Jessie – 2004 (10 years old)
“Hurry up, Jessie,” Grandma said. She was digging in her church purse, distracted. “Your grandfather is waiting on us, and it’s wasteful to keep the car running. Where are your brothers?”
“Which ones?” I said. Grandma looked up from her purse at me, her eyebrows raised.
“Joel and Ben are still upstairs. Eddy went out to the car and Samuel is…who knows where he is.”
Grandma sighed, then said, “Why don’t you have your shoes on? We’re going to be late!”
“I can’t find them!” I said, flopping face down onto the floor to look under the big dresser by the front door. I’d checked all the normal places already. They weren’t in my room, they weren’t in the closet where we usually stowed our shoes, and now I could rule out underneath the hall dresser.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Grandma exhaled, just as Ben and Joel came thundering down the stairs.
“Joel wouldn’t let me borrow his other good shirt,” Ben said, “so I had to try to get the ink stains out of mine and it didn’t work at all, see??” He skidded to a stop in front of us and displayed a big blue spreading mess on the front of his dress shirt that scrubbing had just made worse.
“That is exactly why you can’t borrow mine,” Joel said, shoving past him towards the door.
“Put your jacket on and button it up,” Grandma said. “I don’t think it will show.”
“I’ll be too hot,” Ben complained, and Grandma said, “That’s a shame. Next time be more careful with your clothes.”
“Hey, Jessie, you left these on my desk,” Ben told me, and slung my shiny black dress shoes at me. One hit me in the arm and the other went skittering halfway down the hall towards the kitchen.
“Benjamin Jordan,” Grandma warned, but it was too late – he’d dashed out the door. She turned back to me.
“Get those shoes on your feet right this minute and let’s go,” she said. I yanked them on and we both headed for the old blue wood-paneled station wagon that was idling outside the door. Grandpa was frowning at us through the driver’s side window.
I slid in beside Eddy. The twins had already grabbed the back-facing seat at the rear. It was my turn to sit there but Grandpa was glaring at me in the rear view mirror and I was afraid to complain. Albert was in the front seat between him and Grandma, and turned around to look at me.
“You’re making us late,” he said.
“Samuel’s still not here so I don’t think you can blame me,” I told him.
“Where is he?” said Grandpa. “I am just about to leave him here. That boy will be late for his own funeral.”
He didn’t sound as mad as he would have been if any of the rest of us was keeping him waiting. He always let Samuel get away with everything.
“He came downstairs before I did,” Eddy said.
“He doesn’t want to go,” Joel said from the back seat, but so softly that only we heard him. Eddy turned around and hissed “Shhhhhh!”
I started to ask why he didn’t want to go, but Eddy narrowed his eyes at me too so I kept my mouth shut.
Grandpa looked at his watch, and said, “That’s it. He’s staying here. We have to go.”
Grandma said, “Well, he is nearly an adult, Jacob. Sixteen is old enough to decide if he wants to come with us or not.”
Grandpa looked at her. She looked back. He put the car into gear and we headed down the driveway.
Grandpa drove faster than usual, and we pulled into the church parking lot at three minutes till 10. Grandma hurried us all out of the car. The church doesn’t look like a church from the outside. There aren’t enough people for a normal one like the Baptists have, so we rent the community center for weekly services. A cheerful banner waved to us from the front door, inviting the town to Tuesday Movie Nights at the community center. Dirty Dancing QUOTES OR ITALICS NEEDED was this week’s feature. My friends Ella and Claire were planning to go. Both of their older sisters saw it at the theater. I wanted to go too, but Grandma disapproved of the title, and Grandpa disapproved of dancing. And the title. And movies in general although Grandma could usually talk him into letting us see the G rated ones.
We all climbed out of the car and headed for the door.
“Pull your dress down, Jessie,” Grandma said, swatting at my turned-up hem.
“Stupid dress,” I muttered, and yanked it as far down as it would go. She put a hand on my shoulder and steered me inside.
Everyone was taking their seats. Grandpa found a row with enough room for all of us. That was easy – none of them were full. I sat down on my metal chair and tried to get comfortable. Ben was on one side of me, Albert was on the other, and they were both too close. I squirmed and scooted my chair around until Grandpa leaned over from his seat on the end and looked at me. I sat still then, even when Ben elbowed me on the side Grandpa couldn’t see.
