| |
The Afternoon Tea
By
Roxanne Ansoabehere
"You must work hard, Rose, harder than you did in high school."
The girl bit her lip.
"Don't bite your lip. A lot's riding on this. You know that?"
The girl nodded and tried to keep her hands still. She knew if she moved them her mother would say, "Hands still, Rose. Refinement means sitting in a state of grace. Always."
"You know this family's made certain sacrifices, certain...." her mother paused and looked for the words, but there was no need. Her brief glance at the ceiling had been the silent gesture between them for the past few weeks, ever since Grandma Hannah had come to live there.
Her mother dropped her voice, "You know, don't you Rose?"
The girl nodded again. The family's decision to sell her Grandmother's house for her college tuition had been long discussed. It was settled when Uncle Gerald stood, hooked his thumbs in his pants and announced, "She's the only one who'll do it. All the rest of 'em are no good and we," he looked at his brother and two sisters, "hell, we never even thought of going to college."
"So," he said deliberately, "Mama comes here, stays in Rosie's room, we sell the house and that'll settle it for four years."
"You are aware of the sacrifices?" Her mother's voice was a drill in Rose's ear. She knew that her Grandma's rattling, long hack and each plaintive entreaty, "Could somebody help me?" made her mother grip the edges of the kitchen counter.
Rose was scheduled on the Saturday morning bus at seven. This would give her just enough time to get in, take a bus to the college and arrive for the President's Tea. The whole family would see her off, but on Wednesday her Uncle Henry drove up in a faded VW bug that shuddered and shook when he cut the engine.
He stepped out and boomed, "Everybody! Rosie! Come look what I got!"
Even Grandma Hannah came downstairs to see it, leaning against her until Rose could feel the small tremors of the old woman and smell the lavender powder she used.
After a few minutes, the old woman turned to Rose and said, "Now you'll go in style," and winked. Rose smiled and looked at the car, but burned as she thought, "They don't understand. They don't understand at all."
"Take me upstairs now. I'm tired," the old woman said.
Rose led her back. They paused at each step of the long stairway while the old woman pulled at her chest for breath. The sound was wet and diseased and made Rose want to run.
She hadn't been in her room during the entire two weeks her Grandmother had been there and she barely recognized it. The drapes were drawn and a small lamp shone on the bedside table. The table itself was littered with bottles of pills and jars of creams. There was a hot plate that kept a small pan of Vicks water constantly steaming. "Helps me breathe," she wheezed, but the smell made Rose sick.
She tightened her fists and thought resentfully, "I'll never get the smell of Vicks out after she dies."
The old woman let go of Rose's arm and shuffled over to the bed, put her hands on the mattress and lowered herself.
On the nightstand table was a half-filled glass of water and as soon as she sat, her Grandmother put her hand to her mouth and pulled out her teeth, dropping them in the glass. Rose stared at the magnified teeth.
"Come here, Rosie," she said.
Rose paused. The old puckered face and the black cave of her Grandmother's mouth was a nightmare of need that threatened to swallow her.
"Look in the top drawer of that bureau."
Rose went to the bureau and opened the top drawer.
"Pull out that little box."
Rose lifted a small square box and then turned toward her Grandmother.
"This one?"
The old woman nodded.
"Come here and sit, honey," she patted a spot on the bed next to her.
Rose settled herself lightly on the bed.
"Open it," the old woman instructed.
There were three thin handkerchiefs inside, so thin that if she held them to the light she'd be able to see through them. On each was a small flower had been carefully embroidered in the corner, folded and pressed.
"When a lady goes off to college she's got to have a handkerchief."
The old woman smiled at Rose.
"Thank you," Rose whispered, but she did not take them from the box.
The old woman looked at her granddaughter for a long time and once satisfied patted her knee gently and said, "Go on now, honey, I'm tired and need to rest."
Rose stood up quickly and walked toward the door. Just before she closed it, her Grandma began a long, chest-rattling hack. Rose silently shut the door.
When she was three hours away from home the engine suddenly stopped. One minute there was power and force the next moment, nothing.
She steered the coasting car to the side of the road. Tried to turn it over once, twice. Checked the gas gauge, three quarters full.
She turned around and looked down the road. Nothing. But in the other direction there was what looked like a box-like house set off the road. Rose sat for a few more minutes, but when no cars passed she grabbed her purse and started toward the house.
Her ankles wobbled as she negotiated the road's gravel in her heels. She was dressed in her best outfit since it would save time once she arrived at the college. The President's Welcoming Tea for freshman was at three o'clock; it was already noon and she had two more hours of driving. She walked faster.
"Hello!" Rose knocked on the front door of the squat house. "Hello!" she called again.
She walked to the front window and peered inside. There was a couch covered with plastic facing an old-fashioned television with wire hangers instead of rabbit ears. The floor was covered with a faded, braided rug whose coils had separated in places and in the middle of the floor was a mound of large plastic building blocks.
