Bastard Out of Carolina

  I said nothing. Aunt Raylene stepped through the door, pulling on her gloves. “Deedee, you better take your hair down and get dressed. You should have been ready to go half an hour ago. Travis is already down at the funeral home.”

  “He’s been down there all night.” Deedee tucked her feet up under her on the rocker and put one hand over her eyes. “I sent Grey over with his good suit when I figured out he wasn’t coming home. ”

  “Well, I’m not surprised, I suppose.” Aunt Raylene touched Deedee’s cheek lightly, and for the first time I noticed the faint stain of tears. “It was good of you to make sure he had his suit. Now come on, girl. Get up and get dressed. We an’t got no time for you to be moping on this porch.”

  Deedee’s hand dropped into her lap, and she shook her head fiercely. “I an’t going.” She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “You understand, Raylene, I an’t gonna do this. An’t gonna go down there and let everybody mope all over me. Mama wouldn’t care, and I can cry well enough here.”

  “Deedee, get up.” Aunt Raylene gave the rocker a push, making Deedee overbalance so that she had to drop her feet to the floor to keep from falling. “I’m not kidding around with you. You got five minutes to put on your dress and shoes. You can take your hairpins out in the car.”

  “I told you, I an’t going. And I an’t!”

  The slap startled me as much as it did Deedee. She put one hand to her face while Raylene raised her arm again. “I said get up.” Aunt Raylene’s voice was soft but perfectly clear. “I just an’t gonna have this. Tonight or tomorrow, I’ll talk to you about your mama. Then you can whine and bitch to your heart’s content, curse and scream and do any damn thing you want. But right now, you’re going to her funeral the way she would want. If you don’t, ten years from now you’re gonna hate yourself for missing it, and I damn sure am not gonna let that go by. So get your butt up out of that chair and wash your face before I slap you silly.”

  Deedee hesitated, her mouth hanging open, and Raylene drew her hand back. Immediately, Deedee was up and into the house. We heard the water running briefly and then her feet on the stairs. Aunt Raylene sighed and pushed a few stray hairs back behind her ears. She looked over at me carefully. “Go get in the car,” she said. “We an’t got time for no more nonsense.”

  They had let Earle out of the county farm early so he could go to Aunt Ruth’s funeral. He showed up at the funeral home drunk, wearing a brand-new dark suit with his old work boots, and hanging on to the arm of a ridiculously young and skinny girl no one had seen before. I was out front standing with Raylene and Alma when we saw him coming up the steps. He gave me one quick nod but kept his attention on his sisters. When Raylene snorted at him, he told the girl to go wait in his truck.

  “Don’t get snotty, Raylene,” he said as the girl walked away. “That child is the only thing keeping me alive.”

  “And what are you doing for her?”

  “Everything I can, sister, everything she wants.”

  “You marry her, then?” Aunt Alma looked tired and impatient.

  “I’m going to. Hell yes. I am, I surely am.”

  “Goddam, Earle, you fool. One of your women gonna have you put in jail one of these days.”

  “An’t no woman ever gonna put me in jail.” Earle swayed a little on his old boots. “An’t no woman would dare,”

  “Aww, Earle.” Raylene shook her head at him and shrugged. She folded her big arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her breast. “I’m just glad you’re here.” When she let him go, she smiled for the first time since Ruth had died. “That child buy you that suit?”

  “Why? Don’t you like it?” Earle ran his hands down the sides of his suit coat. He was so thin that when he bent his arms the dark material flapped like a crow’s wing. His hair was still bristly short and close to his head, but dark again, as if he’d dyed it. He only looked like himself when he grinned in embarrassment. “Don’t you think she got me a good one?”

  “It’s good enough, especially since you didn’t have to pay for it.”

  Beau was wearing his best dark suit, but it didn’t fit him too well. He kept lifting one shoulder and then the other, trying to settle himself more comfortably. The smell of whiskey clung to him, but he looked more sober than he had in years—sober, irritable, and so nervous he was chewing on his lower lip. “Why the hell we just standing around here?” He turned to Raylene as if she were in charge. “This funeral should have been over two days ago, and now we’re standing on these steps like we an’t never gonna put Ruth in the ground.”

