Read Online My Sister, My Love by Joyce Carol Oates - Free Book Online
Authors: Joyce Carol Oates
Tags: General Fiction
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Skyler! You know very well that Baby is your sister Edna Louise, she is named for Grandmother Rampike and she is here with us to stay.
YET: THERE WAS THE OTHER, ALTERED MUMMY, SPLENDIDLY DRESSED IN A new champagne-beige cashmere suit from The English Shoppe, or a new cranberry-crinkle silk frock from Renée’s Fashion Boutique, or a svelte black “slimming” cocktail dress from Saks, brunette hair gaily “bouffant” from Evita’s Beauty Emporium where Mummy’s nails, too, that inclined to be small, bitten, broken had been boldly re-imagined as glamorous crimson talons to match Mummy’s smiling mouth; here was a Mummy not barefoot stumbling about the house, or in bedroom slippers clumping about the house, but in high-heeled shoes that gave her sudden height, dignity, and purpose. Here was a Mummy adored by her son Skyler: “Mum- my ! You look nice.” Here was a Mummy not feared, pitied, and despised by Maria-from-Guatemala (to be followed in jerky time-stop sequence by Maria-from-Mexico, Maria-from-Paraguay, and, in time, Lila-from-the-Philippines) but respected and admired: “Mrs. Rampike! I like very much, the new ‘outfit.’” Here was a beaming Mummy warmly greeting luncheon guests at the door: “Come in! So wonderful to see you! Julia, and Francine, and—is it Henrietta?—and Mattie! Come in .” Here is Mummy in a snuggly-warm white angora sweater and silk-wool white slacks, and gold slippers with heels like small clattering hooves, hurrying to embrace Daddy who has just returned from Burbank, or Dallas, or Atlanta; Mummy being hugged by Daddy: “My gorgeous gal! Missed you.” And there is Baby newly bathed and smelling of Baby talcum instead of Baby-poo, Baby Edna Louise who isn’t fretful or shrieking but happily flailing miniature Baby-fists, flashing miniature Baby-eyes, gurgling, smiling, cooing what sounds like “Da- da ! Da- da !” proudly displayed in Mummy’s arms. (Where is Maria-from-Guatemala? Nowhere in sight.) Looming over Mummy and Baby Edna Louise Daddy is deeply moved, saying, “Mytwo gorgeous gals! I’d say things are pretty good here at 93 Ravens Crest Drive.” For a terrible moment it looks as if Daddy has forgotten Skyler who has been sort-of-shyly hanging back, and Daddy sees him, of course Daddy sees him, grabs Skyler and lifts him in the crook of his arm so that Daddy is hugging Mummy, Baby Edna Louise, and Skyler: “My little family. Missed y’all.”
And there is Mummy in peach-colored chiffon stooping over Skyler in his bed careful not to smudge her lipstick on Skyler’s cheek, for it’s New Year’s Eve and Daddy and Mummy are on their way to a party, or parties. “Happy New Year, darling! This new year will be much, much nicer than the old year, I promise.” But Skyler has no idea what year it is. *
THESE TWO MUMMYS EXISTED AT MORE OR LESS THE SAME TIME, IN THE same household. Like small carved figures in a weather clock—“good” weather, “bad” weather—when one Mummy appeared, the other Mummy remained in hiding. But only in hiding.
* Poor dumb kid! He’d have been dazed/dazzled by Mummy’s perfume and Mummy’s creamy breasts in danger of spilling out of the tight peach-chiffon bodice. And maybe there was Daddy, or a tall hulking Terminator-figure in a “tux,” looming in the doorway behind Mummy. By my calculation the new year Mummy promised had to be 1992. Fact: it wouldn’t be much different from the old.
