The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett - 29

A fter being gone for four nights, Lucille finally pulls up to the house. I follow Tom outside and watch him pick her up and spin her around until even I can see she is tired of it.

She’s wearing a dress I have not seen before, creamy white with black buttons, and shiny black shoes with straps. She says, A damn policeman stopped me just outside Memphis. I almost had a coronary.

Jesus, Lucille—

He didn’t find anything, but he followed me for twenty miles.

When I tell her hello, she pats me on the arm, not like Mrs. Heidelberg pats slow, more like she is petting a dog. On the back seat I see all sorts of boxes and bags. I wonder if there is something in there for me. Tom leans in and messes with a covering across the floor. You bought three cases this time? He backs his rear end out. Darling, if you’d gotten arrested … my parents would’ve never forgiven us.

Is that all you care about? The cops telling your mama on you? she says. I could be wearing stripes right now, Tom!

I still don’t see why you had to buy so much, Lucille.

We were almost out , she says. And that bootlegger charged me a fortune. I can’t wait until next year and all this nonsense is over.

Tom sighs and sags like I knew he would. He always loses his nerve with Lucille. I’m just glad you made it home safely , he says. Now we can get back to the way things ought to be.

I thought things were how they ought to be before she came home, but that is me.

We unload the car—the two of us, that is. Tom carries the bottles and boxes, I carry in the shopping bags from places called Lowenstein’s and Goldsmith’s. Lucille carries her pocketbook.

When Tom sees a long, white box with words on it, he says, Did you buy a … fur coat, Lucille?

I spent my share the way I wanted to.

Did you spend it … all?

She sticks her nose in the air and says, Yes. And she goes upstairs.

Way I look at it, some of that money ought to be mine. Went to buy a baby and picked up a orphan for free. I am a important person in this deal.

While Lucille unpacks, I go to help Tom load all the bottles in the secret cabinet. He pauses like he is not so sure I should be a part of this illegal operation.

I don’t think all these bottles are going to fit in that cabinet, Tom , I say.

He nods and says the only place Willy May or his mother won’t go looking is his office. So he hauls the two crates that won’t fit in the cabinet in there. It is a sparse, peaceful room with a table and a typewriter and a sofa off to the side. Not too many distractions except now two wooden cases of alcoholic liquor he sticks in back of a closet and throws a blanket over.

From the hall upstairs, I watch Lucille in her room, unpacking her bags. Already drinking from one of those bottles, trying on her new clothes. For someone who nearly got throwed in prison, she sure seems pleased with herself. I get a little grumpy when I don’t see a single present for me.

When Tom goes in their room, she waltzes to the door, smirks at me, and shuts it in my face.

With Lucille around, me and Tom don’t get to go swimming for a while. Soon as Tom comes out of his office for a break, she starts complaining. It took all of about two days for that shopping trip to wear off.

What am I supposed to do all day while you sit in that office? she wants to know. After all she did to get out of this state, she tells him, and now here she is again. Bored and broke in Damnnothingtodo, Mississippi. I add that to my list of interesting town names.

Ask me, she ought to count some of her own blessings.

Tom suggests she take me to town to look around, that won’t cost any money.

To look at what, horse feed and shoelaces? she says.

Then go outside, try planting a garden—

Jesus Christ, Tom. It’s ninety-nine degrees out there.

Why don’t you take up baking? We’d enjoy that, wouldn’t we, Meg?

Perfect. Y’all eat and I get fat.

I guess you could see what my sister-in-law is doing , Tom says, but he does not sound very excited himself.

Swell. We’ll read the Bible and she can tell me everything your mother says about me.

She has a answer for everything. In those Ladies’ Home Journal magazines she has laying around the house, ladies are always talking about how to make do for free. Make ends meet, stretch a casserole to feed a family of five. I guess Lucille skips over those parts.

Mostly, she ignores me so long as I don’t make a noise. Or wake her up in the morning. Or talk too much to Tom at supper. I know not to play the piano. When I played “Oh Peter Go Ring Dem Bells,” she said, Quit. That. Goddamn. Racket. Meg.

One night at supper, I told Tom how I bet his book will be just as good as Huck Finn. Well, it’s different, he said, but whether the journey be on a raft or the streets of New York—

That was when Lucille leaned up and said, SO. Let’s talk about something interesting now. I found it rude! Tom just took a breath and served himself some more green beans.

