Where she goin? I ax Chaney. It must be ten o’clock at night. Them chilren got school tomorrow.
He say, Letta, mind your own bidness.
I tell him, Those chilren is my bidness.
He say, Oh, keep still. White people act like that sometime. Maybe she gonna go buy her some cigarettes.
Ain’t no stores open now, I tell him. This was back when stores still closed up at five o’clock. You want somethin late at night, you just wait for it.
Oooh, I wanted to sass Chaney somethin bad! Tell him, Oh I forgot, Mister King-Know-It-All, you know everything there is bout white people!
But I helt my tongue that time. Chaney a good man, he just tryin to roll with the punches. That my Chaney’s motto: You got to roll with the punches.
So I walk myself down the lane, act like I just lookin up at the sky. And fore I know it, Miz Vivi just roarin right back into the driveway like her hair on fire. Musta turned round right at the end of Pecan Road. Herdin all four of them chilren back in the house.
It was a starry night and Siddy was standin there on the edge of the driveway holdin somethin in her hand, just cryin and cryin. Had on that white sweater with the dogs on it her cousin hand her down. I bet I knowed just the nightie she had on underneath it, cause I done Cloroxed, line-dried, and folded it in her drawer just that afternoon. I knowed every pair of little panties that child had. I could see her cause the carport light was still on. I don’t reckon she could see me, standin at the edge of the field in all that darkness. But I was there.
I woulda gone to her, only I be scart what her Mama gonna do. People be stickin they nose up in Miz Viviane Walker’s bidness, she cut it right off. I seen her do it to them chilren’s aunts, seen her do it later to Miz Necie when she got on her bout the drinkin in the mornin.
Then like I tell you, Miz Vivi stick her head out the kitchen door, and yell, You get your butt in this house, Siddalee Walker, before I give you something to cry about!
And I hear that tone in her voice, all full-up with bein mad at I-don’t-know-what-all. At things happened fore her chilren was even born. I seen her when Mister Big Shep first brung her out to Pecan Grove and they was courtin. Oooooh, she was pretty! Tiny little waist, all that curly hair and those hats. But she was mad even back then. I could smell it like when a hurricane be movin in.
When I witness how that woman treat her chilren, I start gettin myself over to that brick house earlier than she want me, just so I can check on my Siddy.
Miz Vivi be up in that front room sayin to her little daughter, Shut up and stand still! I’m not letting you go to Divine Compassion with your hair looking like a Two-Bit-Suze!
And Siddy wasn’t but what—six, seven years old—standin in front of that armoire mirror. And Miz Vivi jerkin on her long red hair so hard, she like to pull it out in clumps right off the child’s head. That child squirm and her Mama slap her, say: You’re just tender-headed! You damn redheads are too tender-headed!
Well, I had me two little nappy-headed girl chilren of my own and they was just as tender-headed as Siddy, and nary a one of them got no red hair! No ma’am, Miz Vivi be jerkin her child around just to make her cry. Just to be mean. She jealous of that girl’s hair, always has been. Her own hair got all thin-like after she had them four babies—five, countin the twin that the Lord done took. She used to get her head fixed at Mister Julian’s over by the City Park, but he quit usin her hairspray. Say it cause cancer. So she switch to Miz Jeannine, who she just love-love-love, but you know that don’t last long. Miz Vivi in love with you one day and drop you like a hot potato the next.
I say, Miz Vivi, you got your hands full tryin to get these chilren off to school in the mornin. Lemme fix Miz Siddy’s hair.
Her hands be all shaky, but she say, You don’t know a damn thing about hair, Letta. Now go do the breakfast dishes, then start on that hand-washing.
And Siddy be catchin my eye in the mirror like she tryin to thank me, but there ain’t one single thing I can do to stop her head from hurtin fore she catch her bus up to the nuns’ school. Don’t you know I was feelin it all in my heart, watchin, just standin there watchin? Wantin to tell that woman: That ain’t how you raise no child!
But I work for Miz Vivi. Me and Chaney live on their place. I had my own two chilren to think bout. Their clothes, their hair ribbons, their teefes.
The mornin after Miz Vivi done took off in the T-Bird and roared back, she tell me first thing: Letta, you get in Mister Big Shep’s room and haul out every single thing of mine. I’m not sleeping with that sonovabitch again as long as I live! Not if he’s dying of a heart attack and holding out a million dollar bill in his hand.
