Pocket Full of Teeth, page 15
I make a ritual out of it. Take a bath, sip my tea, then go to bed. She found me there once– my sweet Cat. I felt tired in the bath and wondered what it would feel like to just sink to the bottom, let the water cover me, protect me from the world, and slowly fill my lungs while I drifted off to sleep.
It would be like a return.
Just as I started to see spots, tiny explosions of fireworks behind my eyes, I felt hands on my shoulders, pulling me back to the world and inside my own skin. Worried eyes searched my own, and I realized that it was Cat.
My Cat.
You should have seen the desperate look on her face.
After that, I started to make my teas after dinner. I’d make a whole pot and serve Ray and Cat a tiny bit, just enough to make them sleepy, to slow things down, freeze them for the night, all of us suspended and together and momentarily permanent.
On the Fourth, the air felt different when I woke up. Ray was already awake, and I noticed that he took an extra pair of clothes with him as he packed up his truck for work. When I asked if he was really going to work on the holiday, he mumbled something about time and a half and that I should feel lucky, but it just didn’t make sense, and I told him so.
But he just grabbed my wrist, and pain shot through my whole arm. I thought he’d broken it, but it was only bruised. Yet again. I asked him not to leave. I told him that if he really loved me, then he would stay. He couldn’t keep running away like that. He looked at me then, and I did the only thing I could think to do. I lifted my dress, my hand on my thigh as if to say, look what you’d be missing.
He gave me a sly smile and carried me up to the bedroom, and we made love for an hour. Hot, sticky, and exhausted, I laid down and stared at the ceiling while he rinsed off in the shower, but when he got out, he kissed me on the forehead and jogged down the stairs, whistling as he went. And I was left with damp sheets, covered in sweat and disappointment.
A little while later, I went down to the kitchen. Cat sat there, moody as she always is these days. She said that we should go to town, get out of the house and see the parade, but the thought of all those people made my skin crawl.
Do you think they know about Ray and that woman? Do you think they all know? That they’re all laughing at me?
I just couldn’t bear it, so I made tea and served it to the both of us, my cup brimming with leaves while Cat’s only had a touch and more honey than was necessary. My vision began to swim, and about an hour later, I felt Cat’s body grow heavy and still beside me as we sat on the sofa and listened to the radio.
I asked her if she felt well, and she said that she felt drained and wanted to take a nap.1 She slid her head onto my lap, and I stroked her hair as she went to sleep. She was so beautiful, a young woman already but also still my little girl, the one who fell on the curb outside the general store and cried before the store owner came out and gave her a sucker so that she might feel better. The same little girl who used to play dolls at my feet while I cooked stew. The same little girl who would crawl into my bed at the first sounds of thunder. She always hated loud noises.
We stayed there like that, with her sleeping on my lap and me in and out of sleep until the sun went down. Then I heard the car coming up the driveway. My vision was blurry and my arms and legs so heavy that I couldn’t get off the sofa.
Who’s there? I asked, but I couldn’t hear an answer or recognize a face until it was right next to me.
Sarah, what have you done? The voice asked, and it took me a minute to place the voice.
Marianne.
What was Marianne doing here?
I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. Cat was fine when she woke up and was checked out by the doctors, but me? I had to stay until the tea’s effects wore off and a psychiatrist was called in.
A crazy doctor.
Marianne thinks I’m crazy.
And the worst part is, they decided to keep me until they could be sure I wouldn’t be a hazard to myself or my family. Had I done this before? No. How many times before? I don’t know. Why have you been doing this? I don’t know.
They kept me for a few weeks with these pointless counseling sessions about how I was feeling and what might have happened in the past to cause me to act and feel as I do. And the sad part was, they wouldn’t let me see Ray.
They said it might be too triggering since it looked like he left me. But Ray would never leave. Not really.
And it was Marianne who gave me a ride home when I was discharged from the hospital. I was so angry at her. I still am. She keeps saying that her dad would pay for it all, that he’d want me to feel better, but I couldn’t even look at her. I felt so betrayed.
They took my grandmother’s books and either threw them away or hid them because they were nowhere to be found. I guess they thought her notes were the only place I could find exact measurements of plants and ingredients, and although there were other reference materials out there, I had to admit that it would be tricky to find something that powerful without hooking up with a Laudanum dealer. But I don’t have to worry about that.
Last night, Ray came home again. It was late, and he smelled like dark liquor, but he came in and stood in the doorway. I could feel him looking at me, and when I asked him what he was looking at, he said the most beautiful woman in the world. He was back and that’s all that mattered.2
TRANSCRIPT
Interview with Eddy Sparrow
7:26 p.m. April 27th, 2021
Case No. HI30823
I know. This part always made my stomach ache. How could she still love him? He seems like such a sleeze ball.
You’re right. Plenty of women are with men like that, and no matter how abusive they are, the women always came back.
No, Stephen was never abusive. He’d run from confrontation rather than actually address an issue.