The best, though, was when he said: What if you did some charity work? I bet there’s a committee of some sort in town. Well I had to laugh at that, thinking of Lucille joining a committee. Waltzing on into the Orphan in her fur coat with a cigarette in her mouth, saying, Jesus Christ goddammit. Telling Miss Garnett to go fix her a martini.

I start to notice Lucille fixing those liquor drinks earlier in the day now. Not just at supper. She pinched me hard when I poured one out by mistake, thinking she was finished with it, and said that was so I won’t do that twice. I wished Tom had seen it. And even if it is getting a little boring around here, I sure don’t complain to Tom. Lord knows he hears it enough from her. One day, when I wanted to go swimming, I even suggested we bring her . Tom told me like it was a secret, Lucille can’t swim, but don’t bring it up. She’s embarrassed about it.

I’d bet a quarter she just says that so we don’t have any fun.

In one of those big arguments, I hear a word I do not know: stipend . I don’t need to look it up, I get the gist. It has to do with what she calls the deposits . What I learned in the hall is, Tom and Lucille used to get themselves a stipend up in New York City of five hundred dollars a month that they could go and spend just as they pleased and all they had to do was operate like respectable people . Which they did not. They wrecked motorcars and fed money to horses, which is bound to make a horse sick.

One afternoon, Tom comes in the living room to read his Fitzgerald book. I go lay on the floor at his feet with the funny papers. It is rare I get time alone with him and I always feel better when he is close. But then here comes Lucille to interrupt us, in a white dress with her eyes drawed on. She sits on the sofa across from him and says, Tom.

Can’t she see the man is just trying to read his favorite book in his favorite chair? When he does not answer, she props her foot up on the table so her white silky dress slips off her bare leg. She says it again. Tom.

Tom looks up. He looks at her leg.

Tom, don’t you think it’s time you asked your mama to get us back on our regular deposits?

Darling, we talked about this. It’s too soon after everything that happened.

But what would it hurt to ask? Shouldn’t I be able to, I don’t know, travel now and then? She drops her chin and blinks up at him. Is it so awful that I occasionally want to get out of your mother’s house out here in beautiful Byhalia?

Darling, you just went to Memphis. And you spent a lot of money there too.

That wasn’t my fault. Prices are going up with so few people buying nowadays.

Tom chuckles. I don’t think that’s how it really works, dear.

Lucille’s jaw goes tight. She’s the one wrote that Book of NO , not him. I didn’t realize you’re an expert on the economy now, Tom. Did you get yourself a fancy four-year college degree for that? When he doesn’t have an answer for this, she says, Your brother lost more in the crash than we ever spent in the city and he still gets his deposits, so why can’t we get ours? I want to see my friends, Tom. I want to go to New York.

It’s a rainy day in hell that I agree with Lucille, but I would like that too. Still, it is nice to see her get a lit-tle taste of her own medicine.

Tom turns his book over on his lap. I expect to see that deep worried look, but he sets his chin on his hand and smiles at her. Alright, I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but since we’re talking about it. I’m almost finished with the novel, and to be honest, I think it’s pretty good. In fact … He takes in a breath. I think I might be able to sell it, Lucille, for a decent advance. Which means, we’d have our own money and then we wouldn’t have to ask my parents for anything.

Tom sits back and he looks proud. I don’t know exactly what that word advance means, but it sounds like money to me.

Lucille, though, says, Nnnn , like it tastes fishy. Have you shown it to Bill Davenport yet? Bill was the publisher Lucille worked for. I have not forgot about him. If she hadn’t lied to steal Tom from Darcy, I might be sitting here with a much nicer mama.

Not yet, Tom says. I don’t want anybody to read it until it’s finished.

Not even me? she asks.

I’ll read it too, Tom , I say. I don’t care if it’s not appropriate. I make sure he knows.

Tom looks down at me like he forgot I was down here. Soon, I promise , he says to us both. But not until it’s finished.

The way Lucille is watching him reminds me of Dorella. If she held Tom’s head under the water pump after this, I would not be surprised.

How do you know it’s any good if nobody’s read it? Lucille asks, and she licks her lips, sort of like she is hungry, but more like she is suspicious.

He shrugs. It’s what people want to read these days. It’s about beauty and romance, not sad folks waiting in soup lines. Not to toot my own horn, but from what I’ve read in the trades … I think it’s worth a four-figure advance.