The inside of the church was cheerful, with green and blue paint swirling across the walls and bright light coming through the big windows. The sermon wasn’t so cheerful. It was about hellfire and damnation and being sure you lived set apart from the rest of the evil world so God would approve of you instead of sending you to the bad place. The preacher glared down at all of us as he paced around on his stage at the front of the room. There was a row of yellow cartoon dinosaurs dancing along the wall behind him. I lost interest fast and started drawing pictures of horses in the spiral notebook where I was supposed to be taking notes like Grandma did. Eddy was listening but Ben was drawing cars and Joel was drawing spaceships. Albert was staring at nothing as usual. The deacons took turns preaching and this wasn’t Grandpa’s week to tell us about damnation, so it was easy to daydream and draw.
I drew Ezzie first, standing in the pasture looking at a big sunflower. That took a long time because I couldn’t get her face just right. Then I turned the page and drew Manhattan, my favorite toy horse, rearing up on his back legs with his mane and tail flying in the wind. He was bigger than Ezzie, the real horse, and about to crush the little stick figure with a big screaming circle face who was right under his deadly hooves. I wrote “RICKY THE JERK” below the stick figure in big block letters. I was considering what would happen to Ricky next when another piece of paper covered my drawing.
Why is Ricky a jerk? asked the piece of paper in scribbly writing that I could barely read. I looked sideways at Ben, who was looking back at me with his head cocked. He had a serious expression but you never could tell with Ben. He might just be picking on me. But maybe he was really interested.
He just is a jerk, I wrote. He says mean things.
What kind of mean things? Ben’s piece of paper asked. CHG: THEN ASKED IN TURN (ETC.) Mean things about you?
I looked past Ben at the clouds I could see through the window at the end of our row. I did not want to tell anyone about it. Especially Ben.
He leaned over and bumped me with his shoulder, scribbled some more.
Come on, you can tell me. I’ll beat him up for you!
That made me have to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t giggle. None of my brothers would ever beat anybody up, not in a million years. Even Samuel wouldn’t do that.
Ben scribbled some more and passed me a picture of a stick figure hitting another stick figure that had Ricky’s screaming circle face with what might have been a baseball bat. I rolled my eyes at him.
WHAT DID HE SAY?? I WANT VENGEANCE!!! He’d crossed out “vengeance” three times and I still wasn’t sure it was spelled right. I sighed.
He called Grandpa a creepy old snake man and he said we’re backwoods hillbillies.
Ben took a long time staring at my piece of paper, and I hadn’t even told him the worst thing. Ricky also said I was fat but Ben said that too when he was mad at me. I didn’t want him to know it was worse than being a backwoods hillbilly.
He finally looked at me, then put his arm around my shoulder which startled me so much I nearly dropped my notebook. Then he bent over a new piece of paper and scribbled for a long time on it.
Ricky is just jealous because his dad is a drunk and they live in that crappy old trailer and he wishes he had an interesting family like YOU do, and that he lived in a nice big house like you.
Also, obviously Ricky thinks you are cute and he is too dumb to know how to tell you that.
Then he shut his notebook so hard that Grandma looked over at us and frowned, so we both sat up straight and put our eyes back on the preacher.
By the time the service was over we were all sore from the hard seats. People started milling around then breaking off into little groups to chat. Ben didn’t say a word to me about our paper talk. He and Joel ran outside with the West brothers fast as they could, and Albert followed them. So did Eddy, but I knew he was just wanting to escape somewhere by himself. Grandma and her old lady friends had their heads together up towards the front of the room. We’d be there forever, I thought. Grandma could talk to her friends all day long. I looked around for Lettie, who was the only kid my age. Lettie was kind of weird, so shy she would hardly say hello, but she liked horses too so at least we had one thing to talk about. I couldn’t find her or her parents, though.
I was about to go outside and see what my brothers were doing, hoping it didn’t involve Ben telling the rest of them about Ricky, when I heard Grandpa’s booming voice say Samuel’s name. Grandpa was standing on the end of our row, talking to a couple of men. I knew Mr. Raymond, one of the taking-turns-preaching deacons. I didn’t know the second man. He was short and skinny and his eyes kept darting around the room. I sat back down a few chairs away from them and pretended I was reading my notebook.
“He isn’t here,” Grandpa was saying. “I told him it was important to come to the service today so he could meet you. I am very disappointed in that boy.”
“That is a shame,” said the skinny man. His eyes kept darting around. They passed right over me.
