Chapter 3 #2
My mama was not afraid of anything, not rabid dogs or spiders, tornadoes or shark fishes, polio, getting burgled, or even doctor shots. But when Miss Pettybone mentioned the police authorities, Mama walked out of there without saying another word.
That night, Mama was at her little dressing table, curling her hair for the next day.
She always got it ready the night before to save time and slept with a bonnet on her head.
I liked to watch the way her fingers moved.
The rhythm went spray, spin, pin, spray, spin, pin, in a steady way that could lull you to sleep.
She said, I’m going to teach you something, Meg, and this is important. I’m going to teach you how to tell a lie so I need you to listen close.
She said, Before you can learn to be a good liar, you’ve got to learn how to spot a liar first. It’s all about how a person looks, not what the person says.
A man will touch his nose when he tells a lie.
If he is right-handed, he will look left.
If he’s left-handed, he’ll look right. Are you taking this down in your head?
Yes, ma’am. Spray, spin, pin. Spray, spin, pin.
She said, A woman will look you straight in the eye, but she will touch her hair or her buttons. She’ll blink too much or laugh when it’s not funny or nod when she denies the truth.
Spray, spin, pin. Spray, spin, pin.
The trick to lying is to avoid doing any of those tells. Now you try it. Meg, the other day, did you fool with the cigarettes in my purse?
No, ma’am.
Yes, you did, Meg. I know because of how you look.
But. I just wanted to hold one, not smoke it, I said, but the truth was I wanted to smoke the thing after seeing every person in America smoking. I read the Life magazine, for Christ’s sake.
She said, Yes you did. Now try again and keep your hands still. Say you didn’t fool with my cigarettes.
I did not fool with your cigarettes, I said as level as I could.
She smiled and said, You’re blinking too much.
I did not fool with your cigarettes.
You’re fiddling with your dress. See your hand there on the button?
I did not—I did not fool with your cigarettes.
Better, she said, and while we fanned her hair to dry, she said, Margot, sometimes you’re going to have to lie to get by in life. If anybody asks, I need you to say your daddy died in the war.
Like the rent lady?
She nodded and said, Like the rent lady. Also the Coopers and anybody else who asks. It’ll make your life a whole lot easier. She spray, spin, pinned the last dark lock of hair. And for God’s sake, don’t tell Miss Pettybone what I just taught you.
The next morning, she took those pins out one by one, and wallah, she had perfect curls all over her head.
One particular afternoon, early on, when I was sweeping floors with Ava, Miss Garnett hauled me to the office and she shut the door behind us.
The door was not so warped back then but the room was hot and stuffy.
And I thought, Lord, keep it open. She set a bag of change down and told me to count.
While I slid pennies with my finger, some dingy, some a bright pink, she moved behind me and got to separating my hair.
As she combed it through with her fingers, dividing it in three parts, I could feel myself relaxing.
Though I told myself, Do not fall into a mess this time, Meg, don’t give her the satisfaction.
She had pinched me hard that morning for squirming during the blessing.
To keep myself alert, I thought about what a time I could have with all this money. Head myself to town and buy some hard candies, maybe a periodical off the rack. I knew it was not enough money to buy a whole encyclopedia set but maybe I could afford me a couple choice letters. Like a S or a M—
Behind me, I heard her whisper, Dirty, filthy child.
Well I quit my counting and asked, I am dirty?
Even back then my white dress had already turned a mushy color, but I was still fairly clean up under it.
I washed myself pretty good at the pump this morning, I told her.
Yesterday I got a bath. I personally would not touch someone’s hair if I thought them dirty and filthy.
She said, This is not the kind of filth that washes off, Meg. This filth is inside you.
Inside me. Lord, I thought maybe she meant I had picked up a tapeworm of some kind.
Because on the outside, I thought of myself as the cleanest girl here.
Still do. Also I did not walk into this place with head lice the size of locusts like those other girls.
Those charity women give lye treatments that could burn a damn hole in your head.
Behind me, I could hear Miss Garnett breathing through her sticky lips. It is a gluey noise she makes when she is talking, like chewing a sticky cud.
Dirty, filthy child.
Well I told her flat out, Believe me, Miss Garnett, those other girls are a lot dirtier than me.
They hardly even look at the soap good when it comes to bath time.
She was not especially rough or gentle with my hair, more like it was a chore.
And if something is got dirty inside me, how am I supposed to clean up in there in the first place?
I do believe I sliced my hand in the air like she did when she had a point. Kids tend to pick up things.
This filth can’t be cleaned, Meg, it’s in your blood. Because you were born in a state of idolatry.
I believe I was born in Memphis, Tennessee, I told her.
She just kept right on saying it, though. I will be a hundred and still hear her lips unsticking apart.
Then she said, You came from a lascivious, irresponsible, feebleminded woman. But you’re my burden to bear now.
When she said that, well, she could have knocked me over with a feather. You sure you got the right mama in mind, Miss Garnett? Because my mama was smart.
But no matter how many times or which way I asked it, I could not get a straight answer out of the damn lady.