Read Online Don't Call Me Mother by Linda Joy Myers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Joy Myers
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crossed some kind of line.
I turn toward the swan spigots, my white legs small and thin beside his long, tanned legs slicked with thick hair. I pretend to be a cheerful, laughing girl, but I feel bad. The bath is brief, and then we get dressed in separate rooms. We go to sleep in the big bed after dinner. He snores, and his body is so huge. I feel small and grateful next to him, but worried. I hope he doesn’t think I’m bad because of my curiosity.
The next day, Gram takes us to Aunt Helen’s.
“God love ya,” she says, giving me a squeeze. Gram, Daddy, Aunt Helen, and Uncle Maj chat as if they’ve known each other for a long time. Aunt Helen serves up her fried chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, bustling around the room with the energy of a pressure cooker. We must all be family now that Daddy is in her fried chicken club. Gram takes slow puffs from her cigarette, her black eyes fastened on me. Can she tell that today I belong to Daddy?
They get along, tilting their heads back and laughing over dinner. Gram is really strict about table manners and gives me “the look” that reminds me to hold my fork correctly. She tells me to cut the fried chicken off the bone.
“Oh, just let her pick it up in her fingers. You’re gonna fancy away that little girl to nothing,” my father says with a wink in my direction.
Gram’s eyes flash. “Nonsense.” Gram shows me how to cut the chicken, then tells me to do it myself. My knife slips, and a chicken leg flies onto the tablecloth.
Daddy laughs. “It’s okay, just pick it up. She can’t be a lady all the time.” He winks at Aunt Helen, who winks back.
Gram’s voice is harsh now with righteousness. “Of course she can. My granddaughter will have good manners and hold her head up in society. Sit up straight, Linda, and don’t chew with your mouth full.”
Daddy wipes his mouth and excuses himself from the table, his shoes squeaking as he paces the floor. Around the table, flustered hand movements, eye glances. Then he’s out with it.
“Look here, Frances. I appreciate what you’re doing with Linda Joy—taking care of her, buying her nice dresses—but she’s still a little girl.”
Doesn’t he know that he shouldn’t say things like that to Gram? She tosses her head and gets up from the table, leaving the rest of us hunkered down.
“You look here. I am teaching her things that she should know. How dare you criticize me.”
“I’m just saying let her pick up a piece of goddamn chicken in her fingers. Let her be a little girl. She’s only seven, for Pete’s sake!”
Uncle Maj’s chair hits the floor with a bang, he gets up so fast. Aunt Helen bustles into the kitchen. Uncle Maj fits himself between Gram and Daddy, tamping tobacco into his pipe. Gram and Daddy give each other a lingering glance, an unreadable look in their eyes.
Uncle Maj says to Daddy, “Frances took Linda when her mother left, and she raises her just fine.” He looks him straight in the eye. He doesn’t say, “Because you aren’t taking care of her.” He doesn’t say, “We’ve got her here now, and we’re all looking after her.” But he does.
Gram plucks a cigarette from her pack of Kents and saunters over to Daddy, who fishes out his lighter. Daddy and Gram stand close, her hair touching his eyebrows as she sucks in her cheeks. She sits down and swings her leg, staring off as if nothing mattered. Daddy heads to the kitchen to ask Aunt Helen how she made her delicious gravy. The storm has passed.
After dinner, Gram, Daddy, and Aunt Helen sit chatting and laughing in the living room. I worry about the train coming to Perry too soon, to take away my daddy. I watch the gold balls of a clock covered by a glass dome roll back and forth, stealing minutes from my time with him. After listening to them for a long time, my jealousy rises like mercury in a thermometer. I want him to myself. Don’t they realize that I don’t get Daddy again until next year? The ache
I turn toward the swan spigots, my white legs small and thin beside his long, tanned legs slicked with thick hair. I pretend to be a cheerful, laughing girl, but I feel bad. The bath is brief, and then we get dressed in separate rooms. We go to sleep in the big bed after dinner. He snores, and his body is so huge. I feel small and grateful next to him, but worried. I hope he doesn’t think I’m bad because of my curiosity.
The next day, Gram takes us to Aunt Helen’s.
“God love ya,” she says, giving me a squeeze. Gram, Daddy, Aunt Helen, and Uncle Maj chat as if they’ve known each other for a long time. Aunt Helen serves up her fried chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, bustling around the room with the energy of a pressure cooker. We must all be family now that Daddy is in her fried chicken club. Gram takes slow puffs from her cigarette, her black eyes fastened on me. Can she tell that today I belong to Daddy?
They get along, tilting their heads back and laughing over dinner. Gram is really strict about table manners and gives me “the look” that reminds me to hold my fork correctly. She tells me to cut the fried chicken off the bone.
“Oh, just let her pick it up in her fingers. You’re gonna fancy away that little girl to nothing,” my father says with a wink in my direction.
Gram’s eyes flash. “Nonsense.” Gram shows me how to cut the chicken, then tells me to do it myself. My knife slips, and a chicken leg flies onto the tablecloth.
Daddy laughs. “It’s okay, just pick it up. She can’t be a lady all the time.” He winks at Aunt Helen, who winks back.
Gram’s voice is harsh now with righteousness. “Of course she can. My granddaughter will have good manners and hold her head up in society. Sit up straight, Linda, and don’t chew with your mouth full.”
Daddy wipes his mouth and excuses himself from the table, his shoes squeaking as he paces the floor. Around the table, flustered hand movements, eye glances. Then he’s out with it.
“Look here, Frances. I appreciate what you’re doing with Linda Joy—taking care of her, buying her nice dresses—but she’s still a little girl.”
Doesn’t he know that he shouldn’t say things like that to Gram? She tosses her head and gets up from the table, leaving the rest of us hunkered down.
“You look here. I am teaching her things that she should know. How dare you criticize me.”
“I’m just saying let her pick up a piece of goddamn chicken in her fingers. Let her be a little girl. She’s only seven, for Pete’s sake!”
Uncle Maj’s chair hits the floor with a bang, he gets up so fast. Aunt Helen bustles into the kitchen. Uncle Maj fits himself between Gram and Daddy, tamping tobacco into his pipe. Gram and Daddy give each other a lingering glance, an unreadable look in their eyes.
Uncle Maj says to Daddy, “Frances took Linda when her mother left, and she raises her just fine.” He looks him straight in the eye. He doesn’t say, “Because you aren’t taking care of her.” He doesn’t say, “We’ve got her here now, and we’re all looking after her.” But he does.
Gram plucks a cigarette from her pack of Kents and saunters over to Daddy, who fishes out his lighter. Daddy and Gram stand close, her hair touching his eyebrows as she sucks in her cheeks. She sits down and swings her leg, staring off as if nothing mattered. Daddy heads to the kitchen to ask Aunt Helen how she made her delicious gravy. The storm has passed.
After dinner, Gram, Daddy, and Aunt Helen sit chatting and laughing in the living room. I worry about the train coming to Perry too soon, to take away my daddy. I watch the gold balls of a clock covered by a glass dome roll back and forth, stealing minutes from my time with him. After listening to them for a long time, my jealousy rises like mercury in a thermometer. I want him to myself. Don’t they realize that I don’t get Daddy again until next year? The ache
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