AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, sweet girl, what a peachy idea.” Mama's entire demeanor turns from somber and gray to bright as sunshine in the blink of an eye as she looks to me.
“I'm not sending flowers,” I grit out, avoiding her gaze like a coward.
“Y'all can't tell me I didn't raise my sons better than that.” Mama tuts. “You're sending flowers, darlin', or I'll be sending them for you. There’s no reason why you shouldn't.”
“You know why I shouldn't, Mama.”
She shakes her head in disappointment. “Darlin', listen to your mama now. I know Althea broke your heart. Best believe she broke mine too when she did. But her daddy has just passed and that's more important right now, you understand me?”
I nod, though my gaze falls to my lap. I don't want to talk about this, not in front of my family, no matter how much I love them.
“If I agree to send flowers, will you let us eat?”
“That's my sweet boy.” She grins, holding her hands out on either side of her for Dad and Clover to take.
My brothers and I take it as a sign to join hands, and we all close our eyes and bow our heads.
“Dear Lord,” Mama says. “We give thanks for the food on our plates and the faces at this table. May you bless this family with good health and watch over our sweet Clay while we cannot. We think at this time of Jolene and Althea, for the loss they have suffered, and pray that they find peace and comfort in the love of Jesus Christ. And finally, we pray for the soul of poor Bobby Sparkes. May he find rest in your arms and paradise in your promise of eternal life. Amen.”
Although Mama is really the only religious member of our family, we conclude the prayer in unison.
Dinner is cold by the time we're ready to eat, but we all know better than to complain. So, we stuff ourselves full of Mama's cooking and all the while, conversation bubbles around me, though I'm too deep in my thoughts of what I've just been told to join in.
Resentment still surges through my veins like cyanide, but it isn't enough to kill the sadness in my heart or the sympathy in my soul for what Thea's going through. It doesn't stop me from wishing so desperately that I could hold her the way I used to when she was sad or to simply be there for her in any way at all.
But I can't.
So, despite it all, I do the only thing I can do.
As soon as I get home, I load up my computer and I order Thea flowers.
My fourth morningin Tupelo begins in much the same vein as those that have come previously, with bleary eyes from a fretful night's sleep and a pain in my neck from sleeping on a bed I’m not used to.
I make my mother breakfast in the kitchen downstairs and take it up to her in the bedroom we've been sharing since I arrived. She forces a grateful smile as I place the tray down gently in her lap, lifting the mug of hot tea to her lips and blowing softly over the top of it.
“Thanks, darlin'.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head like she used to do to me when I was little and sit down on the end of the bed.
Though sadness has dulled her sparkle somewhat, my mother is the same striking woman she's always been, even with her unwashed hair and darkness under her eyes.
With hair like the fiercest flames and irises as deep and sharp as chartreuse liqueur, she possesses the rare kind of beauty that forces people to stop what they're doing just to look at her.
As a child, I was in awe of her. It mesmerized me how much power she held in a seemingly effortless but expertly constructed tilt of her lips. One smile and she could have everything she ever wanted.
I used to wish on every eyelash and lucky penny that I'd grow up with the same magical powers. And the universe, it seems, was listening. Because puberty passed and people's behavior toward me began to change. Men especially, though I was still a child. But I was invited to parties that I'd never been to before. People did me favors with no expectation of return. And they liked me more than they did before.
Or that was the way it seemed on the surface, at least. Once my back was turned, my name was spat in envied whispers and cursed like a problem that needed to be solved.
That was when I learned how to wield my beauty like a weapon.
Now I think that if I could go back in time, I'd spend my wishes on something else.
“Maybe you should try and go out today,” I suggest softly. “A walk might do you some good. Your lungs probably need the fresh air.”
Mama attempts another smile, but it comes as more of a grimace. She's so damn sad I can smell it.
“Maybe,” she says finally.