Well, she done said this sort of thing to me before, when we done went and ripped all the gold “HIS” monograms off they anniversary bath towels and writ SHITHEAD on them with Magic Markers. That was the time he took off wild-turkey huntin in Texas just when she was throwin that big fortieth birthday party for Miz Teensy. She had done hired a little combo and all, and set up men to tend bar and park cars and what all. And Mister Big Shep he up and left to go shootin turkeys. We done ruint all his towels, then she had me hang them in the bathroom right where he’d walk in and spot them.
Then me and her went in the deep freeze with a freezer marker and scrawled “CRAP” all over his frozen duck and deer meat he done put up. That was a shame cause you couldn’t even see the date when that game was kilt.
When that man got home, he give all that meat to Chaney and me. Us thawed it out and had a big cook-up! Our people thought we done hit the jackpot!
Everybody be settin round the table smilin, sayin, Oooh, this the best “crap” I ever ate!
Yeah, uh-huh, when Miz Vivi ain’t callin Mister Big Shep her Lover-Man, she callin him Poor Excuse. That what she say: He a damn poor excuse for a man.
But it sho look like she mean bidness with this bedroom move. I had to move out all her lingerie and makeup from the dresser and all her pretty what-nots she done collected from all over. And she say: Letta, you can take that picture of Mister Shep and me at Pat O’Brien’s and stuff it where the sun don’t shine.
I like to say, Don’t you be talkin like that to me.
But of course I don’t say nothin nohow. If it’s one thing I learnt in this life, it’s to bite my tongue when I got to, and yell when I don’t.
Chaney and me been livin at Pecan Grove all the time since we done been married. He been here even fore that, workin for Mister Big Shep and his daddy, Mister Baylor Senior. We used to live in them two-room shotgun houses on the bayou. Fallin-down steps. Newspaper on the walls. You had to walk through the bedroom to get to the kitchen. Yeah, uh-huh, and that outhouse! Wooo Lordy, havin to sprinkle that lime around, and all them flies, and it be stinkin to high heaven! And me havin to get myself out there in the middle of the night when I was carryin Ruby and Pearl and peein all the time. Uh-huh, that’s where we live when I first come here from my Mama’s house. Then Mister Big Shep he moved us outta them houses and put us in these new little white houses with the indoor plumbin and the attic fan and my good-size kitchen you can set down in. Oh yeah, Chaney be workin with Mister Big Shep every day of God’s world. And me up to the brick house cleanin and cookin and carin for them chilren ever since Siddy done left her Mama’s belly. I’m the one drove Miz Vivi to St. Cecilia’s to have Little Shep cause Mister Big Shep was out at the duck camp. But the times I try to say somethin in that house, seem like it just make things worse. So I bite my tongue till it like to bleed.
It took Miz Vivi a couple weeks to get all the way holy, after she start goin down talkin to that pig-face priest—the one what wore that big fat emerald ring. That man look like a mean cat to me is all I have to say. I don’t care whether he a man of God or not. Times he come over and track mud all over my clean tile floor right after I done finish my moppin. Couldn’t even be bothered to wipe his feet on the mat, like the mud on his shoes was the mud of Christ and we be lucky to have some of it. Mister Big
Shep don’t even do that! I had to stop myself from takin a broom to that priest and whompin him upside the leg.
But Miz Vivi be talkin to him every day and readin the book he give her on the life of the saints. We don’t have that book at the Good Shepherd Temple where my daughter Pearl sing in the choir. (That Pearl got the sweetest voice in the world. She my jewel. She my little Mahalia Jackson Jr.) I never laid my eyes on that book till that pig-face priest brung it into the brick house. I open it one day when I was in Miz Vivi’s room dustin and I like to get sick to my stomach. Pictures up in there of a man with all his insides gettin pulled out by a wheel! And a blind woman holdin her eyeballs up on a plate like she be offerin you a snack! This the kind of trash that man bring into the house. Like the Walker family ain’t got enough trouble already.
Then Miz Vivi start her goin to Mass every mornin and actin like she be prayin all day long. Makin up her lists of what be a sin and what not be a sin. And she all the time be linin it up for you. Like to wear me out!
