Page 7 of That Last Carolina Summer

“The black eagle mother is known for being one of the worst parents in the animal kingdom. The eldest and strongest of her offspring will be favored over the weakest, which are often neglected. She will allow her children to fight for food and will also let the eldest bully or sometimes even kill their younger siblings before throwing them out of the nest. This instinct is necessary for the breed to survive by allowing only the strongest to survive, but it also begs the question of what other qualities are being excluded with each expulsion from the nest.”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Phoebe

I WAITED ON the front porch for my sister to come home, listening to bugs ping against the outdoor lights while drinking the last two bottles of beer I’d found in the fridge. The sweet scent of the wax myrtles that hung in the humid night air had a calming effect on me.

Ophelia pushed open the screen door, then stood in the doorway still wearing the sundress she’d worn to the airport.

“It’s almost midnight, Ophelia. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a bedtime. I just go to bed when I’m tired.”

I wasn’t surprised that Addie would be unaware of the importance of schedules for children, but my mother would never have allowed this. At least the mother who had raised me.

I’d already fed my mother—which included cutting up her pizza into bite-size portions—and then got her into bed.

This was after a struggle to change her dirty nightgown and brush her teeth.

Yet I’d felt only heartache when I’d pulled back the sheets on her unmade bed and smelled the acrid scent of stale urine and had to change her bed linens.

The mother I’d known would have been horrified and embarrassed, and a small part of me was almost glad that she wasn’t aware of this humiliation.

I’d searched her bathroom for a bag of adult diapers while she’d followed me insisting with growing anger that she didn’t wear them because she didn’t need them.

I was so exhausted by the time I’d drained the last beer that I didn’t have the energy to put myself to bed, presumably in the guest room since Ophelia had taken over my room.

If my brain had been less fried, I would have had the presence of mind to wait until morning to have a conversation with Addie, but I also knew that I wouldn’t sleep anyway.

The threat of having the nightmare again loomed over me, and as eager as I was to lie down and sink into oblivion, I knew that the respite would be temporary.

“Then have a seat,” I said, indicating the rocking chair next to mine.

Ophelia perched on the edge of the chair like a bird prepared for flight. Her feet were bare, something my mother had never allowed when Addie and I were girls. I wondered if that’s why Ophelia did it now, when there was no one around to notice.

I waited for her to say something, but she remained silent as she stared out into the yard toward the two-hundred-year-old oak tree with limbs that bore the weight of years as if they needed the ground to hold them up.

My sister and I had played house on that tree, pretending the limbs were the beds and sofas of our make-believe castle where Addie was always the princess and I was either her maidservant or mistress of the hounds using my sweet dog, Bailey, who was always a willing participant.

I smiled at the memory and wondered when those two girls had become strangers to me.

“What’s so funny?” Ophelia asked, her face turned toward me.

“I was just thinking of your mother and me when we were little girls climbing that old oak tree and pretending it was our castle. I’m sure you and your friends probably do the same thing.”

She peered out into the darkness again where the night was filled with a familiar chorus of katydids and tree frogs. “I’m not allowed to climb trees,” she said softly.

I started to say “We weren’t either” but stopped, once again remembering my role as visiting aunt and not willing to defend the arbitrary edicts of my mother.

We both turned at the sound of an approaching car and saw headlights pulling into the drive.

I waited for Ophelia to run inside before her mother caught her still awake, but she didn’t move.

Addie didn’t appear surprised to find Ophelia and me on the porch as she slowly climbed each step, fatigue dragging on each leg. Despite the heat, she still wore the sweater with the sleeves pulled down to her wrists.

“You should have prepared me,” I said, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.

“Can this wait until tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”

“Me, too, but I won’t be able to sleep. And no, it can’t wait. It looks like things have gone on too long as it is.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Then I’m going to need a beer.”

“They’re all gone. I drank the last one. And there’s no food in the fridge or pantry, either.”

Addie sat down hard on the top step. “You have no idea what it’s been like the last six months. If you were here more often, you’d know.”

