Bombshells, page 15
Besides, the Russians are bluffing. I take a deep breath. “The important thing is for you to be safe. The school knows what’s best. But nothing is going to happen. Do you hear me? We’re all going to be fine. This is all just a bunch of talk.”
Mellie looks doubtful, and my heart sinks. Is this where we begin to drift apart? So early? Is this the thing that makes my girl doubt that I can take care of her? I can’t find my way out of these thoughts to the words that will comfort her.
DC kicks his feet and wails his newborn cry. I know how to solve this problem. I’ll teach Mellie. “He needs to burp. Do you want to do it?” I lift the baby toward her.
She stares down at his little mouth, opened in a squall, milk pooled in the corners of his lips. He twists in my hands.
Mellie looks unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just hold his head and put him against your shoulder. He’ll snuggle into you. Then you just pat his back until he burps.” I drape a diaper over her shoulder and help get him settled. He snuggles into her like he was made to fit there.
“Like this?” She pats his back, barely touching him. His little legs jerk.
“You need to be more firm. He needs some help getting the air bubble up.”
She pats a bit harder and his legs quit jerking. “Just like that, Sweetie.”
I rest against my pillow and think into the future. Think about my Mellie holding her own baby, my grandchild. DC has stopped squirming and is resting peacefully on Mellie’s shoulder. Now she knows. She knows how to do the one thing a woman has always been able to fix, throughout wars and peace and everything in between.
“When I put him on formula in a few weeks, you’ll be able to feed him and burp him. You’ll be a big help to me.”
“Okay.” She smiles at me, looking so very grown up.
The quiet in my room is soothing and my eyes drift shut.
Then, I hear Birdie slam the front door.
BIRDIE
“Do you have your nickels?”
My best friends, Mary and Ramona, each hold out a nickel. Mary’s is shiny new, but Ramona’s is so dingy I have to make sure it’s really a nickel. Yep. I put them in my pocket. If I can get two nickels a day, I’ll have enough money to buy ice cream at school every day.
“Okay. You remember the rules, right? You have to be quiet.”
I keep my finger against my lips while we walk through the house. Mama must be in her bedroom. I put up my hand so Mary and Ramona will stop to wait at the door. They have their hands folded behind them just like I said.
Mama is propped up against some pillows and Mellie is holding the baby. I didn’t get to hold the baby like that. Mama made me sit beside her on the bed, and she kept her hand behind his head the whole time. Oh, well. I’ve got business to take care right now. “Mama, can we see the baby? Don’t worry,” I rush on. “I told them what to do since they don’t have any babies at their houses.”
“You and your friends can see DC this time. But, Birdie. Honestly.” Mama’s lips go flat and I know she’s not happy with me. I’m not sure why, though. Why doesn’t she want to show off my new brother?
"From now on, ask my permission before bringing your friends inside.”
“All right. But can we see him?” I fold my hands in front of me like my teacher does, and I talk in a soft, but grown-up way, to Mary and Ramona. I’m teaching them about babies. All girls need to know about babies. “See, this is what a baby really looks like. He’s much littler than we always think. No chubby legs.” I point to his legs dangling from the blanket. His socks droop off his toes like empty balloons. They are always falling off. I wish I got a nickel for every one I found on the floor. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about having money for ice cream every day.
But I have to keep talking so we can get to the good part. “And, see? No big eyes.” I push at Mellie’s shoulder. “Uh, Melanie? Turn around so they can see his face.”
She looks at Mama, who winks at her and nods. That means it’s okay for her to move and let us see DC’s face. What’s she waiting for, then? “Turn around. They want to see.”
Mary and Ramona come stand beside Melanie. Ramona adjusts her glasses so she can get a good look. Mary pulls out her handkerchief to wipe her nose. Uh-oh. “Mama, Mary doesn’t have a cold. Her mother said it’s hayfever. She gets it every fall.”
“Maybe Mary should keep her handkerchief over her nose and mouth. Okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Adams. I will.”