Sorry, no, it’s not you. I just get frustrated when thinking about him. After he got word that the chair position was opening up, he started staying after class and showing off with more research. He had a few research assistants that sung his praise everywhere they went.
He had this one assistant named Penny that used to come over with wine when she knew he’d be at events late. I just remember being so jealous of all the people that got to be around him all day. I had early morning classes and left campus before ten when he was just starting his day.
That last year, he said he'd take me to Birmingham’s Sidewalk Film Festival, but it turned into a kind of PR campaign — shaking hands, kissing babies, that kinda thing.
No, I hated it. I just wanted him to spend some time with me, but I felt like such a small part of his life. We’d been married for seven years by that point, but I always felt like I was chasing after him and couldn’t quite catch up.
In some ways, I can emphathize with Cat’s mom. I was always the one left waiting, but I can’t imagine doing that to my daughter. Anyway, want me to keep going?
I made my way to the alley next to the parade, I stopped and looked around me. I found a familiar red Thunderbird — Marianne’s — and felt my knees go weak. I tried the door to escape the loud noises, but it wouldn’t budge. I hugged myself, still sobbing, and slowly slid down the driver’s side door, coming to rest on the cracked pavement of the old lot. Cheers and laughter poured down the street and spilled into the alley. I brought my knees to my chest and let out a howl that didn’t even sound like me. It came from somewhere deep inside, from the place that Ray had hurt Mama, from the place where she had hurt me. Why wasn’t I enough for the both of us?
I let myself go and sobbed until the music stopped, until the people dispersed, until I saw Liz’s shoes come to a stop in front of me.
She didn’t seem to need an explanation. She scooped me up and led me to her bike. I put my arms around her and stood on the back spokes while she peddled through town, past people and miniature supernovas captured at the ends of sparkler wands, past the smells of chili and the sounds of cheers and squeals of laughter.
She peddled in serpentine up the mountain until it became too tough and then stopped, lifting me onto her back. I felt the great nothingness that hid in my stomach at night crawl up my throat. I clung to her, so afraid that if I let go I would fly into a million pieces and be lost forever.
Liz carried me almost to the top before she set me down, and we walked together the rest of the way until we reached the front porch. She paused at the doorstep, but I pulled her inside.
“Please,” I whispered and led her upstairs.
Instead of going to my room, I led her to the bathroom, to the tub where I had found Mama. We sat inside with our clothes still on, the hall light illuminated half our faces from the open door, and I could see that her eyes were kind, but they were worried.
“Cat, you’re safe now,” she said as she squeezed my hand reassuringly.
I nodded and didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t know how to tell her that I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to tell her that I’d never known what safety was or how to live without the shadow of shame.
After we sat there until our bones started to ache, I got up, finally done shaking and crying at being made a fool of, of thinking that I could move on without Mama, and said goodbye to Liz, promising her to come by the cafe in the morning.
I watched her disappear into the darkness and then did the only thing I could think to do. I took Mama’s spot in the kitchen and made a fresh cup of tea.
TRANSCRIPT
Interview with Eddy Sparrow
7:59 p.m. April 27th, 2021
Case No. HI30823
You know, I’m really glad that Cat found Liz.
No. I don’t really have a friend like that. I feel like I’ve had so much work to do compared to Stephen that I never had too much time for friends.
There’s always been a new project or a new opportunity that I’ve been working toward, and it hasn’t really been a priority for me. I mean, Stephen was my best friend from the moment I met him. While my classmates were out partying or going out, I was studying and then busy starting over. I learned that Stephen wasn’t the smartest person in the world but he was very productive. I’d do most of his research, even when he had research assistants for that, and he’d put everything together. He had a way with words, ya know?
Anyway, that fall we had this one event downtown. I hadn’t been going to events as much because they make me so nervous. I’m more of a book person.
Yeah, I’m not good at meeting people.
Well, it’s different with you two. We all have a purpose here. I’m supposed to talk about what happened, and you’re supposed to ask questions. There’s no small talk.
So, Stephen was guest speaking about the importance of Birmingham as a cultural touchstone, not only of Civil Rights, but of human ingenuity and invention.
Yeah, major eyeroll. I know. It was hosted by Dr. Smith and his wife Mrs. Smith, a tiny lady who always seemed to have a lipsticked smile plastered to her rosy face. You know the kind, saccharine sweetness, very polite, but there’s something about her that makes you want to accidentally spill your wine on her?
Yep, sounds like she was exactly like your cousin Heather.
Anyway, you should have seen the way she fawned over Stephen, just parading him along, and she introduced him around as if he was her personal guest.
I got so irritated because it seemed like every second I stepped away, she would whisk him off and whisper to him, touch his arm, share a laugh, and whenever I would come up, she would fall silent and say she needed to get herself some water or that she had to go to the ladies’ or say hello to another guest.
It was always something different, but I could see right through her. She didn’t like me. I tried to say something about her to Stephen, but he just shrugged me off.