  “Beau!” Alma looked disgusted. “Don’t talk like that. The kids will hear you.”

  Raylene’s voice was soft and neutral. “We’re waiting ’cause Travis asked us to wait. He’s hoping Tommy Lee, Dwight, and D.W. will get here and go out to the grave with us.”

  “Hell! Those boys an’t coming. Nobody’s even seen Tommy Lee in two years, and last I heard D.W. was on his way to California.” Beau cleared his throat and spit. “Travis isn’t using his head.”

  “No, he an’t,” Raylene continued in that flat soft tone. “And you wouldn’t either in his place. Ruth wanted all her children to come home, and Travis has just been trying to do everything the way she wanted. Give him a few more minutes and the funeral director will get him moving. I don’t want you saying nothing to Travis.”

  “I wasn’t gonna say nothing to Travis.” Beau looked indignant. “I an’t a fool.”

  “Come on, Beau.” Earle put his hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Come out to the truck with me a minute.

  “Oh God!” Alma sounded like she was going to start yelling. “Now they’re gonna both be drunk.”

  “I don’t care.” Raylene took her handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her mouth. “Beau has a drink, I know how he’ll behave. I don’t know that man at all when he’s sober. Don’t know what he’ll do. But if Earle gives him a drink, he might even be able to cry. Let them take care of each other.”

  I saw Butch out at the gravesite, awkward in a dark suit that looked too big for him. He told me later that he had come there hours before and watched as the gravediggers finished rigging the canopy over the big hot-house sprays and ribbon-draped wreaths and pegged it down against the wind. It was cold and gray, with no sign of rain, just a steady harsh wind pushing at all the flowers. There was a big heart-shaped arrangement on a stand that read Mother in cursive script. He stood near it with his hands gripped tightly in front of him.

  “Bone,” he whispered when I came to stand beside him. “You better get a seat.”

  “I don’t want to sit.” The wind rocked the heart wreath, and we both put our hands out to steady it.

  “I heard you spent the summer with her.”

  “Yeah. ”

  “I got back once to see her just before Thanksgiving. Only got to stay a few days. Sorry I never got a chance to see you.” His voice was low. We watched everyone come over and take their seats. Mama, Raylene, Alma, and Carr gathered around Granny. I hadn’t seen Granny in a long time. She was gray-faced, empty-eyed, and slack-jawed.

  “She looks like the doctor gave her something,” I whispered to Butch.

  “Looks bad,” Butch agreed. His back stiffened, and he turned away for a moment to look out over the open field of low gravestones. When he turned back I saw his mouth was clamped shut and his eyes red-rimmed.

  Nevil, Earle, and Beau remained at a distance, watching until the hearse pulled up and the men gathered to carry the casket to the grave. I saw that Dwight and D.W. were with the others, but there was no sign of Tommy Lee.

  The wind was bitter. As they carried the coffin, the men struggled to keep the flowers on top of it. The preacher dropped his papers, and Little Earle ran to grab them. Patsy Ruth and Mollie were sitting with Reese, Grey and Garvey behind them. Temple was sitting with her husband, right behind Mama. Most of the other seats were filled with women from Bushy Creek Baptist. When the preacher began with “Brothers and sisters,”
they all nodded together.

  “Goddam,” I heard Butch mutter. “Goddam.”

  “Goddam,” I agreed.

  “There should have been music,” I told Butch when we were back at Aunt Ruth’s. He was sitting with me in the cane-back chairs Uncle Travis had put out in the backyard, reaching into his pocket and sipping surreptitiously from an almost empty little bottle of Ancient Age whiskey. He also had a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon under his chair, Nevil’s beer of choice, which he kept pouring into a metal coffee cup and drinking openly. I don’t know how much he’d had, but he looked relaxed and comfortable despite the cold, wearing one of Uncle Travis’s old army greatcoats and a plaid wool scarf wrapped around his neck. I had borrowed Uncle Nevil’s fleece-lined jacket and leather gloves, and wasn’t too chilled myself, but it wasn’t surprising that no one else had joined us.

  “What?” Butch muttered in my direction. “A little Carter Family caterwauling? Maybe that one about building your house for the Lord?” He snorted and began to sing a brief off-key chorus of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” His breath came out in pale little clouds.

