Chapter 20 #3
The ones under the Need to Know Now column that I plan to ask tonight are what am I doing here, when is the next fried chicken night, how old exactly are those cousins down the road, and in your opinion are they fun to play with.
A few on my Need to Know Later list are where will I go to school in the fall, do I write Meg and your last name on my paper or do I write Lefleur, could I try and drive that car out there sometime, and when does this school start exactly.
At the last minute I decide to add what I call a Bonus Question column. My only bonus question so far is, if a baby comes available, will you be returning me. I will only ask this if the time is right since I do not want to give these folks any ideas they had not thought of already.
Willy May sure seemed to think I was here to look after a baby.
But then I decide to erase that bonus baby question. I have been told I tend to overthink things. Well I have known enough people to underthink things and could stand to put a little more thought in their decisions. I erase it so hard I get a hole in my paper.
When I get tired of sitting, I go in the library and find a book called Maps of America.
I lay on the floor and try to find where in the hell I am.
Tom said we are in the north part of Mississippi, outside a town called Byhalia.
I made him spell it. Once I find Byhalia with my finger, I use a little meter at the bottom to measure how many miles between me and Miss Garnett.
Fifty is all I come up with. Well I’d like to tell the mapmakers to go on and add some more, you cannot lay enough road between me and that woman.
Next, I look at some of the funny names they got for towns here. Hot Coffee, Chunky, Alligator, Money, a river called the Yockanookany. After while, my face starts to feel warm from where the sun got me.
I am still in there when Tom comes out of his office. It is across the hall and located in the round part he calls a turret. A room that looks straight out of a fairy tale is bound to be a good place to make up stories.
He smiles and says, The writing went pretty well today. You just might be my good luck charm, Meg.
Long as I am good for something around here.
He says that Lucille is still running errands and won’t be home until later. He winks. But don’t worry, we can have supper without her. Let’s eat out on the front porch since it’s still cool.
We can do that?
Why not?
It feels like we just ate and here I am starving again.
After we help ourselves, we carry our plates out to the front porch rocking chairs.
There is a window ledge for the water glasses, but we use our knees for our table.
And it is some good-looking food tonight.
Actually it is the same food as last night, but it all tastes different since Tom heated it up this time.
And I like this eating outside idea. When a biscuit crumb drops, I leave it for some other hungry thing to enjoy and when the mosquitoes find us, Tom just pushes a button behind him.
These Heidelbergs do not pop and slap, they turn on a electric ceiling fan and wallah. Problem solved.
While we eat, we talk about Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. I ask him how Mark Twain got away with spelling the word sivilized when that is not the correct spelling. He says that is what you call poetic license.
Well if they required a license to misspell here, I expect half the state of Mississippi would be in jail.
Tom laughs at my joke where his body shakes but he makes no sound. Then he tells me, You’re looking a little pink in the cheeks, Meg. We better put a hat on you tomorrow.
We are allowed to do this all over again tomorrow? I let that soak in and feel a good, deep tired from those hours in the sun.
What’s this? He picks up my list of Need to Knows that must have fell off my chair.
It’s just some questions I wrote out, I say and feel embarrassed by it. But you do not have to answer them now. I am scared he will laugh at it.
He unfolds it and while he reads them, he doesn’t laugh, he looks serious.
Well, I can tell you that fried chicken nights are about once a week, so it’ll be coming up soon.
You’ll be going to grammar school with the other cousins, my brother Nick’s daughter is about your age and there are some others …
He wrinkles his forehead. I don’t see why you shouldn’t use the name Heidelberg … unless you don’t want to?
I think it over and decide that would be all right. If he will tell me how do you spell it.
He spells it out slow for me and I repeat it back. I want to know more answers, but I start yawning. My eyes are so heavy, my plate almost slips off my lap. Laying too long in the sun will do that.
Why don’t we talk about the rest of these later with Lucille. I think we might need to get you to bed, Meg.
He takes both our plates to the kitchen even though I know I ought to do it.
I lean back in my rocking chair to rest my eyes a minute, and when I open them next, I am being carried up to my room.
Tom puts me in my bed and pulls the cool sheet up on me but not the blanket.
Like he knows I would get hot later with all that blanket on top of me.
He squeezes my foot and says, Sleep well, Meg. I’ll see you tomorrow.
And oh it is all so spectacular.
Sometime in the night I shoot up and look around for Dorella or Miss Mildred telling me I have woke up the whole damn house again with my screaming. But it is those two down the hall making a racket. My door is shut but theirs must be open because I hear it loud and clear.
We’ll tell her whatever we damn well please and she won’t know the difference! Lucille says.
We’re still giving the rest of the money back, Lucille, it’s the right thing to do. We’ll tell them it didn’t cost as much as we thought. Now where’d you put it—
Don’t you tell me the RIGHT thing to do!
Lucille screams so loud, my heart double thumps.
Her voice drops so all I can hear next is bits and parts.
After you lost—something, and If she hadn’t—something, and then I hear my name, MEG.
I curl up in a ball, scared to death. Lord, what have I done now?
Did I talk to the maid too much, or did Lucille see all my Need to Knows and decide she has had it up to here with me?
That’s it. I’m leaving, Lucille hollers. And I hear something in the way of boxes slamming around.
Lucille, just listen to me a minute, please, Tom begs. Put that away—
No, I have had it with you, and I have had it with HER—
Stop it … that’s not fair. Put that down, please. I’m sorry. I am shaking under the blanket, hoping this is not about me.
Then it gets quiet again. Too quiet to hear anything, and I am so scared and tired. Until he says, Come here, darling. And I hear her say in a different voice, Shut the door, Tom.