-toe red.

Lucille comes down all dressed up, with her hair curled like she was expecting the visit.

Tom comes out of his office. There is no covered dessert or snack today. Today Mrs. Heidelberg

has a paper in her hand.

Won’t you sit down, Isabelle? Lucille asks.

I prefer to stand.

Tom doesn’t say a word. He just looks over at his wife, nervous.

Lucille raises her chin and says, I know you’re here about the letter we sent over. And

like it says, I believe we’ve been punished more than enough. And frankly I don’t think it’s fair

how we’re being treated in this family. Yesterday I was taunted by my sister-in-law for not

having any money—

I heard. I know exactly what was said, Lucille.

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Well I . . . I might’ve said some things I shouldn’t have. But that’s not the point here. The

point is Tom and I have proven ourselves to be trustworthy and responsible, and we deserve to

be put back on our deposits like the rest of the family.

Mrs. Heidelberg takes a deep breath. What do you take me for, Lucille, a fool? Without

taking her eyes off Lucille, she hands Lucille the paper.

Lucille takes it. She licks her lips and frowns, reading it. This is . . . how—how did you

get Little Meg’s adoption papers?

I look at Tom and his mouth drops open. No words come out.

Lord, it is hard to watch. It all happens too slow.

In a deep, scary voice, Mrs. Heidelberg says, Son, how could you do this to me?

Oh Mama, I promise—Mama, we didn’t intend to do it like this. Things . . . they just got

out of hand—

How could you lie to us? After everything your father and I have done for you? How

could you look me straight in the face and lie about the money we gave you and Lucille?

I don’t know—I’m so sorry, Mama. It was a mistake—we planned on giving you back

what was left of the money, and then pay you back the rest when we could . . .

That’s right, Isabelle, Lucille says. We always intended to pay you back just as soon as

we could. Which is a big fat lie from Lucille. It was just a temporary arrangement. You left us no

choice—we had to do it because you took us off those deposits.

At this, Mrs. Heidelberg’s face changes. Her eyes bulge and she shows Lucille her

dentures. She draws up to Lucille so I duck behind Tom with my face against the back of his

shirt. I watch from one eye.

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You, she says, putting a knotty finger in Lucille’s face. Don’t you dare turn this on me.

You have been a depraved influence on my son since the day you met him. You are why I have to

send Willy May over here to search for liquor and God knows what else—you are everything our

family stands against, Lucille. And then you had the gall to lie to my face about adopting Meg

from Mrs. Tann, when all along you picked up an urchin for free. I expect you to pay every red

cent of that money back, do you hear me?

Another girl might be offended at being called a urchin. But after what all I have been

called, it hardly stings.

Lucille nods. I have never seen Lucille scared before. The freckles that are usually light

on her face are now a bright, ugly pink.

Go get it. Bring me what’s left of my money, Mrs. Heidelberg says..

I’ll . . . have to bring it by.

Mrs. Heidelberg nods. Just as I thought. You spent it all, didn’t you, on trips to Memphis

to see to sick friends while you were really shopping and probably buying bootleg liquor. You

should be mortified by your behavior, Lucille.

Lucille stands up straighter at this. Me? What about him? She thumbs over at Tom. None

of this would’ve even happened if TOM hadn’t lost all that money at the track! Half your

adoption money went to his damn bookie up in New York!

Tom rolls his neck over to Lucille. I am still behind him, so I cannot see his face. Why

would she go and say that when they are in enough damn trouble already? I want to kick Lucille!

This is her damn fault, when all Tom does is tell her she looks beautiful and let’s get some food

in you and pour her damn coffee cup.

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From my one eye, Mrs. Heidelberg looks ready to faint. Is that . . . is that true? Was this

all because of your doing, Son?

Tom groans. It was from months ago, Mama, I promise. It was to pay debts from eight or

nine months ago. I don’t do any of that anymore, I swear, and he reaches for his mama.

Mrs. Heidelberg puts her palms up at him like she does not want him to touch her. I bury

my whole face in Tom’s shirt. Now that the jig is up, there is no reason for Lucille to keep me

here. I pray this does not mean what I dread.

This is not about money anymore, Tom. This is about trust. Mrs. Heidelberg is panting

now. And I can’t . . . I just cannot believe that letter you sent over today was in your

handwriting. You will not be put back on those deposits anytime soon.

No. Of course not, Mama. I understand.

Your father is going to be so disappointed in you, Tom, and I am too. She turns around

and leaves like she came, without any of us opening the door for her.

After that, we all three of us sit down on the vegetable sofa. I am on the end, far away

from Lucille as I can get. Tom is in the middle. I can feel his heart beating in his hand. I hold on

to it, and he is holding Lucille’s next to him. We just sit there for a while, nobody talking.

What good am I to Lucille now that Mrs. Heidelberg told her she knows? The most I can

hope for is Tom will stand up to her if she tries to take me back to Oxford.

Lucille is the first to get up without a word. She goes upstairs. Tom is next. I’m sorry,

Meg, he says, but I need a little time alone.

You go ahead, Tom, I tell him. I will be all right. I feel so close to him, I want to cry. He

goes in his office, and I go in the library where I don’t feel so alone. I look in the encyclopedia

letters awhile.

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Later on, I hear Tom tiptoe upstairs. When he comes back down, I peek out and see him

at the china cabinet. He puts the key in the lock and turns it.

No, don’t do it, Tom, don’t. After all this, I still got to be the old lady’s spy. Don’t make

me lie to her about you too.

Tom stands there with his hand on the key, and then he turns the lock back again. He

goes to his office and shuts the door, and I hear the typewriter clacking again.

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