“What about my test?” I asked.
“You can take it later.”
“Come along now,” Father O’Brien said.
“Thank you, Sister,” I said.
Every eye in my class watched me leave. What had I done? Or was it Henry? Timmy? Did Maggie’s bus get in a wreck? I worried all the way down the hall and to his office, where Timmy and Henry were seated on a bench in the outer office, terrified. They got up and we all went inside. We stood in front of his desk and he sat in his chair.
“Children, I’m afraid I have some very sad news to tell y’all. Your grandfather Mr. Asalit passed on this morning.”
“You mean he’s dead?” Henry asked.
“Son, only his body is dead; his soul now radiates with the full glory of the risen Christ. Surely you remember your catechism.”
Timmy and Henry started to cry and I stood stunned, just staring at Father O’Brien. Then I put my arms around them and reached for the tissues on Father’s desk.
“This is no time to indulge yourselves with tears. Pray that his soul makes a swift journey to the Lord’s bosom and save your strength to support your mother and grandmother. Remember, this is your momma who’s lost her daddy and your grandmother has lost her husband.”
Tears rolled down my face without a sound. I didn’t know what to do, none of us did. We just stood there, time not passing, waiting for some comfort. Shaking, scared and crying.
“Can I call my momma?” I asked.
“No, let’s not bother her. Your Aunt Carol is on the way here to bring y’all home. She’s going to pick up Maggie first. You may make a visit to the chapel to pray for your grandfather and then you can wait on the bench outside if you’d like.”
“In the school yard?”
“Yes.”
Permission to wait in the school yard unsupervised was a monumental event. I grabbed a fistful of tissues and led my little brothers out.
First we peeked in the chapel and no one was there, except for the light on the altar indicating the presence of the Eucharist in the tabernacle. As fast as we could, we scampered to the front, did a bounce genuflect in front of the altar and hurried to the statue of the Blessed Mother. Her empty plaster eyes stared at me and her half smile seemed like a smirk. It gave me chills. As the oldest, I reached under the tray of candles for the matches and lit three candles, one for each of us. I made the Sign of the Cross and knocked Timmy and Henry in the ribs, encouraging them to do the same.
“Dear God,” I said, “please take Grandpa Tipa straight to heaven and not anyplace else. He was a good grandpa and a good man. And he had plenty of reasons to be such a grouch. Also, please help Grandma Sophie and our momma not to go crazy from this. Amen.”
“Amen,” my little brothers said.
We got up and hightailed it out of there. Empty churches gave me the creeps.
The ride with Aunt Carol was like a disjointed dream. She yammered on in a nervous monologue about what we should wear and who would be coming and that we had to be quiet when we got home. As we passed people on the street, going about their lives, I wondered if they could tell our lives had just been blown open by death. Could they see it on our faces? Henry continued to cry and all Aunt Carol would say was, “There, there now.”
When we reached the Island Gamble, Livvie was standing on the back steps in the sunshine waiting for us. She took one look at us and opened her arms. “Come ’eah to Livvie. He gone be all right. Everything gone be all right.”
Each one of us hugged her with all our might. The strength of her arms healed me on the spot. When she saw the fear in our faces transform from fright to calm, she released us, one by one.
“Go on now and kiss your momma and grandmomma and then y’all come back ’eah to me. Maggie, see about them twins, all right, chile?”
“Sure,” Maggie said.
We went inside and left Livvie with Aunt Carol on the back steps. Aunt Carol was still talking, Livvie was shaking her head.
I found Momma in her bed with old Sophie sitting in a chair beside her. Momma acted drunk but Grandma Sophie, like the eighth wonder of the world, spoke.
“The doctor gave her a shot for her nerves,” she said.
Under the circumstances, Grandma Sophie seemed fine, better than she had in my whole life. “Go and tell your aunt that I want to speak with her, child, would you please do that for me?”
Timmy ran off for Aunt Carol and Henry and I followed Sophie, who walked slowly back to her own room and crawled up on her bed.
“Come in! Come in! I won’t bite you!” We took baby steps closer.
