The Woods at Barlow Bend (19 page)

Chapter 27

Winter 1937

Uriah, Alabama

Late in the summer of 1936, my life with Daddy went from bad to intolerable.
Daddy had continued his pursuit of trash, both the metal and female kind. He never told us what route he was taking through the county or if he had made any sales. At first, in the house on Route 21, he rarely came home for supper, and when he did, he brought home not only a truckload full of junk, but also something dirty next to him in the cab. I never bothered to learn any of their names or even pay much attention to their faces because they were all pretty much the same: short hair, dirty fingernails, reeking of stale liquor. I don’t remember much about any of them except my view of Daddy’s rotating girlfriends through the kitchen window. I would see Daddy’s truck pull around the back of the house with a woman in the cab. She was never seated politely next to the passenger side door, ankles crossed, hands folded in her pretty lap. No, Daddy’s latest treat would always slide all the way over to him, like a dog next to her master.

By the end of July, Daddy
even stopped coming home for the occasional dinner with his latest piece of trash. He would sleep at home most nights, stumbling up the front steps long after the rest of us had gone to bed, and check in with us most mornings, but that was it. I told Meg, Billy, and Albert that he was at work. In truth, I didn’t know where he was, but I assumed he had a girlfriend tucked away somewhere, and, for whatever reason, didn’t want to bring her home.

Right around my birthday that year, Daddy decided to change our lives again.
I walked up the stairs to our tiny rented house one afternoon in August to the sound of a woman scolding a child.

“Jerry, you’re gonna git the switch if you do that agin!”
the woman screeched at the child.

When I opened the door, I nearly dropped the bag of fresh strawberries, sugar
, and Crisco that I had purchased on my way home from the dress shop, with the intention of treating myself with strawberry cake for my birthday. I saw a little boy, a toddler, covered in flour with spit running down his face. A woman around Daddy’s age was trying to wrangle the child. Daddy was in the kitchen; laughing at the top of his lungs, broom in hand, thick, white flour tracked from door to door. The bag of flour that I had purchased and intended to use for my cake had been wasted. On what, exactly?

“Hattie, Sweetie,
come on over here,” Daddy said, breathing hard from laughing, “This is Farrish Brisby. And the little ghost is her son, Jerry.”

“Good to meet you,” I said and offered my gloved hand to Farrish while trying to a
void contact with little Jerry.

Farrish wiped her hands on her skirt, and then, “Your Daddy’s told me so much about you.”

“Really? I wish I could say the same. Daddy, what happened in here?” I asked, maybe a little more abruptly than I should have, but I was irritated that the floor I had left sparkling before school that morning was now gray with flour, and I would have to work an hour at the dress shop in order to buy another bag of flour.

“Well, Farrish and I were makin’ supper, and little Jerry here got into the flour.”
Daddy wiped beads of sweat off his brow and handed me the broom, “Go on and sweep this up, would you?”

“That’s not what we were supposed to have for dinner tonight,” I said, looking at the stove, table
, and floor. Daddy had given me orders, and grocery money, for chicken and rice, but I saw the beginnings of country-fried steak, okra and mashed potatoes. “Where did all this come from?”

“I went by Blacksher’s.
Tonight’s a special night,” said Daddy.

“Come on, I guess bath time is early tonight,” Farrish picked Jerry up and carried him
toward our bathroom, avoiding my stare as she left the room.

I stood there with the broom, stunne
d. I wasn’t completely sure what I had just walked in on. Beef was far too expensive the week prior, according to Daddy. Billy and Albert would get Daddy’s belt if either of them tracked flour all over the house and, even worse, wasted good money by dumping a whole bag on the floor. I also saw a suitcase in the corner.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked Daddy.

“No, Sweetie, ‘course not.”

“Then what’s the suitcase for?” I asked and pointed
toward the black case in the corner of the room.

“Oh, that, well I need to
talk to you about that.”

“Uh, huh…”

“Farrish and I have been seeing each other for some time now, and she’s in a real bind. So, she’s staying with us for a while.”

“Oh…and Jerry?” I asked.

“Well, Jerry and Marion, her daughter, and Malcolm, her oldest. Marion will be in Albert’s class. That’s what all this is,” Daddy motioned toward the table and stove, “a nice dinner to welcome Farrish and her kids to our home, to the family.”

I was supposed to welcome a bunch of complete strangers into my family
? Four more people were to live in this tiny house! Who the hell was this woman?

“And where are
all of these people going to sleep?” I asked.

