Page 58 of Broken Bayou

I rinse my mug in the kitchen sink and catch my reflection in the window above it. Wild hair and sad eyes, like Mama looked on our last full day at Shadow Bluff. It was the day after our baptism. Mama’s room was quiet and dark and smelled like cinnamon and cloves with an undercurrent of smoke and booze. Two lumps slept under the covers, one larger, one smaller. Mabry lay on her side, hugging a pillow. Noway I’d let her get sucked into the vortex of a Krystal Lynn spiral. Only one family member was allowed to come apart at a time. That member was always Mama.

Mabry stirred and opened her large eyes. She blinked at me and immediately started to cry. Then she whispered, “Okra.”

“Shhh.” I patted her small shoulder. “Come with me.”

I pulled Mabry’s hand, but Mama’s long slender arm snaked from under the bedspread and wrapped around Mabry’s waist.

“Don’t you take my baby.” Mama spoke with her eyes still shut.

“Something’s scaring her,” I said.

Mama opened a crusty eye. “You’rescaring her.” She wormed her way into a seated position, snatched her cigarettes from the bedside table, and balanced one in between her lips. She flicked her lighter and inhaled.

Mabry started to cry harder.

At the exact same time, Mama and I said, “Oh, stop crying.”

Mabry blinked.

“Get up,” I said to Mama. I pulled Mabry from the bed. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Look at you gettin’ all bossy.”

“You’re the one who said when preachers get involved, it’s time to leave.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired now.” She fell back onto her pillow.

“Too bad.”

I flung the sheets off her, and she yelled, “Hey!” The tops of her legs were as bruised as her face.

“Get up, Mama. It’s time to start acting like a grown-up.”

She shuffled into this very kitchen, barefoot and wearing a robe, her hair a greasy tangle, her eyes puffy slits.

“Well, lookee who decided to grace us with her presence?” Petunia sniffed at Mama.

“You know, you girls should have been in church with us today,” Pearl said to me. “Reverend talked about Proverbs eleven. ‘Whoevertroubles his own household will inherit the wind, and the fool will be the servant to the wise of heart.’”

Mama plopped into a chair. “Got any coffee?” Her voice came out like that of a raspy lounge singer.

I placed a cup in front of her.

Mama looked up at me. “Creamer?”

“You can drink it black.”

Mama rubbed her nose and sipped.

Pearl and Petunia looked at one another. Pearl said, “We’ve been talking. Petunia and I.”

Petunia said, “We’re concerned.”

“For the girls,” Pearl finished.

“We . . . ,” Petunia started.

“We . . . ,” Pearl said.