To the left of the living room was another room, there was no door and the hinges protruded like missing, gapped teeth. "At least it's clean," Rose muttered.
She stood up.
"HELL-LO," she yelled. And the sound died in the vast, barren landscape. She walked to the edge of the porch and looked out at the flat, lonely chaparral, this was the most isolated leg of the trip - a thirty-mile stretch before the interstate and then the highway that would, after an hour and a half, lead her to college.
She approached an overstuffed chair that was positioned in the corner of the sagging font porch. Next to the chair was a child's playpen with more of the same plastic blocks she'd seen inside.
Rose looked at her watch and then sat on the very edge of the chair and tried to ignore the wet feeling of the cushions.
She began calculating the amount of time left until the President's Tea when she heard the baritone drone of an approaching car.
Rose jumped up and ran down the porch steps to the edge of the yard and flagged the car. It seemed to work because the large, green car suddenly veered to the right, spraying gravel. Rose jumped back as the car, without slowing down made a sharp right turn into the dirt driveway and skidded to a halt.
From inside the car came a cowboy whoop and a voice that squealed, "God-damn Moses, that was fun! Hoo-ee!"
Rose stood perfectly still as a young woman, only a few years older than Rose herself, flung open the door of the car and jumped out. She was dressed entirely in denim, a blue denim shirt, a denim jacket, and Levi's. She wore her dark hair pulled back and up high on her head in a ponytail that jounced with emphasis each time she moved. And although she was small, her quick, electric energy gave her force and authority.
"Well!" she boomed with what seemed like endless good cheer. "Moses! We got company!"
Rose smiled weakly and tentatively approached the woman. She held out her hand and said, "Hello. I'm Rosemary Clare and I'm wondering if you could help me."
The woman opened the back door of the Plymouth Duster and leaned in.
"Can't shake your hand just yet, but gimmee a few minutes here and I'll get us some iced tea and we can visit. Come on, Moses, help me now, come on."
The woman struggled and grunted and finally stood up from the car holding a large bundle, it was a child wrapped in a blanket, an older child from the size of it. The woman turned and staggered toward the house, up the steps and with great effort lowered the child in the playpen.
"There you go." She removed the blanket and threw it over the back of the chair and let out a loud, "Whew! He's gettin' heavier ever goddamn day. Hey, you want some tea? Sun tea. Made it just this morning."
And before Rose could answer the woman went through her front door and disappeared.
Rose stood there for a few minutes, feeling as if she'd just been passed by a whirlwind. She slowly ascended the porch steps and peered in the front door.
"Uh...Miss...uh..."
"Come on in!" the woman yelled from the kitchen.
"Call me Otis. Everybody does. Don't know why, my real name's Genevieve. Shee-it. Genevieve. Too much for me. Too goddamn," she paused and screwed up her face, "French."
"Excuse me, Miss Otis..."
"Nope, Otis. Just Otis."
"My car broke down just a little down the road and I'm on my way to college and I have to make it to the President's Tea and it's about two hours away and I have to get there, so..." Rose looked at her watch, "I have to get my car fixed and be going and I was wondering if you could let me use the phone..." Rose's voice had become thin and squeaky with panic.
"Did you call Jed's?" the woman asked.
"Jed's?" Rose asked.
"Yeah, Jed's. He works out of his house, but he can fix anything you got. Toaster, tractor, car. Anything."
"I don't know him. Can we call him now?" Rose was growing frantic, feeling as if this woman didn't understand the urgency of the situation.
"324-0205."
"What?" Rose said.
"That's Jed's number and the phone's right there." For emphasis, Otis cut a lemon and tossed it in a large pitcher.
Rose was momentarily stunned.
Otis repeated, "324-0205."
After Rose finished explaining the problem to Jed he assured he could get the car, fix it, and bring it to her within a half an hour.
"Sounds like a ground wire. Happens all the time in those foreign shits. ‘Specially V-Dubs."
"Otis?" she called. "Otis?"
"Out here on the porch."
Rose walked through the living room and out on to the porch. There was another chair set out and a tall glass of iced tea sat on the railing.
"Now we can get introduced. Come on out." Otis smiled, took a long drink and then loudly smacked her lips.
Rose sat down on the edge of the chair and turned to Otis with a smile. "I'm sorry about earlier. It's just that I'm supposed to be somewhere and if I don't get there...."
"The President's Tea," Otis interrupted.
"Yes," Rose relaxed a little. "It's the most important gathering of the whole orientation and I have to get there. I have to start out on the right foot, you know. That's important."
Rose looked at Otis who stared back at her and Rose realized the woman had no idea what she was talking about.
"Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, you'll get there, don't worry. Jed's good like I said."