“I’m sorry you lost your husband, Grandma Sophie,” Henry said, still crying.
“Well, somebody had to go first. Do you want a tissue? Go get yourself one and blow your nose. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with him in the end, that’s all.”
“What happened, Grandma? Is it okay to ask that?” I asked.
“He dropped dead on the floor of the post office, poor thing. Had a heart attack and dropped dead. He’d gone to get the mail, just like he always does. One minute you’re here, and the next, poof! Deader than Kelsey’s cow. Somebody pulled his plug. I expect your father’s gonna throw me out now that I don’t have Tipa to protect me. Susan, look in the top drawer and see if you can find a pair of stockings for me.”
“Sure!” I opened the drawer and the stale scent of old perfume escaped. “Gosh, Daddy wouldn’t do that! Don’t even think like that!” I found her stockings and gave them to her.
“Put them on the bed and find my robe. Oh, yes, he would! Your father’s a hard man! How am I going to manage without Tipa? He did everything for me! Where’s your aunt? I need to talk to her about the funeral. Tried to talk to y’all’s momma, but she’s in her bed, acting like she’s the only one who ever carried a cross.” She cleared her throat with a terrible noise and spat in a tissue. “Get me some water too,” she rasped.
“I’ll go find Aunt Carol,” I volunteered, anxious to get away.
“Be quick. We have a lot to do!”
“Yes’m.” I gave Henry a look, he shrugged his shoulders and I took off to the kitchen. This had the earmarks of an interesting saga.
In the kitchen, Livvie was talking to Timmy.
“This day we gone be busy as bees!” she said. “Susan! I want you to come with me and we gone lay out clothes for all y’all children to wear to the funeral home. Where the masking tape is?”
“What do we need masking tape for?” I asked.
“You mussy be joking with Livvie now. Don’t you know you can’t be having no kinda funeral without masking tape? Come on, girl. Let’s get a move on.”
I asked Timmy to take the water to Sophie and left the room with her.
“Sophie’s talking,” I said to Livvie.
“It’s shock,” she said.
“Probably,” I said.
“I gots to tell you a little something.”
I opened the door of the boys’ closet and pulled out two shirts.
“What’s up? How about these?”
“I seen something with my own eyes.”
“What do you mean? ’Eah’s two ties. This one has a spot.”
“Sit down ’eah for a minute,” she said, pointing to the bed.
“What?”
Livvie had the most peculiar look on her face.
“This morning when I came to work I was on the way out to the porch to sweep. Mr. Tipa done gone to the post office. Anyway, I seen something in the living room. It was a man.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know at the time, but I’ll tell you this much, you could pass your hand right through him!”
“What? A ghost?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was a haint as sure as any haint I ever seen in my whole life.”
“Go on, Livvie, you’re putting me on.”
“No, ma’am, I am not! I was passing in the hall and I seen this cloud in the big mirror. Cloud grew, took the shape of a man and stepped out to greet me.”
“Are you serious?”
“As serious as I can be.”
“Tell me exactly what you saw,” I said, not believing a word.
“This man come out the big mirror and he wearing a hat and a suit. I told him to go back to hell or wherever he came from and don’t be bothering me or anybody in this family. I tell him we ain’t throwing no party and what does he want anyhow? Then he point to a picture of your grandparents and I know exactly what he up to. He didn’t come for no party, he come to snuff out your granddaddy’s breath! That’s what! I gots to do something about that mirror. Ain’t no good. Ain’t gone let another sun pass till I get some cunja on that thing.”
“Livvie? I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”
“Humph. I seen all kind of fool thing in my day. Come on, get your dress and let’s go on downstairs.”
BY FOUR O’CLOCK the day Tipa died, we had over fifty Corning-ware dishes in the kitchen filled with the specialties of every housewife on the Island. Livvie was in the kitchen and I was taking turns answering the door with Maggie.
“Oh! Mrs. Dufour! A ham! That’s so nice of you!”
“How’s your momma, honey?”
