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“I’m so tired of hearing you say that,” I fumed when we pulled into our driveway.
“Say what?”
“About how we’re so ‘h
appy’ and we shouldn’t bother ourselves with other things,” I said. “May’s family and we can’t just pretend this isn’t happening. Can you imagine how she feels?”
Listening to Jr and Evan reminded me of how these men saw it as being so easy to put their feelings first. What they wanted. What they needed. It was about survival and at the top of their charts was a great big old picture of one of them. Women found ways to live with pain. But men developed crafty ways of finding comfort. Even in my own doting husband, I knew this was true. The love he gave to me was really love he gave to himself.
“She’ll be fine,” Evan said. “She’ll be fine and she’ll go back to Jr. And have you ever thought of what will happen with your relationship with Jr after that? You two will still be fighting because of how you acted and they’ll be back together.”
“Jr and I have been fighting since I was born. That’s nothing new.”
“Damn, Journey.” Evan hit the steering wheel. “Why do you have to be so flippant? Why can’t you just listen to your husband?”
“Listen to my husband? You sound like my father.” I opened my own door and turned to get out of the car.
“Wait.” He took a hold of my arm before I could get all the way out. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that maybe I know best here.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I need to be there for May. I’ll be back by dinner.”
May’s mother lived in a cute, white house in the suburbs of Tuscaloosa. Her name was Ms. Sunshine and she was known for baking cakes for local diners. Like her mother and grandmother, she’d never been married and May was her only child. She never even told May who her father was. But in spite of this story, which led to a lot of people saying their blood line had been carrying a curse, she was as sweet as the cakes she made and so lovable that just one smile from her made you want a hug. She wasn’t nearly as spiritual as May, though, and had never joined a church. Apparently, May’s Christian upbringing came on account of Ms. Sunshine’s mother taking May to the old evangelical tent revivals with her when May was a child. The goal was to get May saved, so she could break the curse.
“Hey, baby,” Ms. Sunshine said, standing in the doorway of her house as I managed the steps in my church shoes and two bags of clothes hanging from both of my shoulders. I’d rushed over to Jr’s house in my church clothes after I left Evan at home. I didn’t want to risk running into Jr and fighting with him again. I’d been worn down.
“Hello, Ms. Sunshine,” I answered.
“You always look so pretty.” She smiled and opened the door farther, so I could get inside. “Got that good Indian hair from your father’s people.”
“I guess so.” I walked in and immediately dropped the bags on the floor. Ms. Sunshine and I hugged and I could see the kitchen from over her shoulder. Pots were everywhere. She was making Sunday dinner.
“You cooking?” I asked.
“Oh, I was just trying to make some dinner to cheer up my May. She been back there in my mama’s old prayer closet for hours this morning. She’s finally out. You want a plate?”
“I’ll have one before I go,” I said. I wasn’t hungry. My belly was too full of confusion. But I knew that it was just as rude in Alabama not to feed company on Sunday as it was to turn down a plate. People cooked because they expected company and sometimes, for the poorest families, they’d use the last of their groceries to show their guests how grateful they were to have them. It was an insult to their sacrifice to say no.
“I’ll get a plate ready for you.” She smiled gleefully. “Even fix some for Evan, too. I know how much he likes my cobbler.”
“Thank you. I know he’ll love that.”
“Well, May’s in her room.” Her voice turned sad. “She’s real sad, you know? And hurt. I’ve tried to get to her, but something tells me ain’t nothing but time gonna help her through this. Jr really done a number on that girl.”
I couldn’t say anything. I felt almost like it was partially my fault.
“You can go on back there, baby,” she said. “I’ll bring her things in later.”
Pictures of May from the cradle to her wedding day dotted every table top and surface of the walls in the house. She was smiling in some, praying in others, and sometimes just looking up at the sky.
“Hey, there,” I said when I reached May’s room at the end of a short hallway. The house was very small and Ms. Sunshine’s room was right across the hall. Her TV was on.
May was sitting in the middle of a full-sized bed that seemed to have the same pink, ruffled comforter on it that might have been there when May left for college. A Bible rested in her lap.
“Journey.” She smiled awkwardly and reached for me.
“How are you?” I asked, after hugging her and sitting beside her on the bed.
“I’m good. Just been here thinking. Trying to get myself together.” Her eyes were red and nearly bulging out of her head.
