Chapter Twenty-five: Feeding the Multitudes
I left Greg and Blue Eyes sitting up, watching Daddy's John Wayne dvds and drinking cognac. I gave Blue Eyes detailed directions to my bedroom.
Seeing my old bedroom decorated with the remnants of my youth made my throat and my colon constrict. I turned on the overhead light, which threw shadows across the preserved piles of ancient phonograph albums and worn paperback novels. Nothing had been touched since I had moved away in my twenties. The same baby-blue bedspread covered the double bed. I smiled as I ran my hand over the stiff polyester fabric. I put on my Janis Joplin t-shirt and my gray sweatpants and slipped between the starched sheets. I left the lights on and closed my eyes, listening to the night-time sounds of the small town. Blue Eyes finally climbed upstairs, thumping and knocking against the stairwell. He found my room on the second try, slinging the door wide open and lurching into the dresser before he landed against my bed.
"Get in bed, you drunk," I teased him.
He remained sitting on the bed and removed his socks and shoes. He pulled off his shirts, then stood and dropped his pants, climbing into bed in nothing but his boxers. He curled around me, nuzzling my neck.
"Ever had sex in this bed?" he asked.
"Hush," I scolded him. "That's sacrilege. Blasphemy."
"Is it a taboo? Because if it's a taboo, then we have to do it."
Before I could say, "Go to sleep," he was humming loudly in my ear, dreaming of heroic marines and army maneuvers from the movies he had watched.
I slept only fitfully, uncomforted by Blue Eyes' presence. Around six, I expressed milk, crawled out of bed, and went downstairs to start coffee. Daddy met me.
"Here's a picture of your granddaughter," I told him as I handed him a snapshot of Zelda.
He looked at the picture briefly, then set it on the table. "Your mother said the doctor isn't the father."
"Since when did you ever listen to Mama?" I poured coffee for each of us.
"What did that note from Greg's doctor say?" he asked.
"Aren't you just nosy this morning?"
He stirred his coffee. "He's been calling your mother ever since the two of you quit dating."
"What? That was before I married Allen. Why was he calling Mama?"
He hesitated before answering. "I think he developed a friendship with her so he could keep up with you. You know your mother – she could never not have a conversation with a male."
Daddy was correct; Mother had always been flirtatious. Not that she was unhappy with Daddy. Her flirtatiousness had nothing to do with romance, but it had everything to do with her ego. Mother's identity had always been tied to the favor of the nearest male.
"Daddy," I began, "Aaron was not a good guy. I don't want to run into him while I'm home."
"'Not a good guy'? What does that mean?"
"It means just what I said. If he tries to bother me, I need for you to help keep him away." I was trying to stress my seriousness without divulging the whole situation to Daddy. I was not succeeding.
"Shouldn't your doctor be the one to fend off other suitors for you?"
I exhaled loudly. "Blue Eyes is not mine. And Aaron is definitely not a suitor. Just humor me with this. Please."
Just as I was finishing my plea, Blue Eyes, in a crumpled t-shirt and faded jeans, stumbled into the kitchen scratching his ass with his free hand. "Coffee?" he grumbled.
I gave him my chair and poured him a cup.
"Good morning, Dr. House," Daddy said. "Nice picture of your daughter."
Blue Eyes squinted. "Huh? Zelda? Oh, yeah." He sipped his coffee and then swallowed two of his pain pills.
"You don't appear very enthusiastic," Daddy criticized.
"About what?" Blue Eyes asked.
"Your daughter."
"Oh," he said. Then he jumped as if he'd been stuck with a hot poker. "Oh, of course that's a good picture. She's beautiful. Just like her mother." He nodded towards me. "Yep."
I just let my head drop onto my chest.
Daddy looked at me. "Your mother was right more often than not."
Greg rolled in, freshly showered and irritatingly chipper. "Cissy, will you please make omelettes?" he whined playfully.
I acquiesced and started cooking. The food seemed to ease Blue Eyes' hangover, and it distracted Daddy from his quest for information. I made Greg promise to occupy Blue Eyes while I showered; I wanted no chance of his intruding on my shower while in my old home.
Around noon the family members began arriving with food. Mother was the oldest of four: Sibyl was two years younger, Hannah was four years younger, and Raymond was five years younger. Sibyl and her husband, Billy, arrived first, bearing a huge, spiral-cut, honey-glazed ham. I helped her arrange it on the dining room table. Hannah, a widow, came next with her divorced daughter, Melba. They brought huge tubs of potato salad, baskets of homemade rolls, and pitchers of mint tea. Raymond and his wife, Georgie, pulled up right behind Hannah and Melba; they unloaded several relish trays, platters of cookies and brownies, and a silver serving tray covered with sliced cheese. Blue Eyes was the first to start sampling the food, of course, barely allowing me to make introductions before he ate. Mary Dell and Dinah came in with a wobbly mold of green jello and a huge casserole of baked beans.