She say, Letta, it’s a sin for you to wear that wig Chaney got you because it makes you vain.
Now, I done love that wig! I axed Chaney to buy it for me at Kress cause it got them shiny swirls in the front that do just right. You just slip it on and walk out the house, look like you straight out the magazines.
And she tell me it a sin the way I watch my stories on the TV while I fold the clothes.
I tole her, I gotta keep up with Julie and Doug on Days of Our Lives! They be up to somethin new all the time. One day he singin to her, call her Beautiful Lady Love, and the next day she be throwin him out the house cause he still be wantin Hope, his old wife. Even though Hope got her amnesium livin in another city, and done forgot all bout him. I done been watchin that story for years and years—and then Miz Vivi come and tell me it all filled with impurity and what-have-you.
But what really got me is when she done start up listin sins for the chilren. Her baby Baylor only four years old and she tellin him it a sin if he make any smackin noise at all when he be eatin his food. That child already got trouble swallerin. I seen it with my own eyes. I fix that boy a little ham sandwich and a Coke, and when he try to swaller, that bread get stuck up in his throat. He try workin it down, but his little throat so tight he just have to spit that food out. He look up at me like he in trouble and say, Letta, may I please be excused?
Like to break my heart into a million pieces right there on that breakfast room floor. Only thing he can get down is smashed bananas with cream and I feed him more of that than a child oughta eat.
Can’t a woman see what she doin to her own blood chilren is what I wanna know.
Then Miz Vivi done gone and perclaimed it a sin for Miz Lulu to set up in front of the bathroom mirror with her candy cigarettes pretendin she at a cocktail party. And that girl start eatin on her hair again, somethin I ain’t never seen in a child before or since.
Miz Vivi tole Mister Little Shep he can’t go near his cowboy boots cause they sinful footwear. Well, I got my own thought bout what kind of church say boots be sinful. Don’t you get me started.
All in all, though, Siddy be the one takin the holy bidness the worst. Cause she always tryin to do like her Mama anyway. Siddy start listin what is a sin for her own self—don’t even wait for her Mama to do it! She just find somethin she enjoy, then she decide it gotta be a sin and she start feelin all bad bout it.
She tell me, Letta, I can’t go outside and play on the pecan tree swing anymore, because I am putting that swing before God and that is a mortal sin.
I be thinkin, Maybe they got a different God than mine.
I say, Miz Siddy, babygirl, that ain’t no sin. That just swingin under the Lord’s blue sky.
But she say, No, I can’t swing anymore. And she set inside the house and look out the den windows while Miz Vivi up in her bedroom (what used to be the chilren’s schoolroom) fingerin them prayer beads.
Sometimes Siddy be cryin in her room off by herself and I go in and ax her, Baby, what is wrong?
And she say, I’m asking God to forgive me for thinkin unkind thoughts.
That brick house is gotta be the saddest place in the state of Louisiana, I tell Chaney when I get home. That place ain’t nothin but a big air-condition house of sadness.
And would you believe, Miz Vivi done got that pig-face priest to bring her one of them prayer kneelers into her new bedroom where them chilren used to have they desks and blackboards? And she brought her a white statue of that Virgin Mary. Two more things for me to dust. Then Miz Vivi she gone to the Catholic bookstore and bought herself a big old huge picture of that same Mary, with them eyes followin you all over the place. I don’t care where you standin in that bedroom—that old virgin be lookin at you. They not the eyes I want followin me, nuh-uh. I gets to where I shut my eyes every time I passes that picture. I just do my dustin and vacuumin and get myself out.
And Miz Vivi quit her singin like she always used to do. Used to, she be beltin out: Oh what a beautiful mornin it was! And she be singin how she got to love one man till she die! All them tunes what she used to love. Oh, she’d sing those songs all the time puttin on her makeup or layin out dressy dresses for Siddy and Lulu to wear to birthday parties. She loved to sing, that woman did.
She clear her throat, say Damn filthy cigarettes! Then she sing some more.
Also Miz Vivi even quit playin bourrée with her Ya-Yas for two–three months. She say Mister Big Shep forbid her to have anything to do with them, but I think she done made it all up in her head. I think she punishin herself cause she don’t have faith that the good Lord gonna hold her up. She don’t know nothin bout the Lord of mercy.
