Mom & Me & Mom Read online

  She asked me into her room. She sat on her bed and didn’t invite me to join her.

  “Maya, I am your mother. Despite the fact that I left you for years, I am your mother. You know that, don’t you?”

  I said, “Yes, ma’am.” I had been answering her briefly with a few words since my arrival in California.

  “You don’t have to say ‘ma’am’ to me. You’re not in Arkansas.”

  “No, ma’am. I mean no.”

  “You don’t want to call me ‘Mother,’ do you?” I remained silent.

  “You have to call me something. We can’t go through life without you addressing me. What would you like to call me?”

  I had been thinking of that since I first saw her. I said, “Lady.”

  “What?”

  “Lady.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are beautiful, and you don’t look like a mother.”

  “Is Lady a person you like?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Is Lady a person you might learn to like?”

  She waited as I thought about it.

  I said, “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s it. I am Lady, and still your mother.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean yes.”

  “At the right time I will introduce my new name.”

  She left me, turned up the player, and sang loudly with the music. The next day I realized she must have spoken to my grandmother.

  Grandmother came into my bedroom. “Sister, she is your mother and she does care for you.”

  I said, “I’ll wait until Bailey gets here. He will know what to do, and whether we should call her Lady.”

  4

  Mother, Grandmother, and I waited at the railway station. Bailey descended from the train and saw me first. The smile that took over his face made me forget all the discomfort I had felt since coming to California.

  His eyes found Grandmother and his smile changed to a grin, and he waved to her. Then he saw Mother and his response broke my heart. Suddenly he was a lost little boy who had been found at last. He saw his mother, his home, and then all his lonely birthdays were gone. His nights when scary things made noise under the bed were forgotten. He went to her as if hypnotized. She opened her arms and she clasped him into her embrace. I felt as if I had stopped breathing. My brother was gone, and he would never come back.

  He had forgotten everything, but I remembered how we felt on the few occasions when she sent us toys. I poked the eyes out of each doll, and Bailey took huge rocks and smashed to bits the trucks or trains that came wrapped up in fancy paper.

  Grandmother put her arm around me and we walked ahead of the others back to the car. She opened the door and sat in the backseat. She looked at me and patted the seat beside her. We left the front seat for the new lovers.

  The plan was that Grandmother would return to Arkansas two days after Bailey arrived. Before Lady and Bailey Jr. reached the car I said to Grandmother, “I want to go back home with you, Momma.”

  She asked, “Why?”

  I said, “I don’t want to think of you on that train all alone. You will need me.”

  “When did you make that decision?” I didn’t want to answer.

  She said, “When you saw the reunion of your brother and his mother?” That she should have such understanding, being an old woman and country, too: I thought it was amazing. It was just as well that I had no answer, because Bailey and his mother had already reached the car.

  Vivian said to Grandmother, “Mother Annie, I didn’t look for you two. I knew you would go to the car.” Bailey didn’t turn to look at me. His eyes were glued to his mother’s face. “One thing about you that cannot be denied, you are a true sensible woman.”

  Grandmother said, “Thank you, Vivian. Junior?”

  She had to call twice to get his attention, “Junior, how was the train? Did somebody make food for your trip? How did you leave Willie?”

  Suddenly he remembered there was someone else in the world. He grinned for Grandmother. “Yes, ma’am, but none of them can cook like you.”

  He turned to me and asked, “What’s happening, My? Has California got your tongue? You haven’t said a word since I got in the car.”

  I made my voice as cold as possible. I said, “You haven’t given me a chance.”

  In a second he said, “What’s the matter, My?”

  I had hurt him and I was glad. I said, “I may go back to Stamps with Momma.” I wanted to break his heart.

  “No, ma’am, you will not.” My grandmother’s voice was unusually hard.

  My mother asked, “Why would you leave now? You said all you were waiting on was your brother. Well, here he is.” She started the car and pulled out into traffic.

  Bailey turned back to her. He added, “Yep, I’m in California.”

  Grandmother held my hand and patted it. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from crying.

  No one spoke until we reached our house. Bailey dropped his hand over the back of the front seat. When he wiggled his fingers, I grabbed them. He squeezed my fingers and let them go and drew his hand back to the front seat. The exchange did not escape Grandmother’s notice, but she said nothing.

  5

  When we entered the house my mother said, “Maya, show your brother his room and help him hang up his clothes.” She didn’t have to tell me what I could do for my brother. I started for the stairs.

  Grandmother said, “Sister, your mother spoke to you.”

  I mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bailey was impressed with his room. He sat on his bed and asked, “So what is wrong? Why are you so unhappy?”

  There was no reason to try to lie to him. “Well, I don’t like her. I don’t understand why she sent us away.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  I said, “Of course not.”

  Bailey, with his usual sharpness, said, “The only thing to do is ask her.”

  “She’s probably going to make us feel sorry for her.”

  “Maybe. I think she’s tough. Let’s go downstairs and ask her.”

  I held back, afraid to face her. But Bailey had never steered me wrong. He said, “Come on, My.” In a second he was out the side door, so I followed.

