My Drowning (7 page)

He had been crippled for as long as I could remember, from falling off the back of a truck and crushing one of his legs to splinters, a time when he was drinking moonshine with Roe Yates and his crowd, a story Uncle Cope loved to tell. “I like to scraped half my back off, sliding down that road,” he would say, and then threaten to show the scars that covered his back. “If I hadn't been drunk, I'd have died. But I passed out before the shock could kill me.”

Uncle Cope retained one remaining visible tooth on the
upper part of his mouth, at the front, hooked and long. He'd kept a few more of his lower teeth and several of his upper back teeth too. Like Daddy and Mama, he dipped snuff, Tube Rose or Black Mariah, which lent an orange cast to his teeth and tongue. Daddy chewed tobacco but Uncle Cope's teeth ached too much for that. He watched with envy whenever Daddy spat the dark tobacco juice.

We woke one Sunday morning to find the deputy sheriff in the kitchen doorway talking to Mama. It was early fall with the weather neither hot nor cold. Mama's thin nightgown hardly hid her large breasts but she had partly wrapped a blanket around herself, and faced him with her hair loose on her shoulders. I watched from the hall. To me she seemed suddenly very beautiful and young, standing in the shadow of the tall, broad man. The deputy took off his hat. His pistol hung from his hip. His pants were tight and his thighs were a funny shape, thin at the knee but fat at the hip.

He asked Mama a question. “I ain't seen Willie since last night,” Mama answered, “and if Cope ain't here, I reckon he's with Willie.”

“You sure you telling the truth? They ain't neither one of them in this house.”

“I'll swear on the Bible if you get one.”

“So if I was to come in that house, I ain't going to find Willie Carl laying up in that bed?”

“Lord, I wished he was. What you looking him for?”

“I ain't looking for Willie, I'm looking for Cope.”

“What for?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can't. Now look. If they ain't here, I got to go.”

“Well, you better go on then. And you tell Willie to get back here when you see him.”

“Yes, ma'am, Miss Louise.”

I crept to the corner of the kitchen, quiet like an egg. Alma Laura was with me. She had begun to appear during the day now, mostly near me but sometimes not, mostly in corners or shadows but sometimes not. Madson tugged Mama's skirt and she lifted him to wave good-bye to the deputy, who made a lot of noise going down the steps. His handcuffs rattled, his keys jingled, and his holster flapped at his pocket. He was driving a black-and-white car with a light on the top, and he peeled out of the driveway in a cloud of dust. I was disappointed he never turned on the light.

As soon as his car was gone, Nora got busy in the kitchen, and she kept me busy with her.

Mama stalked back and forth across the kitchen, muttering. I had seen this look on her face before, when she threw me across the kitchen over mentioning Alma Laura, and other times, when she lost a child or had a fight with Daddy. “Wake me up so early in the morning,” she spoke in a chain of words, low enough that I could hardly hear, “when I ain't been able to sleep for wondering where you are, you might be dead, and here comes the deputy sheriff, a-knocking on the door, and me so goddamn tired. I ain't been able to sleep. For all I know you laying in a ditch somewhere, you been out all night. Me and these goddamn stinking younguns with hardly a mouthful of food. You making biscuits, Nora?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Nora scraped the dough carefully down each of her fingers.

“I'm helping,” I said, “I'm putting the biscuits in the pan.”

“Hush,” Nora said, with a careful eye on Mama. “You should work, not talk.”

“Make sure you rub aplenty lard on the bottom of that pan or else them biscuits will stick.” Mama sighed, pushing hair back. A cloud of gentleness enshrouded her features for the moment. She lifted Madson, kissed his cheek. “My angel boy. Ain't you my angel boy?”

Madson gurgled and laughed. He planted his fat hands on her cheeks and leaned toward her. Now that he could take steps on those fat little legs of his, I hated him all the more.

WHEN DADDY CAME
home, Mama met him at the screen door. “Deputy Floyd was here, looking for Cope.”

“Shit,” Daddy says, stomping through the door, “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. When was he here?”

“Early this morning. He woke me up.”

Daddy sat in the kitchen chair. “Make me a goddamn cup of coffee.”

