Isle of Palms Read Online Free PDF Page B

me Miss Mavis and all her people were all a bunch of screwballs.
    Momma. I was so tired then that I just wished I could lie down and sleep. I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone until Miss Angel appeared to see what I was doing.
    “Come on, honey,” she said, “Angel fixed you something to eat.”
    Angel hardly ever said I. Maybe she thought I couldn’t remember her name. I followed her to the kitchen to find a slice of homemade peach pie on a flowered plate and a glass of milk. Angel was the only person I knew who could really cook. The pie was so delicious I ate it in huge bites and then threw it up all over the floor and all down the front of my favorite dress.
    “I’m so sorry,” I said and began to cry again. “I have allergies.”
    “Poor baby,” she said, “don’t you worry about a thing. The pollen is terrible this year and pollen can sure make a body sick.”
    It wasn’t allergies. Being a natural born liar, I didn’t want to tell her that it was that I had felt sick ever since I got off the school bus, that the smell of all those cats was disgusting, and that trying to swallow food had pushed my stomach over the edge. Didn’t she smell the cats? Apparently not. She wiped my face with a damp paper towel, I tried to stop crying, and she said, “Come on now. Come with Angel.”
    She took me to Miss Mavis’s daughter, Merilee’s, room.
    “All right, let’s see now.” She dug in Merilee’s drawers and pulled out a big Citadel T-shirt. “Take off that dress, put this on and I’ll throw she in the wash. Be good as new in two shakes.”
    She was so nice it was hard to feel embarrassed, but I wasn’t taking off my clothes in front of her, so I waited. She waited. I waited some more.
    “You want me to turn my back? I don’t mind but Angel can tell you that you ain’t got nothing Angel ain’t seen.”
    “Sorry,” I said, “it’s just that . . .”
    I must have looked like I was going to start crying again so she said, “That’s all right, baby. Angel understands. You just go on and do it and she’ll be right outside the door.”
    She left the room; I quickly changed and handed my ruined dress to her.
    “Okay, now you lie down on that bed and get a good nap. This has been a terrible day, ’eah? I’ll call you when your daddy gets back. But you shut your eyes like a good girl.”
    She closed the door behind her. For the second time that day, I was going to do as I was told without giving anybody any lip.
    I remember that Merilee’s room was filled with the standard array of girlhood memorabilia. Her walls were covered in posters of Audrey Hepburn and other old movie stars. Audrey Hepburn was the only one I recognized because I had always watched her movies with Momma. It was one of the few things we did together that she seemed to really enjoy, but then, Momma had a weakness for all things glamorous. She loved to go shopping too and would take me to Evelyn Rubin’s on King Street in Charleston for my clothes. I’d miss those afternoons an awful lot, I thought. Would Daddy take me shopping? What would he say? It would be awkward and embarrassing and the thought of it made me feel heavy with sadness.
    Merilee’s bed was covered in stuffed rabbits, probably from Easter baskets, and Teddy bears from who knew where. There were books, old dolls, cheerleader pom-poms, class pictures, and about a hundred ribbons from swim meets were hung across a cord over her dresser mirror.
    Under different circumstances, I would have snooped through everything. Not then. My legs weighed about a thousand pounds each and my eyes just wanted to slam shut. I crawled up on her high bed, pushing everything aside, and put my heavy head down on a soft cool pillow.
    As soon as I closed my eyes, the image of my house and all the police cars came back. My momma was dead. My beautiful momma had a heart attack. Damn, I said to myself and I marked the occasion as the first time I had ever used a curse word and really meant