Read Online Tempest Rising by Diane Mckinney-Whetstone - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Mckinney-Whetstone
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just day help where you came from, but I’mthe only help around here, and my wages aren’t too damned good, so the least you can do is hang up your own coats.”
Ramona’s words fell on Shern’s unacclimated ears with a smashing sound, like glass milk bottles against a chain-link fence. Shern looked at her sisters to make sure they weren’t crying again, and then she scanned the living room, which was thimble-sized compared to their real home. She felt dizzy now when she thought about her real home. She took the hangers from Ramona and tried to tie her stomach like it was a kerchief, hoping it would contain the creamed corn she’d nibbled at when the social worker stopped them at Horn & Hardart’s and insisted that they put something in their stomachs.
“Put your hats in your pockets,” Ramona said as she watched the older two pull the hats from their heads. Odd-looking hats; she’d never seen a cross-stitch like that, all mixed up with no particular pattern, but it worked well in the hats. Now she was looking at their hair. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath; it was as thick as it looked in the Tribune photo.
“My mother tells us to put our hats in our sleeves, so our pockets won’t get stretched out of shape.” It was Bliss talking, pouting, looking up at Ramona like she was nobody she had to listen to.
Ramona looked at Bliss standing back on her heels, basing up at her as if she were her age. She had her mouth all formed to snap at Bliss, to say to Bliss, “Your mother’s in the crazy house, so whatdoes she know?” But then she heard Mae’s voice in her head telling to mind her meanness. So she tucked what Mae called her meanness in the palm of her hand, closed her fist over it to keep it contained for now, and didn’t talk about their mother. She did stoop to Bliss’s eye level, though. “I don’t care where you stick them as long as I don’t see them all over the closet floor.” She pulled Bliss’s hat from her head. “Doesn’t this go in your sleeve?” She emphasized the “sleeve” and then shoved the hat in Bliss’s hand. She noticed Bliss’s hair was light brown and not as thick as her sisters’. She would have to be the one with soft hair, she thought, the one I’d most like to slip and catch with the hot comb right around the tip of her ear. There was her meanness again; she clenched her fist tighter, trying to hold it in.
Victoria watched the bad current zipping through the living room between Ramona and Bliss, and she immediately slid into her peacemaker’s stance. “Bliss, come on and give Shern your coat,” she said with urgency. She knew Bliss would readily trade insults with Ramona, and she was afraid that Ramona might land her palm right across Bliss’s mouth. Already Ramona seemed to be opening and closing her hand like she was nervous or, worse yet, trying to restrain herself. “Come on, Bliss,” she said again, and tugged on her shoulder.
Then she turned to Ramona. She wanted to tell her please to excuse Bliss, that sometimes Bliss spoke without thinking, that Bliss was the baby,though, and a little spoiled and didn’t mean any harm. But now Victoria was looking at Ramona’s face, and she couldn’t talk. She was so struck by Ramona’s face, the soft beauty just overflowing from Ramona’s face. She wondered how such harsh, ugly words could come from that face. She cleared her throat. “Um,” she said, and then she remembered her mother’s caution about starting a sentence with “um.” “People will see your brown skin and hear you say ‘um’ and automatically think you’re stupid,” her mother used to say. “You just don’t have the luxury of starting your sentences like that.” So Victoria pulled back the “um,” and now she had Ramona’s attention, and all she could do was stare at Ramona. Now her jaw was locked, and she couldn’t say anything since she’d gone and thought about her mother; she just looked at Ramona and started to
Ramona’s words fell on Shern’s unacclimated ears with a smashing sound, like glass milk bottles against a chain-link fence. Shern looked at her sisters to make sure they weren’t crying again, and then she scanned the living room, which was thimble-sized compared to their real home. She felt dizzy now when she thought about her real home. She took the hangers from Ramona and tried to tie her stomach like it was a kerchief, hoping it would contain the creamed corn she’d nibbled at when the social worker stopped them at Horn & Hardart’s and insisted that they put something in their stomachs.
“Put your hats in your pockets,” Ramona said as she watched the older two pull the hats from their heads. Odd-looking hats; she’d never seen a cross-stitch like that, all mixed up with no particular pattern, but it worked well in the hats. Now she was looking at their hair. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath; it was as thick as it looked in the Tribune photo.
“My mother tells us to put our hats in our sleeves, so our pockets won’t get stretched out of shape.” It was Bliss talking, pouting, looking up at Ramona like she was nobody she had to listen to.
Ramona looked at Bliss standing back on her heels, basing up at her as if she were her age. She had her mouth all formed to snap at Bliss, to say to Bliss, “Your mother’s in the crazy house, so whatdoes she know?” But then she heard Mae’s voice in her head telling to mind her meanness. So she tucked what Mae called her meanness in the palm of her hand, closed her fist over it to keep it contained for now, and didn’t talk about their mother. She did stoop to Bliss’s eye level, though. “I don’t care where you stick them as long as I don’t see them all over the closet floor.” She pulled Bliss’s hat from her head. “Doesn’t this go in your sleeve?” She emphasized the “sleeve” and then shoved the hat in Bliss’s hand. She noticed Bliss’s hair was light brown and not as thick as her sisters’. She would have to be the one with soft hair, she thought, the one I’d most like to slip and catch with the hot comb right around the tip of her ear. There was her meanness again; she clenched her fist tighter, trying to hold it in.
Victoria watched the bad current zipping through the living room between Ramona and Bliss, and she immediately slid into her peacemaker’s stance. “Bliss, come on and give Shern your coat,” she said with urgency. She knew Bliss would readily trade insults with Ramona, and she was afraid that Ramona might land her palm right across Bliss’s mouth. Already Ramona seemed to be opening and closing her hand like she was nervous or, worse yet, trying to restrain herself. “Come on, Bliss,” she said again, and tugged on her shoulder.
Then she turned to Ramona. She wanted to tell her please to excuse Bliss, that sometimes Bliss spoke without thinking, that Bliss was the baby,though, and a little spoiled and didn’t mean any harm. But now Victoria was looking at Ramona’s face, and she couldn’t talk. She was so struck by Ramona’s face, the soft beauty just overflowing from Ramona’s face. She wondered how such harsh, ugly words could come from that face. She cleared her throat. “Um,” she said, and then she remembered her mother’s caution about starting a sentence with “um.” “People will see your brown skin and hear you say ‘um’ and automatically think you’re stupid,” her mother used to say. “You just don’t have the luxury of starting your sentences like that.” So Victoria pulled back the “um,” and now she had Ramona’s attention, and all she could do was stare at Ramona. Now her jaw was locked, and she couldn’t say anything since she’d gone and thought about her mother; she just looked at Ramona and started to
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