  “You can’t sing,” I told him.

  “Hell, none of us can.” He passed me the whiskey. “You want a sip? Might warm you up.”

  I said nothing, just drank deeply. I liked the taste. It was strong, a little bitter, but warming.

  Butch laughed gently, tipped the bottle back, and refilled his cup with Pabst. “Don’t you tell your mama, now. She’d take my head off.”

  “Give me some.” I took the cup before he could object and poured as much as I could of the beer down my throat. It tasted mild after the whiskey, but it hurt to swallow, whether because it was so cold or that I drank such a big gulp, I couldn’t have said. For all I knew, beer was supposed to hurt going down.

  Butch peered closely at me. “You trying to get drunk?” he asked.

  “You think I can?”

  “Oh, pretty surely. But I might have to go get another couple of bottles if you want to do it up right.”

  “Earle’s in there too. Bet we could get some more whiskey from him or Beau.”

  “Whoa, Bone! Girl, you been growing up while I been gone? Drinking beer and stealing whiskey?”

  I drained his cup and handed it back. “They still should have had music. Aunt Ruth loved music.”

  “Yeah.” Butch knocked the cup against his knuckles, making a low hollow sound. “Yeah. She did. Used to love to play those scratchy old records. Kept them even after D.W. broke her record player. Always planned to buy her another one, but I never seemed to have any extra money. Couple of times I borrowed Earle’s record player for her just so she could listen to it.”

  “Earle loaned it to her last summer while I was there. We played a bunch of her stuff.”

  Butch smiled. “Don’t tell me. ‘Gospel Train,’ right? A little Hank Williams; the Monroe Brothers, Hazel Cole, and—who was that?—yeah, Blind Alfred Reed, right? Bet she even got out ‘Wabash Cannonball,’ and ‘Where the Soul of Man Never Dies.’ ”

  “‘Pistol Packin’ Mama.’ ” I reached under Butch’s seat for the Pabst bottle, took it up, and drained it. He stared at me, unbelieving. “She really loved that one. We sang it together all one afternoon.” I set the empty bottle back under his chair.

  His face crumpled slowly. “Goddam,” he whispered. “I forgot that one. Shit.” He dropped his head and covered his face with his hands. I watched his shoulders tighten, feeling far off and a little numb, the liquor like cotton batting all along my nervous system.

  “Christ damn,” Butch cursed, and stood up. “I hate this.” He kicked his chair over, kicked it again and knocked it a couple of feet away, went after it, and gave it another kick. “I didn’t think I’d feel like this. When I talked to Deedee, we both swore we weren’t gonna act like this, and there she is up in Mama’s bedroom now, crying like her heart’s broke, like she lost her best friend in the world. And hell,” he almost shouted, turning back to me, “she and Mama couldn’t barely stand each other. ”

  I nodded. “It don’t make sense, does it? I always thought Deedee hated Aunt Ruth, she talked so bad about her. But this morning ...” I paused to wipe my face. “It all looked different. ”

  “Goddam, you’re drunk.” Butch walked over to me, tilted my face back, and put his down close to mine. His lips pressed my lips, his tongue slipped in and pushed at my tongue, I pulled my head away in surprise.

  “How old are you now, Bone?” he asked.

  “I’ll be thirteen in May,” I told him.

  “Thirteen.” Butch nodded. “I always liked you,” he whispered. “Still do. You an’t always a damn fool like everybody else.” He straightened back up. “So don’t go making more out of this than there is.”

  I got to my feet carefully. The back of my skirt was stuck to my legs. I pulled it free with one hand and felt one of the scabs tear loose. I winced, but Butch had bent down to retrieve the beer bottle and didn’t see. I went back inside, walking slowly, placing one foot deliberately in front of the other. It was kind of interesting being drunk. I liked the numb part.

  In the overheated house, there seemed to be no good air left. The kitchen was full of women standing around talking and watching over the stove. Mama and Alma were sitting at the table, Alma leaning on Mama’s shoulder. Carr was over at the counter, slicing ham and laying it out on a platter. Temple and Mollie were with her, helping to put more food out. I didn’t see Raylene anywhere. I checked the parlor, but it was full of smoke, the smell of whiskey, and men talking in husky voices. Travis was on the couch with his head fallen back, his cheeks all flushed, the veins on his nose showing blue-purple.

