"Sure I do. I don't want to owe anyone money," he said. We knew he meant he didn't want to owe Daddy. "Brenda, you keep copies of all the news clippings from the sports pages. I'm going to brag about my niece everywhere I go."
"Thank you, Uncle Palaver, I will."
"And April, you keep looking under things. Magic happens when you least expect it," he told me.
Brenda and I hugged and kissed him, and then Brenda looked at me to tell me we should leave him and Mama alone for a few moments.
"I've got to get to my homework," she said. "Me, too," I added, and we went into the house.
We both stood inside the doorway and looked out through the window on the side. Mama had her head down. and Uncle Palaver was talking to her. Finally, he just reached out to embrace her and held her. He kissed her forehead, turned, and went into his motor home. Mama stood there with her arms folded and watched him pull away. She looked so small and alone to me, it took all my power to stop myself from charging out to embrace her as well.
"Let her be." Brenda said firmly. "The more you cry in her arms, the longer it will take for her to get back on her feet.
When we last a game, we feel bad for a while, but we look forward to the next, April. Otherwise, we might as well quit. Understand?"
I nodded.
"C'mon," she said. I'll challenge you to a game of checkers. The way you are right now. I might just beat the pants off you."
"No, you won't." I said.
The smile began in her eyes. I could hear her thinking. That a girl That's my sister.
Mama was right about what would soon follow. The news of Daddy's departure spread yen' quickly, and the phone calls began and continued all the following week. Most of the women who called her used the excuse of just seeing how she was holding up and if there was anything they could do to help her in any way. What each wanted was to get closer, be on the inside, so she could be the one with the news bulletins. Fortunately, most of these calls happened while Brenda and I were in school. When we were home and we did hear her answer the phone and talk, her voice was always so thin, so low, so full of pain.
Despite her brave declarations about how she would carry on, she didn't look for work or even entertain the idea if someone else brought it up. Returning to college was as distant a dream as anything could possibly be. She left the house only to do what had to be done, and every night she greeted us with a new revelation about something Daddy had done, something good. It was easy to see that was how she held on to hope.
"Your father arranged for all our stocks and bonds to be handled by a money manager. I don't have to worry about any of it," she told us. "He arranged for the man who takes care of his offices to look after our house needs and problems. too. I really don't have to do anything, be anywhere. All the bills are being paid electronically! I don't even have to go to the bank," she said after we urged her to get out more often.
Both Brenda and I quickly understood that she wanted to be near the phone in anticipation of Daddy's calling, apologizing, begging to return. That call never came.
At school. Brenda was less bothered than I was by other students, especially girls on her team who had questions or comments about what was going on in our lives. Even without these events, she was not as approachable or as vulnerable. It was truly as if her skin were tougher than mine. Her aggressiveness on the court carried over into the classrooms and hallways of the school. Most girls were nowhere as competitive as she was, and most weren't interested in challenging her.
They surely talked about her behind her back. but Brenda never cared. She seemed above it all, moving on her own plane, her own level, years beyond the others. It was as if she had left long ago and her body still had to work at catching up.
Those who always made fun of me because of my weight or whatever were eager to tease me about Daddy. The boys said things like. "He had to leave to get something to eat. You probably ate everything in the house." I would never say it wasn't painful, but Brenda's admonitions were stronger. I didn't talk back or fight back. The last thing I wanted to do was get into any trouble now. After a while. I was returned to the shelf of disinterest. I was too boring a subject, after all, and what little they gained or enjoyed wasn't enough to sustain the teasing.
I devoted my energy to my studies, and to everyone's surprise, including my own, my grades began to improve seriously. Even Mr. Leshman stopped me on the way out of his class one day to tell me how pleased he was with my grades.
"I'm very happy for you." he said, which struck me as a very ironic and strange remark. How could anyone be happy for me for any reason these days? Of course, few realized how hard it was back home. with Mama slowly fading away. She was losing weight, and she wasn't taking anywhere near as much care of herself as she used to take, whether it be her hair or her makeup or her wardrobe.
She spent so much of her time cleaning the house. I thought she would vacuum the rugs into threads. Not a speck of dust was permitted, not a smudge on a window or a glass. It was almost as if she blamed poor housekeeping for her problems and was out to change it dramatically. Somehow, she had disappointed Daddy by permitting a stain to linger or a smudge on a window. No matter what time Brenda or I returned from school, she was at one house chore or another. And when the house was spotless and shining everywhere, she turned her attention and enemies to the garage.
Despite Daddy's suggestions, she did nothing with his clothing, and Uncle Palaver had refused even to look at any. She went into his office to clean and polish, but she didn't put anything away or take anything out. The truth was, she was living and working as if she really expected he would appear one day. She practically admitted it, telling us, "Your father isn't one to just pick up and leave like this. It's one thing for him to stay away for a day or two on business, but another to start a new life. I've spoiled him. No woman is going to spoil him like I did, especially not one of these modern women."
"What's a modern woman?" Brenda asked quickly.
"You know, one who wants a cook and a maid to do all her housework and expects expensive gifts regularly. They never put themselves out of joint for anyone."
"That's ninety percent of the mothers of kids at our school," Brenda told her.
"Exactly."
"So what do yo
u think. Mama?" Brenda continued. "He's going to show up and declare he had amnesia or something?"
"I don't know. I just... I don't know," she said.