“You still haven’t seen the best thing.” I prop my elbows next to Mama’s pillow. “Mama, aren’t you going to change his diaper now?”
Mama and Mellie burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
Mama puts her hand over her mouth and makes her eyes serious, though her cheeks are still smiling. “No, Birdie. I’m not going to change his diaper now.”
That’s a surprise. She changes his diaper every time she holds him. Besides, I’ve got two nickels in my pocket. “But, Mama. I promised.”
“Sorry, Birdie. DC is your brother, not a zoo exhibit.”
Just then DC lets out a scream. He jerks his head and kicks his feet. Melanie hands him back to Mama.
Over the screaming, she says, “Y’all go back outside and play.”
“Okay, we’re going.” I motion for Mary and Ramona to follow me. “See? He’s just as loud as I told you.”
Mary says, “Birdie, I want my nickel back.”
Thursday, October 18,1962
MELANIE
Stephanie came home with me after school. Since Cherie ran away, Steph’s been at my house a lot. Mama doesn’t mind. We do our homework, watch TV, and sometimes Steph will help me do chores. But today, when Mama tells me to fold the clothes, Steph announces she’s going to Marvin’s.
“Stephanie, make sure you call your mother and tell her where you are.” Mama has reminded Steph to call home for the last three days.
“I will Mrs. Adams. Bye.” Steph grabs her books and leaves through the screened porch to cut across our back yard to Marvin’s house. She hardly ever talks about Buzz anymore, especially since her big plans for the Sadie Hawkins Day dance were cancelled by Cherie’s Adventure. That’s what she calls it, Cherie’s Adventure, like the title of a book. She says it real sarcastic like.
There’s a knock at the front door. I’m surprised to open the door to see Cherie standing there, holding a little package wrapped in blue paper printed with booties. I guess The Adventure is over already. Cherie smiles at me more sweetly than she ever has before.
“Hi, Melanie. Is your mother busy?”
Mama comes up behind me, with DC in her arms. “Cherie, come on in. How are you?”
Mama and Cherie settle on the sofa, while I close the door.
“Oh, he’s so beautiful,” Cherie whispers. Her hands seem to reach out to touch DC without her moving.
“Do you want to hold him, Cherie?”
“Oh, could I?”
She looks so different, I can’t believe she’s only been gone a week or so. Almost everything about her has changed. She’s wearing a lot less make-up and her hair is softer. I never realized how pretty Cherie really is until today. She has the clear and glowing complexion the teen magazines write articles about. Her eyes are a nice green.
She holds DC in her arms like she’s afraid he’ll break. When she glances up at Mama, Cherie’s eyes glisten with tears. She looks like an angel, a sad, pretty angel.
Mama wipes a tear from her cheek, too.
“Melanie, why don’t you get us some iced tea? And how about bringing some of that cake that Flossie made today?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the kitchen, I pour three glasses of tea. I look out the window to watch Flossie taking the clean laundry off the clothesline, but I’m listening to Mama and Cherie talking in the living room.
Through the open kitchen door, I hear Mama say, “So, how do you like married life, Cherie?”
“Okay, I guess.” Cherie’s voice is barely a whisper.
“Be patient, honey. Everything will settle down soon.”
Cherie’s voice changes, like she’s answering a question in class, one she’s certain she has the right answer for. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Adams. Clint is terrific. We have a nice little apartment near his work. It’s just that Mama and Daddy don’t understand. They can’t remember what it’s like to be in love.”
“Are you sure that’s it, Cherie?”
“Sure, why else would they be so mean to Clint? They treat him like he’s a criminal.”
I don’t quite understand what’s going on, but Mama looks at Cherie as a friend now, someone with the same interests as herself. How has Cherie suddenly gone from a teenager to a woman, someone who could be Mama’s friend?
Flossie stoops over and lifts the wicker clothes basket to her hip. Tilting back her head, she scans the sky and smiles before turning toward the screen porch. I cover the pound cake with a clink of aluminum against the glass cake plate. Mama and Cherie are laughing at something I didn’t hear.