Thank goodness Penny was there. It was a relief to see someone I knew, and we sat in the corner talking about Sloss and its many ghost stories until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I told Stephen I wanted to go home. He said he’d meet me there, that he was still having fun, and I was left to go home alone.
I just felt so lonely. That is to say, I felt absolutely abandoned and unimportant.
Yeah, that’s how it started anyway: the end of me and Stephen.
You sure you don’t want me to make a cup of tea?
Okay, well suit yourself. August is a doozy.
AUGUST 2001
The dog days of summer were so hot and so still you could barely breathe, much less sleep without air conditioning. I tossed and turned all night until one Saturday morning, I was rustled out of that half-asleep, half-bored state by the sounds of Ray banging around in the basement.
“The goddamn plumbing is falling apart,” Ray spat as he threw a wrench across the room. It skidded across the tile and crashed against the far wall, leaving a small dent in the baseboard.
“And I go down there this morning to fix it and find a shit-load mold.” He threw his hands in the air. He was already in a mood.
“This stupid house is gonna be the death of me.” He ran his hands through his hair and let out a breath while I finished the coffee and tucked a clean apron into my bag. Just as I grabbed my things, he looked up at me with that sad puppy dog face he used to give Mama.
“I can’t have the house like this,” he said as he held my gaze. “Your Mama would roll over in her grave if she could see the mold down there.”
I pictured it, black spots growing into slimy patches lurking just beneath our feet.
“With some cash, I could probably remove it myself,” he said.
“You can’t remove that by yourself, Ray. That takes a professional.”
“They’re a scam. All I need is a mask and those thick black trash bags, then I could burn it out back next to the tree line.”
I sighed and dropped my bag. “How much?”
“It wouldn’t be that much. I only need to —”
“How much, Ray?” I interrupted.
“A couple hundred. A thousand, at most.”
“A thousand, Ray? Really?”
I took my wallet out of my bag and laid three hundreds on the kitchen table. “That’s it. That’s all got.”
“Cat, I didn’t mean it like that. I only want —”
“I know what you want, but this is all you’re gettin’.” I interrupted again. “I gotta go. I have a job to get to.”
I made my way to the cafe. Liz smiled at me as I came inside. She never brought up my meltdown a few weeks ago at the parade, and since then, she started walking me home after dinner each night. Without Ray there when I got home, I showed her what was left of my mom’s library, her records, and her dresses. I showed her the kitchen and Mama’s recipe books. I showed her the back porch where we used to sit and eat, the maze where Mama would walk at night.
The morning went well with Liz singing and throwing prepped ingredients my way — washed blueberries for muffins, strawberries for the jams, round dough forms for the bagels — and I finished each task like someone finishing her sentence. It was a conversation made of hands, made of labor, of temperature and time.
Our regulars were satisfied, we told jokes over the counter and waited in the empty shop for the lunch crowd when Owen came in.
An involuntary groan escaped my chest, and Liz nodded to the door. “Want me to get rid of him?”
I shook my head once and steadied my face so that before he even approached the counter, I blurted out. “What do you want?”
Owen paused as confusion painted his face. “I just came in to see you.” His voice rose into an almost question.
“Well, I’m not interested,” I said flatly.
He looked around, still confused. “Sorry. Did I do something?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to ignore Liz unashamedly eavesdropping as she wiped an already-clean table.
When I didn’t answer, he continued, “I mean, the last time I saw you was the Fourth, and you just disappeared —”
That was the line I was waiting for, the line that would blame me for everything that happened, so I cut him off.
“I disappeared after I heard you bragging about giving me rides home.”
Across the room, Liz dropped her rag and her jaw, and Owen sucked in a breath.
“What? No. I never said —”
“That you would really give me a ride on the way home? I’m sorry, was that a different Owen?”
“No, I — it wasn’t like that, I didn’t mean…”
I just raised my eyebrows at him.
“It was just the guys. I didn’t mean that —” His voice cut off, trying to find the words but finding only his awfulness instead.
“It’s not gonna happen, Owen. It was never going to happen. Especially now.”
He looked at the floor, shame colored his cheeks, and he rocked on his heels, looking like a little boy being scolded by his mother.
“I understand,” he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t really mean…”
But his words trailed off and what he did or didn’t mean remained unspoken. Instead, he turned and left, the door’s exiting bell echoing through the shop’s hush.
When she couldn’t hold it in any longer, Liz burst, “Damn, Cat. That was cold-blooded.”
Her face beamed and she giggled. I laughed in return, replaying the conversation.
“This cat’s got claws, baby!” She laughed again and threw her rag at me.
“Then you better watch it!” I caught it in the air and tossed it back to her, which made her cry out playfully as she dodged it and stuck her tongue out at me. I don’t know what made me do it, but I picked up a croissant sandwich, a turkey melt with Dijon and cranberry sauce, and tossed it at her. With her attention on the rag, she didn’t have time to see the croissant sailing toward her, and it landed squarely in the middle of her forehead.