  “Mother?” He was calling her Mother already.

  She stepped out of a door. “Yes?”

  “My and I have a question we must ask you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  She said, “I know that all I really have to do is stay black and die. So, what is your question?”

  “Why did you send us away, and why didn’t you come back and get us?”

  She said, “Sit down, children.”

  Bailey held a chair for me and we both sat down.

  “Your father and I began to dislike each other almost as soon as we got married. Then both of you were born and we had to think about what we would do with you. We tried for nearly a year but we realized there was nothing that could keep us together. We fought like wild animals. His mother wrote us and said to send the children to her. When we got her letter, we went out, and for the first time in a year, we had an evening without cursing each other out and slamming out of a restaurant.”

  She started to smile. “I missed you but I knew you were in the best place for you. I would have been a terrible mother. I had no patience. Maya, when you were about two years old, you asked me for something. I was busy talking, so you hit my hand, and I slapped you off the porch without thinking. It didn’t mean I didn’t love you; it just meant I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I’m explaining to you, not apologizing. We would have all been sorry had I kept you.”

  6

  Soon after our arrival in California, Vivian Baxter said to me and Bailey, “Please sit down, I have something to say.” Bailey looked at me and winked and we both sat on the sofa. She sat in an easy chair and said that Baxter was her maiden name and when she married our father she became a Johnson. Then they were divorced. A few years ago, she met Clid
ell Jackson and they loved each other, so they married. Clidell was on a business trip but would be returning soon. She said he was a wonderful man and she knew we would all get along well and love each other.

  When Bailey and I were alone, we talked about our new stepfather. Bailey counseled me to not make any judgment until we saw him. I agreed.

  One morning our mother walked around picking up a glass here and putting it down there, placing a plate on the table and then replacing it. Bailey said that our stepfather would be coming soon. As usual, he was right.

  Mother asked us to dress nicely and to be prepared to meet our new father. We waited in the living room wondering.

  We heard her open the front door and we stood.

  Mother introduced us to Clidell Jackson. He was a wondrous, very pleasant-looking man, tall and large with a little paunch. His tailor-made three-piece suits made him look like a lawyer or banker. He wore a yellow diamond stickpin in his tie and his shirt had starched collars and cuffs.

  When Bailey and I shook hands with him, he said, “I’m glad to meet you. I know your ages, and I know when I was fifteen, I thought I knew everything. As I grew older, I had to admit I knew either nothing or very little. I am sure you know everything, but there are a few more things I can teach you. I know every card game and betting game you’ve ever heard of. I want you to learn that you cannot have anything without working for it. The only way you can be taken advantage of is if you think you can get something for nothing. I’ll be happy if you call me Daddy Clidell. I love your mother very much and I will always take care of the three of you.”

  Vivian Baxter gave us both kisses and said, “Now you can go upstairs.”

  On the landing outside my door, Bailey said, “I like him.”

  I said, “I don’t know him.”

  He said, “Trust me, he’s good. He won’t try anything wrong with you and he does love our mother.”

  7

  The time had come for Grandmother to return to Stamps. My heart beat so loudly, I thought I would burst. I had been with her so long I couldn’t imagine the sun rising without my grandmother putting Vaseline on my arms and brushing my hair. But we were at the train station, Lady, Bailey, and me. We hugged Grandmother on the platform and Bailey walked her onto the train car carrying her suitcase. Through the window I watched him bend over her as the wheels began to turn slowly. I ran to the door shouting, “Bailey, the train is leaving!”

  I started up the steps and my mother caught my coat sleeve. “Get off that train. Now.” Bailey came to the door and easily leapt from the train steps to the platform.

  He grinned. “Here I am.” He turned toward the train as it was picking up speed. He waved.

  “Bye, Momma! Have a good trip!” He turned to Mother for approval, and she smiled.

  He took my hand. “Come on, My. We’re near the house, aren’t we?”

  I said, “Yeah.”

  He said, “We’ll see you at home, Mother. We’re walking. See you at home.”

  She said, “Okay.”

  He did call her Mother but he was walking home with me. I was used to doing whatever Bailey wanted me to do, and I knew she had to get used to Bailey having his way.

  He began to run and I followed him. I was glad that I had my brother and a woman whom I was beginning to like, and maybe even to love. Perhaps life was going to be all right after all.

  Mother called us out of our rooms and we sat in the upstairs kitchen. I was to learn that whenever she had anything important to say, she would first ask us to sit down, and then say, “I have something to say.” Later, when we were not in her hearing, Bailey would imitate her: “Sit down, I have something to say.”

  She always had something to say. She had brought soft drinks up from the downstairs refrigerator. She asked me to fill two glasses with ice and told Bailey to go downstairs and tell Papa Ford that she wanted a drink and Bailey should bring it to her.

  Papa Ford was the houseman and cook who lived with us.

  Without speaking to me, she filled our glasses with colas. When Bailey returned with her drink of whiskey on the rocks, she clicked our glasses and said, “Now you say, ‘Skoal.’ ” We did so.