“Hattie, don’t take that tone with me.
This is my house, and I can have anyone live here that I want. Marion will sleep with you and Meg, and all the boys will stay in the front room. We’ll make it work.” Then Daddy stood up, brushed off his pants, and headed toward the back porch. “Finish cleaning this up and get supper done. I’m gettin’ pretty hungry.”

I wanted to run from the house and straight to Gordon, but knew he had promised his mother that he would do the weekly shopping for her that afternoon. For the next hour, I cleaned up the flour, sweeping and scrubbing in a futile attempt to get rid of my anger
and the pasty mess, and then finished supper. Daddy didn’t say another word until he sat down at the table. Before he took his first bite, he introduced the four of us to the Brisby clan. Meg, Billy, Albert, and I crammed in on one side of the table opposite Malcolm, Marion, and Jerry. Daddy sat at the head of the table as usual. Farrish sat on the other end where Momma used to sit. Nine people gathered around the table that night, the handcrafted piece, built to seat six and salvaged from our home in Frisco City long ago. We sat, stared at our new housemates, and waited for Daddy to give us the signal to eat.

Over the next
several months, I got to know Farrish and her children well. In his search for every piece of junk in Monroe County, Daddy left very early in the morning and didn’t come home until right before supper went on the table, so he only really saw Farrish, Malcolm, Marion, and Jerry on Sundays. Anyone, even the Brisbys, could be on his or her best behavior one day a week.

Living with the
Brisbys Monday through Saturday was a nightmare. No matter how many times Farrish threatened to get a switch or pop his behind, Jerry continued to grab anything he could reach off the kitchen table, stove, wardrobes, and dressers. As soon as the object hit the ground, he would try to shove it in his mouth. Once, he nearly burnt himself with scalding water when he reached for the pot I using on the stove. Farrish pretended not to notice as I moved the pot out of his reach just in time.

Malcolm
and Marion Brisby ate more than any two children I have ever known. At first, I was surprised by Marion’s size. She was more than just pudgy for an eight-year-old. Her chubby cheeks morphed seamlessly into her neck, shoulders, and considerable abdomen. After the third time I caught her rummaging through the pantry only an hour after Sunday lunch, I knew she wasn’t going to grow out of her baby fat. Malcolm threw fits every morning claiming that Billy’s biscuit was bigger than his, which, according to Malcolm, meant that we hated him and wanted him to starve to death. I thought Malcolm was far too old for fits, but Farrish babied him like he was a toddler. He finally stopped screaming when Farrish would give him her breakfast, too. I doubt that Farrish had eaten a full meal since Malcolm and Marion cut their first teeth. Both of them were behind in school, which was Farrish’s reason for refusing to send Malcolm to work with Billy. She insisted that Malcolm needed extra time after school to catch up, which never happened as far as I knew. Sometimes, I was convinced that the little Brisby monsters were going to eat us out of house and home without chipping in a dime along the way.

Farrish was
, by far, the worst, though. Along with babying her children to a point that would have made Momma’s head spin; she used our house as her beauty salon. As soon as she moved in, so did the smell of burning hair and weird, pungent chemicals. She would push the kitchen table all the way to the wall, place a chair in the middle of the kitchen for her clients and occupy what little space the house had to offer from morning until late afternoon, even on Saturdays. I would come home after work to a kitchen floor covered in hair and a table covered in scissors, lotions, salves, shampoos, and curling devices.

One morning, I caught Daddy before he made his daily escape.
I complained about cleaning hair out of the sink and off the floor every afternoon in order to cook dinner for nine people. He told me that I was old enough to figure out how to live with the Brisbys and that I was not to interfere with Farrish’s business. By March of 1937, I realized that Farrish Brisby and her awful children were in that house to stay.

One night, long after everyone had
fallen asleep, I lay awake in my crowded bed, stewing. For God’s sake, I was about to graduate high school and was sharing a bed with my sister and some strange little fat girl! I couldn’t lie there and accept the choices that Daddy had made for me any longer. So, I did something I had never done before. In the dark, I quietly got dressed, pinned my hair back with the comb I had bought with a few pennies I was able to save the month before, and climbed out my bedroom window.

I was going to run the mile to Gordon’s house, but when I came around to the front of the house, Gordon was sitting on the front steps.
My heart nearly stopped when I saw him, sitting alone on my steps, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped.

“Gordon,” I whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“It’s Momma.”

