Mary at the Old Railroad Trestle

Chapter 28-29

Chapter 28
         Truly I had thought that the first fourteen years of my life had been miserable enough; odd, unhappy, and often even scary, filled with grief and sorrow, fright and terror. But now-the one individual I thought I could rely on to be unchanging-my Mamma—had gone completely head over heels into some state I could not even begin to understand. Surely this was not my Mamma that stood before me on the opposite side of the plank cutting table, with her eyes all dark and kind of scary, and something shifting in their depths like a cottonmouth in the grass by the willows at the riverbank. I swear I saw something alive in Mamma’s eyes just then as she glared at me, and that something was no longer my Mamma, not the Mamma I knew. But since this was a new person, a stranger to me, I decided that my old way of doing things and moving around in life with the Mamma I had known might no longer be effective, might not even be any more possible. I had to get used to this new-and rather scary-individual, and quickly; because if this person masquerading as my Mamma had suddenly decided to attend Auntie Grace’s series of sayannces, and even more strange, to allow me to attend as well, just at the say-so of Minister Jepthah Termather and the invitation via Minister Termather from my Aunt Grace, my Mamma’s heartily disliked sister-in-law, well then, something really odd was in hand and I had no idea what it was, nor really, what I could do about it.
         I already knew what I would have to do in regard to Spiritualist Minister Jepthah Termather and his gaze that saw all too much in my soul; but I had really thought I would have some more time to make my plans and then to carry them out. I would never in a lifetime of months of Sundays have believed that my Mamma-my High-Baptist, Praise-Jesus, dedicated to religion and never say anything unkind about your fellow man Mamma-would EVER EVER EVER consider attending one of Aunt Grace’s sessions with the dearly departed (as Aunt Grace so did like to call the get-togethers, which sometimes took place in Montgomery or even Birmingham at a Spiritualist service, and sometimes when in her home would include a few townspeople and good neighbors or two like Miz Nichols, Miz Wills, and Miz Lansing.
(indent}Now here she is telling me in effect that she welcomed in Spiritualist Minister Termather and listened to his spiel on the séances, and then accepted her sister-in-law’s invitation to attend! A whole series of them-what Aunt Grace must be thinking? She had so many “dearly departed” to consult, did she wish them to appear one per gathering?
         So Mamma had agreed to attend, and far, far worse, now she wanted to involve me, the one individual who must avoid that at all costs! I knew Termather was behind this: he had Seen into my soul and he knew what I could do and maybe he knew why, I do not know; but he must have insisted somehow to Aunt or somehow persuaded her that I ought to be included right along with her sister-in-law Lucinda. I knew Aunt Grace would never have thought on her own of asking for Mamma or for me. To Aunt Grace, Mamma was sort of an afterthought, one that had to be provided for because to forget that would be to lose ground in the eyes of the townspeople, who expected Mamma and Aunt Grace to present a united environment in the face of their grief, both having lost husbands, both having lost sons, and both having lost a nephew. (That would of course have been Uncle Colonel Custis Haskell, Aunt Grace’s husband, her son Jamie, and her nephew Wilson; for Mamma, it was my Daddy lost, and their son, my brother Billy Raife. And then Wilson was Daddy’s nephew as well, son of his sister June.) But Mamma and Aunt Grace had never really got along where it counts, in the heart region; Aunt Grace considered herself way too stepped up for the likes of Mamma, or even for her own brother, who after all, had worked for Grace’s husband Colonel Custis Haskell as a store manager, and worse, as an errands-runner, always at the Colonel’s beck and call. So she had looked down on Daddy’s status as well.
         Now, looking back on it, I can see it is kind of funny that when I was born, Daddy wanted to name me Mary for his beloved ancient grandmother; and Mamma added the Grace when he was not looking. Not out of love or respect for her sister-in-law, oh no, but I think maybe because after she had seen me be born with the caul (will I be able to look in that strongbox before tonight? I suddenly thought; Maybe while Mamma’s in her room dressin’ up for the séance?) that Mamma decided that maybe I held something in common with my Aunt after all, and indeed that so did prove to be true, with the main difference being that even though we both believed in the dead and we both communicated with them, Auntie had to arrange for an intermediary to conduct a séance in order to hear from them. I only had to close my eyes; sometimes, like this afternoon, I only had to exist.

