Little Altars Everywhere by Rebecca Wells
Back home in bed I lay up next to Chaney. I be cryin and he say, Letta you doin all you can.
My own two girls, Pearl and Ruby, already in they bed asleep, breathin regular. They my little ones, but I spend more time rearin the Walker chilren than I do my own babies, and that is the good Lord’s truth. Times I had to leave them by theyselves with 102-degree fever cause Miz Vivi be havin one of her dinner parties. Walkin up to that brick house to help serve court bouillon, when my babies be coughin and layin at home with hot little foreheads. Make me wanna hit that white woman.
And where is Mister Big Shep most all the time after the big fight? Out at the duck camp, leavin Chaney and the rest of the workers to run Pecan Grove. Chaney say, Bossman don’t know his crops from a hole in the ground these days. He don’t look out, he gonna lose ever’thing he done put in the ground.
Well, ain’t none of us want that to happen. All of us eatin the same gumbo round here, one way or the other.
This is how Miz Vivi done gone too far with the holy thing. She left me stayin with the chilren and gone off to a retreat in Arkansas with that pig-face priest and a bunch of other Catholic women, nary a one of them a Ya-Ya. She come back after three days, had lost six or seven pounds, and her hands was shakin like Mexican jumpin beans. Tellin me she hadn’t touched a drop since she reached the Mississippi state line. Somethin bout her eyes make me wish she had been drinkin, cause I ain’t never seen her look that het up.
She say, Letta you go on home. I’m back now. I’ll take care of my chilren.
They was in the den watchin the TV. Little Shep had his little plastic gun thing what make his nametags that he put on everything. That boy love puttin his name on things. Siddy had on her false fingernails that she love. Lulu eatin her Oreos, settin up next to her big sister on the couch. Baylor, he holdin that old doll of Lulu’s with the bald head. They all loungin, all laid up. Don’t even get up to greet they Mama. Not cause they bad, just cause they be relaxin.
I shoulda never left out the house that day. I had a bad feelin up in my joints. But you can’t look back. Good Lord didn’t mean for us to hate ourself. He made us to love ourself like He do, with wide open arms.
I gone on home like she tell me. Chaney was in the rocker and Pearl and Ruby was plaitin each other’s hair, stickin in the little plastic barrettes I done bought them at Kress. Chaney had started some collards and cornbread the way we like on Sunday evenins. I been lucky, cause they’s most men won’t lift a finger to help you out round the house.
I gone in and drew me a bath with my Calgon and was soakin when Chaney yell out: Letta! Come on out to the porch!
What in Sam Hill is goin on? I say. Ain’t no rest for the weary.
I grab my robe and run out to the porch and Chaney point to the Walker yard and say, Look over there!
I done heard them chilren screamin fore my eye even seen what was goin on. All four of my babies lined up against the wall of that brick house and every one of them buck naked. Miz Vivi out there with a belt, whuppin them like horses. And them just standin against the red brick. Yellin and cryin and screamin, but not even tryin to get away from her. Standin there, lettin her beat the livin daylights outta them like there be some big invisible wall round them. Why they not runnin away?! I shoulda taught them to run!
Me and Chaney watch it all, and what we supposed to do? We got jobs and a place to live and Miz Vivi is Mister Big Shep’s wife. She a white woman, she can do whatever she want.
I hear Siddy’s voice over the others. She be screamin, Mama don’t hit Baylor! Don’t hit him, Mama, please!
And I say to Chaney, You think I gonna stand out here and watch the chilren I raised get beat to death?!
He say, You wanna lose what jobs we got? You got somewhere else for us to live, niggerwoman?
I look at him and say, The Good Lord provideth. You call me niggerwoman again, you gonna end up with a voice higher than Ruby’s.
Chaney go and set on the porch steps, he ain’t movin. Say, Ain’t my bidness.
Pearl and Ruby come out on the porch. They watchin, too. Chaney look at them. He look up at me. I head over to his truck and the girls start trailin along.
Chaney he stand up and say: Pearl, Ruby, yall go on back inside.