Gordon didn’t have to say the words.
I knew what had happened by the look in his eyes. Bessie Riley had been ill for some time. She had stopped eating a few days before and hadn’t been out of bed in weeks. The Rileys didn’t have much use for doctors, and without the help of a physician, I knew she wouldn’t last long. I was surprised, however, how quickly she died once she decided to. I sat down on the stairs next to Gordon, rested my head on his shoulder, and held his hand in mine for a long time while he quietly cried.

“How did you know I was out here?” Gordon asked after about an hour in silence.

“Um…I didn’t. I was going to see you. I needed to talk to you.”

What
I needed was for him to calm me down. I needed him to tell me everything would be all right and that I wouldn’t live like poor Alabama white trash forever, but once I saw him on the steps, knowing that he now knew the pain of losing a mother, my frustrations seemed less important.

“Are you
all right? What happened?” Gordon asked.

I couldn’t believe it. Gordon’s mother had just died, but he was worried about me.

“Don’t worry about me,” I told him. I wove my fingers through his and ran my thumb along the side of his hand. “I love you, Gordon.”

“I love you, too, Hattie.”

I squeezed his hand and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Whispering in his ear, I said, “I’m so sorry about your momma. I know what that’s like.”

“Yes,” he said, looking deep into my eyes, “I guess you do.”

“The pain is almost unbearable.” I kissed him on the lips this time. “Please let me help you. What can I do?”

“Just being here with me, Hattie,” Gordon said, “that’s all I need.
”

The next words came out of my mouth before I realized their true weight.
“Gordon, I could be your family now…if you’ll have me,” I told him, and leaned my head against his shoulder again, afraid to look at him in case his answer was “no”. It seemed like hours dragged by as I waited the few moments before he spoke again. My heart pounded in my chest, praying that Gordon wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

“Would you
, Hattie?” he asked after a minute or two. “Will you be my family now?” Gordon stared at my face for a moment before he kissed me softly on the lips, stood up, and took my hand.

In silence, we
walked over to the playground behind the grammar school building at Blacksher. There, in the darkness, on a pair of old wooden swings, we planned my escape from Daddy’s house.

Chapter 28

May 1937

Uriah, Alabama

My last day living under Daddy’s roof was
also the day of my graduation ceremony from Blacksher High School in May of 1937. I was sixteen years old, had earned my diploma after several breaks in my education, and, unbeknownst to Daddy, I was married.

A week after Gordon’s mother died
in March of 1937, he and I drove to the Justice of the Peace in Monroeville, Alabama. My friend, Sandy, and Gordon’s friend and teammate, Milton Anderson, came with us as witnesses. I wore my pale pink suit, cream lace gloves, and a cream wide-brim hat that matched the pearl buttons and collar of the suit. The hat, which actually belonged to Sandy, was my something borrowed, and Momma’s brooch with tiny blue stones became my something blue and something old. I had carried that brooch from temporary home to temporary home since Momma died. That afternoon, as I changed from schoolgirl to bride in the ladies’ room of the Monroeville courthouse, I ran my fingers across the brooch, feeling the coolness of the tiny stones. I made a wish that Gordon and I would find a permanent home for the brooch and me very soon. When I emerged from the ladies’ room, Gordon was waiting in the hallway for me in his Sunday best, looking even more handsome than before. He gave me a white handkerchief embroidered with my new monogram, a small capital H, a large capital R in the middle, and a small capital A to the right, my something new.

After our
I dos
were said and the marriage license signed, Gordon and I swore Sandy and Milton to secrecy. I threatened never to speak to Sandy again if she breathed a word about Gordon and me being husband and wife to anyone. Sandy and Milton agreed to our terms and kept their oath of silence through March, April, and into May.

I was sure that Daddy would
n’t support my elopement with Gordon, and needed to make sure Meg, Billy, and Albert would be all right after I left. I couldn’t depend on Farrish to care for them, so I needed time to make my three siblings self-sufficient. Billy made a nice wage in the fields, and Meg was still with the Blacksher Home, so they would have money for food. I knew I could teach Meg everything I knew in the kitchen. She was already a better house keeper than I, and a stickler for the rules, any rules, so I knew she would make sure that Billy and Albert would get to school on time and would always do their share of the chores. Gordon and I had agreed to keep the marriage a secret until graduation. So, by the time graduation day, revelation day, rolled around, they had to be able to take care of themselves. I would never be able to leave if I thought they would fall apart without me, no matter how desperately I needed to get out of that house.

On the morning of my graduation, I readied myself to tell Daddy that I no longer belonged to him.
I had kept my promise to Momma and to the stars over Clarke County to care for Daddy and to love him despite his flaws for as long as I could.

