The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett - 48

O n the morning I am to leave the red house for good, I lay my View Day dress out on the bed. The white scratchy one I swore to Baby Jesus I would never, ever wear again. I hold my breath so as not to smell the sad place it came from and I will not look at myself in the mirror either. I don’t want to see it. I am not sure why I even kept the damn thing, except deep down I knew it would come to this.

Then, I start taking those nice things off the hangers. She said they are mine to take. Those fancy shopping bags are long gone so I set them in my old paper sack with the portraits of the volunteer ladies. In goes the bluebird dress, the lamb’s wool sweaterette, the stockings, the socks, the nightgowns, I even stick a plush towel in, even though I know Miss Garnett will jerk it all away like she does all the girls. Who knows where in the hell they go to. Maybe she gives them to better children. They will not appreciate them as much as me.

When I get to the pink bathing suit, I take a deep smell of it. It still smells strong of lake from me and Tom’s last swim together. Tom’s Lake, I think of it now. I decide I will wear it up under my dress so I will feel close to Tom on the drive. That way Miss Garnett cannot take it and I can smell it later when I need to. I will need to do that very often.

Lucille is still in there packing up a few last things. Early this morning, Mrs. Heidelberg came over to inform me of how my life would look from now on. She let her own self in, it is her house. It is a wonder to think all the things that woman can buy—homes, cars, a classic six, a baby. She can make a woman like Lucille disappear, but her money cannot bring back Tom.

Lucille was still up in bed, so I came downstairs in my nightgown, and we stood there, looking at the other.

Dressed all in black, she was standing a little straighter than she was a few days ago. Losing Tom would not kill a woman like her but she looked like a part of her had died too. I was shivering, since it had got chilly this morning but with her hands crossed in front of her, I could tell she could not handle another hug. It would send her right back into the slump she was in a few days ago.

She said somebody from the orphanage would be coming to pick me up at the big house soon. Go on and pack your things, Meg. Mr. Oney will be by to get you . Take those clothes and whatever you need.

I saw her eyes get wet and I wanted to beg her not to send me back, but how could I ask this woman for anything more than I had already took from her? I felt like I could see into the future, right then. The Heidelbergs gathered around the dinner table talking about a blond-headed girl who used to stay with Tom and Lucille. What was that little girl’s name again?

She never did ask me to call her Grandmama. Maybe she knew this day would come.

After she was gone, I went in Tom’s office hunting for that blue Fitzgerald book he loved so much. Oh I wanted to take it with me bad, but I knew that witch would snatch it and she did not deserve to have something so important. It belonged here in Tom’s office. So I opened it and, in the front, under where it said Thomas Heidelberg III, I wrote,

Margot Louise Lefleur was here, October 7, 1933.

There is no feeling lonelier than knowing the people you love won’t even remember your name soon.

I already know it will be Miss Garnett that picks me up. She wouldn’t miss the damn chance. And that first look she will give me, that one will be the worst. Like the first lick in the belt closet that stings and bites until your mind starts to drift. Thinking about that belt closet is enough to make a girl feel crazy as she is! Miss Garnett has some nerve to talk about that feebleminded woman, when she is the actual crazy one. Crazy enough to think she can put a girl in a hot, dirty room with a boarded-up window and she would forget the taste of fresh air.

Well I got some Spanish news for that crazy lady. She can beat me with a belt, call me filthy dirty , but I can always dream about a better world, one without her damn in it!

When Mr. Oney pulls up in the truck, he loads Lucille’s things into her and Tom’s car as she stands there, saying do this or move that, like a spoiled brat. I guess she gets to keep the damn car along with all that money. By her twitchy green eyes I can tell she is halfway down the road in her head, but some last little bit of guilt makes her come give me a hug. It feels like hugging a coat hanger. I can smell the liquor alcohol already on her breath.

All that money Mrs. Heidelberg gave her will go straight down a bottle.

Take care, sugar , she says with a phony smile. And she is gone .

