Child of the Mountains

16





It’s about Maggie pestering me and having to stay after school.




WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1953

The way of women came on me for the first time today. I’m glad Mama and Gran done talked to me about it a long time ago. Gran, with her midwifing and all, said ever girl should ought to know how God made her body and what all the parts is for.

Mama said my first time would be real special. That we would fix us some sassafras tea and figure out something fun for us two women to do together. But Mama and Gran ain’t here. There ain’t no way I’m going to tell Aunt Ethel Mae what happened. I figure she would probably just start up crying. I pulled a few rags out of the rag poke, sneaked some safety pins out of her sewing basket, and took care of things myself. Then I went on to school.

I’m starting up to feel pulled ever whichaways by them girls in my class. They’s as fickle as the sun in January. I’d a heap rather they’d make up their minds to be mean or nice or just leave me alone. Maggie sauntered up to me at recess today whilst I read. My stomach felt all crampy, and I sure didn’t need her messing with me. I figured she would bless me out real good for shoving her friend. But she said, “That was right funny what you said to Cora Lee.”

I didn’t answer.

“Are you deaf or something? What did Mr. Hinkle say to you? I think he is so dreamy, don’t you?”

I just shrugged.

“Suit yourself, Miss High and Mighty. You think you’re better than the rest of us on account of being the teacher’s pet.”

I still didn’t say nothing. But I did look up from my book and watched her walk off in a huff.

Now first off, Mr. Hinkle’s my teacher. You ain’t supposed to think of your teacher as dreamy. I feel right certain about that. Second off, I ain’t never thought of myself as better than Cora Lee and her two shadows. Never ever. I ain’t got nothing. Mama’s in jail. I won’t never see BJ and Gran and Daddy in this world again. Them girls has everthing, and they don’t even know it. I guess I’m going to have to puzzle on this a spell more.

I stayed in my seat after school today, waiting for my punishment. Mr. Hinkle handed me the want ads from his Charleston Gazette newspaper. “Here, Lydia,” he said. “I want you to read these and write down ideas about what you might want to be when you grow up. You need a dream, and you need to start thinking about your future.”

Mr. Hinkle went back to his desk, and I started looking through the want ads. I was trying to find the list of jobs when my eyes fell upon this ad:

FOR SALE

SASSAFRAS ROOT

10¢ A BAG



It all came flooding back—Gran drinking her sassafras tea, BJ’s first word, and what Mama told me about us doing something special together. I felt the hole in my heart from missing them grow so big that I thought I would die right then and there. Afore I knew what happened, tears come pouring out of my eyes like a dam done broke. The sobbing caused me to shake all over. I put my head down on the desk, cradled up in my arms, to hide my shame of not being able to stop. I could feel the ink from the wet newspaper sticking to my skin. I shoved the newspaper onto the floor.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, real soft-like. I looked up over my arm, and Mr. Hinkle knelt down beside my desk. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me. I didn’t want to get it all soggy. I reckon he figured that out. He said, “Go on and take it, Lydia. It’s a gift. You don’t have to give it back.”

I took it and wiped my eyes and nose, but I still couldn’t stop the crying. The more I tried to pull the tears back in, the louder my sobbing got. Mr. Hinkle kept patting me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Lydia,” he said. “Let the tears come. Remember, sometimes it’s in our weakness that we are made strong.”

So I didn’t fight the tears no more. I cried and cried and cried and cried until all the tears had drained out of my heart. Then I felt tireder than I ever been. I think I must of slept a little. When I looked up, Mr. Hinkle had pulled a chair up aside me.

“Lydia, can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

I already disgraced my uncle and aunt by carrying on with all them tears. I bit my lip and turned my face away from him. I shook my head no.

Mr. Hinkle sighed. “Lydia, I’m here for you if you change your mind. If you don’t want to talk about what’s troubling you, maybe it would help if we discussed your assignment. Have you found your dream job yet?”

I didn’t say nothing.

“Lydia? I need you to talk to me. Can you tell me about your dream?”

Mr. Hinkle is my teacher. I figured I had best answer him and tell the truth. “I only got one dream,” I whispered, still not looking at him.

“What is that dream, Lydia?” he asked, his voice also real soft.

“To get my mama out of jail.”

“Then when you’re ready, Lydia, let’s talk about that dream,” Mr. Hinkle said. “But now, it’s getting late. You had better go on home so your aunt and uncle don’t worry.”

I think Maggie must have put a hex on me. I looked up, and Mr. Hinkle smiled. I don’t reckon I ever paid much attention to his face afore. He’s got hazel eyes about the same color as Daddy’s. He’s right tall and strong like Daddy, too. But Mr. Hinkle ain’t never been mean like Daddy—never ever! I’m afeared Mr. Hinkle’s what I’m a-going to dream about tonight.

Most of the times when I been walking home from school I get real cold. My coat I brung from Paradise keeps getting tighter and tighter on me. I can’t get it buttoned up. I don’t want to say nothing to Uncle William and Aunt Ethel Mae about it. I figure I done caused them enough grief as it is. Besides, Gran made this coat for me. I feel like she’s walking right along aside me when I wear it.

After making such a scene in front of Mr. Hinkle today, the cold air felt real good on my hot cheeks. It snowed hard, like God was a-covering up the world with a downy blanket. I picked up a handful of snow and held it against my eyes so they wouldn’t be so swolled up when Aunt Ethel Mae saw me. The snow smelled clean and fresh, like Mama’s hair after she just washed it.

But the heaviness inside weighed me down. I wondered if the sin of what I done to my mama could ever be washed away. It’s on account of me that she’s in jail. Mr. Hinkle wants me to tell him about my dream to get my mama out of jail, but iffen I tell him, he’ll hate me for what I done.

Uncle William and Aunt Ethel Mae told me I ain’t never supposed to talk about Mama. They won’t let me write her any letters, and I don’t know iffen Mama’s ever tried to write to me. I know Aunt Ethel Mae would never give me them. She thinks it’s best to try to forget about the past so it don’t pain me. But how could I ever forget about my mama? And how could I forget what happened at that trial?

Aunt Ethel Mae don’t understand that not hearing from my mama just makes the pain worse.

And how will I ever find a way to get my mama out of jail iffen I don’t talk to somebody about it?

Everthing is all catawampus.