Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

“Huh?”

I hurried along until we reached the house. Aunt Mae Louise looked like she had been waiting at the doorway for quite a while to greet me.

“How was your first day at school?” she asked as soon as I entered behind Barbara Ann. Jake was still attending a preschool at a different location.

“Peachy,” I said. “It’s run like a prison.”

“I’m not surprised to hear you say that. I’m sure you’re not accustomed to a well-run school,” she replied. “Never mind. Put your things away, change into something you can work in, and come to the kitchen. I’m rearranging the pantry and I want to clean it out first. Then we’ll work on dinner, and you can set the table before you wash up and dress for dinner.”

“Dress for dinner?”

“We always dress for dinner,” she said. “The dinner table is a special place for a family and should be treated with respect.”

I looked at her as if she had gone crazy, and she pulled those tiny shoulders back as she usually did when she didn’t like something I said or did.

“Hurry up and do what I say,” she snapped.

I wanted to say, “Aye, aye, sir,” and salute, but I knew it would only make her more angry.

She had me take everything off the pantry shelves and dust and polish. Then, I had to put it all back in an organized manner, alphabetizing soups, pasta, rice, and vegetables and fruit in cans. Every once in a while, she would look in and tell me I had a d or a g in the wrong place and

I had to take it all off and rearrange it.

“Concentrate on what you’re doing,” she said. “You know your alphabet at least, don’t you?”

“What difference does it make if a soup starting with c comes after one starting with t?” I asked, referring to the chicken noodle and the tomato I had confused.

“I can tell instantly what I need. That’s what. Being organized saves us money and time. I can just imagine what your mother’s cabinets were like.”

I shrugged.

“Most of the time, empty,” I said, but she didn’t think that was funny.

Finally, I finished it to her satisfaction, and she sent me off to clean up and dress for dinner. I had no idea what she considered proper, but I showered and put on a black dress Mama gave me last year when she remembered she had forgotten my birthday. It was one of hers when she was younger and much slimmer. I hadn’t worn it since then, and when I put it on, I realized it was tight, especially around my breasts. It had a V-necked collar and because of the way it lifted and tucked, my cleavage deepened. I was going to change into something else when Barbara Ann opened my door to say, “Mama says it’s time to come to dinner. Right now,” she added. “Daddy’s already sitting at the table and Mama says you got to help serve,” she whined.

“Maybe I’ll help her eat it, too,” I said.

“What did you say?”

“Get your ears fixed,” I muttered as I charged past her.

Uncle Buster looked up as soon as I entered the dining room. Jake was already seated and sitting like a proper marionette with his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. Aunt Mae Louise came out of the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth opening and closing.

“What’s that you’re wearing to my dinner?” she cried.

“You said to get dressed up, and this is the best I have,” I told her; Uncle Buster was just staring, a little wide-eyed.

“That’s disgusting. You might as well have come in here naked,” she spit back at me. “Where did you get such a dress? Does Horace know you have it?”

“Mama gave it to me for my birthday last year. It was one of hers.”

“Well, that figures.”

“You want me to go change or what?”

“No,” she said. “We’re not eating a cold supper because you don’t dress properly. Get in here and bring out the string beans and then the mashed potatoes. Barbara Ann, you bring out the pitcher of cold water, and don’t spill any of it.”

She placed a roast chicken in front of Uncle Buster. He was still staring at me, now shaking his head slightly.