Blue Eyes looked at the ham he was shoving into his mouth and asked me, "Do you people ever eat any meat that doesn't come from a pig?"
People kept pouring in, some with food and some with appetites. Many of Mother's former students came in to clasp my hand and kiss my cheek. She had taught physics at the local community college for thirty years before her retirement, so practically every doctor or engineer in the area had, at one time, been in her class. I was wearing a plain, dark wrap dress that soon became streaked with makeup from the cheeks of well-meaning old women. I rapidly tired of smiling and of hearing the praises of a woman who had refused to even gaze upon her first grandchild. I looked around for Blue Eyes.
He was talking earnestly to Greg when I walked up. "So, Greg, are any of these men from the Klan?"
Greg gave him a quizzical look. "You mean, like, Scottish clans? With tartans?"
"No, you idiot," B.E. said. "I mean like white-robe-wearing, cross-burning klansmen."
I stepped in and said, softly, "We're rednecks, Blue Eyes. Not mentally deficient criminals."
His eyes grew wide as he focused on me. "After what you told me about your grandfather's ingenious ways of earning a living . . ."
"Hold on, there, puddin'," I interrupted him hastily. "We southerners can be an emotional lot, and we really don't like hearing a northerner criticize our eccentric family members. We need to let my grandfather rest in peace."
Greg grinned at our exchange as he continued munching on a piece of buttermilk pie. "Hey, biped, we're just now eating. Carb loading, if you want. After the visitation we'll break out the homemade wine. Then you'll have no difficulty getting something started."
I gave both Greg and Blue Eyes pleading looks. "Don't either of you say anything to anyone about anything other than the weather. Do you understand? You're cleared to discuss the weather. Nothing else."
Two little girls, obviously twins, chased after each other, running around Greg's wheelchair and nearly upsetting B.E. We watched as they careened off into the living room, almost tripping Hannah, who weighed over three hundred pounds and was wearing a dress that could only have been made from drapery material.
"Who are they?" B.E. asked.
"Sibyl's granddaughters – Grace and Mercy," I said.
"Hope and Faith," Greg corrected me.
"Yeah, something like that," I muttered.
The house was overflowing and humid with too many people moving too many body parts. I slipped out the side door to stand in the cold air of the late afternoon. The sun was just beginning to set, and the visitation was just over an hour away. I leaned my face against the cool metal of the garage door, breathing deeply, only to jump when I felt a man's hand on my shoulder.
I swung around so quickly my heel caught in the cracked driveway, and I dropped to the pavement in an instant. As my tailbone connected with the asphalt, I looked up to see Allen, my ex-husband, standing over me, and I yelped in pain and recognition. He stooped down, reaching for my arm, when he was suddenly jerked backwards and knocked to the ground. Blue Eyes had punched him in the face.
"Stop!" I screamed, but B.E. was in Schwarzenegger mode. He pinned Allen to the driveway with his cane.
"Is this the crazy doctor?" he yelled me.
"No, no. That's the crazy lawyer. My ex-husband. Allen Nabors." I labored to get up, my butt throbbing.
Allen was on his own butt, covering his eye with his hand. Blue Eyes moved back a little and looked at me. "Not the obsessed attacker?"
I shook my head. "The obsessed litigator."
"Oh, f#ck," Blue Eyes murmured. He offered Allen a hand, but Allen declined.
"Who the hell are you?" Allen, trying to stand, screeched at B.E. "Audra, what the f#ck is going on here?"
"Allen, this is my, my, oh, he!!. This is my boyfriend, Greg House. He thought you were going to attack me."
"Clever judge of character. Never smart to punch an attorney," Allen said while staring at Blue Eyes. Then, he turned to me. "Audra, I just wanted to stop by and pay my respects. I thought we were both mature enough to manage a meeting without fisticuffs. My mistake." He turned to walk back down the driveway towards his car.
"Hey!" I yelled at him. When he stopped and pivoted, I clipped his jaw with my right fist. "You moutherf#cker! How dare you show up at my family's gathering to honor my dead mother? You have no business here, and definitely no business putting your hand on me. Ever." I flexed my fist in agony. Between the pain in my ss and in my fingers, I was nauseous and dizzy.
Allen made some jumbled threats of a lawsuit or a sanity hearing as he slunk off to his car. Blue Eyes limped over to me, holding out his bruised fist to compare with mine.
"I guess I pretty well suck at playing the white knight. But you, you kick ss. Good punch," Blue Eyes smiled wanly.
"I think I broke my coccyx," I whispered as I fell against him in a swoon.
