Page 18 of That Last Carolina Summer

“Mammals can taste capsaicin, the active component of chili peppers that gives them that spicy kick, but birds don’t have the receptors and therefore aren’t affected by the pungency.

If only humans could adopt this ability to not be susceptible to situations and people that we find unpleasant.

But that’s assuming we would have a choice to turn it on or off instead of being born without them.

I often wonder if the northern cardinal might crave a spicy treat every once in a while, finding itself longing for something it never knew, even if it meant risking getting burned. ”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Phoebe

THE RUMBLING SKY made me flinch as it always did.

I quickly led the children and dog up to the porch where Celeste waited then into the house as Addie and my mother were walking down the stairs.

Mother’s hair and makeup were done to perfection, and she wore an Hermès scarf with a silk shirtdress and a pair of Ferragamo low-heeled pumps.

She and Addie walked with linked arms, their heads held high as if walking across a pageant stage.

I smiled at the familiarity of this scene of my elegant mother looking the way I remembered her, clinging to it like a child wishing the sun wouldn’t set on a long summer’s day.

Mother smiled back when she saw me then leaned in to kiss my cheek, leaving the scent of Shalimar wafting in the air.

“Phoebe. You should have told me you were going to be here. I would have prepared something special for supper.”

Addie and I shared a rare grin at her comment about preparing a meal since our mother didn’t cook.

I knew if I looked at the inside door of the pantry I’d find handwritten notes thumbtacked to the wood in Aunt Sassy’s spidery cursive with instructions on how to hard-boil an egg and at what temperature to set the oven to reheat a casserole.

We’d always had delicious meals and family dinners in the dining room with fresh flower arrangements in the center of the table and sterling silver flatware, but not a single dish had ever been prepared by our mother.

This was undoubtedly the reason Addie and I didn’t know how to cook, although in a pinch I could create a passable meal from a repertoire of five dishes I’d been taught by Aunt Sassy.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked.

Her powdered eyebrows rose. “Go? I’m not going anywhere.”

I glanced at Addie for help, but she kept her gaze focused on her feet, our brief flash of camaraderie gone. “I’m taking you to your appointment, remember?” I wondered if I should have said the club or bridge, but even in my growing panic, I knew it wouldn’t matter.

My mother drew back her head. “I don’t have an appointment. It’s Sunday. Addie’s taking me to church. You might consider joining us.” Her critical gaze took in my rumpled appearance, and I didn’t have the time to explain that I hadn’t had the chance to get dressed yet.

With growing desperation, the sound of the ticking grandfather clock seemed absurdly loud. “Right. Addie, could you please help Mother into the car so I can wash my face and change my clothes?”

Mother stiffened. “I don’t need help, and I am perfectly capable of driving myself.” She looked down at her empty hands. “Where is my purse? And my rings are gone!” The panic on her face must have matched my own. I turned again to my sister for help.

Instead, she said, “It’s all right, Mother. Why don’t we stay here and look for your purse and rings?”

My rage clouded the edges of my vision. I clenched my hands to keep them at my side and fought the urge to scream or cry or turn around and walk out the door.

I wasn’t surprised but still disappointed that even now Addie was still trying to play the nice sister.

I failed to keep my voice calm. “What the hell are you doing, Addie?”

“Mother doesn’t want to go anywhere. We’ll just wait until she’s feeling up to it.”

I took two deep breaths. “This isn’t a choice, Addie, and you damn well know it.”

Mother put her arm around Addie’s shoulder. “There is no need to get vulgar, Phoebe. Don’t make me wash your mouth out with soap.”

I shut my mouth, trying to repress a scream.

Celeste touched my arm, reminding me that she was still there.

“When I was helping your mother get dressed, I found her pocketbook in the closet and put it on a shelf. Why don’t you go get it?

I can help Addie walk your mother outside to the car while you do that and get changed. ”

I sent her a grateful glance then bolted up the stairs and ran into my mother’s closet.