  Then she sat. “Clidell Jackson is from Slayton, Texas. He went to the third grade in school. He can read and write, just barely, but he is considered one of the best gamblers on the West Coast. Also, he never cheats and he never allows a cheater in any of his gambling houses. He is a kind man, someone I admire and want around my children.

  “Remember this: Your reputation is the most important thing you’ll ever have. Not clothes, nor money, not the big cars you may drive. If your reputation is good, you can achieve anything you want in the world. I know your Grandmother Henderson told you that—maybe not in the same words I’m using, but I’m sure as you live here with me, and Daddy Clidell, you will learn that we do not lie, and we do not cheat, and we do laugh a lot. At ourselves first, and then at each other.

  “Papa Ford cleans and cooks and sends clothes to the laundry and cleaners. You will clean your own rooms and you will respect him. He is a worker, not a slave.”

  I was liking her.

  Daddy Clidell, Papa Ford, Bailey, and I were standing at the kitchen table, waiting for Mother. She came to the door and announced, “Everyone please come into the dining room.” Bailey and I looked at each other, puzzled. We only sat in the dining room on Sundays or when we had guests.

  “Come in, I have something to say.”

  Daddy Clidell sat down, and the rest of us sat at our places, which as usual were set.

  Mother waved away the hands that were waiting for the ritual of blessing the table.

  “No, not that,” she said. “I have learned that Maya doesn’t want to call me Mother. She has another name for me. It seems like I don’t fit her image of a mother.” Everyone looked at me disapprovingly, even Bailey. “She wants to call me ‘Lady.’ ” She waited a second, then said, “And I like it. She said I’m beautiful and kind, so I resemble a true lady. From now on, Junior, you can call me Lady. In fact, I’m going to introduce myself to people as Lady Jackson. You all feel free to call me Lady. Everybody has the right to be called anything he wants to be called. I want to be called Lady.”

  Bailey jumped into her speech. “Then I want to be called Bailey. I hate Junior. I am no little boy.”

  There were a few seconds of quiet.

  “Then that’s what you’ll be called. Clidell, what about you?”

  “I’ll go on being Daddy Clidell.”

  Papa Ford said, “I’ll go on being called Papa Ford. Having said that, can I call you all to dinner at the kitchen table? It’s ready to be called Dinner.”

  We all laughed, and what could have been a stiff session was made light, yet serious.

  I smiled at “Lady.” She handled introducing her new name to the family with grace. It was difficult to resist her.

  8

  I picked up the telephone and said “Hello.” Lady said to me, “Hi, baby, I’m out on my own recognizance.”

  I didn’t know what that meant but it sounded like a good thing so I said, “I’m glad.” She asked to speak to my dad so I took the phone to him.

  About two months later, I learned what the phrase “own recognizance” meant. She had been arrested for gambling and then released without bail.

  One Sunday morning, a few weeks later, she was arrested again and had to be bailed out of jail. A woman she knew slightly had gone with her to church. After services they went to a supermarket. Mother picked up what she wanted and her friend picked up something, paid, and then they sat outside of the supermarket waiting for their car. The woman opened her jacket and showed my mother that she had stolen a two-pound can of coffee. My mother said, “You’re stupid. Take it back.”

  The woman said, “I’ve stolen this. You can have half of it if you want.”

  My mother said, “Take it back or I will take care of you.”

  The woman said, “Are you kidding?” />
  My mother hit her and the police were called and both women were taken to jail. She didn’t telephone me, but rather called Boyd Puccinelli, a bail bondsman, who was also a friend.

  When she came home I said, “I’m sorry you weren’t released on your own recognizance, and that you had to be bailed out.”

  She said, “That’s nothing. I don’t like to go to jail, because it takes up my time. But it doesn’t frighten me; jail was made for people, not horses. I’ll be damned if I want to go to jail for stealing a lousy can of coffee.”

  Bailey and I were woven fairly smoothly into Vivian Baxter’s big-city ways. Bailey was generally more willing than I was to blend into our mother’s life. For the most part he adored our mother, and laughing and joking, he showed his delight at being with her. However, on the odd occasion when he remembered the lonely nights in Arkansas, his angry personality came to the fore.

  He would speak loudly and angrily and would walk out of rooms and slam doors behind himself. He never went too far, knowing that Vivian would snatch him back if he stepped over the bounds of courtesy she imposed. He did let her know sometimes that he had not forgotten being abandoned.

  I was almost fourteen and had been living with my mother and my stepfather for a few months. She found that I didn’t lie easily. Not because I was so righteous, but because I was simply too proud to be caught in a lie and be forced to apologize. Lady didn’t lie, either, but she explained that it was in fact because she was too mean to lie.

  She admired my decision to tell the truth at all costs. She gave me a key to her money closet, where she kept thousands of dollars and cases of liquor. The time was World War II and whiskey was not only rare and expensive, it was rationed. So she always kept the booze in a locked closet with the money.

  One morning I was sitting at the kitchen with Mother and five or six women who worked in her gambling casinos.