Then he finally move hisself (like I knowed he would). He get behind the wheel and we fly down the lane, Sunday dust blowin every whicha way, settlin on my skin still wet from my bath.
I be prayin out loud: Heavenly Father, you gotta guide our hands—you gotta guide our feet—please tell us what to do in these white people’s yard.
Chaney don’t even use they driveway, he pull straight up on the lawn where she beatin on them. And that truck hardly come to a halt fore I jump out, run over to Miz Vivi, say, Stop it, you hear?! Stop that! You leave them chilren alone!
And she turn like she plannin to whup up on me, too. She swing out with that belt and hit me round my elbow. But I got on my robe, where them chilren ain’t wearin a stitch.
Chaney he reach up and grab that belt outta her hand, say: Miz Viviane, you gotta stop behavin like this.
And she go for him tryin to slap and kick him. You filthy nigger, she yell, don’t you dare touch me! I will have your black ass fired off this place before you can spit!
But Chaney he a big strong man and he grab her hands and hold them together, and she still kickin and yellin, but she not doin no more harm to anyone. Them babies all cryin, they bleedin, and Siddy—oh Siddy, she done wet all over herself! Lulu be eatin on her hair like she do. Little Shep tryin to act like nothin done happened, like he a little bitty daddy. Like he got important bidness to tend to somewhere else. And Baylor be all blue-faced from holdin his breath.
I get holt of him and say, Breathe now, baby, breathe.
Sweet Jesus, I seen they whole lives in front of them, how they would be when they was grown. I seen it all just by lookin at them right that minute in that yard. And it done froze my blood.
I put them in the truck and Chaney let go of Miz Vivi. He jump in with us and he drive down the lane to our house. I be thinkin, Maybe Miz Vivi might come after us. But she just stay standin in that yard, lookin out at the fields like we never been nowhere round.
It was the first time I seen the truth: That woman ain’t just a drunk, she crazy as a Betsy bug.
I call up Miz Buggy, Miz Vivi’s Mama, tell her she better come on over. And then I wash the blood off them chilren’s little white bodies, tryin to be careful as I can round what that belt done did to them. Take my what-they-call “burn plant” and pat on some of its juice, all the time prayin: Lord, Lord, come down and help these little ones.
I put them in some of Pearl and Ruby’s clothes, even though Little Shep he starts to cryin and cryin, say: I don’t want to look like a sissy! I can’t wear these! I want my clothes! He don’t stop cryin, now he worse off than any of them.
I set them down round the kitchen table and I don’t know what is gonna happen next. My own two girls starin at them Walker chilren with they mouths hangin open.
I say, Ruby and Pearl, babies, yall close yall mouths fore they get full up with flies.
Ruby say to Siddy, You look funny in my dress.
I say, Shush, Ruby! Don’t you go makin fun of this child right now!
I be thinkin: What in the good Lord’s world gonna happen to us all at Pecan Grove? Mister Big Shep fire us, I don’t know where we gonna go. It ain’t easy to find jobs like we got in 1963 Louisiana.
Siddy’s false fingernails hangin off and she gnawin on her own bit-down nails and she ax me: Letta, is it a sin for us to be over here when Mama is over there by herself?
I pull her to me, tryin to be careful cause I know her skin be raw. I tell her, I don’t wanna hear you worryin yourself no more bout what be a sin, you hear me, babygirl?
I stand up and tell all them, Just set there. Letta gonna fix yall some cornbread and milk.
My own daughters be holdin onto me over by the stove actin like they scart of white
Miz Buggy finally come and get them. She say: Now Letta and Chaney, I don’t want a word of this to go any further than this house, yall hear me? Miz Viviane is just upset with all she has on her mind. Miz Viviane has just been pushed too far by that Baptist husband of hers! Don’t you ever repeat any of this.
I tells her, Yas’m.
And she take off to her house up by City Park with them chilren in her Fairlane. And I ain’t never forgot it, not even when I looked down at that old woman in her casket: She ain’t never thought to send back my own two babies’ clothes what I had dressed them four Walker chilren in. What did she do with them clothes? Turn them into dustrags? I still wish I knowed. This is somethin what haunt me when I pray, somethin I can’t forgive.
