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Authors: Rita Mae Brown
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with ice cubes, and rejoined her on the sofa.
“Imagine what would happen to you if
you
told everyone around you the truth,” she said.
“I’m doing that very thing.” Mandy rattled the cubes in her glass and then poured the Coke. “I’ve been more open than you are but I guess I’ve got a couple of skeletons in my closet and I’ve got my own stuff right now, you know?’
“I don’t know.”
A little involuntary twitch, which blossomed into a smile, indicated that Mandy registered this but wasn’t sure what to do next. “Right. Boyfriend trouble. We can talk about me some other time. My first question is, do you remember what you wrote?”
Frazier’s eyes glassed over. “Kind of.”
“What do you mean, ‘kind of’?”
“I ripped the morphine tube out of my arm. It swung in my way every time I moved my arm and I couldn’t write and anyway, as the night wore on I sank deeper and deeper into the slough of despond or anger or wherever I was. I did tell the truth. I just think had I been in a better emotional state I might have chosen my words more wisely. I don’t think I was ugly. Well, I was to Mother.” Frazier breathed in sharply. “But she deserved it and I should’ve laid my mother out to whaleshit years ago. Am I being unfair? Doesn’t everyone blame her mother for everything?”
“Uh, I don’t. I love my mom. Most times, anyway. Don’t start beating up on yourself. I’ve seen
tua mater
many times. She’s no prize.”
“Whew.” Frazier crossed her legs under her and turned to face Mandy, who did likewise. “Thanks for that. You know, when I was writing Mother from the hospital I kept thinking about how she would read Carter and mestories at bedtime when we were tiny. When I got a little older I wanted to read them myself. So I opened
Babar the Elephant
and
Bambi
and found sentences, even paragraphs, blacked out. When I asked her, she lied and said the book was printed that way. So one day at the library—oh, I must have been in third grade by then—I found
Bambi.
Do you know what she had done?”
“I can’t imagine,” Mandy replied.
“She’d crossed out every reference to the mother being killed.”
“No!” Mandy exclaimed.
“Every syllable. So I marched home and asked her why she’d done that and she said because those passages would have upset Carter and me. She wanted to protect us from Death. Only made it worse, of course. I never really trusted her after that. Of course, I’m not sure I trusted her before that either. Bambi and Babar made me realize what I had always known, I guess—that Mother wants everything controlled, placid, no involvement. You feel things as a child but you don’t know what you’re feeling. After that I knew what I was feeling, about her anyway. I sure knew not to tell her my feelings too.”
“Who knows what your mother will do now? She can’t black out the sentences in your letter.”
“I reckon I’ll find out.”
Mandy sat straighten “Did you tell them all that you’re—”
Frazier interrupted: “Gay? Yes, ma’am.”
A long silence followed. “In the long run you’ll be glad you did. In the short run …”
“In the short run I am going to be sliced and diced, I am going to be barbecued, I am going to be deep-fried Southern style, I am going to be trussed and trounced and beat so hard about the ass that my nose will bleed.Honey, I am in deep shit, like all the way to China deep and you goddam well know it.”
“Now I Feel responsible. I gave you the stationery.”
“Nah. This was my doing. I’m taking full credit and if I’d had any ovaries I would’ve read everyone the riot act years ago. I’m not eager to suffer the consequences though, and suffering is such an important part of Christianity that Mother feels it’s her duty to spread it around. Oh, sweet Jesus, I need a friend.”
“You got one.”
“In a pig’s blister.”
“Me.”
“Ah, Mandy, there’s nothing you can do to protect me or
“Imagine what would happen to you if
you
told everyone around you the truth,” she said.
“I’m doing that very thing.” Mandy rattled the cubes in her glass and then poured the Coke. “I’ve been more open than you are but I guess I’ve got a couple of skeletons in my closet and I’ve got my own stuff right now, you know?’
“I don’t know.”
A little involuntary twitch, which blossomed into a smile, indicated that Mandy registered this but wasn’t sure what to do next. “Right. Boyfriend trouble. We can talk about me some other time. My first question is, do you remember what you wrote?”
Frazier’s eyes glassed over. “Kind of.”
“What do you mean, ‘kind of’?”
“I ripped the morphine tube out of my arm. It swung in my way every time I moved my arm and I couldn’t write and anyway, as the night wore on I sank deeper and deeper into the slough of despond or anger or wherever I was. I did tell the truth. I just think had I been in a better emotional state I might have chosen my words more wisely. I don’t think I was ugly. Well, I was to Mother.” Frazier breathed in sharply. “But she deserved it and I should’ve laid my mother out to whaleshit years ago. Am I being unfair? Doesn’t everyone blame her mother for everything?”
“Uh, I don’t. I love my mom. Most times, anyway. Don’t start beating up on yourself. I’ve seen
tua mater
many times. She’s no prize.”
“Whew.” Frazier crossed her legs under her and turned to face Mandy, who did likewise. “Thanks for that. You know, when I was writing Mother from the hospital I kept thinking about how she would read Carter and mestories at bedtime when we were tiny. When I got a little older I wanted to read them myself. So I opened
Babar the Elephant
and
Bambi
and found sentences, even paragraphs, blacked out. When I asked her, she lied and said the book was printed that way. So one day at the library—oh, I must have been in third grade by then—I found
Bambi.
Do you know what she had done?”
“I can’t imagine,” Mandy replied.
“She’d crossed out every reference to the mother being killed.”
“No!” Mandy exclaimed.
“Every syllable. So I marched home and asked her why she’d done that and she said because those passages would have upset Carter and me. She wanted to protect us from Death. Only made it worse, of course. I never really trusted her after that. Of course, I’m not sure I trusted her before that either. Bambi and Babar made me realize what I had always known, I guess—that Mother wants everything controlled, placid, no involvement. You feel things as a child but you don’t know what you’re feeling. After that I knew what I was feeling, about her anyway. I sure knew not to tell her my feelings too.”
“Who knows what your mother will do now? She can’t black out the sentences in your letter.”
“I reckon I’ll find out.”
Mandy sat straighten “Did you tell them all that you’re—”
Frazier interrupted: “Gay? Yes, ma’am.”
A long silence followed. “In the long run you’ll be glad you did. In the short run …”
“In the short run I am going to be sliced and diced, I am going to be barbecued, I am going to be deep-fried Southern style, I am going to be trussed and trounced and beat so hard about the ass that my nose will bleed.Honey, I am in deep shit, like all the way to China deep and you goddam well know it.”
“Now I Feel responsible. I gave you the stationery.”
“Nah. This was my doing. I’m taking full credit and if I’d had any ovaries I would’ve read everyone the riot act years ago. I’m not eager to suffer the consequences though, and suffering is such an important part of Christianity that Mother feels it’s her duty to spread it around. Oh, sweet Jesus, I need a friend.”
“You got one.”
“In a pig’s blister.”
“Me.”
“Ah, Mandy, there’s nothing you can do to protect me or
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