We sat with our heads almost touching the underside of the plank floor. There were some tobacco sticks in a pile, two cans of rusty nails and a posthole digger. I sat on the handles of the posthole digger. Willis sat on the sticks.
“Can’t see nothin’,” Willis said.
“It’ll get to where you can.” The gap between the house and the ground let in the daylight. Still, it was so dim I could hardly see Willis’s face. “I wish Granny was here.” Granny and Miss Alma had taken Granpaw and Missy to Circle Stump to see the doctor. Not two minutes had gone by before Victor pulled up in his Cadillac. He walked right by me and Willis, not saying a word, went in the house and started up a talk with Momma. That’s when I got scared and crawled under the house to listen.
Little streams of dirt sifted down from the planks. We could hear Victor talking on the other side, his radio announcer’s voice all calm and smooth. “I understand how you feel baby. I do. If I’d known they were going to behave like that, I’d have said something beforehand. I would have said, this is my wife, gentleman. My pride and joy.” Momma said nothing. “I should have said something later on too. I know I should have. I was nervous, Ruby. You know how I get.”
Momma said, “I reckon it was nerves made you do what you did to Missy. I reckon it was nerves put your hand up that woman’s ass — me not two feet away.”
“I was drunk, baby.”
“Your hand wandered up some strange woman’s dress because you was drunk? How come she let you keep it there?” Momma’s words were coming out full of steam. “You think I’m a fool, don’t you? You think I don’t know any better?” There was a loud crash of something across the floor. “Answer me!”
“Goddamn it Ruby!” Victor shouted. “No! I don’t think that! I don’t think that at all!”
“That hillbilly’s so ignorant, she can’t see shit for stepping in it. That’s what you think.”
“Now baby, I never said that.”
“I see a lot more than you imagine. I see what the Pink Flamingo’s about. I see better than you! All that gambling and them men with guns. Guns, Victor!”
“Oh, come on. They were security personnel. Armstrong’s people,” Victor said. “I explained all that. I thought you understood.”
“What’s he need a bunch of men with guns to watch a hotel for?”
“They’re not watching the hotel. They’re watching him,” Victor said. “Armstrong’s an important man. They’re his bodyguards.”
“Bodyguards, playing cards.”
“That’s right. I told you. Security.”
“It ain’t Christian,” Momma said.
“Who said it was? It’s not church we’re talking about here. It’s an organization. They own the hotel. I explained all this.” Victor was trying hard not to loose his temper.
“The Lord’s not pleased with it,” Momma said.
“You’ve got a handle on that do you?”
“I know when something is not right.”
“Maybe you do,” Victor said, his voice going all soft suddenly. “We can talk about it another time, can’t we baby? Maybe you can enlighten me.”
It got quiet a minute, and then Momma said, “I don’t know what to believe. I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”
“The whole thing is real baby. I’m real. I’m standing right here.”
“I see you,” Momma said.
“I feel like a teenager asking a girl out on a date for the first time,” Victor said, all soft and gentle-like.
“Wha-What he say?” Willis whispered.
“He’s being good looking for Momma, Willis. Trying to get her to like him again.”
“You ain’t a teenager,” Momma said.
“Well I feel like one,” Victor said. “In a man’s skin. Afraid you’ll say ‘no’, but here nonetheless. Asking. Asking for another chance to make things right. For you. For the kids.”
“Oh,” Momma breathed.
No sound came for awhile.
“What dey do?” Willis whispered.
“Kissy stuff. He’s doing it again. Making her be like him.”
Don’t do it, Momma! Don’t like him again!
“Victor, no,” Momma said.
Victor was all out of breath. “It’s been so long, baby.”
“Not here. Not now,” Momma said. “Let go.”
“The Lord is in me now,” Victor breathed. “I know he is.”
“I know he is too. I feel him inside you,” Momma said, like it was true, like the Lord really was inside Victor. “What am I going to do with you?”
I could feel the wall against Victor begin to crumble.
“You vulgar bastard!” Momma shouted. “Let go of me!”
There was a stomping sound, a sound of things being dragged across the floor, knocked over, a table maybe or Granpaw’s rocking chair. I could see dirt raining down from a bunch of places under the floor. The sounds dragged back toward Granny and Granpaw’s bedroom. I crawled after them. Willis followed. A door slammed.
“Git off me!” Momma yelled.
Take care of Momma son. She don’t see things all the way through.
I got hold of a tobacco stick. “Momma’s in trouble, Willis.” I would have crawled out except then I heard Momma’s voice, all whispery sounding and out of breath.
“Oh, Victor, Victor,” breathed Momma. “Not here, hon! Not now.”
Victor’s words also came between gasps of breath. “Yes now, baby. Relax. We both need this. You know it, I know it.” More dirt rained down from the floor. A fear squeezed around my heart then. A hand I couldn’t see.
“You filthy vulgar dog!” Momma said, but she was laughing again.
23
Smiles and Smooth Words
That night Victor slept with Momma in the trailer. When I came down to breakfast the next morning he was at the table. He was wearing his pink shirt but no tie, his hair combed over like Dean Martin. Momma had fixed him some eggs and he was sitting there in what used to be Granpaw’s chair. When he saw me, he smiled.
“Sit down sweetheart,” Momma said.
“Where’s Granny?” I asked.
“Out on the front porch, feeding Granpaw. He had another one of his spells.” Something in Momma’s voice made me jump, something high-pitched and chirpy like a bird’s. She hopped around the kitchen like a bird. She wore her black skirt and the blouse with the roses, the one you could see the soft part of her titties in. Her hair was piled on top, fixed together up there with a green tortoise shell comb.
“What’s wrong, Momma?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Sit down.”
“Where’s Missy?”
“In the front room, still asleep.”
Victor held up his cup. “More coffee, Momma.”
Momma smiled, brought the pot over and filled his cup.
“Thank you Momma.” Victor took a sip from the cup and set it down.
Granny’s calendar said August 19th. I sat down across from Victor. Momma placed a glass of milk in front of me. “I want coffee.”
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. With biscuit mixed in. Sugar too.”
“You’re too little for coffee, son,” Victor said.
I looked at Momma. Yesterday she was ready to throw Victor out, now she was chirping like a bird — hopping around everywhere he pointed.
“Did you hear what I said?” Victor said.
“I ain’t your son,” I said.
“Orbie,” Momma said. “Be nice.” She hopped to the refrigerator, took out a plate of ham from last night’s supper, and set it on the table. “You want me to warm this Victor? It’ll be good with them eggs.”
“No thank you Momma. Maybe Orbie will have some.” He smiled at me and sipped his coffee. He was cleaned up, clean shaved with that smelly stuff, the sleeves of his shirt turned back.