Otis turned to the right and said in a tender voice, "He's good, huh Moses? Huh sweetie, boo, boo, boo...."
Rose could only see the child's feet as he lay in the playpen, but when his mother spoke she heard him gurgle and laugh and his feet, covered in bright red cowboy boots, kicked with pleasure.
Otis laughed and turned to Rose, "Jed's his father," and she jerked her thumb toward the playpen. "He ain't missed a payment yet." Otis took a long drink of her iced tea then continued, "That's a helluva lot more'n you can say for half the bastards around here. Just," Otis made a circle with her fingers and stuck two others through, moving them back and forth in an obscene gesture. "pop 'em and leave. Shit, they don't care, do they honey boy?"
This last was squealed with feigned excitement toward the playpen.
Again Rose heard the wet sound of gurgling and saw the ecstatic kick of the red cowboy boots. She squinted down the road and she could see through the heat waves that rose from the black top that her car was gone. Jed was already working.
"Yep. Got those shoes today. We were in Wal-Mart and when I pushed him past the shoe department these were out and he about had a fit. Almost knocked himself out of the cart he rocked it so hard," Otis paused thinking, then said, "Must've been the red."
Rose took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair trying to glimpse the boy. He hadn't said a word nor even sat up the whole time she was there.
She tilted back as far as she dared without touching the back of the chair, she didn't want to rumple her dress, but she could only see a few wisps of white-blond hair that barely covered a pink scalp.
"Oh!" and Otis slapped her forehead, startling Rose. "You ain't met!"
Rose snapped up straight and tried to stop the blush she felt spreading from her neck to her forehead.
"Moses!" Otis boomed, "I forgot to introduce you. Shee-it, I lost my manners! Come on over here."
Rose stood and took another sip of her tea, the day was beginning to be uncomfortably hot.
"C'mon," Otis urged.
Rose squeezed in between Otis and the porch railing and put on her best smile and bent over.
"Moses, this is Rosemary..." then Otis looked up and said, "You know, I didn't get your last name."
Rosemary had fixed a smile on her face and though Otis spoke loudly enough, Rose barely heard her. She mumbled, "Clare."
The child gurgled and let out a piercing squeal kicking his feet back and forth.
From a distance, Rosemary heard the familiar chop of her VW engine and Otis said, "Hey, there's Jed and your car," then she bounded down the steps.
Rosemary stared into the playpen.
"His head is wrong," she thought. "It's too small," and she leaned closer to the boy who lay on his back, one arm thrown out to the right, the other curled on his chest with his fist jammed into his small mouth. Spittle and drool made his face and hand shiny. His head was the size and color of a honeydew melon and there were, as she'd seen earlier, only a few wisps of thin, blond hair.
Rosemary stared at his head then tried to peer into his eyes, but they were so small and his face was so puckered, she only thought she caught a glimpse of something pale blue that rolled helter-skelter.
He was dressed in a crisp, yellow, cowboy shirt, with mother-of-pearl snaps and lassoes embroidered on each shoulder. His brand-new blue jeans still held a sharp, front crease that tapered down into bright red leather cowboy boots.
A bead of sweat fell down Rose's neck and down her back making her shudder. When she moved it attracted him and he jerked once and squealed. The awful small mouth opened and closed, a small dark cavern made grotesque by the absence of teeth causing the lips to collapse. Rose closed her eyes and thought wildly, "If it can follow me here, it will always be with me." She turned and stumbled to the edge of the porch knocking her iced tea off the rail and into the front bushes.
"See!" Otis beamed "Told ya Jed'd fix it!"
Jed tried not to look pleased and mumbled, "Ten bucks. Ground wire like I thought. She'll be okay now."
Otis looked at her watch, "Looks like you'll make your tea," then clapped Rosemary's shoulder and said, "Or you could stay with us and have more iced tea. Moses loves company!"
Rosemary fumbled in her purse, her panic growing.
"I've got to get there," and she turned her trembling wrist over, "Oh no, I only have just enough time. Thank you. Thank you for the tea." She backed toward the driver's door of the car.
"Keys're in the ignition," Jed said.
"Thank you," she repeated and then jumped in the car. The gravel sprayed as she pulled out. Once alone in the car she began panting, a hoarse, raw breathing that joined in duet with the chop of the engine.
Rosemary felt the trails of sweat begin on her scalp and tickle her head as they fell. With her right hand she groped in her purse and found a cloth, one of the handkerchiefs her grandmother had given her. She wiped her neck, her brow, and as she passed it over her mouth the smell made her gag. Vicks'.
She yanked the cloth away and uttered what sounded like a ferule growl. She held back her sobs, not wanting to ruin her face for the afternoon Tea then yanked at the window and threw the handkerchief out as hard as she could where it fluttered and fell in the swirling dust she left behind.
Copyright © 2007 Roxanne Ansolabehere
|