Lucille breathes through her nose. I can tell she is trying to keep the lid on. I think that’s wonderful, Tom. I really do. And I think if you told your mama you’ve written a book, that’s proof, right there, that you’ve gotten your head straight and they’d know it’s time to get us back on the deposits.

Tom sighs and gets up, saying he’ll think about it, and he goes back in his office to work.

A few mornings later, at the reasonable hour, Mrs. Heidelberg’s black car rolls up. It has been a while and my guess is she would visit every day if she could stand Lucille farther than she could throw her.

Lucille opens the door and puts on a big smiling show. Why, Isabelle, what a surprise! It’s so good of you to come calling. If she had some twirlers and firecrackers, it’d be like the Fourth of July. Lucille knows where that stipend comes from.

Lord, not that I am much better. I am all, Allow me , and Can I take your hat?

Mrs. Heidelberg gives Tom his good hug, pat-pats my head, and says, Lucille.

Today her short, wide self is dressed in head-to-toe lavender. She has a brown bag with her and some mail. I hope she brought those pecan pralines again, they were so good they near made me faint. She glances around like usual for signs that we have not been respectable. Tom and I are both very careful to clean up after Lucille’s liquor alcohol.

I set the table for the four of us with little plates and napkins and forks. I enjoy the look on Lucille’s face when Tom’s mama sits in Lucille’s place beside him. Lucille has to come around and sit next to me. Today it is some sticky chocolaty cake squares Mrs. Heidelberg has brought. Lord, these look good too.

When everybody gets settled, Mrs. Heidelberg asks, How’s your sick friend in Memphis doing, Lucille? I watch Lucille to see if she fools with a button or a ear.

Oh she’s doing as well as can be expected. Lucille sighs and shakes her head. Makes you realize how lucky we are to be in such good health. Mrs. Heidelberg nods but looks a little disappointed Lucille did such a good job at that.

There is some more small talk I hardly listen to. I am very involved with this chocolate thing. Until Mrs. Heidelberg says, Lucille, why hasn’t Meg been playing more with the cousins? Willy May said she hardly even leaves the house.

I flat-out like this old lady more every day.

Tom looks at Lucille. Lucille says, Well I.

Meg needs to be around children her age. It’ll help her adjust to her new surroundings, especially before school starts. She dabs some chocolate off her lips with the napkin. Frankly, I think some of the cousins could learn a thing or two from Meg. She doesn’t take things for granted.

I give Lucille a look. She could stand to learn that her own self.

Meg likes to stay home with us, Lucille says. She’s shy , and this woman who has hardly said boo to me all week puts her arm around me and pulls me in close. It does feel kind of nice.

Oh, poppycock. She’s not shy—are you, Meg?

Well. It comes and goes , I say.

Your sister-in-law Rowena’s planning a get-together with the girl cousins next week, Mrs. Heidelberg says. I hope Meg will go and join them—which reminds me, I brought you your mail, Tom. Y’all had a few letters in your box. One’s an invitation to Rowena’s sister’s wedding, and looks like this one’s postmarked Oxford.

She slides the envelopes across to Lucille, and the table goes quiet a second. I look down at the letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Heidelberg III, PO Box 12. In the upper left corner, it says Birdie Calhoun, Oxford . I go very still. As much as I would be excited to read a letter from Birdie, this could blow our whole cover. I do not even chew.

Mrs. Heidelberg peers over her nose at the envelope on the table. Who’s Birdie Calhoun? Don’t believe I know anybody with that name in Mississippi. Only the John C. Calhouns in Carolina.

It’s a cousin of mine , Lucille says and scoops up the envelopes and sets them in her lap.

Mrs. Heidelberg settles back in her chair and says quiet , I thought all your people were sharecroppers in Yazoo County.

When Mrs. Heidelberg is gone home a little later, Tom says, God, that was close. He looks like he might be sick.

Lucille opens the envelope and skims the letter. She already has a cigarette going, and her hand is shaking a little. I could about use one myself. It’s just a … a welfare inquiry to see how Meg is doing. Jesus Christ, this woman almost blew everything to say nothing.

You alright, Meg? Tom asks. I can see in his eyes how much he hates lying to his mama.

I am alright, Tom.

When he goes to his office, I ask Lucille could I read Birdie’s letter. I am curious to know what all she wrote in there. It would also be nice to read a letter from somebody who knew me before here.

She says, NO. All you need to remember is Memphis. I want you to forget about that place, you hear me?

I nod, I expected as much. Though that is a lot easier said than damn done.