The fog of his anger settled over the kitchen. Moving without a sound, I withdrew into the other room, in the shadows. Alma Laura sat with me. We kept perfectly silent.

“Where were you all night?”

“Out. Don't ask me too many goddamn questions.”

“Where is Cope?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know where Cope is?”

“He's your brother.”

“That don't mean a goddamn thing.”

“Willie, what happened?”

“Louise, if you don't shut your goddamn mouth, I'm going to knock the shit out of you.”

“Hush, Mama,” Nora whispered.

“Deputy Floyd is coming back. You mark my words.”

“Goddammit woman, you better leave me in peace, and I mean this minute. Get your fat ass in that other room before I slap the teeth out of your mouth.”

“Go on, Mama,” Nora whispered, the note of urgency increasing.

Mama shuffled into sight. I hid in the corner. Mama paced up and down. Daddy said, “Where the fuck is my coffee, girl?”

“I'm making it, Daddy. It has to make.”

Silence. Followed by the sound of his spit dropping into the spit can.

“Is it any biscuit fit to eat? Or is it just them goddamn horse biscuits your mama makes?”

“There's some warm biscuit up here that I made. You want a piece?”

“Yes. To sop.”

Nora brought the coffee and the biscuit. Daddy sopped the biscuit in the sweet coffee. I did not have to watch him to see him, I was learning to see him without my eyes. Alma Laura watched me. Mama watched me. I held myself completely still.

“The good Lord above help me,” Mama said.

“You better shut your mouth.”

“Hush, Mama,” Nora said, or at least I heard it in my head. I was not sure whether Nora actually said anything with her voice. She had found herself a corner by now.

Silence. Mama rocked on her heels in front of the fireplace.

“Did you do something?” Mama asked.

“No. I done told you I did not do anything. Cope broke into a little grocery store near Smithfield. They seen him. You know Cope can't run worth a shit on them crutches.”

“Was you with him?”

“No. Shut the shit up.”

Silence. I edged away from Mama, toward the door that led to the bedrooms.

“Where are you going?” Mama hissed at me. “You keep your little ass right where you are.”

It was as if she saw something ahead of us all. I held still again. As soon as I did, she forgot me. She paced again, hands on her belly. “Is they looking for you too? Is they?”

“Naw.”

“Cripple goddamn son of a bitch,” she hissed, “I hate that goddamn goose-legged bastard. He needs to take his ass to your daddy's.”

“You shut up about my brother.”

“Cripple bastard. Cripple son of a bitch. Walks on them crutches like some crawly bug. Sleeps in my kitchen like a white worm. I hate him.”

“You better shut up, I said.”

The raising of his voice brought quiet. Mama paced. She glared at me. “What are you looking at me for, you little strumpet?”

I studied the floor but listened for where she was. I could feel that she was watching me, I could hear her breathe. I slid along the wall toward the door but at once she said, “I told
you to keep your ass right against that wall, and you better do like I say.”

“Is that Ellen?” Nora called.

“Tend to your business,” Mama said.

“Cope ain't bothering a goddamn soul,” Daddy spat.

“The younguns is scared of him.”

“They is not.”

“They is. Nora is scared to get up in the morning, for fear he'll bother her. Ain't you? Them crutches scares her.”

“He can't walk without them crutches,” Daddy said.

“They still scares people. I don't want him in my house no more.”

“This is my goddamn house.”

“He ain't got no business scaring my younguns around here. And now the sheriff is after him. And you can't do nothing but sit there and take his side.”

“I ain't taking nobody's side. You don't make a goddamn lick of sense.”

“I make plenty of goddamn sense. I don't want that cripple bastard sleeping in my kitchen.” She loomed over me now; I could bring myself to watch her face for only a moment. “I hate him. He ain't got the sense God gave a rat. And now the sheriff is looking for him.”

“Louise. I have told you, you better shut your mouth, right now.”

“Was you with him?”

He pushed back his chair, and stood. His footsteps echoed.

His silhouette in the doorway was taut like a wire. “Do you want me to take my goddamn belt off again? Or do you want me to get the buggy whip this time?”

