Or, at least, the only good one I’d met.
He didn’t hit her.He didn’t hit me.Both of these my daddydid before he took off and we never saw him again.And other ones did besides(her and me).
He didn’t steal her money (Daddy did that too).He didn’tlook at me in a way that made my skin feel funny (it was good that Daddy didn’tdothat).He didn’t eat all the food in the house and drink allMomma’s beer and bourbon and then complain there was never any food or beer orbourbon in the house and ride her behind until she got in her junker car andwent out to get more for him (and yeah, Daddy had done that too).
Those kinds stayed around a lot longer than this one did.
Too long.
But never that long.
They always left.
Like Daddy did.
And I never missed them.
Yes, even Daddy.
But I’d miss this one with his twinkly eyes and his softvoice and the way he called me sweetheart not like that was what I was, butthat was what he had.A sweet heart.
No, there were not a lot of those kinds.Not for Momma.
Not for me.
“Stretch!” she shrieked.“You get back here,Stretch!Get back here!”
The front door slammed.
“Fucking motherfucker!” Momma screamed.
I closed my eyes.
Let myself drift away.
And I started again to build my castle.
“A Southern woman always has her table laid.”
Miss Annamae was talking to me in her pretty dining roomwith the big dining room table all laid with the finest china, sparklingcrystal, shining silver, and its big bunch of light-purply-blue hydrangeas withcream roses set in the middle.
She adjusted a napkin in its holder sitting on a plate thatwas sitting on a charger that was resting on a pressed linen tablecloth.
“If she’s fortunate,” Miss Annamae went on, and standingopposite the table to her, the fingers of my hands wrapped over the back of atall chair, all ears, like I always was when I was with Miss Annamae, I watchedher move around the table with difficulty.She wasn’t a young woman.She alsowasn’t a beaten one, even losing both her kids and her husband and having tocarry on alone.“She can change it with the seasons.I have Christmas china.”Her faded blue eyes turned to me and a smile set the wrinkles in her face toshifting.“But you’ve seen that, haven’t you, Miss Daisy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And I had.Miss Annamae did her house up real pretty atChristmas.She always made sure I came over so she could show me all around andgive me a tin of Christmas cookies she baked herself.
Momma had been working for Miss Annamae now for over twoyears.It was the longest job she’d ever had.She usually got fired a lotsooner than that.
I reckoned Miss Annamae kept her on as her daily girl notbecause she liked her or she did good work and kept a tidy house (which she didnot, not Miss Annamae’s and definitely not ours).I also didn’t reckon she kepther on because she liked the fact Momma would be late a lot, show up hungover alot, call off sick a lot, or one of her “men friends” would show at MissAnnamae’s big, graceful mansion and cause a ruckus.
No, I didn’t reckon any of this was why Miss Annamae kepther on.
I didn’t know why Miss Annamae kept Momma on.
Except for the fact she was a good Southern woman.
