Regardless, it doesn’t do to put too much weight on the idle words of idle tongues.
About that time the girls started screamin’ at each other and throwin’ breakable shit, so I sent Patty home, and Anne headed home too.
The bathwater is murky from my filth of the day and the Soir de Paris I sprayed in it while the water was runnin’. Clay and me didn’t make solid plans for tonight, but he asked if he could see me. And that would be the onliest reason for the Soir de Paris. But I doubt Mama will be inclined to let me go out again after gettin’ in late last night. That is if he comes by at all. Who knows? Maybe some nice deacon’s wife is keepin’ him company tonight.
Coralene walks in the bathroom without knockin’, and I shoot her a glare.
“How many times I gotta tell you to knock when you know somebody’s in here?”
Keeping her feet planted, she leans sideways back to the door and knocks on it from the inside. Smart-ass.
“Mama says you takin’ too long, cuz other people gotta use the bafroom,” she informs me.
“I’m almost done.”
“No! You gotta come outta there now.”
“Li’l girl, you bes’ watch your tone with me.”
“I’m just tellin’ you what Mama said.”
I feel a strong urge to teach her a real lesson. Like maybe reach out and tug on one a them pigtails without usin’ my hands, but then she’ll be havin’ nightmares and wakin’ me up at all hours. The twins are still too young to know what powers they’ll soon have. They got a good six or seven year before the jube comes for them. About the time they’ll be gettin’ their periods. Jubilation and menstruation are inextricably linked in our family.
“I’m comin’. Get out.”
“No, I’m sposeta bring you back wif me.”
“Out, or Imma dunk your head in here and wash that mop a yours!” This is enough to send her squealin’ from the room. I empty the tub and dry off. I get into my nightgown and make a firm decision. If I don’t hear from Clay tonight, I refuse to cry. Not gonna happen. I will not be the girl who can’t have an enjoyable evening without the attentions of a boy. Man. Either one.
In my bedroom (which ain’t too much bigger than a closet, but it’s mine and I love it), I look over my little bookshelf. I don’t have a whole lotta books, and most a the ones I have, I already read at least twice. There’s just one I’ve barely touched. That damn Ulysses. One a the old white ladies Mama used to work for gave us this box of donations once, and that book was in there. Books are rare cuz books ain’t cheap, so we cherish them. But this one I have yet to make heads or tails of. I pick it up again, just outta curiosity. I read the first seven lines. Nope. I slam that thing shut and shove it back on the shelf. I don’t think me and James Joyce’ll ever be on friendly terms.
I smile at my worn-out copy of The Golden Book of Astronomy, a childhood gift from an old auntie who has since passed on. I know it’s really for kids, but it’s still my favorite book. It’s always here for a reread when I need comfort. Just not in the mood for it right now.
I plop on my bed and sigh. I know Wagon Train’s on, so I could go out and watch that with Mama. Then again, I hate Wagon Train. Whatever it takes, I will find something to do tonight!
My door flies open. “Mama says gimme a bath,” Doralene announces.
Great.
“Didn’t you have one last night?”
“No, that was Coralene.”
“Give yourself a bath. You’re big enough.”
“Mama says you have to make sure I wash my butt and my bird.”
“Jesus,” I say under my breath.
“I’m tellin’ Mama you said Jesus.”
“What can I say? The holy spirit just hits me sometimes,” I mutter. She still wants to tattle, but now she’s confused. I go into the bathroom to run her bathwater.
“Mama says I can see my daddy on Sunday,” Doralene says, stepping into the water. “Too hot!” I know damn well that water’s barely tepid, but I humor her and sprinkle in a few drops of cold. Then she sits down in it.
“How comes you don’t never come wif us?”
“Because he’s not my daddy,” I say. “I tell you that every time you ask me.”
“Nuh-uh. You told Coralene.”
“I told the both a ya.”
“You don’t like him?”
“It’s not about that. If he lived with us, that’d be one thing, but he doesn’t. So he’s your family. Not mine.”
“Why ain’t he your daddy too?”
“Because I already had one before you were even a thought. Wash.”
Mama opens the door and walks in, because nobody in this family knows how to knock.
“You got a visitor,” she says.
“Tell ’em I’m busy,” Doralene instructs.
“Not you!” Mama frowns at me. “What you want me to tell him?”
So he did show up.
“I don’t know. Am I allowed out tonight?”
“Oh, that’s right! I almost forgot! You can wait ’til the weekend to go out.”
Goddamnit! She’d already forgotten about last night! I’m an idiot.
“Then I guess you can tell him I’m sorry, and I’ll call him later,” I say, tryna sound like it’s no big deal and I’m not devastated.
“You’ll call him?” she asks.
I nod and point out some dirt that Doralene’s missed on her leg.
Mama’s lips curl into a sly grin. “You didn’t even ask me who was at the door.”
My cheeks flush.
“Why don’t you go down and tell him yourself,” she says, taking my place by the tub. “Tell Coralene she can come in here with us. And cover up first,” she warns, glancing at my chest. My nightgown ain’t
