BITTER MEMORIES: A Memoir of Heartache & Survival (22 page)

I didn’t tell him the first stop sign she ran was right down the street from the house, or about her backing into the side of the house three times before she even got out of the driveway. But I sure hoped I wouldn’t have to ride with her
ever
again!

When Uncle Henry got ready to run his trotlines he put a lifejacket on me, and helped me into the boat. I didn’t know what a trotline was, but I got excited anyway. We were on the other side of the lake when he stopped the boat next to some plastic jugs floating on top of the water. I watched closely as he pulled up a long rope with a bunch of hooks attached.

Now, I knew what a trotline looked like!

The first half of the rope didn’t have anything except a bunch of empty hooks, so he put little fish he called minnows on those hooks. Then he pulled up more rope and I saw big fish with whiskers on those hooks!

He put those fish in the boat, and said, “These are catfish, Sarah.” He held one up close for me to look at. “I’ll fry up a mess of ‘em tonight for supper.”

“I never had fish before, Uncle Henry.”

“Well, I fry up a mean catfish.” He laughed. “Every year the police department has a fish fry, and I’m the cook. It’s coming up in a couple of weeks. Would you like to go?”

“Yeah!” I exclaimed. “Just tell me when to be ready!”

“I will. There’s three more lines to run, then we’ll go back, skin ‘em, and fry ‘em up.”

That night he fried up a whole mess of catfish, and I ate like I hadn’t eaten in a year! After supper he drove me back to my grandparents. When he pulled up to the house I told him that I’d really enjoyed being out on the water with him, and I looked forward to the next time I could help him run his trotlines.

He laughed. 

Walking up to the door, I hoped Mama and Auntie Bitch wouldn’t be drunk and fighting. I felt it would be a shame to have such a wonderful day ruined. Slowly, I opened the door listening for the usual uproar, but except for the TV, everything seemed quiet.

Releasing the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, I walked in and saw Grandmother sitting in her chair sucking on the little brown stick in her mouth, and Granddad had just come back from the kitchen with a piece of pie.

Bursting with excitement, I told them about my day, not leaving out one detail after getting to the lake, but I left out most of what happened before getting there. Like Aunt Olivia’s driving!

I asked about Mama, and Granddad told me she was sober, but had gone to bed early with a headache. Auntie hadn’t been home all weekend. I was glad the bitch hadn’t been there, but I was happier that Mama wasn’t drunk.

Exhausted, I gave them a hug and went out to the porch and climbed in bed. For the first time since I’d been home I slept soundly, without nightmares. I figured Ann had given me a break because she didn’t want to wreck the wonderful day I’d had, either.

I waited all week to hear from Uncle Henry, but he didn’t call. I also waited all day Friday hoping he’d come get me, but he didn’t. Granddad said he probably just got busy, but I was still disappointed.

When he finally called Tuesday afternoon, I wanted to pack right then, but Grandmother said I had to wait until Friday morning. Granddad took me down to the lake to help get my mind off the upcoming weekend, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about being with Uncle Henry and
eating more catfish.

The rest of the week went by pretty fast playing with Blackie and helping Grandmother clean the house. Mama stayed in her bedroom with a migraine, saying she needed a quiet, dark room until it went away. At lunch I took her a sandwich.

“Mama, it might make your headache go away. I made it all by myself.”

“I need peace and quiet, Sarah, not a damn sandwich! Get out of here!”

I’d spoken quietly so not to make her headache worse, but still she’d yelled at me. Grandmother looked up when I came into the kitchen, sandwich in hand and tears in my eyes. “Sarah, what happened? What did she do?”

“She didn’t do anything, Grandmother. She doesn’t want the sandwich and told me to get out. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

“It wasn’t you, sweetie. She hasn’t had a drink in weeks. It’s just a symptom of withdrawals. Don’t cry.”

Setting the plate on the table, I dried my tears as Granddad came in. “Well now, did you make this for me?” He smacked his lips, looking at the sandwich.

