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“Where did you dance?”
“We’d roll up the rugs and dance in the Roman Revival room or in the back parlor. Other times I’d steal out the window and meet a boyfriend who’d drive me to a dance. My mother would leave the back door unlocked so I could sneak back in and my father would never know. She’d come into my room when she heard me return and sit on my bed so I could tell her everything. That’s the way it’s going to be with us. When you’re old enough to go to dances, I’ll see that you go.”
If my gift didn’t set me free, maybe my mother would. “Did you have lots of boyfriends, Momma?”
“Yes, I guess I did.” Wistfully, she stared over my head. “I used to promise myself I wouldn’t marry until I was thirty. I wanted my musical career more than I wanted a husband and children—and look what I got.”
“I’m sorry, Momma.”
Then she was touching my hair lightly. “Darling, I’m sorry. I’m talking too much and making you feel guilty when it was I who made the choice. I fell in love with your father, and love has a way of brushing aside all other considerations. He swept me off my feet, and if he hadn’t, I would probably have died of a broken heart anyway. But you be careful not to let love steal what aspirations you have for yourself. Though your father fills your head with silly ideas, in one he’s perfectly right. You are special. You’re gifted, too, even if you don’t know what that gift is. Your father is a good man who just doesn’t always do the right thing.”
I stared up into her face, feeling more and more confused. First she said Papa gave me idiotic notions, and then she told me his craziest one about my being special was true.
Moments later, Papa was home with his sacks of groceries and florist’s flowers. Vera came straggling after him. She looked dirty; her hair was a mess, and she’d been crying. “Momma,” she sobbed, running to my mother and making me feel mean again because she was trying to claim not only my father but also my mother. “Papa pulled me into his car by my hair—look what he did to my hair, and I just set it last night.”
“Don’t comfort her, Lucky!” shouted Papa when he saw my mother’s arms go protectively about Vera. He grabbed hold of Vera and shoved her into a kitchen chair so forcefully that she began to wail. “That smart-mouth was stumbling along the highway when I saw her. When I stopped and ordered her into the car, she told me she was going to become a whore and shame us all. Ellsbeth, if you don’t know how to tame your daughter, then I’ll use my own method.”
I hadn’t even noticed my aunt had slipped into the kitchen, wearing one of her plaid cotton housedresses that seemed so cheap and ordinary compared to the pretty clothes my mother wore.
“Vera, go upstairs and stay there until I tell you to come down again,” barked Papa. “And no meals until you can apologize to all of us. You should be grateful you have a place at all in this household.”
“I’ll go, but I’ll never be grateful!” Vera picked herself up and trudged out of the kitchen. “And I’ll come downstairs when I get good and ready!”
Papa rushed forward.
“Momma, don’t let him whip her!” I cried. “She’ll only do something to hurt herself if he does.” Vera always caused her own accidents soon after she had enraged Papa so much he had to punish her.
My mother sighed and looked more fatigued. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Damian, let her go. She’s been punished enough.”
Why didn’t my aunt speak up to defend her own daughter? Sometimes it seemed she disliked Vera as much as Papa did. Then I filled with guilt. At times I, too, absolutely hated Vera. The only time I liked her was when I pitied her.
Upstairs Vera was screaming at the top of her lungs. “Nobody loves me! Nobody cares! Don’t you dare ever hit me again, Damian Adare! If you do, I’ll tell! You know whom I’ll tell, and you’ll be sorry, you will be!”
In a flash Papa was out of the chair and flying up the stairs. That stupid Vera kept right on screaming until he threw open her door, and then there was a thud. Next came the loudest and longest howl I’d heard her make yet—and her lifetime had a long record of howls and screams. My blood chilled. Another loud thump … and then total silence. All three of us left in the kitchen stared up at the ceiling, which was the floor of Vera’s room. What had Papa done to Vera?
A few minutes later, Papa came back to the kitchen.
“What did you do to Vera?” asked Momma sharply, her eyes hard as she glared at him. “She’s only a child, Damian. You don’t have to be so harsh with a child.”
“I didn’t do a damn thing!” he roared. “I opened the door of her room. She backed off and tripped over a chair. She fell and started howling. She got up and started to run to hide in the closet where she put that lock on the inside, and darn if she didn’t trip and fall again. I left her on the floor crying. You’d better go up, Ellie. She may have another broken bone.”
Disbelievingly, I stared at Papa. If I had fallen, he’d have run to help me up. He’d have kissed me, held me, said a hundred loving things, and yet he did nothing for Vera but walk away. And only yesterday he’d been so nice to her. I looked at my aunt, almost holding my breath, wondering what she would do to Papa for being so heartless.
“After breakfast I’ll go up,” answered my aunt as she sat down again. “Another broken bone would spoil my appetite.”
Momma rose to go upstairs and see to Vera. “Don’t you dare!” ordered Papa. “You look tired enough to faint, and I want you well rested and pretty for the party tonight.”
Shaken again, I got up and started for the stairs. Papa ordered me back, but I continued on, taking the steps three at a time. “I’m coming, Vera,” I called.
Vera wasn’t in her room lying on the floor with broken bones as I’d thought she’d be. I ran about, wondering where she could be. Then, to my utter amazement, I heard her singing in the First Audrina’s bedroom.
Only a playroom, safe in my home,
Got no tears, no fears,
And nowhere else to roam,
’Cause my papa wants me always,