I shut the door then curled up on the floor under her long evening dresses just like I’d done as a child, the scent of Shalimar haunting the small space like a lost spirit, and buried my face in her out-of-season sweaters and screamed until I couldn’t.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there before I heard a brief knock on the closet door. The overhead light flickered on, revealing Celeste’s concerned face. “Phoebe? Are you all right?”

I blinked at the sudden light. “Not really.” I placed my arm over my eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said dropping to her knees next to me with a small wince. “You don’t need to apologize. Families are hard.”

It was such an understatement that I almost smiled.

“I convinced Addie to get in the car with your mother with the air-conditioning on and they’re waiting for you. I won’t need my car for the rest of the day, so I’ll stay here with the children and wait for Addie’s friend from the garage.”

I met Celeste’s eyes, seeing in them a breadth of understanding that was out of proportion to the short time I’d known her.

It went beyond the wisdom expected from someone her age.

“Thank you,” I said through a tight voice.

The words didn’t completely express my gratitude, but it was all I could allow without opening the floodgate of tears her sympathy threatened to unleash.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to...” she began.

I rocked up to a sitting position at the same time, unintentionally cutting her off.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I blurted in a burst of my familiar self-loathing and inadequacy.

I wasn’t sure if this meant finding the energy to stand or joining my mother and sister in the car.

Or simply facing all that had changed when I wasn’t looking and the vast unknown looming in front of me.

“Yes, you can.” Celeste leaned forward and gently lifted my chin. “Your mother and that sweet little girl need you. And even though I don’t think she would admit it, your sister does, too.”

“I didn’t sign up for this.” I was embarrassed by how pathetic I sounded.

“We never do, Phoebe. But the strong do it anyway.”

I shook my head. “I’m not strong. I ran away, remember?” I kept my eyes on Celeste’s, searching for rejection.

Instead, she smiled. “When birds migrate, are they running away? Or are they just temporarily going somewhere else out of a need for survival? It takes a lot more strength to leave than to stay.”

I wondered if she was talking about herself, of how she’d left for a while. But we’d both returned, compelled by some inexplicable force.

Celeste continued. “And survival is why the birds return to the place they started, isn’t it?”

“Unless they hit a window.” I attempted humor to deflect the heaviness of the truth, that I would die in this place if I didn’t leave as soon as I could, that the family ties that bound me here were the same ones that would smother me.

That I might have had the strength to leave once, but I doubted I could do it again if I didn’t do it soon.

“You are so much stronger than you know, Phoebe. And if you don’t think you are, then imagine you’re strong for just one day. You can renegotiate with yourself tomorrow.”

Before I could argue, we both turned toward the sound of running feet approaching the closet.

“Aunt Phoebe? Mama wants to know if you’re coming. She says she’s getting a headache from smelling the exhaust from the running car.”

I met Celeste’s eyes. “Just one day,” she said. “Right now, you only need to make it through this day.”

I slowly pulled myself up. The only thing I was sure of was that I could pretend to be strong for one day, stringing together enough days to get me through the next two months.

“Phoebe, can I ask you something?”

I looked down to where Celeste still knelt on the carpeted floor of my mother’s closet. “Of course.”

She held out her hand. “Could you please help me stand?”

I felt like a chauffeur driving my mother and sister who sat in the back seat. My mother’s purse sat on the passenger seat. I hadn’t had a chance to go through it, but I’d seen her wallet inside and could only hope that I’d find her insurance and credit cards and maybe even a checkbook.

“Where are we going?” Mother looked out the window at the strip shopping malls and palm trees crowding Coleman Boulevard.

The avenue was the main artery through Mount Pleasant and one that she’d traversed thousands of times, but her frown told me that she didn’t recognize it.

Her sense of displacement matched my own, a feeling that added to the surreal state of my life since my return to South Carolina.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see if Addie would answer, but she was looking down at her phone, her fingers rapidly tapping on her screen.

“You have a doctor’s appointment.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not sick. I haven’t been sick a day in my life. Where are you taking me?”

My stomach tightened at the growing agitation in her voice. I glanced again at Addie, whose attention was still focused on her phone.