“Here’s the mail,” Birdie shouts, startling me back to my task. As I carry the tea to the living room and put it on the coffee table, Birdie tosses the mail onto the table with a thump, sending the envelopes sliding to a stop against the side of the tray.
“Gotta go, gotta go bad.” The bathroom fan whirs on and the door clicks shut. Sometimes Birdie is just plain embarrassing.
DC squirms and cries. Cherie hands him back to Mama. I glance at the mail and see, right on top of the Life magazine, a letter addressed to me.
From Robert.
My heart stops for a second, then begins to kick against my chest. I snatch up the envelope and tear open the back flap. A snapshot slides out from between the folded sheets of notebook paper. I swoop down to snatch it, but it lands at Cherie’s feet.
She picks it up. “Oh, it’s Robert Taylor and Brooke Mayfield. I haven’t seen her since her father got stationed in Cuba last year.” She holds the photograph so Mama can see and then Cherie studies it some more.
I’m dying to grab it away from her. Anger surges through me. It’s my picture. It came in a letter addressed to me. Me. Not Mama or Cherie, but me.
“Robert looks good, doesn’t he, Norah?”
I stiffen. Since when does Cherie call my mama “Norah,” like they are best friends?
Cherie seems oblivious to the anger I direct at her. “And Brooke looks so cute. I was just thinking about her the other day and wishing she’d been able to stay here instead of going to Cuba with her parents. We were really good friends, remember?”
Cherie’s voice has changed once again, from pretend woman to sad teenager who misses her best friend. Finally, Cherie hands the picture to me.
I don’t hear anything else they say. My whole world focuses on the image of Robert and Brooke, posed side by side on a golden beach. Their bronzed skin glistens with oil. Brooke’s corn silk hair is lifted by the breeze. Both of them smile so brightly, they seem to outshine the sun.
I’m so jealous, my stomach burns like I drank a Coke too fast. I hate seeing them together like this.
But, Brooke looks like I remember her—pretty in a soft, frail way. Her thick, pale hair makes her skin seem fragile, even though she has a tan. Her eyes are still so big behind her black-rimmed cat-eye glasses. I really don’t like her anymore.
But Robert has changed a whole lot. His hair is buzzed short. He seems bigger. Well, he is bigger.
His arms bulge with new muscles, and his chest looks different from when he mowed lawns during the summer. A beer bottle dangles from the hand he has draped over Brooke’s shoulder. He pinches a cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. I’ve never seen him smoke before.
I swallow. Robert looks like a man, completely different from the boy who bought me a banana Popsicle and told me he was a little scared.
This Robert looks like he would have followed Mrs. Winston home from his going away party, instead of walking with me.
This Robert would have never kissed me.
Tears sting my eyes, but I remember I’m standing in the living room with Mama and Cherie watching me.
“So, what does Robert have to say?” Mama sits her glass down and picks up the plate with slices of pound cake. She offers some to Cherie.
“No, thank you. My stomach’s still queasy sometimes.”
“Eating something helps that. Are you sure you won’t have some?”
Cherie shakes her head. “Does Robert say whether he likes the Navy or not?”
“Uh, I haven’t gotten that far yet.” I haven’t even read the letter’s first line. All I want to do is go to my room and close the door so I can read every word by myself. Instead, I scan the page quickly so I can answer Mama and Cherie. “He says he’s fine and likes what he’s doing.”
The telephone rings, and Flossie picks it up. “Adams residence.”
Birdie skips through the living room, stopping to grab a piece of cake from the plate.
Mama catches her wrist. “Did you wash your hands, young lady?”
Birdie rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mama.”
“Well, what do you say then?”
“May I have some cake, please?”
“Yes, you may. Stay in our yard. You’ll need to come inside soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Cherie.” Birdie slams the front door behind her, this time waking DC and making him scream.
Cherie jumps to her feet. “I think I’d better go now. Mother didn’t want me to stay gone too long.”