Apparently, the verbal sparring as well as the physical altercations lured a number of spectators. Blue Eyes motioned for Daddy, who carried me inside and laid me on his bed. I was regaining consciousness when I heard Blue Eyes disputing my care with Daddy.
"She just has to make it through two lousy hours at the visitation. Afterwards, I'll go with you to take her to the ER," Daddy insisted.
Blue Eyes was shaking his head. When he noticed my open eyes, he said to me, "I can't actually do an exam here, but if you've cracked your coccyx, we need to take you to the hospital."
I interrupted him. "If you'll help me clean up and share some of your pain meds with me, I'd like to attend the visitation. Blue Eyes, I promise, if you'll help me get through it, I'll go to the ER afterwards."
Mary Dell entered the bedroom with an ice pack for B.E.'s hand. He smiled his thanks to her. She asked if I needed help getting ready. I held my hand out to Blue Eyes, and he plopped one pill in it: "No more for now, Tiger." I, uneasily, with Mary Dell's arm to lean on, made it into the bathroom. Mary Dell found a forest green, boiled wool suit in Mother's closet and stuffed me into it. She touched up my makeup and hair. By the time she escorted me into the living room for Blue Eyes, Greg, Daddy, and Dinah to see, everyone was pleased and in a rush to make it to the funeral home in Huntsville. Daddy, Greg, Blue Eyes, and I rode in the borrowed Lexus; I spent the trip constantly moving, alternating the pressure from one cheek to the other.
Mother's pewter casket was closed and blanketed with white roses. Her enlarged wedding photo was prominently displayed at the entrance to the room. She had managed to have herself eternally preserved as a beautiful, svelte, twenty-two-year-old bride. Daddy, who had been maintaining well, showed signs of emotional meltdown as he greeted all of those he'd already greeted at the house and many more. Blue Eyes stayed within arm's length of me, his watchful eye keeping me within his protective gaze.
My Aunt Hannah and her daughter paraded by. Blue Eyes asked, "Is her daughter really named after melba . . ."
". . . toast," I completed his sentence. "Yes, my aunt named her only child after a snack cracker."
"Hey, anyone named 'Florine' shouldn't be casting stones." He stared into my eyes and said, intimately, "At first I was worried about the name Zelda. However, after checking out the names these bubbas are handing out, I think Zelda is the cream of the crop."
"A common name wouldn't do."
"You know, when I saw your ex standing over you, I thought I was going to kill him. I was certain he was your rapist," he confided.
"I know, and I need to tell you how grateful I am for your gallantry. I've never been fought over before."
"You're flirting with me," he accused. "Does that mean we get to have sex in that bastion of your purity?"
"If you're referring to my childhood bed, the answer would be no."
"Aww, Tiger," he whined, "I'd let you do me in my childhood bed."
"You'd let me do you on public television."
"No, Tiger, pay-per-view. Got to make money off it. We're that good."
We smiled shyly at each other – two people flirting around a coffin.
The pain pill began to wear off; Blue Eyes noticed the grimace I thought no one saw. The scores of mourners were thinning out, and Greg was planning an after-visitation debauch. Blue Eyes put his hand on my waist and whispered, "How about we drive your dad and Greg back to the house, then go on to the ER?"
"What will they do to me?"
He smiled evilly. "Might do an x-ray or an MRI, but they will most certainly do a physical exam. A finger-up-the-butt exam."
"Why don't you just write me a prescription for those painkillers, and we'll see if it heals on its own?"
"I want to make sure you didn't screw up any of your vertebrae, Tiger."
I reluctantly complied. It was all Blue Eyes could do to not conduct the physical exam himself, but he checked the x-ray and the MRI. He and the ER doctor agreed a healthy dose of painkillers and rest were the best remedies. As we were leaving, the doctor handed B.E. a small, inflatable donut. We limped out together, Blue Eyes chuckling devilishly.
"Where to?" Blue Eyes asked after handing me another pain pill. I was trying gamely to dry swallow it. Unfortunately, it caught in my throat, and I started coughing, which radiated down to my tailbone, causing sharp pains. B.E. slapped me on the back, and I spit the pill back out.
"Oh, he!1, Tiger, you've got to get better at swallowing things."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought swallowing was one of my talents."
"I can't remember."
"Then you won't miss it," I replied. I tried again to swallow the pill, with deserved success. My throat burned as it went down.
When we reached the house, the street was crammed with cars, and the house blazed brightly. We walked towards the front door, leaning closely to each other, and we might have actually exchanged a kiss had the pain pill not overpowered my gross motor skills. I hesitated at the foot of the steps, swaying.
"Tiger?" Blue Eyes said.
"I need to lie down," I slurred as I slumped against him for the second time that day.