Sylvia saw in the young woman’s face that she was decided. Sylvia was done too, failed and defeated and done. She wasn’t sure if she had enough energy to even get back to her car. The fact that she had done more than could be expected was just beside the point.
The woman looked at Sylvia, shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t get it. But you know what? You’re not supposed to.” Charlotte looked her up and down, took in her ugly outfit, the bulges of fat in her middle she tried valiantly to conceal. “Mind your business.” Charlotte opened the door to her house and disappeared behind it. The soft click of the closing front door sadder than if she’d slammed it in Sylvia’s face.
36
After the parking lot party at Simmy’s that the grandparents (old but still walking under their own power) attended and sat like royalty in high-backed chairs; in the parking lot; after the editorials in the town paper, thank-you after thank-you from generations of customers; after 1952 week when the child’s Simmy burger was fifty-two cents; Simmy’s finally, and for all time, closed its doors. The parking lot was full to overflowing, some of us stood in the McDonald’s lot across the street to get a glimpse of it all, full of nostalgic well-wishers, family and friends, as a man in a bucket crane unscrewed, unlatched, removed the big sign from the pole. A grandson had already claimed the sign to decorate his barn, to man-scape his place, he’d said in the booming microphone. We all laughed. As the strapped sign floated down to the awaiting flatbed truck, the crowd stood without speaking, hardly moving, their eyes locked on the sign’s progress. We cheered with real emotion as the sign reached the bed of the truck without a scratch. Something had worked out exactly how it was supposed to. We would have stories to tell. Even a few black faces dotted the crowd. We are all in this together after all. This is how an era ends, in one festive, happy moment. A cardboard CLOSED sign won’t hang in the restaurant window long. In a few months, a group of women will open a consignment store and sell used (but still good) children’s clothes and toys and start the ever revolving attempts to make a go of a business in the building. In a few years, brothers will even try a diner again, fifties style with giant hamburgers running over with homemade coleslaw. Carolina style, for sure, but it won’t take. But all that is to come. Now the parking lot is cleared except for a broken-down Corolla no one has claimed. We drive through town, glance over at the empty building, look for the sign we think we remember seeing our whole lives. We are missing something, we think. We check our purses, our pockets, move the car seat forward then backward to look under the seat. Sometimes the lost can find the strangest places to hide (now where is it? we just had it); but try as we will we won’t find it. We drive on with the sure-feeling there is something important that we have forgotten.
37
“Good god, Sylvia,” Henry said as he popped up from the couch, quick moving like a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t ask me nothing, you hear me?”
“I didn’t think nobody would be here,” Henry began, not sure what else to say.
“That’s right you didn’t think. Like I’m surprised about that.”
“You stay, Sylvia. Sorry, sorry.” Henry moved toward the front door. “I’m leaving right now.” Henry brushed off his clothes like he could brush away a week of sleeping on the floor with a few quick motions.
“Where have you been? You look terrible, just terrible.”
“I probably do. I know.”
“Where are you staying? With your girlfriend?”
Henry’s eyes watered. He couldn’t stand it if Sylvia berated him. He had not wanted to do or be what she expected from him. “No, ma’am. No. I stayed with daddy.”
“And in the car from the looks of it.” Sylvia turned off the television and stood in front of the screen. She would get his full attention one way or the other. “I can’t even believe you, Henry.”
Henry stretched his arms over his head, pretended to yawn so Sylvia would not notice his tears. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Have you talked to Ava?”
“She won’t talk to me, Sylvia.”
“That boy is yours isn’t he?”
Henry checked his pockets and lowered his head. He found nothing.
“What are you looking for? You’re not going to find it there. Are you going to answer or not?”
“Did you see him? Did they come here?” Henry said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, Sylvia. I swear to god. I didn’t want to hurt you or Ava.”
“That’s low-down. You know it. I don’t have to tell you.” Sylvia turned to leave the room. “Y’all children are going to kill me.”
Henry heard the sloppy sound of the refrigerator closing and Sylvia banging around through the cabinets. He had to pass her to get out of the house. His instinct was to slink out the back door. Henry followed her to the kitchen.
“I knew I should have stopped at McDonald’s,” Sylvia said as she banged open cabinet doors.
“There’s nothing in there, Sylvia. I checked. Ava’s trying again,” he said. Sylvia looked up at Henry too quickly, confirming his suspicions.
“Did she tell you that?” Sylvia asked.
“She didn’t have to say, I can tell.”
“Well that’s her business, and if you think I’m going to talk to you like your pitiful self matters then you don’t know me very well,” Sylvia said. She searched through the cabinets like a drug addict for that sleeve of saltines she’d started. If she could find something maybe she wouldn’t throw a heavy pot at Henry’s head. The mess of her children’s lives all originated with her. If she’d been a better example, if she’d had more respect for herself, if she’d done more, maybe Ava would think more of her life than to be tied to wounded Henry. Children can’t see you vulnerable for too long or they tend to never believe anything you say. Sylvia had loved to tell her children stories about their lives in her body. She had meant to make them strong. Let them know that they had been wanted, even if the world declared its indifference or hostility to their presence. She insisted to them that they had been wanted. She shouldn’t have stopped there. There was so much more she should have done. “Talk to her about what y’all are going to do. Be a man and do the right thing.”
“She won’t talk to me. She won’t even let me text her.”
“I never did like you, Henry. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on you that you were the wrong one for Ava. You have some weak in you. I can’t stand weak.”