“I’m sorry. But you could have called me earlier. She needs help, Addie.”

She jumped up. “I will not send her to one of those awful old people’s nursing homes. She would rather die, and I would rather see her dead than to end up there.”

I stopped rocking. “I didn’t say that. What I started to say is that there are meds available now that can help her and at least buy time to figure out what’s next. That’s why she needs to see a neurologist, to get some kind of diagnosis and game plan. Have you made the appointment yet?”

Addie leaned against one of the columns, her gaze on me. “I told you. I’m busy. But now that you’re here, you can take care of it.”

“Fine. But you need to come with me. I’m only here for a couple of months, so you’ll have to be a part of the conversation. This won’t be a quick fix.”

“How do you know? It could be a quick fix, Pheebs. There’s definitely something wrong, but it could just be a hormonal imbalance or something.

I mean, she was playing bridge up until a few months ago.

A person doesn’t lose it that quick, right?

” The porch light shone in her face, her perfect features still as impossibly beautiful as I remembered.

Her fear vibrated in the air, and I knew that her reluctance to call the doctor had nothing to do with a lack of time.

“I have no idea. I hope so. But I think we should prepare for the worst just in case and plan accordingly. All I know is that we need to get this figured out before I go back to Oregon.”

A panicked expression contorted her face. “You can’t just leave, Phoebe. She needs help.”

“You live here, Addie, by choice.” The alcohol loosened the pent-up anger I’d been carrying around like a steel anchor for decades.

“I’m sorry it’s been hard on you for the last few months.

But you both made my life miserable for eighteen years.

I’ve worked too hard to get where I am, and yes, she’s my mother and I love her, but I cannot stay here.

She wouldn’t even want me to stay, and neither would you.

You finally have exactly what you wanted.

” I stood, swaying on my feet from the combination of the beer, my lack of sleep, and jet lag.

She took two shuddering breaths before speaking. “Mother used to say you were the nice sister. I guess she was wrong.” Addie threw open the screened door and let it close behind her with a loud slap.

I stared at it, wondering at her last words. I’d never heard our mother say anything nice about me at all. I felt sick as I tasted beer and pizza in the back of my throat, and I wondered if that’s what regret tasted like. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly to the blackness behind the screen.

I made my way slowly to the door, leaving the beer bottles on the porch floor.

“You can sleep with me tonight, if you like. It’s queen-size so you won’t be squished.

” The quiet voice came from behind me, and I turned to see Ophelia standing at my elbow, looking up at me with wide, troubled eyes.

I’d forgotten she was still there and felt even worse realizing that she’d heard every word.

Feeling as if she needed the companionship almost as much as I did, I nodded. “Thanks, Ophelia. That’s very nice of you. I’ll try not to snore too loud.”

She smiled her chipped-tooth grin, and I felt immediately better.

I’d apologize to her and Addie in the morning.

Right then, I was way too tired to string together more than two words.

I grabbed my bag that was right inside the door and headed up the stairs, instinctively avoiding stepping on the spots I remembered from childhood that would squeak.

It was beginning to feel as if my past had swallowed my present and nothing had changed at all.

I awoke to the sound of the air-conditioning clicking on and bright orange light shining in my face from the slats in the closed shutters.

I glanced at the Cinderella digital clock that had once been mine and saw it was after eleven o’clock.

I rolled over onto my back, grateful that I’d slept through the night without a recurrence of the old nightmare.

Ophelia was gone, her nightgown and sundress from the day before left in a heap on the floor next to my open suitcase.

No sounds came from the TV or outside, and no note had been left to let me know where my niece had gone.

It was clear somebody needed to keep an eye on my mother and Ophelia when Addie was at work.

Granted, I’d been left to my own devices when I was nine, but that had been a different time.

And I’d had my aunt Sassy. I hadn’t been back for a full day yet, but I could tell that Ophelia had been set adrift for the summer.

I tried not to think how she’d clung to me in her sleep or how Addie hadn’t kissed her good-night.