“He needs to learn,” Mr. Raymond said. “I don’t think he’s taking it as seriously as he ought to.”
“He is not,” Grandpa said. “But he will start taking it seriously.”
“He’s vital,” said the skinny man. “There ain’t many of us left. That young fellow has a gift.”
“I thought his mother had a gift,” Grandpa said. “I still think she did.” He stopped. He didn’t say anything else for so long I snuck a peek out of the corner of my eye to be sure they hadn’t moved off. Then he said, “But she was stubborn and she wouldn’t use it like I taught her. Samuel is not going to do that. We are not going to let him be wasted.” His voice sounded weird and too quiet.
When I heard Samuel’s name again I looked over at them without thinking. Grandpa was staring at me. He took a few steps towards my seat and bent down over me.
“Jessie, that was a private conversation,” he said, low, his eyes locked on mine. “I don’t know what you overheard, but I want you to forget every word. Do you understand?” A LITTLE CONFUSED HERE ABOUT SPACIAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN JESSIE AND HER GRANDPA — IS JESSIE ALONE ON THE PEW — MAYBE MORE DETAILS HERE ABOUT THIS
“Yes sir,” I said.
“Do not tell your grandmother that we were discussing Samuel. Is that clear?”
I wanted to know why but didn’t dare ask. And I really wanted to know what he meant about Samuel’s mother. That would be my mother too. Nobody ever talked about her. My chest felt too tight, and my ears were burning like they’d caught fire. Grandpa had that mad face that meant absolutely no questions, and he stared right into my eyes until I said “Yes sir” again. Mr. Raymond and the skinny man were watching us.
“Now go outside and find your brothers,” Grandpa said. “We’ll be heading home in a few minutes.”
“Yes sir,” I said one more time, I and scooted towards the other end of our row so I could escape without getting too close to the skinny man and his darting eyes that watched me until I disappeared out the door.
Ben -the day they arrive – 2010
The house doesn’t feel like itself without Grandpa. I keep thinking he’s out in the garden, or maybe down at the barn. I want to go find him, let him know we’re home. I want him to tell me I need a haircut and ask if I’ve gotten a real job yet. He’ll remind me for the billionth time that he can get me and Joel both on at the textile plant if we’ll move back home. His old friend Mr. Martin is the hiring manager and they are always trying to find good help, he’ll say. Then he’ll give me that look. The one that says he’s not entirely sure I fit the description of “good help”. Not like Joel, who’s been dependable and trustworthy and on time for everything since we were kids. I’m going to miss making Grandpa despair of me. I’m also pretty sure he secretly enjoyed having someone to try and fix, especially after Samuel was gone.
Grandma has nearly vanished too. She appears and disappears. She isn’t saying much about Grandpa. She just ignores the big empty hole that’s in the middle of us. Lunch is ready when Joel and I arrive after our long drive up from Atlanta: fried chicken, green beans, potato salad, banana pudding and sweet ice tea. It makes the house smell like a normal day when we walk in the front door. Not like it’s the first day without Grandpa. She hugs us, kisses us both on the cheek and maneuvers the conversation away from Grandpa as quick as she can. Then she says she has to decide on what to wear to the funeral, and heads to her room.
Jessie comes galumphing down the stairs as we watch Grandma’s door shut. Her short spiky black hair stops us both in our tracks. Eddy warned us about what she’d done but it’s a shock to see. Joel is the first to recover. He grabs her and swings her around while he marvels at it.
“Look at you!” he says. “You’re a grown up! You’re gorgeous!”
“Jesus Christ, what did Grandma say?” I ask. Jessie’s smile transforms into a glare.
“She liked it. She said it suits me and it’s high time I did what I wanted with it, church or no church.”
“Good thing Grandpa had already keeled over – this would definitely have done him in,” I say, and immediately regret it when Jessie’s eyes fill up with tears.
“I’m kidding,” I tell her, and rough her sharp hair up a bit. “I’m joking! It was just a …surprise. I almost didn’t recognize you. I like it too, it suits you! You look like an artsy big city girl.” Oddly enough the edgy new look does suit her. She smiles as Joel narrows his eyes at me over her shoulder.
“Where is everybody?” I ask her, changing the subject. “I’m hurt we didn’t get a welcoming party.”
“Eddy took Albert to a movie to get his mind off Grandpa. Some alien invasion thing that’s on in Asheville. They’ll be back for dinner.”