  I went down the hall trailing my hands along each wall. This was not hard at all. As long as I moved slowly and kept my head up, there was no problem. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was sweaty, flushed. Sure looked drunk to me. I grinned. It was too hot. The window over the toilet seemed to be painted closed. I straddled the toilet, pounded on the window frame until it loosened, and opened it. Cool air washed over my face. I bent down, pulled my panties off awkwardly, skirt up, and without turning around dropped down backwards on the toilet seat. Peeing had never felt so wonderful before. I laid my cheek on the cool porcelain back of the toilet and just enjoyed the release.

  The door opened behind me. I pushed up, startled, and slipped, falling back down on the seat. Twisted around, I tried to push up again, but a loud abrupt hiccup plopped me right back on the seat again. Raylene laughed.

  “Who slipped you a drink, Bone?” She didn’t sound that angry. She pushed the door closed behind her and steadied me with one hand. “You’re about falling-down drunk.”

  “No, I’m not. I only had a little.”

  “Uh huh. Yeah.” She laughed and pulled some paper off the roll and handed it to me. “Come on. Let’s get you up.” Her hand was under my right elbow, helping me stand. I tried to back off the seat, but her grip held me.

  “Aunt Raylene.” I turned my head to look up at her again, ready to try and persuade her that I wasn’t really drunk. Her expression stopped me. She was looking down at my panties where they draped my left shoe, the brown stains in the seat showing clearly in the bright light. She pulled me back a little, and her left hand lifted my skirt. I tried to push it back down with my numb fingers, but she had a good grip.

  “Sweet suffering Jesus!”

  A shock went right through me. Suddenly I was terrified, unreasonably, horribly terrified.

  “No,” I begged. “No, please.” But the door was open. She was pulling me out. I hung back, but she was unstoppable. She pushed me into Deedee’s empty bedroom.

  “Earle,” Aunt Raylene was yelling. “Earle, come here. You and Beau, you come here.”

  “No.” I said it again. “Please, please.”

  “Be quiet, Bone. An’t nobody gonna hurt you. I swear to you, an’t nobody ever gonna hurt you again.”

  Earle pushed through the door. “Rayle
ne, what you yelling about? The kids are asleep upstairs, and you’re yelling loud enough to scare people in the next county.”

  Raylene whirled on him. “Shut up and look at this.”

  She turned me around and flipped my skirt up. I started to stutter. “No, no.”

  “Damn.” Earle’s voice was soft, and scarier than I could have ever imagined. I wrapped my fingers around the back of my neck, dropped my head, and shook all over.

  “Leave me alone,” I begged. My panties were still tangled on my left shoe.

  “Hush, hush.” Aunt Raylene’s arms wrapped around me like a blanket. She sat on the bed and pulled me up on her lap. “Hush.”

  Earle was gone. The door opened again, and Nevil and Beau were there.

  “It true?” Beau demanded. “That son of a bitch beat her bloody?”

  “Like a dog,” Raylene told him. “Child’s striped all the way down to her knees.” She pulled my panties free of my shoe and threw them at him. “I’d kill him.” She said it in a very matter-of-fact tone that made me believe her.

  “No,” I moaned.

  “Shit!” Nevil’s voice was barely recognizable. There was a scream from down the hall, a loud crashing noise, and Earle’s voice shouting, “I’ll murder you, you son of a bitch!” Nevil and Beau turned together.

  “No,” I pleaded. “Aunt Raylene, please!” But she just held me tight. I turned, started punching her, trying to get free. Mama’s arms came around me so suddenly I almost stopped breathing.

  “Mama! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Hush, Bone.” Her voice sounded just like Raylene’s had. “Just hush, baby. It’s all right.” Still terrified, I clung to her. Thudding, crashing sounds were coming from the front. They had gone out on the porch. Raylene stood with her back to the bedroom door, her arms crossed over her breasts, as if she expected us to try and fight her to get out. Mama just held me and whispered again, “It’s all right.”