“I made it for Mama, but she doesn’t want it. You can have it if you want, Granddad.”

“Well now, I never turn down a good sandwich.” With a grin, he sat down and within minutes had devoured it. “That had to be the best bologna sandwich I ever ate!”

I knew he was joking, but it made me feel a little bit better anyway.

Friday morning, even though I knew Uncle Henry wouldn’t show up until four, I had my suitcase packed before lunch. I wanted to be ready.

Mama got out of bed late, but left just before Uncle Henry arrived. She didn’t tell anyone where she planned to go or when she’d be back, and I was afraid she went to get drunk.

That night I went to bed early, but I couldn’t sleep. When the phone rang in my room, I jumped. Aunt Olivia answered, and hearing everything she said, I knew I’d been right about Mama.

“Margaret, it’s three o’clock in the morning!  ….  I wish you could handle your daughters.  .… Yes, I’ll get Henry!” She laid the phone down and grumbled all the way to the back bedroom.

“Henry, it’s your mother—
again
! Your sisters are at it—
again
!”

Without another word she stormed back through my room and into the living room. I knew she’d be reading her Bible; waiting for him to get off the phone.

Wearing nothing but boxer shorts, Uncle Henry talked to my grandmother. “Yes, Mother. ….  I’ll be there within the hour. ….  Yes, Mother. ….  No! Tell Dad to stay away from them! ….  I don’t know. I’ll decide when I get there. ….  Mother! Let me go so I can get dressed.  .…  No, I’m not mad at you. ….  I’m leaving within fifteen minutes. …. Yes, Mother. Goodbye.”

He stood by the phone table scratching the sides of his head for a long moment before he turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, Sarah. It’s my sisters, so I have to go. Olivia will bring you to the park. I’ll meet you there.”

I knew he had enough to deal with without me making a fuss about having to ride in the car with my aunt’s driving, so I just said, “Okay. Tell Mama I love her.”

When he got ready to leave, Aunt Olivia started in on him. I heard him tell her, “Not now, Olivia. I have to do something I don’t want to do, and I’m not in the mood to argue. I told Sarah you’d bring her to the park. I’ll go there from the sanitarium.”

Moments later I saw his car lights pass my window as he backed down the driveway. I didn’t sleep much after finding out he’d been taking Mama to a hospital for crazy people. I knew he was trying to help her, but why didn’t he take her to a regular hospital? And why didn’t he take the bitch, too? She also was drunk, and from what I’d heard, she started the fight—again.

My aunt came in at seven o’clock to get me up, but I’d been awake for a while. I’d slept off and on, but not enough to feel rested. Worried about Mama, I thought back to the last time she’d come home from that place. She swore she’d never go back there again. I thought she meant she’d never drink again, and maybe she tried, but her sickness must’ve been too strong. 

Even though I didn’t feel like going, I wanted to see Uncle Henry to find out about Mama, and hoped Auntie Bitch hadn’t hurt her. Rolling out of bed, I went into the bathroom, took a bath and got ready to go.

I didn’t pay much attention to Olivia’s cursing until I noticed we were on the road that led to my grandparent’s house. Figuring the park must be in the same direction, I didn’t think anything about it until she turned onto their road.

Then I knew something was wrong.

“Aunt Olivia, why are we going here?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Sit there and be quiet!” she snapped, not taking her eyes off the road.

Something had happened. I could feel it!

Nearing the house, I saw Uncle Henry’s car parked past the gate, and numerous other cars parked in front of the house and on either side of the dirt road.

The moment she stopped the car, I jumped out and ran for the house. Of course, I heard Aunt Olivia yelling at me, but I didn’t stop. Bursting through the front door, lots of people were in the living room, but I didn’t see Uncle Henry.

I headed for the kitchen, and saw Grandmother sitting at the table, crying, but Auntie Bitch and several other women sat with her, crying. Granddad sat with his head in his hands. Then, I spotted Uncle Henry on the phone in my grandparent’s bedroom.