“Here, sit down and have lunch with us. Tell us about what happened,” Joel says. Jessie’s eyes get teary again, but she plops down at the kitchen table and spoons a heap of potato salad onto her plate.
“Be nice to her,” Joel says into my ear as I’m getting ice out of the freezer and throwing it into the tall tea glasses. “She’s had an awful couple of days.”
“I know, I know,” I whisper back. I frown at him, but when I set Jessie’s tea down by her plate I give her a kiss on top of her new hair.
After we finish lunch Joel wants to walk down to the barn. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to see where Grandpa met his end. Jessie takes a breath, but nods.
“I’ll go with you,” she says. “I haven’t been inside yet.”
“Where did Grandma disappear off to?” I ask. “She’s taking a long time to pick out church clothes. The funeral isn’t till day after tomorrow.”
“Could you at least make an effort to not be an asshole, Ben?” Joel says, so sharply that I stare at him for a second. Testiness is not at all like Joel. I’m the testy one.
“She’s spent a lot of time back in her room since it happened,” Jessie says. “I don’t know what she’s doing but she must want to be alone.”
“I’m sure she does,” says Joel. “It’s a big shock.”
“You guys go on,” I tell them. “I’ll check in on her.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea,” Joel says, but he’s smiling a little at me. “Please try to cheer her up, not make her sorry we’re here.”
They head down to the barn, and I hesitate in the hallway. There’s something weird about the house, even beyond Grandpa not being here. It’s almost like I’m a stranger, like the house is watching me and making a determination that I don’t belong here anymore. Even worse, I agree with it. Everything is off kilter and strange. I feel a tiny shiver go down my spine, then roll my eyes at myself. It’s the situation. It’s awful and sad and everything seems wrong. This is normal, I tell myself.
Grandma’s door is shut, and I tap at it. I feel like an intruder but she answers right away, says “Come in” with the same strong firm voice she’s always had. I stick my head around the door. I was expecting her to be lying on the bed, lost in grief, but she’s sitting at her small desk in the corner of the room smiling at me. She’s looking tidy as ever with her neat blue cardigan and her gray hair wrapped up in its usual bun. There’s a black dress hanging on the wardrobe like an alibi.
“Hey Grandma,” I say. “Thanks for making us lunch. Are you okay?”
“Oh, Benny,” she says. “I was just looking at some old pictures.”
I shut the door gently behind me. “I didn’t know you kept photos in here,” I say. “I thought they were all out in the front room, in the bookcase.”
“Most of them are,” she says. She’s got several spread across the top of the desk, fanned out like a deck of cards. I bend over to get a better look. There’s one of Grandma and Grandpa right on top. They both look shockingly young, and must have been on the way to church. Grandma’s wearing a long dark skirt and jacket, and she’s staring seriously at the camera. Grandpa’s decked out in a snazzy striped suit, and he’s smiling almost shyly. He’s got an arm around her shoulders. That’s something I’ve never seen before.
“This was not long after we got married,” Grandma says. “He was an awfully good-looking young man.”
“He was,” I say. I pick it up to get a better view. “Wow – he actually looks like Eddy there. Or…Eddy looks like him.” It’s his height, I think, and his dark hair. The way he’s standing beside her, a little uncertain. I’d never have thought of Grandpa as being uncertain. He was uncertain’s polar opposite.
“They do favor,” Grandma says. “And not just in looks. I know it’s hard to believe they were anything alike, but when Jacob was young he wasn’t nearly as sure of himself. He learned that from the Church.”
She stares at the photo with a strange expression. Her eyebrows are scrunched up, her lips suddenly pressed tight. Then she practically smacks the photo down, and picks up one of us as kids. Very small kids, all dressed up in our Sunday best. We were lined up by height, little serious Eddy on one end ADD OR CHG, INDICATING THIS IS THE *HIGH* END OF THE HEIGHT SPECTRUM, GIVING US MORE CLUES ABOUT THEIR RELATIVE AGES OVERALL — HOW OLD IS JESSIE WHEN SHE HAS HER HAIR CUT, ETC. and teeny toddler Jessie on the other. I’m scowling at the camera. Jessie is clutching a raggedy stuffed toy sheep. I laugh. “Oh, look, it’s Sally,” I say. “I’d forgotten all about Sally. Remember how Jessie used to pitch massive fits if we were going somewhere and she couldn’t find Sally? We’d all have to stage a hunt for her.”