I
told Meg, Billy, and Albert about my marriage, and that I was leaving with Gordon the night before graduation. I didn’t want them to feel blindsided when I left with Gordon after the ceremony instead of coming home with them. They took my news as well as could be expected. Albert cried. He begged me not to leave him with Farrish and the Brisby monsters. He didn’t understand why Gordon and I couldn’t live in the tiny house in Uriah with all of them. I told him that there was no room for another body in that house, but I would come see him as often as I could. Billy, who was trying desperately to act like a man, shook my hand and told me “best wishes.” At least some of Aunt Mittie’s good manners had rubbed off on him. All the while, though, he had a very stern expression on his face telling me his true feelings about the situation. He thought I was disrupting his life. He was right. I was.

Meg
was the worst. She yelled at me for not taking her with me to Monroeville for the wedding ceremony. I knew she would be hurt by my secret, but I didn’t know how much.

“I should have been your maid of honor!”

That was one of many rules that, in Meg’s mind, I had broken. Tears rolled down my face as I watched my sister’s heart break in two. Meg didn’t cry though, not a single tear. She crossed her arms, made her blue eyes icy, and stormed out of the room. Billy followed her. Albert stayed by my side and helped me pack my suitcase. When we were done, I hid it under my bed.

“You did what?” Daddy yelled in the kitchen
on the morning of my graduation. He stood up from the table so quickly and with such thrust that he knocked his chair backward.

“Daddy, if you’ll just
calm down…”

“I will not
calm down. You had no right to run off like that. He had no right to take you!”

“Gordon didn’t take me Daddy.
I went on my own.”

I tried as hard as I could to keep my voice steady.
I had planned out what I would say to Daddy about my marriage and my future plans, but I hadn’t planned on him being this angry.

“That boy tricked you!”

“He did not trick me, Daddy!”

“What do you know?
You’re a child!” Daddy said and then yelled for a good ten minutes straight about how I abandoned the family, betrayed him, and how he was going to teach
that boy
a lesson. “I’ll teach him to run in and steal a man’s child!”

I couldn’t stand his words anymore.
My cheeks burned the same way they did the day Momma died, the same way they did during the trial, but on this day, Momma’s voice found my tongue.

“Daddy, I am not a child.
I stopped being a child the day we lost Momma,” I said in a voice so confident and commanding that I wasn’t even sure it was my own. “You will not say these things to me again. You will congratulate Gordon and you will let me go.”

“I will not…” Daddy interrupted, but I cut him off.

“No! I have not abandoned you. You drove me away. I did not betray you. You betrayed us by what you did to Momma, by expecting us to accept every piece of white trash you bring in this house. I will not live like this for another second!” I had opened the floodgates and couldn’t close them again. “You abandoned us for a year while you were in jail. You wrote me what? One letter? But I’m supposed to stand by you through everything? Well, I can’t do that anymore. I won’t. You humiliated us in Frisco City. You abandoned us at the hotel. And then you took us away from Mittie!”

“Mittie ain’t your mother!”

“Shut up!” I was on my feet and couldn’t hold back my rage, “How many women have been in and out of your life, Daddy? Momma, Elsie, Sarah? How many feet away from your bastard child did you bury Momma? How many? And now you bring your latest piece of trash and her children here? Do you plan on marrying Farrish or just play house until you get bored? Not to worry, huh Daddy? Good, ol’ Hattie will keep everything in order, right? Ever since Momma died, you expected me to raise your children and keep your house. Well, I am your daughter, not your wife!”

Tears poured down my cheeks.
I had not sobbed like this in years, and it felt good. Daddy looked like I had slapped him. For a split second, I was terrified by the prospect of doing what Momma never could, but I knew I had to. I couldn’t live as a substitute for her any longer. I had to leave him. I wiped my eyes with a kitchen towel, took a deep breath, and turned back to Daddy sitting in a chair, silenced by my outburst.

“I’m a married woman now. You can’t change that,” I said, my voice
calm and strong, “Gordon has found us a place in Monroeville. We leave next week.” I turned to walk out of the kitchen and then remembered, “Oh, and Daddy, don’t forget, commencement starts at 2 p.m. in the gymnasium. I would like you to be there.”

I went to my bedroom, fixed my face and hair
, and slipped the simple gold band that Gordon had given me in March on my left ring finger. I carried my suitcase, the one with Momma’s monogram on the clasp, and walked out the front door. Gordon was standing next to his car, waiting to drive us to the school. He had wanted us to tell Daddy about the elopement together, but after a very long and heated discussion, I convinced Gordon that leaving Daddy was something I had to do on my own.