My mother's friend, Jack, had come to visit for a couple of weeks and fallen completely under the spell of the island, its weather and views, its people. He immediately began looking for property to buy and settled on a tract of land slightly up island with a breathtaking view of the ocean. By the following summer, his house, complete with a gravel driveway and an open front deck was finished and he had started the landscaping, a process he mostly had to do himself as the concept was unfamiliar to the villagers. They tended to think that his determination to mold nature made him slightly off, Things grow or they don't, Uncle Shad said with a frown and everyone agreed.
My mother's friendship with Jack was immediately suspect. He was a short, pudgy and unattractive man with thinning hair and a deformed left hand. He drank expensive liquor, smoked only imported cigars, and enjoyed spreading money around. His bright red Triumph sportscar raced like the wind over the dusty, dirt roads of the island, leaving frightened children and mystified residents in its wake. He and my mother took to spending afternoons playing cards and drinking on the deck of his secluded house. Passing boats could hear the music that blared from the expensive speakers and the fishermen shook their heads in disapproval of such "city ways". Jack's money couldn't buy their acceptance or their silence and soon my grandmother caught wind of the goings on at the fancy house that overlooked the ocean and put an end to it. There was a violent scene on the sunporch in which my grandmother stood, arms folded in the doorway, forbidding my mother to see Jack. My mother refused loudly, saying she was "free, white and over 21" and would see anyone she damn well pleased. Nana responded with an angry " not while you're under my roof, you won't " and when my mother tried to push past her, Nana slapped her. Stunned, my mother fell back, slack jawed with surprise, a red handprint already blossoming on the side of her face. Bitch! she snarled and Nana,
very quietly, not giving an inch of ground, and with frightening control in her voice, said, Whore. There was a sudden dead silence between them. I could hear every tick of the mantle clock, every wheezing breath my mother took, and each one of my grandmother's footsteps as she walked away.
I crept back to my room, opened the window and crawled out to the roof where I could easily jump to the ground, then ran for the safety of the woodshed.
I wasn't sure, but I didn't think that kind of thing went on in other families that I knew. I barricaded myself behind the wood and tried to sort it out. No one defied or challenged my mother, at least not more than once, the misery that followed was never worth it. And while Jack ususally made me feel like I wanted to wash after he touched me, he surely wasn't worth name calling and slapping. I was pretty sure I knew what the words had meant but hearing my mother and grandmother use them against each other was scary. Still trying to work it all out, I fell asleep in the sawdust with the good smell of wood all around me. And that was where Nana found me later that night. Supper's ready, she said, go wash up. There was no sign of my mother and the table was only set for two, as it would be for several days and nights to follow.
I never knew where my mother had gone, only that one day she came home. The scene on the sunporch was never mentioned again and from then on, when Jack visited, my grandmother was always present. With no fuel for the fire, village talk moved on to the next small scandal and some years later when Jack's house was leveled by a hurricane and the debris blown out to sea, pieces were found sixty miles up the coast. The foundation eventually caved in on itself and nature's landscaping took possession again. It became a beautiful place to watch sunsets.
My mother's friendship with Jack was immediately suspect. He was a short, pudgy and unattractive man with thinning hair and a deformed left hand. He drank expensive liquor, smoked only imported cigars, and enjoyed spreading money around. His bright red Triumph sportscar raced like the wind over the dusty, dirt roads of the island, leaving frightened children and mystified residents in its wake. He and my mother took to spending afternoons playing cards and drinking on the deck of his secluded house. Passing boats could hear the music that blared from the expensive speakers and the fishermen shook their heads in disapproval of such "city ways". Jack's money couldn't buy their acceptance or their silence and soon my grandmother caught wind of the goings on at the fancy house that overlooked the ocean and put an end to it. There was a violent scene on the sunporch in which my grandmother stood, arms folded in the doorway, forbidding my mother to see Jack. My mother refused loudly, saying she was "free, white and over 21" and would see anyone she damn well pleased. Nana responded with an angry " not while you're under my roof, you won't " and when my mother tried to push past her, Nana slapped her. Stunned, my mother fell back, slack jawed with surprise, a red handprint already blossoming on the side of her face. Bitch! she snarled and Nana,
very quietly, not giving an inch of ground, and with frightening control in her voice, said, Whore. There was a sudden dead silence between them. I could hear every tick of the mantle clock, every wheezing breath my mother took, and each one of my grandmother's footsteps as she walked away.
I crept back to my room, opened the window and crawled out to the roof where I could easily jump to the ground, then ran for the safety of the woodshed.
I wasn't sure, but I didn't think that kind of thing went on in other families that I knew. I barricaded myself behind the wood and tried to sort it out. No one defied or challenged my mother, at least not more than once, the misery that followed was never worth it. And while Jack ususally made me feel like I wanted to wash after he touched me, he surely wasn't worth name calling and slapping. I was pretty sure I knew what the words had meant but hearing my mother and grandmother use them against each other was scary. Still trying to work it all out, I fell asleep in the sawdust with the good smell of wood all around me. And that was where Nana found me later that night. Supper's ready, she said, go wash up. There was no sign of my mother and the table was only set for two, as it would be for several days and nights to follow.
I never knew where my mother had gone, only that one day she came home. The scene on the sunporch was never mentioned again and from then on, when Jack visited, my grandmother was always present. With no fuel for the fire, village talk moved on to the next small scandal and some years later when Jack's house was leveled by a hurricane and the debris blown out to sea, pieces were found sixty miles up the coast. The foundation eventually caved in on itself and nature's landscaping took possession again. It became a beautiful place to watch sunsets.
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