Grandma laughs too. “I had to sneak that sheep into the washing machine. Jessie didn’t want to part with her for a second and Sally would get so filthy she could nearly stand up by herself from the dirt.”
I pick up the picture for a better look, and almost miss seeing Grandma slide something back into the drawer. She’s quick as a poker shark, and I couldn’t tell who was in the photo. I caught the barest glimpse of someone standing alone. Black hair, a lot of green behind them. She innocently hands me another one. Albert when he was just a little boy, sitting on the porch with a white cat stretched out across his lap.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one,” I say. “Look how little he was. I don’t remember the cat either.”
“That’s Snowball. I brought him with me when Jacob and I got married. He was just a kitten then and Jacob wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t care for cats and didn’t want one in the house. We had quite a few…discussions about me having a cat. He believed wives are meant to obey their husbands, and thought I was going against his wishes because I wouldn’t give up Snowball. Or at least make him be a barn cat.” She chuckles. NEW PARAGRAPH NOT NEEDED?
“Of course I believed that too, believed he should be in charge since he was my husband. That’s what the church taught us. But I was away from my own family for the first time ever, and it was lonely and a little frightening. Snowball kept me company and was a friend to me. Jacob didn’t understand how I felt since he had God and his church people. He didn’t know what being lonely was.”
She sighed and then looked up at me with a smile. “I liked to think I changed his mind about the cat, but Snowball managed that by himself. He was quite a personable fellow. Jacob ended up taking to him, and I’d even catch him talking to Snowball now and then. He was a pretty old boy in this picture.”
I am struck by how she’s looking at the cat and not Albert with that fond smile. And I realize these pictures she’s got squirreled away must be her special ones.
“I find it hard to believe Grandpa ever changed his mind about anything,” I say, and she gives a little laugh.
“He did always firmly believe he was right. Whether he was or wasn’t.”
I spot the top half of another picture I’ve never seen. It’s partly hidden by a couple more of Young Grandpa and looks like a school picture, someone’s blonde hair and a corner of a pale cheek. Jessie is the only blonde girl in our family, and from the little bit that’s visible this girl looks too old to be Jessie. I pull it out before Grandma can spirit it away too. Then I realize I’m looking at half the blonde girl’s face. For a horrified second I think I’ve ripped it in two, until Grandma hands me the other half.
“I don’t think you’ve ever seen this,” Grandma says. “I shouldn’t have been hiding it back here.”
She slides the two halves together, and we both lean over to look. It’s a pretty, smiling girl, maybe 18, blue cheerful eyes and an open heart-shaped face. She does look a lot like Jessie, but it’s not Jessie. I draw in a breath.
“Is this Mom?” I ask. I’m nearly whispering. We only have one picture of her that I’ve ever seen, a tiny one where she’s sitting in the swing, so small it’s hard to make out her face.
“It is,” Grandma says. “That’s Sarah. She was in high school. It’s her senior picture.” She brushes the left half of the photo with one finger, touches Sarah’s paper cheek.
“Wow,” I say. I can’t quit staring at it. “Why have you kept it back here all this time?”
“Because your grandfather can’t bear to think about her,” Grandma says, then corrects herself. “Couldn’t. He didn’t want to talk about her, didn’t want to see pictures of her. Once she was…gone…he wanted to act like she’d never been here at all.” She takes a deep breath, keeps staring at Sarah. My mother.
“Like Samuel,” I say. “He wouldn’t ever talk about Samuel.” Grandma glances up at me, frowning.
“Yes, like Samuel. He couldn’t bear that either.”
“Well it was his own fault,” I say, not having any idea that’s about to come out of my mouth. Grandma keeps looking at the photo. I sit down on the edge of the bed, harder than I mean to. “Samuel was his fault. Was Mom his fault too? I guess it was him that tore her in half.” It’s strange to say Mom.
Grandma doesn’t answer for a minute. I’m starting to regret my chronic inability to keep my mouth shut. Then she says, “Sarah made her own choices, Benny. That’s one thing she never faltered in. She didn’t let anyone tell her what to do. I admired that about her, at least sometimes. But she also wouldn’t listen to anyone once she’d made her mind up.”
“That sounds just like Samuel,” I say. “And he’s gone too.”
Grandma looks up at me sharply, looks right into my eyes. Then she suddenly gets up from the desk, back straight and eyes clear, and says, “Let’s go make sure your room is ready.”
• Needs to be before Samuel and Albert in the church, and before Jacob taking them all to a service