When Mr. Oney opens the door to the old truck for me, I soak up one last look. The red and white trim, the fairy tale turret going up the side. It makes me think how this house is sort of like those color crayons I found. It does not matter how many exotic assorted colors you got to choose from, if you take the best ones away, the ones that made sense, all you got is a big fancy box of crazy crayons you can hardly use. Tom was the best color around here. It sounds corny, but it is true.

Soon, Mr. Oney slows down to make the last turn. I hold the door handle and consider making a run for it. See can I make my way to that town Byhalia, start knocking on doors. Pray for a nice family to take one look at me and say, Why, what a nice addition you’ll make to our already hungry family in these difficult times.

I might be crazy but I am not that stupid. In the real life story, I either get ate alive by slave dogs or else that nice family drives me right straight on back to the Orphan or whichever one is closest. Probably saying they are just taking me to the damn store.

But as Mr. Oney rolls to a stop in front of the big house I do think about taking the chance.

Lord, crazy is when getting ate by dogs sounds better than the alternative.

I am so tired of the wrong damn people winning all the time .

Willy May helps me down out of the truck. I get my paper sack and hold her hand to go sit on the front porch steps. Miz Isabelle upstairs, but she say fo you to wait out here, baby. Dr. Pittman done arrange somebody to come by in a little while.

I do as I am told. I do not blame Mrs. Heidelberg for staying away. If I was her, I would do the same.

Willy May hands me a glass of milk and says she has made me a sack lunch for the drive. I drink down the milk and wipe my lips on my sleeve. This will be the last good, cold thing I taste for a long time. While we wait, Willy May pets my hair with her palm in long, worried strokes.

For a while, we don’t see anybody coming up the drive. It is awful waiting, with my heart pounding. Birds are singing—how could they know better? Since it is Saturday, Marybeth and Gloria are probably at one of their houses doing something fun. Though surely they will not be swimming in Tom’s Lake anytime soon.

Miz Isabelle say somebody s’posed to come this mawning , Willy May says, shaking her head at the driveway.

Well I hope she had her a damn car accident. I hope that witch is dead and bloody on the side of the road. I could still live here, out there in the carport even.

And then we see it.

A motorcar is coming up the drive. Well, well, looks like Miss Garnett has bought herself a fancy new automobile. It has a long black nose and a white tire on the side. Willy May pulls me up by the hand and says, You be a good girl, Meg. I be praying for you.

Don’t waste your damn breath, I almost say to her, but I tell her, Thank you, Willy May , though it comes out quiet. I pick up my clothes sack and the lunch and walk down the front steps toward the big car. Let’s just get this damn thing over with.

The car door opens, and a woman gets out. She is not Miss Garnett, but she sure looks to be in a hurry to ruin my life. She comes toward me but then stops. She is holding her hands down to her side, but they are twitching like she wants to grab me. I take a few steps backward. Turn to look at Willy May on the steps and back at the lady in a blue dress.

My brain is mixed up. I am seeing things I shouldn’t. The lady’s brown eyes are red like she’s been crying and they’re more crinkled around the edges than I remember. Is this a dream? A fairy tale that belongs with that other one I used to believe in called “I’ll Be Right Back”? She squats down some and stretches both her hands out to me and waits for me to come the few steps to her.

What’s a girl to do in a situation like this?

Mama? I say.

Shhhh , she says soft and shakes her head, glancing over at Willy May. But then like she can’t help it anymore, she comes closer and wraps her arms around me and I am in her arms. I try to fight it for my own sake, but my body gives up. I hug her back and press my face down into her shoulder. She smells the same as she did in my dreams.

I didn’t leave you on purpose, Meg , she whispers. I’m so sorry. I promise I did not leave you on purpose, oh my God, Meg.

What’s a girl supposed to say?

Where in the hell have you been, Mama?

She shushes me again, choking on a sob, and says, Nowhere good, Margot, but I am here now. Then she stands up and says, We’ve got to hurry, we’ve got to get to Memphis. She waves to Willy May on the porch, calling, Thank you, I’ve got her , in a strong voice. It is her voice. She opens the door on the driver’s side and scoots me in to sit on the front seat, next to her. She starts the car, and we drive down the lane with the trees bowing down over us, and I don’t look back at any of it, I just look straight ahead.