He didn't make it sound like any sort of accusation or even a criticism. It was just a matter-offact statement. Even so. Mama would go off on one of her tirades about how he wanted her to be fat and ugly so other men wouldn't look longingly at her anymore.
"You used to be proud to have me hanging on your arm, Cameron Goodman. I could see how you would strut like a rooster, parading me in front of your friends, bragging with your eyes. I let you wear me like some piece of jewelry and I didn't bitch about it. did I? So why are you complaining now?"
"I'm not complaining. Lena, but there's more to life now. We're settled down. We have a home, a child. We should be building this family. too," Daddy pleaded, his big hands out, palms up like someone begging for a handout of affection and love.
"I told you a hundred times if I told you once. Cameron. We can't have any more children on your salary." she replied and turned away quickly to end the argument or to run from it.
That wasn't fair or even a good excuse. Daddy made a decent salary. He had always done well. Now he was the head of security for Cobbler's Market, a big department store on Ninth Street. He had been a military policeman in the army; after he came out, he started working different security positions until he was chosen to head up one and then another.
It wasn't just his size that recommended him for the job, even though he stood six feet four and weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He was considered a clear-thinking, sensible man who could manage other men. I know for sure that his calm, patient demeanor helped him get along with Mama. It took a great deal more than it took most men to get him to lose his temper. He seemed to know that when he did, he would unleash so much fury and rage. he couldn't depend on his power to rein it in. He was truly someone who was afraid of himself, of what he could or would do.
Amazingly, Mama never seemed afraid of him, never hesitated or stepped back even when it looked like she was treading on thin ice. I have seen her throw things at him, push him, even kick him. He was like a tree trunk, unmovable, untouched, steady and firm, which only seemed to get Mama angrier, Finally, frustrated with her inability to get the sort of reaction from him she wanted, she would retreat out of exhaustion.
"You're just like your father when it comes to your cold personality,' she accused, pointing her long, right forefinger at me like some prosecutor-- because to her way of thinking not to be outgoing and emotional was truly a crime. "There's where the ice comes into your veins. Certainly not from me. child. I'm full of heat she bragged. "A man looks into these eyes and he melts."
She would wait for me to agree or smile or look like I was envious. but I didn't do any of that and that brought a sneer to her lips.
"What is with you. girl? You think you're better than everyone around here or something?""
I shook my head vigorously.
"Because I never did anything to make you believe that. I never pumped you up with compliments and such until you walked around with your head back, looking like you got flies in your nose or something, did I? Well, did I?"
I knew she would keep at me until I spoke.
"No, Mama."
"No, Mama," she mimicked. "So?" she said, her hands still on her hips. "why are you home all the time, huh? Why don't you have girlfriends and boyfriends? When I was your age, my daddy put a double lock on the door to keep the boys out. Here you are seventeen,'" she said. "and you ain't been out on a real date yet. I don't hear the phone ringing either," she complained.
It nearly made me smile to hear her grievances. All the other girls my age were constantly moaning and groaning about how their parents came down on them for being on the phone too much or being out too late and hanging around with bad kids.
"Are you ashamed of this place, ashamed of us? Is that why you hardly ever utter a word? Your family embarrass you? Huh?"
I shook my head again.
"Because the worst kind of girl is a snob," Mama declared. "She's worse than the other kind who teases and such. Are you a snob? Is that what your friends think. too? You think because you have a nice singing voice, you can't waste it on us ordinary folks? Is that it? Because if it is, that's a snob. Well? Answer me, damn it."
"I'm not a snob. Mama," I insisted. "I'm not ashamed of you or Daddy either."
Tears tried to come m' to my eyes. but I slammed the door shut on them.
She raised her eyebrows, surprised she had gotten so strong a verbal reaction from me.
"No? Well, what are you then? What's your problem. girl? Why do people talk about you being strange and mute? People here say Good morning and you just nod or they ask you how you are and how your family is and you smile instead of talk. I hear about it. Some of them like rubbing it into me like oil or something. Is that why you don't have a close girlfriend and no boyfriends? I bet it is," she said nodding, "I know boys don't want to waste their time on someone who acts deaf and dumb.
"You ain't ugly, far from that. child. You look too much like me. What is it then? You just shy? Is that it? Was that grade-school teacher right about you years ago? You're Miss Bashful?'" She drew close enough to me that I could smell the whiskey on her breath. "Huh? You got no self-confidence?" She poked me in the shoulder. "You afraid they going to laugh at you?" She poked me again. "Well?"
I put my hand over my shoulder where it was getting sore. but I didn't cry or even grimace.
"What?" she screamed at me.
"No one interests me yet." I said calmly.
That stopped her. She thought about it a moment and then shook her head.
"Well, you don't have to think of every boy as your future husband. Ice. Don't you just want to go out and have a good time once in a while?"
I didn't answer.