Ain’t nothin the same round that house since she done cut her foot all bad, got on them crutches and had that fight with Mister Big Shep. I didn’t see the fight, but I was in that house the next mornin, and I been round them two long enough to know how they can do each other.
Somehow hittin the Jack Daniels bottle still ain’t no sin in that house, though. Used to be, Miz Vivi wouldn’t start up till three o’clock just fore the chilren come home from the bus stop. But then she start makin herself them little what-they-call “Mimosas” first thing in the mornin. She pour it in a cup so I think she drinkin coffee. I got news for her: You don’t have no ice cubes chinkin the side of no coffee cup. Chink-chink-chink, that the sound in that house. Chink-chink-chink and the sound of that big old central air condition whirrin all the time. By the time I get to my stories, she already done had her a few. Not so no one else can tell, but I know how her voice dip down and get all relaxed the way it do when she drinkin. Oh yeah, she might quit a few days here and there, but she gain one or two pounds, then she get right back on the sauce. She say her drinkin keep her weight down. She say she the same size six she was in high school. And if she get fat, she gonna pay the Ya-Yas to shoot her. But she still announcin to everyone she ain’t touched a drop of whiskey since Mardi Gras. Uh-huh. I keep my lips zipped, is what I do.
See, one time I gone to her when she was in the den settin on the window seat with her saints book. Chaney done laid a fire for her, even though it wasn’t cold outside. She cranks up that central air condition and I don’t care if it’s ninety degrees outside, she announces to everyone that she need a fire. That’s what Miz Vivi always say when she be wantin somethin: I need it.
She look calm-like, so I says: Miz Vivi, I been workin for you more than ten years and you know I wouldn’t do nothin to hurt this family.
I know that, Willetta, she say.
And I tell her, I don’t mean no disrespect to the Walkers. Yall been good to me and my family. But somethin bad wrong goin on in this house, Miz Vivi.
She drag on her cigarette and say: Oh, don’t I know, Letta, don’t I know. There is more sin in this house than anyone will ever be forgiven for.
Well I don’t know bout that, I tell her, but your chilren is gettin mighty shook up the way you and Mister Big Shep be carryin on. Can’t you two say I’m sor
ry and let bygones be bygone?
She don’t move from the window seat, just look out the window like she gonna get a answer from the sky. Then she look at me all blank-face like I be a stranger. Look at me like we hadn’t been in that house together six days a week for ten—goin on eleven years. Like we ain’t cleaned up those chilren together when they been throwin up from the flu.
She look at me like I’m a nigger offa the street and she say: Willetta, you are a maid in this house. You are not a confessor, you are not a friend. You are a maid. Do not ever give me advice about how to handle my life again as long as you live. Do I make myself clear?
Yas’m, I tell her. You real clear. You clear as can be.
And then I gone outside and hung sheets on the line. It was a good day for laundry, lots of wind and not too cloudy.
I swore to keep my mouth shut after that, never open it up again. All I could do was stand on the edge of that driveway and watch, try to let them chilren know I was there, even if it was only with my prayers.
Specially Siddy. She start up with her asthma and three–four times Chaney and me had to take her up to St. Cecilia’s. She get it at night after Miz Vivi and Mister Big Shep done passed out from drinkin. I thank God they was out, cause if they was to try and drive in the shape they was in, that girl wouldn’t need no oxygen, cause she woulda been dead in a car wreck. Baylor the one who call us up. I taught him our number soon as he could count—3-3-9-0. I get him to sing with me and show him the numbers on the dial phone. That was way fore you had your push-button emergency. He call, so me and Chaney go up to the house to get Siddy. She be wheezin and holdin her chest and that long red hair all tangled up in her face and she be holdin onto me. And I say: Just take it easy, babygirl, you gonna be alright.
I put her in the truck between Chaney and me and all I can do is rub her back, see can I get her to calm down. Half the time she got red belt whelps on her ankles and legs. And Lord, I don’t wanna even think what kinda marks she got under her little nightie. But those doctors at St. Cecilia, they don’t say nothin bout them marks. They know she Mister Big Shep’s and Miz Vivi’s child. They just hook her up on the oxygen and give her a shot. Ain’t nobody in this town gonna say nothin to nobody bout the way they raise they chilren.