“FILTHY”—“ODIOUS”—“ABOMINABLE” *
IT WAS NOTED, A FEW PAGES BACK, THAT MY RAMPIKE ANCESTORS HAD ORIGINALLY lived in the north of England, and belonged to a “radical Calvinist sect”; in fact, my father’s most—sole?—distinguished ancestor was the celebrated/notorious Reverend Joshua Rampike who’d brought his small but fanatically devoted flock of believers (“flock”—sadly, a cliché!—is invariably the most appropriate word for such Calvinist/Christian ancestors of mine) to the newly established
YET: THERE WAS THE OTHER, ALTERED MUMMY, SPLENDIDLY DRESSED IN A new champagne-beige cashmere suit from The English Shoppe, or a new cranberry-crinkle silk frock from Renée’s Fashion Boutique, or a svelte black “slimming” cocktail dress from Saks, brunette hair gaily “bouffant” from Evita’s Beauty Emporium where Mummy’s nails, too, that inclined to be small, bitten, broken had been boldly re-imagined as glamorous crimson talons to match Mummy’s smiling mouth; here was a Mummy not barefoot stumbling about the house, or in bedroom slippers clumping about the house, but in high-heeled shoes that gave her sudden height, dignity, and purpose. Here was a Mummy adored by her son Skyler: “Mum- my ! You look nice.” Here was a Mummy not feared, pitied, and despised by Maria-from-Guatemala (to be followed in jerky time-stop sequence by Maria-from-Mexico, Maria-from-Paraguay, and, in time, Lila-from-the-Philippines) but respected and admired: “Mrs. Rampike! I like very much, the new ‘outfit.’” Here was a beaming Mummy warmly greeting luncheon guests at the door: “Come in! So wonderful to see you! Julia, and Francine, and—is it Henrietta?—and Mattie! Come in .” Here is Mummy in a snuggly-warm white angora sweater and silk-wool white slacks, and gold slippers with heels like small clattering hooves, hurrying to embrace Daddy who has just returned from Burbank, or Dallas, or Atlanta; Mummy being hugged by Daddy: “My gorgeous gal! Missed you.” And there is Baby newly bathed and smelling of Baby talcum instead of Baby-poo, Baby Edna Louise who isn’t fretful or shrieking but happily flailing miniature Baby-fists, flashing miniature Baby-eyes, gurgling, smiling, cooing what sounds like “Da- da ! Da- da !” proudly displayed in Mummy’s arms. (Where is Maria-from-Guatemala? Nowhere in sight.) Looming over Mummy and Baby Edna Louise Daddy is deeply moved, saying, “Mytwo gorgeous gals! I’d say things are pretty good here at 93 Ravens Crest Drive.” For a terrible moment it looks as if Daddy has forgotten Skyler who has been sort-of-shyly hanging back, and Daddy sees him, of course Daddy sees him, grabs Skyler and lifts him in the crook of his arm so that Daddy is hugging Mummy, Baby Edna Louise, and Skyler: “My little family. Missed y’all.”
And there is Mummy in peach-colored chiffon stooping over Skyler in his bed careful not to smudge her lipstick on Skyler’s cheek, for it’s New Year’s Eve and Daddy and Mummy are on their way to a party, or parties. “Happy New Year, darling! This new year will be much, much nicer than the old year, I promise.” But Skyler has no idea what year it is. *
THESE TWO MUMMYS EXISTED AT MORE OR LESS THE SAME TIME, IN THE same household. Like small carved figures in a weather clock—“good” weather, “bad” weather—when one Mummy appeared, the other Mummy remained in hiding. But only in hiding.
* Poor dumb kid! He’d have been dazed/dazzled by Mummy’s perfume and Mummy’s creamy breasts in danger of spilling out of the tight peach-chiffon bodice. And maybe there was Daddy, or a tall hulking Terminator-figure in a “tux,” looming in the doorway behind Mummy. By my calculation the new year Mummy promised had to be 1992. Fact: it wouldn’t be much different from the old.
“FILTHY”—“ODIOUS”—“ABOMINABLE” *
IT WAS NOTED, A FEW PAGES BACK, THAT MY RAMPIKE ANCESTORS HAD ORIGINALLY lived in the north of England, and belonged to a “radical Calvinist sect”; in fact, my father’s most—sole?—distinguished ancestor was the celebrated/notorious Reverend Joshua Rampike who’d brought his small but fanatically devoted flock of believers (“flock”—sadly, a cliché!—is invariably the most appropriate word for such Calvinist/Christian ancestors of mine) to the newly established
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