That evenin I took myself to our prayer service at Good Shepherd Temple and my church sisters come up and was so sweet to me. My best girlfriend Lucinda hugged me to her like she do, with that big self of hers that’s shorter than me by a foot, but full and brown and smell like warm biscuits. I just let her hug me there in the back of church and I could hear them all singin. I got me a good church home. They look out for you when you in need.
Mister Big Shep he never fired us, never said nothin at all. He come round the next week with a mess of ducks already cleaned for me and Chaney to eat. Then later he give Chaney his gold El Camino. Said he was gettin hisself a new Ford anyway and wanted Chaney to have the El Camino. So we had us two vehicles that coulda took us anywhere we wanted to go. We coulda drove off Pecan Grove, straight outta the heart of Louisiana, to some other state and never come back.
But even though I ain’t a big one for countin sins, leavin outta here woulda been a sin in my book. Cause some people God give to you to look out after, and that just be how it is. I got to keep my gaze on them chilren till the day I die. Too many things can happen in the blink of a eye, and that’s why I count my blessings every single day.
That’s why I tole my girls, that’s why I tell my grandchilren: Don’t ever worry bout bein holy, babychild. Just keep your eyes wide open except when you sleep. Then let the Lord’s mighty vision see you through the night.
Snuggling
Little Shep, 1990
Mama didn’t fool me.
Oh yeah, she tried. Saying, I’m going to shrivel up and blow away if you don’t give me some snuggles.
I believed her at first. Thought she was actually gonna kick the bucket if I didn’t snuggle with her right when she wanted. I thought, She’ll die and they’ll say it was my fault. They’ll say: He killed his mother because he wouldn’t hug and kiss her like she wanted. He wouldn’t let her rub that cold-cream face against his. Wouldn’t let that cotton nightgown float around him, smelling like her skin.
I still can’t take the smell of cold cream on a woman. Just a whiff is enough to start up one of the migraines. First thing I noticed when my wife, Kane, and I got together was how clean her face smells when she gets in bed. She never uses any cream at all. Washes her face with plain old soap and puts maybe a dab of baby oil around her eyes, that’s it.
I give her three pair of silk pajamas for her birthday every year. Before we got married, I told her, Please don’t ever wear a cotton nightgown around me and I promise I won’t pick my nose at the table. And Kane said, You got a deal, Shep.
Mama acted like it was all normal, you know, like it was her right. I’m not sure what all she did with Sidda and the others—I just know what she did with me. They moved Baylor out of my room when I was in third grade. They added onto the house so we could each have our own private cell. No wonder she wanted to have us all in separate rooms. That way there wouldn’t be but one at a time to witness what she was up to.
My room was right across the hall from the bathroom next to Sidda’s. I would lay in my bed at night and hear Mama doing her nightly whatever in the bathroom. The woman spent hours on her face. I could tell exactly when she was finished because of the way she’d tap her toothbrush against the sink and then clear her throat. God, I hated those sounds.
Then she’d pad down the hall and say, Good night, Mister Walker, and Daddy would grunt something back, if he was even home. After that, she’d go into Sidda’s room. I didn’t want to, but sometimes I couldn’t help but hear them. My hearing was already bad in my left ear by then. It took the doctors a while to diagnose it, but finally they said, You’ve lost eighty-three percent of the hearing in your left ear. Claimed it was from early exposure to guns and loud farm equipment. I could of told them exactly what it was, though: I made the hearing go out of that ear because it’s the one that faced the wall when I tried to sleep. I got tired of hearing all the shit you had to listen to in that house.
If Sidda convinced Mama she was already sleeping or if the bitch hadn’t gotten enough, the old lady would come into my room. And then it would start up.
I would kill someone before I let that kind of shit happen to Kurt or Dorey. Kane and me never let them sleep with us. Not even when they were tiny. I never crawl into bed with either one of my children. I’ve been careful from the beginning to watch how I hug them, kiss them, touch them.