Chapter 29
         ”Shoo, now, girl! Get on upstairs and change out of those skirts and put on your second-best skirt and bodice. Guess you will have to wear your Sunday-best shawl, so before you go upstairs just take that black one on outside and put it in the wash bucket for now. You can tend to it first thing in the morning after you pick me some wild onions from out the field.”
         I could not help myself; I forgot all my hard-learned manners and I literally gaped. Who in the world was this woman standing in front of me with my Mamma’s face and hair and some strange, weird eyes talking to me crazy in a different voice?
         ”Uhh, Mamma?”
         Just then those eyes looked up at me and I swear I did not say any more, except “Right away, Mamma ma’am,” as I took off for the stairs, put one foot on the lowest, remembered the shawl and walked around behind the stairs and reached down to get it. Now, as I did so, I was hidden by the pantry wall from Mamma, but sure enough, it were just as if she could see straight through that wall toward me.
          “Miss Mary!”
         ”Yes, Mamma,” in a very small voice.
         Silence at first-then
         ”Be sure you take that shawl out to the wash bucket right away.”
         ”Yes ma’am,” as I fetched the shawl outside and dropped it into the bucket, then went back through the kitchen and headed upstairs to my tiny little attic room, which was actually I guess more of a dormer (if this had been a real house and not a sharecropper’s cabin) than an actual attic. As soon as I reached my room I shut the door behind me (gently) then hurried across to the one tiny window and rested my head against its cold pane. Oh, no! Cold pane in April? Well clearly I was not alone-again. I gazed out at the corn fields unseeingly, till I felt the scream well up from my stomach and into my throat so overpoweringly I felt I could hold it in no longer. I stuffed both fists into my mouth and clamped down. It was several minutes later before I realized I had bitten into the knuckles on both hands, and a thin line of blood dripped across each set of fingers, heading inextricably toward the sill. Oh, no again! I spun and rushed to the basket in the corner where Mamma insisted I keep cut-up rags toward that eventual day when I would need them in the process of my monthlies. Gagging at my own blood, I dipped my hands over the bucket and let the drips fall, then sunk to my knees and turned my clenched fists upright, to slow the circulation of the pumping blood, keeping them well over the basket of women’s time rags.
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(indent)Eventually, of course, the dripping stopped, as all things must eventually come to an end, good or bad. I got up and wiped my hands with one of the cloths underneath, then threw it back in the basket and sighed. I had no idea how much time had passed but I KNEW that momentarily Mamma would be calling up to me to hurry. Sure enough, I was right; as I stood to pull off my skirt and bodice, she did.
(indent) “Miss Mary Grace, be you ready yet?”
         ”I’ll be right there, Mamma, I’m just lacing my boots.” Not true, because I had yet to remove them, but I could see now that the best I could do would be to wipe them quickly with a cloth from the basket (which was sure getting their workout today) and I did so, then slipped out of my skirt and unfastened my bodice. Luckily, since I was still considered a young girl and not an adult female, my clothing was kept relatively simple and I had only to slip out of the bodice as well and then don a clean bodice (“your second best, now!” Mamma had insisted) and skirt, and then slip on my Sunday-best shawl, and thank goodness for my safety I had not had on either my Sunday-best shawl nor my second-best or Sunday-best bodice and skirt when I ran out to the field headed toward the river, nor my pretty little ballet slippers either (them that I am wearing here now at the River on my last day on Earth) or surely Mamma (whoever this person is calling herself my Mamma) would tan my hide and hang me out to dry in the corn field to scare off them crows. I reached over and gave my poor old dusty boots one more swipe each, accompanied by a spit of saliva, and turned for the stairs. As I did so, I heard a wagon turn into the dust of our driveway, and Mamma’s voice change yet again, this time to a higher, more strident, almost anxious pitch:
         ”Mary! HURRY it up!”
         Well, at least this time she had called me by my usual name and not by my full name nor by “Miss Mary,” both of which she had been saying earlier. I raced down the stairs and found her opening the front door before the knock even sounded. There stood Minister Termather, looking mighty slick, but also a mite bit befuddled with his hand in the air ready to tap on the lintel. He looked at Mamma and smiled a greeting, then soon’s he saw me approaching from behind her, his expression relaxed and his puzzlement disappeared. Clearly he had decided that I had told Mamma to expect him at the door just about then. Sorry, Minister, it was not me, but I kept that evil thought to myself, not knowing any more what to think or do. I had thought I had made my plans and set on my decision, but now it seemed all that had been for naught. I did not know this woman who seemed to be my Mamma, she of the shy and retiring disposition, and when she turned around and looked me full in the eye, I knew I did not know her and surely did not wish to find out more: for her eyes now looked like portals straight into space. I swear before the Lord Jesus-may He receive my soul into heaven despite what I have done and despite what I am about to do-that inside her eyes I saw stars spinning like a drunken teamster down the path from the saloon.