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Cal heard. He whirled about, grumbling under his breath, and disappeared. Pa would never let a woman tell him what to do and where to do it, much less when. What kind of leash did Kitty have about Cal's neck that he would obey, even grudgingly?
"Now, ya come along with me, an show ya
everythin, just everythin, an yer gonna love it all, ya will, know ya will." She smiled and patted my cheek. "Knew yer pa. Guess ya know that by now. Knew he couldn't do nothin fer ya, not like I'm gonna do. Gonna give ya all t'thins I wanted when I was a kid like ya. Advantages I neva had are gonna be yers. It's yer good luck t'have picked me, an my Cal . . . an yer Pa's bad luck. Serves him right, too, to lose everythin . . every one of his kids." Again she smiled her strange smile. "Now, tell me what ya like t'do most."
"Oh . . I love to read!" I answered quickly. "My teacher, Miss Deale, used to give Tom and me lots of books to bring home, and for birthdays and such she'd give us our very own books--brand-new ones. I brought a few with me, my favorite ones--and they're not dirty, Kitty, really they're not. Tom and I taught Keith and Our Jane to love books and respect them as friends."
"Books . . ?" she asked, distaste on her face. "Ya mean that's what ya'd rather have, more than anythin? Ya must be crazy." And with that she spun on her heel and seemed eager to lead me into the dining room, though my vision was smeary with fatigue, my impressions becoming vague from too many changes all at once.
Yet I had to view the dining room with its large oval glass-top table, sitting atop a fancy gold-colored pedestal formed by three golden dolphins that obligingly fanned their tails to support the thick, heavy glass. I was swaying on my feet, exhausted. I tried desperately to listen to Kitty, to see all the objects that Kitty kept pointing out.
Next we visited the spanking-white kitchen. Even the white floor tiles shone. "Expensive vinyl," she explained, "t'best money kin buy." I nodded, not knowing the best from the worst. Through sleepy eyes I beheld the modern-day wonders I'd dreamed about all my life: the dishwasher, the double porcelain sinks, the gleaming chrome fixtures, the large kitchen range with two ovens, all the white cabinets, the long countertops, the round table and four chairs. Everywhere possible, to keep all the white from being monotonous, were more of Kitty's works.
She'd taken animal forms and made them into different kinds of containers. Ceramic baskets were really flour, sugar, tea, and coffee canisters; a pink pig held utensils too large to fit inside a drawer; and a magenta horse was sitting down as a human would, holding pink paper napkins.
"Now what ya think, really think?" demanded Kitty. "It's pretty, so clean, colorful, and pretty," I whispered, my voice gone hoarse.
We returned to the front foyer, where Kitty again checked over the living room and then narrowed her eyes. "They done put em in t'wrong places!" she shrieked. "Would ya look where they put my elephant end tables? An I jus noticed! In t'corners--in t'dammed corners--where ya kin't even see em! Heaven, right now we got t'put this place t'orda."
It took an hour to move everything to where Kitty wanted it to be. The large ceramic pieces were surprisingly heavy. I was tired enough to drop. Kitty stared at my face, seized hold of my hand, and pulled me toward the stairs. "Give ya a betta tour tomorra. Yer gonna love it. Right now we gotta get ya ready fer bed."
All the way up the stairs Kitty rambled on about her famous movie-star clients, all stars who insisted only she could do their hair right. "They come t'perform in shows, an always they ask fer me. Why, I've seen things ya jus wouldn't believe--Lord, haven't I? Secrets, I've got 'em by t'million--won't tell a soul, not a single soul. Closemouthed, I am." Kitty paused, turned me around, and stared deep into my eyes. "What's wrong with ya? Kin't you hear? Aren't ya listenin?"
She was a blurred image. So exhausted I could sleep on my feet, I made an effort to be more enthusiastic about Kitty's rich clients, and also an honest excuse about it being a long day, and I wasn't hearing or seeing too well.
"Why ya talk like that?"
I winced. All my life I'd fought not to talk the way she did, as all hill folks talked, slurring their conjunctions so they ran into nouns, verbs, whatever, and she was criticizing me. "Miss Deale always insisted we should not slur our words and
contractions."
"Who then is Miss Deale?"
"My teacher."
Kitty snorted. "Neva had no use fer school or teachers. Nobody uses yer kind of Yankee talk. Ya'll make enemies, ya will, with that accent. Ya learn t'talk like t'rest of us, or suffer t'consequences."
What consequences?
"Yes, Kitty."
We'd reached the top of the stairs. Walls were wavering before my eyes. Suddenly Kitty turned to seize me by the shoulders; then she began to bang my head against the nearest wall. "WAKE UP!" yelled Kitty. "Ya wake up an hear this--I'm not Kitty t'ya! Yer t'call me Mother! Not Momma, not Mommy, not Mom or Motha--and, least of all, not Ma! But Mothher, understand?"
I was dizzy, my head hurt. She was amazingly strong. "Yes, Mother."
"Good, that's a nice girl, good girl--now let's take that bath."
Oh, I must never become too tired again, and risk the wrath of a woman who could turn on me in a second, and for no apparent reason.
Down a short hall toward an open door that revealed shiny black wallpaper with gold designs Kitty led me. "Now, here's t'master bathroom," informed Kitty, stepping inside first and dragging me along by the arm. "That thing ova there is called a commode by fancy folks, but I'm not fancy--it's a toilet. Ya lift t'lid before ya sit down, an ya flush every time ya use it--an don't ya fill it with paper or it'll stop up an flood ova, an it'll be yer goddam job t'clean it up. In fact, this whole house is yers tkeep clean. I'll explain how t'keep my plants alive, watered an fed, dusted, my planters shiny, all my stuff dusted, clean, vacuumed, an ya'll do elaundry, but first t'bath."
Here I was, my most fervent wish come true, an indoor bathroom, with hot and cold running water, a bathtub, a basin, mirrors on two walls--now I was too tired to enjoy any of it.
"Are ya listenin, girl--are ya?" came Kitty's shrill voice through my ever-thicker fog of fatigue. "All this paint, wallpaper, an carpet is brand-new, as ya kin plainly see. I want it t'stay that way. It's yer duty t'see it stays this way, brand-new--ya hear?"
Blindly I nodded.
"An ya might as well know from the beginnin, I expect ya t'work out t'expense of stayin here, an t'cost of what ya eat, by doin t'chores I assign. I'm sure ya don't know t'least thing about housework, an that's goin t'waste a good deal of my valuable time, but ya'll learn fast if ya hope t'live here." She paused again and stared deep into my eyes.
