'She better cut it out, by God,' he said. 'She gets sick on me, I'll put her in a hospital. Make her stay there until I say she can leave. Get some real doctors to look after her, and-Yeah? Dammit, if you got something to say, say it!'
I tried to say it, to tell him the truth. But I didn't get very far. He broke in, cursing, when I said Mama wasn't really sick; then he stopped scolding and cursing and said, well, maybe I was right: sure, she wasn't really sick.
'Probably just over-et,' he said. 'Probably just been workin' too hard… That's about the size of it, don't you think so, Myra? Couldn't be nothin' serious, could it?'
'No, Papa,' I said. 'P-papa, I keep trying to tell you-'
'Why, sure, sure,' he said. 'We're-you're getting all upset over nothing. You just calm down now, and everything will be fine. There's not a thing in the world to worry about. Doc will get Mama up on her feet, and we'll all go to the graduation together, and-Now cut out that goddamn bawling, will you? You sound like a calf in a hailstorm.'
'P-papa,' I sobbed. 'Oh, Papa, I j-just feel so bad that-'
'Well, you just cut it out,' he said, 'because there ain't a damned lick of sense to it. Mama's going to be just dandy, and-an'-'
Doctor Ashton was coming down the stairs. Papa kind of swallowed, and then went out to the foot of the staircase to meet him.
'How-how is she, Doc?' I heard him say. 'Is she-?'
'Your wife,' Doctor Ashton said, 'is in excellent physical condition for a woman her age. She is as healthy as the proverbial horse.'
Papa let out a grunt. I could almost see his eyes clouding over like they do when he's angry. 'What the hell you talkin' about, anyway? What kind of a doctor are you? My wife's-'
'Your wife is not sick. She has not been sick,' said Doctor Ashton, and, ooh, did he sound mean! He had everything pretty well figured out, I guess, and the way he dislikes Papa it tickled him to death. 'That's a very hand- some outfit you're wearing, Pavlov. I take it that you planned on attending the graduation exercises tonight.'
'Well, sure. Naturally,' Papa said. 'Now, what do you mean-'
'It must have come as quite a surprise to your family.' The screen door opened, and Doctor Ashton stepped out on the porch. 'Yes, quite a surprise. The apparel, that is, not your plans for attending the exercises.'
Papa said, 'Now, listen, goddammit. What-' Then he said, 'Oh.' Just the one word, slowly, dully.
'Yes,' the doctor said. 'Well, there's no reason at all why you can't attend, Pavlov. None at all. That is, of course, if you still want to.'
He laughed softly. He went on out to his car, and drove away. And minutes later it seemed like I could still hear that laugh of his.
I waited in the kitchen, stood right where I had been standing. Not moving, except for the trembling. Hardly even breathing.
And Papa stayed out in the hallway. Not moving either, it seemed. Just standing and waiting, like I was standing and waiting.
I was sure he was just working up to an explosion. Putting all the mean ugly things together in his mind, so he could cloud up and rain all over me and Mama. That was what he was going to do, I was sure, because he'd done the same thing before. Made us wait, you know. Wait and wait, knowing that he was going to do something and getting so jumpy we were about to fall apart. And then suddenly cutting loose on us.
I wished that he'd cut loose now, and get it over with. I wished he'd just do it, you know; not because it was so hard to go on waiting, but because it would kind of even things up. And maybe he'd stop feeling the way he must be feeling now.
It sounds funny-or, no, I guess it doesn't-but I'd never really cared about how he felt before. I mean, I'd never actually thought about his having any feelings-about being able to hurt his feelings. Because you'd never have thought it from the way he'd always acted. He'd always gone out of his way to show that he didn't care how anyone felt about him or acted toward him, so…
Maybe Mama is right. She was an awfully pretty girl back when she married Papa, and Papa was kind of short and stocky like he is now, and about as homely as a mud fence. So, since she never could express herself very well and she's always been so kind of frozen-faced and shy- just embarrassed all to pieces just by the mention of love or anything like that-why, maybe Papa did think she married him just to get away from the orphanage. And maybe that's the reason, partly the reason, anyway-
Oh, I don't know. And the way things are now, I couldn't care less. Because he certainly doesn't care anything about me, even if he might have at one time.
How could he-a father that would actually kill his own daughter if he found out a certain thing about her?
Bobbie says I have things all wrong; Papa would do it because he cares so much. But that just doesn't make any sense, does it, and as sweet and smart as Bobbie is, he can say some awfully foolish things.
Well, anyway, getting back to that night:
Papa didn't do what I expected him to. He started for the kitchen once, but he stopped after a step or two. Then he took a couple of steps toward the stairs, and stopped again. Finally, he went to the screen door and pushed it open, paused with one foot inside the house and the other on the porch.
'Got to go back to the office,' he called. 'Won't want any supper. Won't be able to go to the graduation. You and Mama have a good-you two watch out for the squirrels.'
I called, 'P-papa-wait!' But the screen door slammed, drowning out the words.
By the time I got to the door, he was a block up the street.
He never wore those clothes again. I saw Goofy Gannder in the Homburg one day, so I guess Papa probably gave him the whole outfit, and Goofy traded the other things for booze.
Well, as I was saying, Mama really had tried to help me that one time, at least, and it wasn't fair to say that she hadn't. Also, as I was about to say, it wasn't very nice of me to get her to try anything again. She'd have to face Papa afterwards. He'd take out on her what he couldn't take out on me, and an old woman like that- she was forty-six her last birthday-she just wouldn't be able to take it.
Aside from that, it probably wouldn't do any good; I mean, she probably wouldn't get away with whatever she was thinking about doing. She'd be so scared and unsure of herself that she'd make a botch of it, get herself into a lot of trouble without making me any better off than I was now.
So… so I finished putting up my hair, and went back to my bedroom. I put on a robe, went downstairs and told Mama I was sorry about the way I talked to her.
She didn't answer me; just turned away looking hurt, sullen-hurt. I put my arms around her and kissed her, and tried to pet her a little. That got her all red-faced and embarrassed, and kind of broke the ice.
'It's all right, girl,' she said. 'I don't blame you for being upset, and I'll do what I said I would.'
'No, Mama,' I said. 'I don't want you to. Honestly, I don't. After all, you said you were sure it wouldn't do any good, so why take chances for nothing?'
'Well, I'm pretty sure that it wouldn't-that I couldn't get any money from this party. But…' She paused, relieved that I was letting her off, but a little suspicious along with it. 'Look, girl. You're not planning on- on-'
'On what?' I laughed. 'Now, what in the world could I do, Mama? Hold up a bank?'
Actually, I wasn't planning on doing anything. The idea didn't come to me until later, when I went back upstairs. It seems kind of funny that I hadn't thought of it before- under the circumstances, I mean-but I guess it actually really wasn't so strange. I just hadn't been desperate enough until now.
'So you just forget all about it, Mama,' I said. 'Don't do anything tonight, anyway. If something else doesn't turn up in a few days, why-'