Kane had to talk me into helping bathe them, she had to tell me it was okay. One evening I stood in the doorway and watched her while she lathered them up in the tub, their little ducks and boats floating in the water. Kurt’s hair all slicked back and Dorey’s chubby little arms. It was all warm and misty in the bathroom and Kane had her sleeves rolled up and her hair in a ponytail. She just looked so damn competent, so damn normal. But I didn’t want to go near the kids while they were naked. Finally Kane got up and put a washcloth in my hand.
She said, Shep, it’s alright! Go bathe your children, you’re not going to break them!
Kane only knows part of what went on at Pecan Grove. Sometimes I’d like to tell her more, but you just never do know how people are gonna react to things.
What was so sickening was the way Mama’d root herself down under the covers and say, Let’s snuggle. I need to snuggle.
Any time my mother wanted anything, she’d say, I need it. Then she expected people to give it to her. Like it was her fucking right. Like the right to water or food or air.
She’d sucker me into it by saying: Little Shep, let me tickle your back.
Well, I was a goner whenever anybody tickled my back. It worked like a drug on me. How in the world I kept on letting myself fall for it, though, I can’t explain. She’d start out tickling my back with her fingernails the way I craved. And just when I’d be drifting off, she’d start kissing me and her hand would start wandering.
Hell, it makes me want to puke just thinking about it. I wonder how it was for the rest of them. Was it just the same? Did she do the same thing with Baylor?
I know there was that one time out at the duck camp when Baylor and I had a little too much to drink and we got to talking about sex. Now he has got some problems. After he’d had four or five scotches that evening, he told me: Bro’, most of the time I can’t even get it up. When I do, I just want to do it and get it over with. You tell anyone I just said that and I’ll call you a bald-faced liar.
I told him, Hell, Kane wouldn’t stand for that kind of stuff. She laid down the law to me about no drinking at home, and I flat-out had to toe the line. If I acted like that in bed, she’d kick my butt out of the house.
Baylor lit a cigarette and looked at me. We were sitting out on the porch and I was cleaning my fingernails with my pocketknife.
He said, You clean your nails just like the old man. Said it to me like it was an insult.
Yeah, little brother, I said. But at least I still want to get it on.
Yeah, he said, except when you’re knocked out with a mi
Baylor can be pretty damn depressing sometimes. Before that conversation ended, he told me he was actually thinking about getting hormone shots. A Walker man actually talking about hormone shots.
Anyway, here’s what finally did it for me. I got a crush on Bibi Crowell. God, she was the prettiest girl in sixth grade. Hair down to her waist, with these pink ribbons laced through it. Cute little nose and long eyelashes. That girl was born flirting. I adored her. I would of done anything for Bibi Crowell.
At the Catholic Youth dances when we danced together, just smelling her was as good as Christmas. I’d be wearing an oxford-cloth shirt, cords, and matching socks. Clean ears and a dab of Canoe. Ready for action, man. People will never understand how sexy those Catholic Youth dances could be. Hormones zinging all over that parish hall! We’d try to get our bodies as close as possible before the Nazi chaperons came around, pulling us apart from each other, saying, Let’s see some daylight between you two!
Every boy in the whole place drooled to dance with Bibi Crowell. I had to wait my turn. But then one night—I remember it was around in November, before the holidays, in sixth grade—she turned down Pres Davis for a slow song. Flat out told him no.
So I stepped up and asked her to dance with me, and she said yes!
Man, Pres was a buddy of mine, and I still felt like king of the world. It felt so goddamn powerful to have her choose me.
Later that night Mister Gremillion dropped me off at home. He was always taking us home from things at night—Mama wouldn’t drive across the highway after dark, and the old man was nowhere to be found. It was around ten o’clock. Sidda was spending the night out, and Lulu and Baylor were in the den watching the TV, with a fire going, eating oatmeal cookies. I stoked the logs up a little and laid down with them in front of the fire and watched whatever was on the screen. But all I saw was Bibi’s face. All I could smell was her fresh sweetness. I wanted to tell someone what had happened to me, but I didn’t have the words for it. Everything I laid my eyes on looked good, that whole house looked good, even my little brother and sister looked less weird than they usually did.