I went and stood next to him, and he looked down at me with tears in his eyes… “Ouch!” I yelped. “What the hell!” Jerking my arm away, I glared at Aunt Olivia. “Why did you pinch me?”

“Don’t use that language with me, missy! Get out of here and let your uncle take care of business.” Her alien mouth formed, and her black monster eyes glared.

“Olivia! Leave the child alone!” he snapped.

“She doesn’t need to be in here with you on the phone, Henry.”

“It’s all right, I’m done.” He hung up the receiver. “Olivia, check on Mother, would you?”

She didn’t answer, but she left the room. With a deep sigh, he sat down, and patted the side of the bed. “Sarah, sit down here by me. I need to talk to you.”

I sat down, crossing my fingers behind my back before asking, “Is Mama okay?”

“Sarah, I’m so sorry.” He dried his eyes. “There’s been an accident. Your Mama had ice on her shoes…she fell on the stairs.”

“She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?” Fear leaped into my throat.

“No, Sarah…she’s dead.”

I felt my heart pounding with such force I expected it to break through my chest and fly across the room at any moment. Thoughts flooded through my head:
No! I can’t lose her again! I’ve only been home six months. I haven’t had time to remember her. I must’ve heard him wrong
…

“What did you say?”

“Sarah, your mama died when she fell over the banister at the hospital. It happened so fast, there was nothing anyone could do. I’m so sorry.”

I stared into space for a long moment before I felt I could speak.

“Did she suffer?”

“No, sweetie. The attendant said she died instantly.”

“You weren’t with her!?”

“I’d already gone out to my car…”

“Henry, your Mother’s asking for you,” Olivia said from the doorway.

“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”

A hundred—maybe thousands—of thoughts ran in and out of my head so fast I couldn’t keep up with them. I felt sad, but no tears came. Speechless, not knowing what I should say, I continued to stare off into space.

“You gonna be okay, Sarah? I need to see what Mother wants.” 

I nodded. “I’m glad you stayed with me, Uncle Henry, but I’d like to be alone now.”

Funeral preparations were made by Uncle Henry and Olivia since the rest of the family, who I hadn’t met, lived out of town. I heard Granddad on the phone saying the funeral would be in four days to allow everyone time to arrive.

The rest I only heard part of while passing through the bedroom. “…Jason and Julie are coming in from Colorado day after tomorrow. John and Beth will be here late tomorrow night from Dallas…” 

I knew Jason was Granddad’s other son, but I didn’t know the other people he talked about. Mama had friends all over Texas and Oklahoma, and we’d planned to visit her closest friend, Ruth, one day soon. 

Mama had known Ruth for over twenty years, but she hadn’t seen her in a very long time. Mama said I had almost been named after Ruth, but Daddy didn’t like the name, or Ruth. I heard Olivia say she would call her, so I hoped to meet her at the funeral.

When time arrived to leave for the funeral home, I climbed into the back seat of Uncle Henry’s car. When Auntie Bitch got in on the other side, I scrunched up against my door, as far away from her as possible.

No one spoke on the way to the funeral home. When we arrived, the parking lot was full, and inside, the chapel was jam-packed. I glanced around, and in that overcrowded room, I felt so alone.

I stood quietly in the corner, looking at all the sad faces around me. Beyond the strangers, many beautiful flowers engulfed the room with fragrance. Most were roses and carnations. Organ music played softly in the background. 

Some women came up to me saying: “Oh, you poor child. You poor, poor child,” then they’d walk away, patting their damp eyes with a tissue or handkerchief, just to go whisper with other women in the room.

One group of ladies kept pointing in my direction, shaking their heads. I assumed they were talking about me, but they were too afraid, or maybe too ashamed, to say anything to my face. These women I appreciated, but still, I felt a need to run and hide; to escape the whispers, the stares, the looks of pity.