Read Online Bastard out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy Allison
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Maybelle and Aunt Marvella’s house with a gift of sweet corn for the rabbits, just so he could look into their eyes when he said “a boy” and hear them say it back to him when they took the corn.
“They said it was a boy,” he told Earle later over pinto beans and cornbread at Aunt Ruth’s house—the first evidence he’d ever given that he believed in the Eustis aunts’ claim to women’s magic. He was bursting with pride.
“Well, goddam, Glen. Congratulations.” Earle kept his face carefully neutral.
“Never come between a man and his ambitions,” he told Uncle Beau after Glen had gone. “Glen ever gets the notion that anybody messed up his chance of getting a boy child out of Anney, and he’s gonna go plumb crazy.”
“A man should never put his ambition in a woman’s belly.” Beau didn’t like Glen much at all, couldn’t, he admitted, since he never trusted a man who didn’t drink, and Glen was as close to a teetotaler as the family had ever seen. Beau spit out the side of his mouth. “Serve him right if she gave him another girl.”
Uncle Nevil harrumphed, pouring them each a short glass of his home stock. Nevil never wasted words when he could grunt, or a grunt when he could move his hands. He was supposed to be the quietest man in Greenville County, and his wife, Fay, was said to be the fattest woman. “The two of them are more like furniture than anything,” Granny had once said. “Just taking up space and shedding dust like a chifforobe or a couch.” Nevil and Fay had heard her and in their quiet way refused to be in the same room with her ever again. It complicated family gatherings, but not too much. As Aunt Alma told everybody, Nevil wasn’t any great loss to conversation anyway.
It was a surprise, then, when Nevil sipped his whiskey, lifted his head, and spoke so clearly he could be heard out on the porch. “Me, I’m hoping Anney does give him a son, half a dozen sons while she’s at it. That Glen’s got something about him. I almost like him, but the boy could turn like whiskey in a bad barrel, and I’m hoping he don’t. Anney’s had enough trouble in her life.” He sipped again and shut his mouth back to its usual flat line.
Earle and Beau stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or curse, but finally they dropped their glances into their cups. It was true enough, they both agreed. Anney deserved an end to trouble in her life.
The night Mama went into labor, Glen packed the Pontiac with blankets and Cokes for Reese and me, and parked out in the hospital lot to wait. He’d been warned it was going to take a while for the baby to come, and when he couldn’t stand pacing the halls anymore, he came down to smoke cigarettes and listen to music on the car radio while Reese and I napped in the backseat. At some point well before dawn, when it was still dark and cold, he reached across the seat to tug my shoulder and pull me up front with him. He gave me some Coke and half a Baby Ruth and told me he’d been in to check a little earlier and Mama was doing fine.
“Fine.” I blinked at him and nodded, unsure what I was supposed to do or say. He smoked fiercely, exhaling out the top of the window where he’d opened it just a few inches, and talking to me like I was a grown-up. “I know she’s worried,” he said. “She thinks if it’s a girl, I won’t love it. But it will be our baby, and if it’s a girl, we can make another soon enough. I’ll have my son. Anney and I will have our boy. I know it. I know.”
He talked on, whispering quietly, sometimes so softly I could not understand him. I pulled my blanket around me and watched the sprinkling of stars visible just over the tall fir trees at the edge of the lot. The song playing low on the radio was a Kitty Wells tune that Mama liked. I rocked my head to the music and watched the night. I was thinking about the baby Mama was having, wondering what it might be like, if maybe it wouldn’t be a girl. What were they
“They said it was a boy,” he told Earle later over pinto beans and cornbread at Aunt Ruth’s house—the first evidence he’d ever given that he believed in the Eustis aunts’ claim to women’s magic. He was bursting with pride.
“Well, goddam, Glen. Congratulations.” Earle kept his face carefully neutral.
“Never come between a man and his ambitions,” he told Uncle Beau after Glen had gone. “Glen ever gets the notion that anybody messed up his chance of getting a boy child out of Anney, and he’s gonna go plumb crazy.”
“A man should never put his ambition in a woman’s belly.” Beau didn’t like Glen much at all, couldn’t, he admitted, since he never trusted a man who didn’t drink, and Glen was as close to a teetotaler as the family had ever seen. Beau spit out the side of his mouth. “Serve him right if she gave him another girl.”
Uncle Nevil harrumphed, pouring them each a short glass of his home stock. Nevil never wasted words when he could grunt, or a grunt when he could move his hands. He was supposed to be the quietest man in Greenville County, and his wife, Fay, was said to be the fattest woman. “The two of them are more like furniture than anything,” Granny had once said. “Just taking up space and shedding dust like a chifforobe or a couch.” Nevil and Fay had heard her and in their quiet way refused to be in the same room with her ever again. It complicated family gatherings, but not too much. As Aunt Alma told everybody, Nevil wasn’t any great loss to conversation anyway.
It was a surprise, then, when Nevil sipped his whiskey, lifted his head, and spoke so clearly he could be heard out on the porch. “Me, I’m hoping Anney does give him a son, half a dozen sons while she’s at it. That Glen’s got something about him. I almost like him, but the boy could turn like whiskey in a bad barrel, and I’m hoping he don’t. Anney’s had enough trouble in her life.” He sipped again and shut his mouth back to its usual flat line.
Earle and Beau stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or curse, but finally they dropped their glances into their cups. It was true enough, they both agreed. Anney deserved an end to trouble in her life.
The night Mama went into labor, Glen packed the Pontiac with blankets and Cokes for Reese and me, and parked out in the hospital lot to wait. He’d been warned it was going to take a while for the baby to come, and when he couldn’t stand pacing the halls anymore, he came down to smoke cigarettes and listen to music on the car radio while Reese and I napped in the backseat. At some point well before dawn, when it was still dark and cold, he reached across the seat to tug my shoulder and pull me up front with him. He gave me some Coke and half a Baby Ruth and told me he’d been in to check a little earlier and Mama was doing fine.
“Fine.” I blinked at him and nodded, unsure what I was supposed to do or say. He smoked fiercely, exhaling out the top of the window where he’d opened it just a few inches, and talking to me like I was a grown-up. “I know she’s worried,” he said. “She thinks if it’s a girl, I won’t love it. But it will be our baby, and if it’s a girl, we can make another soon enough. I’ll have my son. Anney and I will have our boy. I know it. I know.”
He talked on, whispering quietly, sometimes so softly I could not understand him. I pulled my blanket around me and watched the sprinkling of stars visible just over the tall fir trees at the edge of the lot. The song playing low on the radio was a Kitty Wells tune that Mama liked. I rocked my head to the music and watched the night. I was thinking about the baby Mama was having, wondering what it might be like, if maybe it wouldn’t be a girl. What were they
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