I could feel the fierce heat of her glaring on the top of my head.

“You better answer me.”

“I ain't going to say nothing else.”

“Are you goddammit sure?”

She took short, sharp breaths, silent, except that her whole body heaved. “Yes.”

“You better be. Because I don't want to hear another word.”

As his footsteps receded, she made a sharp cry and turned to me with eyes like needles. She pinned me against the wall and kicked me, and her hands struck my face from both sides. I gasped and fought for breath. She slammed my head back against the plaster wall. Sharp pains succeeded one another like forks of lightning. I heard footsteps from somewhere but I was dazed. “I told you to set still.” She kicked me again but not so hard.

“Leave her alone, Mama,” Nora pleaded, I could not see where she was, “she didn't do nothing,” and this distracted Mama long enough. I slid past her faded skirt and ran for the door.

I hid under the house, behind one of the outer pillars. Daddy kept dogs chained up further under, I could see their shadows moving. They were restless, thinking maybe I was bringing them biscuit crusts and fatback rind like Carl Jr. did. If Alma Laura had not been with me I might have been afraid of them, but she sat beyond the post, silent as always, a comforting shadow. The dog chains softly murmured. I kept between the dogs and the brick underpinning. I stayed in sight of Alma Laura. Upstairs, voices flowed and ebbed.
There was sunlight and heat in the yard, but where I waited I hardly felt those things.

SOON MANY MEN
arrived at the house, including Uncle Cope, with blood in his hair. From under the house, where I remained, I studied the green truck, the blue car, in which the men raised clouds of dust on the road and in our yard. Uncle Cope struggled out of the back seat of the car, his loose leg dangling, him hopping on his good foot till he could get the crutches under his arms.

The dogs came alert and set to barking, straining at the chains. Upstairs Daddy's unmistakable footsteps crossed the porch. Voices greeted him and he shouted, “You sons of bitches is in trouble, the deputy's already been here.”

Uncle Cope thwacked one crutch across the back of a cat that crossed the yard in front of him. I could see Cope's shoulders but not his head; he had come close to the porch now.

He lowered his voice. “You ran, you shit ass. Ain't nobody seen you, did they?”

“You know damn well I ran.”

Uncle Cope hovered on the crutches. The limp foot dangled. “And now my ass is going to jail and you're going to sit right here.”

“I can't help it, Cope.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I ain't going in no jail just to please your ass.”

Then, other footsteps from the house.

Mama's voice rose suddenly. “Is that Cope? You goddamn cripple son of a bitch.”

“Louise, you better shut your mouth.”

“Don't tell me what to do, you one-leg shit-ass. I wished you was dead. I wished the sheriff would shoot you when he catches you.”

Uncle Cope swung round on the crutches.

“I hope they keep your cripple ass in jail till you rot.” She must have been leaning forward, I could see her shadow. “I wished the deputy would find you right now. I wished he would drive up right now.”

Uncle Cope and the others slid into the car. Other men were climbing onto the back of the truck. A line of dust rose as they fled along the road.

I CRAWLED OUT
from under the house when things above were quiet. My belly was empty and groaning. Creeping up the steps, I entered through the door that led to the narrow hall.

From the bedrooms I heard no sound. Daddy sprawled across the bed, big boots pointed toward the ceiling, mouth slack, and eyes closed. The other room was empty.

In the kitchen Nora and Otis were sopping biscuit. Madson and Joe Robbie slept on a blanket by the stove. I rubbed my eyes and tiptoed to Nora. “You can have a biscuit too,” she whispered.

Mama stood on the back porch. She had shoved her fists against the fabric of her skirt, the dress taut along her back. Soft hairs had come loose at the back of her neck, where the flesh was tender and smooth.

“Did she hurt you?”

I shook my head. I ate the biscuit to ease the pain in my belly.

“I'm keeping an eye on Mama, I think she's about to run off somewhere. Like the time she took us to the river.”

I must have remembered. I guess I did, but I dreamed about the river too, her sliding down into it, and I could not always tell the difference between the dream and any memory there might have been. When Mama moved off the porch, Nora and I followed.