“She’s all right, I guess, haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Well, let’s not bother her. Listen, sweetie, that’s my best platter, so please tell your momma I’ll be needing it back next week.”
“No problem, Mrs. Dufour. I’ll put your name on the bottom on a piece of masking tape.”
“That’s a good girl.”
I carried the ten pounds of pink meat down the hall past the big mirror in the living room and stopped to give it a look. Nothing. I didn’t see a ripping thing.
“Another ham,” I announced as I entered the kitchen.
“Do Jesus! That’s ten hams now, twenty-two bowl of potato salad, six Jell-O molds with little marshmallows and chop pecan, three chocolate cake, seven pound cake, nine dish of red rice, four dish of chicken pilau and Lawd knows how many casseroles.” Livvie shook her head as she took inventory. “Tape that dish and add she name to the list. Your momma gotta thank all these women. Gimme that thing and I cut the meat off the bone. Shuh. Gone get this family a dog, that’s what. All these bone.”
Livvie began to hum another church song. I pushed aside some of the dishes of food and put down the ham. The table threatened to collapse under the weight of all the food. Who was going to eat it all I couldn’t figure out for the life of me.
“What’s that song, Livvie?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, chile, it’s my favorite, well, one of my favorites anyhow. It’s ‘Amazing Grace.’ Listen up to these words,” she said and began to sing in her rich voice.
“When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing Gawd’s praise,
Than when we’d first begun.
“Ain’t them pretty words?” Livvie asked.
“Beautiful,” I said. The same voice that hollered at us so loud, and hushed and composed us so sweetly, was one of the most wonderful and soulful singing voices I imagined I’d ever hear. Everything stood still while she sang.
“Makes me think about Mr. Tipa and how he be singing with Gawd’s angels now,” Livvie said. “I love that song ’cause it remind me that Gawd’s grace is saving grace. It’s for everybody, y’all know what I mean?”
Maggie said, “I don’t know anybody who sings like you!”
“Oh, now do child, don’t be filling my head with that fool. Honey, there’s so many women who sing in my church you can’t be counting them all.”
“Sing something else!” I said.
“Honey, I sing all day long when y’all in school,” Livvie said. “Makes the time go quick and I get to praise the Lawd with song. Not so bad, ’eah? Now, Miss Maggie, that’s enough yabber about me. Let me see that list.”
Maggie handed her the legal pad where she was noting who had brought what in her perfect Catholic school handwriting. I hated that she got to do all the writing, even keeping score in gin rummy or canasta.
“Where’re the boys?” I asked.
“I send Timmy to the Asalits for the big cooler and Mr. Henry done gone off to the Red & White to get us some paper cups and ice. Gone be people coming tonight and tomorrow and unless you girls want to wash glasses and plates, we using the throw-away kind.”
“Good idea,” Maggie said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Is Momma still in bed?”
“The doctor pay she a call earlier and he gone come back to check on her,” Livvie said.
The translation of that was that the doctor had given her a shot for her nerves. We had two doctors who served the Island. One was Dr. Whicket, who mainly gave MC bazooka shots to induce coma, and the other was Dr. Duggan, who gave her pills that dilated her eyes and put her in a trance. We called them Stick-’em Whicket and Dose-’em Duggan.
“Stick-’em was here,” Maggie said. “She’s zonked.”
The twins were napping and apparently Sophie the Stink Bomb was taking a real shower. Daddy and Uncle Louis were in Charleston, at the funeral home I guessed, probably picking out the box. And Livvie just kept cutting ham and making aluminum foil packages, stacking them up like silver bricks on a shelf in the refrigerator. We had four dozen deviled eggs. Two dozen from the postmaster’s wife, Mary Burbage, along with a lemon meringue pie, and the others were from some old biddy who went to the same church that we did.
My real interest in all this was, of course, the wake and the funeral. “So, Livvie? Ever been to a wake?”
“Oh, do Lawd! More than I can remember, chile!”
“What’s a dead person look like? I mean, when they’re in the box and all, is it scary?”
