Read Online Whistling Past the Graveyard by Susan Crandall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Crandall
Ads: Link
side. Patti Lynn’s sister, Cathy—we called her Fatty Cathy when we was mad at her—had a lot of them. Fatty Cathy’s records sat under her record-player stand in a wire rack that held them on their edges. They looked like a big, black Slinky. Patti Lynn and I wasn’t supposed to touch them. But we did.
If a record was scratched, it bounced the same word over and over until you went over and picked up the needle. I didn’t want to take a chance of scratching this one, so I reached in and hooked my finger through the hole and slid it out, slow and easy. The label was bright yellow and had a rooster on it. The word SUN was a rainbow over the rooster. Course I was only seven back then and couldn’t read all of the words, but I knew. I knew what it was. Momma had made a record, just like she’d said she was going to! “Baby Mine” was the song. Under the song was Lucinda L-a-n-g-s-d-o-n . Under that it said D-E-M-O .
“Baby Mine.” Momma had only one baby. Me!
I got so excited I nearly threw up for real. Momma had a record. She was getting famous. Pretty soon she’d be coming to get me and Daddy.
We didn’t have a record player at our house. I was gonna have to wait until I could take it to Patti Lynn’s to hear it.
That night, I wanted to put the record under my pillow, just to be close to it and make sure it was safe, but records scratched and broke too easy—Patti Lynn and I had found that out. We’d told Cathy one of the brothers had done it. Easy enough—those brothers of Patti Lynn’s was always breaking stuff. Instead of under my pillow, I put Momma’s record back in the envelope and hid it in the very bottom of the very back of my summer-shorts and T-shirt drawer. Mamie wouldn’t have any reason to get in there ’cause it was February.
The next day, I went to school like normal, even though nothing was normal anymore. Momma was famous. She was coming to get me.
Mamie just seemed happy that I wasn’t still throwing up.
All day long, I felt like I had bees in my belly. That afternoon Patti Lynn had her momma call Mamie and invite me specially to come over. Mamie thought Patti Lynn’s momma was the most “cultured” woman in Cayuga Springs—whatever that was, it was good, I can tell you that. Patti Lynn’s momma and Mamie played bridge together with a bunch of other ladies. When Mamie hosted, we had to just about clean the whole house with a toothbrush and buy only brand-name snacks from the Piggly Wiggly. I can’t remember one single time that Mamie said no when Patti Lynn’s momma invited me to do something.
At four o’clock, Patti Lynn and I sat in the purple bedroom she shared with Cathy and played the record. It was Momma all right. I closed my eyes and listened, pretending she was in the room, not just coming from a scratchy-sounding speaker. It was the most beautiful song I ever heard.
I’d had Patti Lynn hide the record at her house so no one would find it. From that day, every time I went to Patti Lynn’s and we could get the bedroom to ourselves, I played that record. One day that song stopped being on the outside of me and moved deep inside. It was there all of the time, especially when I was feeling particular lonely.
That night, locked up in the little room in Eula’s house, I fell asleep humming that song to myself.
Me and Wallace and Eula had breakfast, grits and eggs. I even got to go out with Eula and get the eggs right out from under the chickens. It was fun until one of the hens got mad and pecked me good on the hand. I told Eula I liked the grocery store better, where the farmers brought in the eggs and did all of the chicken fightin’ for me. Eula found that particular funny for some reason.
Those chickens, flappin’ and peckin’ to keep their eggs before they even turned into baby chicks, told me that every momma wants her baby. Eula’s story ’bout finding James like that just seemed wrong. Could it be true? Or was she just a little crazy, too? The more I
If a record was scratched, it bounced the same word over and over until you went over and picked up the needle. I didn’t want to take a chance of scratching this one, so I reached in and hooked my finger through the hole and slid it out, slow and easy. The label was bright yellow and had a rooster on it. The word SUN was a rainbow over the rooster. Course I was only seven back then and couldn’t read all of the words, but I knew. I knew what it was. Momma had made a record, just like she’d said she was going to! “Baby Mine” was the song. Under the song was Lucinda L-a-n-g-s-d-o-n . Under that it said D-E-M-O .
“Baby Mine.” Momma had only one baby. Me!
I got so excited I nearly threw up for real. Momma had a record. She was getting famous. Pretty soon she’d be coming to get me and Daddy.
We didn’t have a record player at our house. I was gonna have to wait until I could take it to Patti Lynn’s to hear it.
That night, I wanted to put the record under my pillow, just to be close to it and make sure it was safe, but records scratched and broke too easy—Patti Lynn and I had found that out. We’d told Cathy one of the brothers had done it. Easy enough—those brothers of Patti Lynn’s was always breaking stuff. Instead of under my pillow, I put Momma’s record back in the envelope and hid it in the very bottom of the very back of my summer-shorts and T-shirt drawer. Mamie wouldn’t have any reason to get in there ’cause it was February.
The next day, I went to school like normal, even though nothing was normal anymore. Momma was famous. She was coming to get me.
Mamie just seemed happy that I wasn’t still throwing up.
All day long, I felt like I had bees in my belly. That afternoon Patti Lynn had her momma call Mamie and invite me specially to come over. Mamie thought Patti Lynn’s momma was the most “cultured” woman in Cayuga Springs—whatever that was, it was good, I can tell you that. Patti Lynn’s momma and Mamie played bridge together with a bunch of other ladies. When Mamie hosted, we had to just about clean the whole house with a toothbrush and buy only brand-name snacks from the Piggly Wiggly. I can’t remember one single time that Mamie said no when Patti Lynn’s momma invited me to do something.
At four o’clock, Patti Lynn and I sat in the purple bedroom she shared with Cathy and played the record. It was Momma all right. I closed my eyes and listened, pretending she was in the room, not just coming from a scratchy-sounding speaker. It was the most beautiful song I ever heard.
I’d had Patti Lynn hide the record at her house so no one would find it. From that day, every time I went to Patti Lynn’s and we could get the bedroom to ourselves, I played that record. One day that song stopped being on the outside of me and moved deep inside. It was there all of the time, especially when I was feeling particular lonely.
That night, locked up in the little room in Eula’s house, I fell asleep humming that song to myself.
Me and Wallace and Eula had breakfast, grits and eggs. I even got to go out with Eula and get the eggs right out from under the chickens. It was fun until one of the hens got mad and pecked me good on the hand. I told Eula I liked the grocery store better, where the farmers brought in the eggs and did all of the chicken fightin’ for me. Eula found that particular funny for some reason.
Those chickens, flappin’ and peckin’ to keep their eggs before they even turned into baby chicks, told me that every momma wants her baby. Eula’s story ’bout finding James like that just seemed wrong. Could it be true? Or was she just a little crazy, too? The more I
Similar Books