“I’ll save all of DC’s things for you, Cherie. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, Norah. Good-bye, Melanie. Flossie.”
After the front door closes Flossie says, “Was she in trouble like we thought?” She’s covering the phone’s receiver with her hand.
Mama nods.
Oh. That’s why Cherie seemed so grown up and why she was acting like Mama’s friend. Running away to get married and being in trouble means one thing: Cherie’s going to have a baby. I wonder if Steph knows?
“Told you she’d be in trouble ’fore Christmas. Turns out, way before.” Flossie shakes her head sadly and lifts the phone toward Mama. “This is for you Miz Adams. Want me to take the baby?”
Mama pushes up from the sofa with a sigh. She takes the phone from Flossie and hands over the crying DC. “Hello?”
Flossie carries the baby back to Mama’s room to change him. I flop on the couch, letter in one hand and snapshot in the other.
While I stare at the blank television screen, digesting this new information that Cherie is in trouble, Stephanie appears at the back door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. You left your math book on the table.”
“Mellie, you’ll never guess what just happened.” Stephanie sits next to me on the couch and preens like the cockatoo I saw at the zoo, stroking her ponytail with her fingers.
You’ll never guess what happened either. Some news is better coming from home, I decide. I’ll let Cherie or her mother tell Steph she’s going to be an auntie.
“Well, aren’t you going to try to guess?” Steph asks.
“No. Tell me.”
She leans over. “Marvin kissed me.” She stretches like a cat, nodding at me like she’s trying to convince me it’s true.
“Really?”
“Yes. No wonder they write songs about it. You can’t imagine how wonderful it is.”
Yes, I can. I know how wonderful it is. But I wonder if I’ll ever have another kiss from Robert, especially this new Robert in the photo.
Mama comes back into the living room. “Oh, hi, Stephanie. Your sister just left.”
“Cherie’s back?” Stephanie’s voice squeaks with surprise. She looks happy and a little frightened. She gives me a dirty look that says I should have told her.
I shrug. I’ve got other things on my mind. Like why is she so sure she’s the only one who’s experienced a kiss?
“I’d better get home then. I’ll call you later.” She grabs the math book off the table and darts through the back door.
Mama sits next to me on the sofa and props her feet on the coffee table. She rests her head against the back of the sofa. “Turned out to be a busy afternoon, didn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stare down at my letter, which I still haven’t read completely. “Who was on the phone, Mama?”
Her eyes drift closed. “Aunt Lola. She’s coming down tomorrow after work. She’ll be here about midnight.”
“Midnight? That’s awful late. Are you going to be able to stay up that late?” Mama’s been going to bed at the same time Birdie and I do, and she’s still tired all the time.
Mama sighs her breath out. Right now, it sounds like she’s almost too tired to suck one back in. “Yeah, it’ll be good to see her.”
“I know. I miss her, too.” I lean over and kiss Mama’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll help out with the extra work. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
A smile lifts the corners of her mouth, but Mama doesn’t open her eyes. “I know. You’re a big help to me.”
As Flossie sings a lullaby for DC, her voice drifts through the house. Soon he quiets down, and Mama’s breathing settles into a steady rhythm as she dozes off, too.
I slip off to my room. Finally, I can read Robert’s letter again, slowly this time, and savor every word. But I’m bothered, thinking of Stephanie and Marvin kissing. It makes me feel a little queasy, because I know Stephanie doesn’t really like Marvin. Sure, she thinks he’s interesting because he plays the guitar and stuff, but she still makes fun of him. If she thinks she’ll get a laugh from the crowd, she’ll mock him by pretending to be a beatnik.
I guess that kissing Marvin was just a new experience, so it was exciting to Stephanie because she wanted to be kissed so badly. How can she think a kiss from someone she doesn’t really like is wonderful?
I know what wonderful really is. I just haven’t told Stephanie about it.
I tuck Robert’s picture under my pillow and settle down to read his letter for the second time.