“They look waxy to me. And, iffin you do look, you gone see your granddaddy ain’t there nohow. Just he shell, that’s all. Spirit gone. But remember you don’t have to look iffin you don’t want to. My cousin Harriet ain’t never fix her eye on a dead man yet, and she done bury both she parent and one husband.”
She stopped to demonstrate how to avoid contact with a dead body. “You juss fix your eye over that coffin when you goes up to pay your respect,” she said, “and don’t look down.”
God, I love Livvie, she’s such a rock, I thought. Somebody was knocking on the back door and I stepped outside to see who it was. Lo and behold, it was Alice Simpson, standing there with a jelly roll cake from the Red & White grocery store and six bottles of Coca-Cola.
“How’s y’all’s momma doing, honey?”
“She’s fine, Mrs. Simpson. Thanks for the cake and the Cokes. Would you like some ham?”
“No thanks. When’s the wake?”
“Dunno. Daddy’s in the city making all the plans with Uncle Louis.”
“Well, when you find out, let me know.”
“Sure. Thanks again.”
I watched her go down the back steps and through the oleanders, and somehow, she seemed sad to me. Maybe she didn’t have any family. If she showed up at the funeral, though, there would be plenty of tongue-wagging. That would be reason to go early and stay late.
THE NEXT MORNING Maggie made ham biscuits, ham omelets, and ham and eggs. It was gonna be a while before we worked our way through the mountain of meat. I had changed the twins, given them bottles and brought them downstairs to their playpen. Too bad they didn’t have teeth, I thought.
Daddy, Timmy and Henry were eating and talking. Momma had been in bed since the day before and Grandma Sophie still hadn’t emerged from her room. I don’t know if she was expecting room service, but we weren’t waiting on her. A knocking preceded Uncle Louis’s appearance at the back door.
“Hey, Bubba! You up?” he yelled through the screen.
“Yeah, God, Louis, come help us eat some of this. I swear to God, it’s like an ancient Hawaiian ritual. One of the elders dies and a hundred pigs are slaughtered as an offering,” Daddy sa
id. “Get up, son, and let your uncle have your seat.”
Timmy jumped up and put his plate in the sink, then poured a cup of coffee for Uncle Louis.
“Yeah, old Tipa gone on the layaway plan now,” Uncle Louis said. “Gone to God. Sure seems odd, you know? How’s my momma this morning? Where’s the sugar bowl?”
“Here.” Daddy slid the bowl across the table. “Shocked, of course, but actually rallying. She didn’t stop talking yesterday.”
Everything was slow motion and it was the unspoken that mattered. That Uncle Louis’s sense of humor was out of place, that Daddy was comparing Tipa’s death to Hawaii, that Momma was in hiding—all these things built a mountain of nervous anxiety. We children acted like Indians in the forest, quietly putting one foot in front of the other, moving in the shadows.
Livvie arrived, Henry disappeared with Timmy, and Daddy and Uncle Louis continued to talk.
“Where’s your momma?” Livvie whispered to me as she tied her apron.
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her yet,” I said.
“Hm. ’Eah.” She poured a cup of coffee. “You girls take this to her. Lemme do these dish and I come join you in a minute. Gotta get her up and moving. This ain’t right a-tall. Been in that bed long enough.”
The hall had never seemed so dark. Maggie led and I carried the cup, the fragile porcelain tinkling against the saucer. We opened the door carefully. Momma’s curtains were drawn and we could see the silhouette of her figure under the covers of her bed. I had a bad feeling and Maggie’s face didn’t look very hopeful either.
“Momma?” I said. “I brought you some coffee.”
No answer.
“Momma?” Maggie said. “It’s time to get up.”
I put the coffee down on her nightstand and began opening the curtains.
“Oh, God!” she wailed. “My daddy’s dead! I can’t!”
She scared the bejesus out of both of us.
Livvie entered the room. “Miss MC? Come on, now, you gots to rise up and face the day!”
“Can’t!” came the mournful cry from under the tangled sheets. “Let me sleep!”
Livvie opened the rest of the curtains, flooding the room with light.