Saving Cicadas Read online

  Normally, my mama was the prettiest lady I’d ever seen, blue eyes, creamy white skin. Other folks thought it, too, giving her looks in the restaurant, in the grocery store. In the small town of Cypresswood, South Carolina, most everybody was invisible, melting in with everybody else. Except for Mama. Nobody was prettier than her. Some ladies didn’t like her so much because of it. Maybe they worried their men might take a liking to Mama more and want to trade them in for her. But Mama wasn’t like that. She wasn’t after anybody’s man. ’ Fact, she hadn’t loved anybody except me and Rainey since the day my daddy left four years ago.

  Mama might have been pretty, but it never went to her head. She thought her hair was too flat and wished it had some wave. Every now and again she got pink lipstick stuck on her front tooth or had it all cockeyed off one lip or the other. And she thought the ladies who drove those pink Cadillacs in Fervor, the ones who knew how to put on makeup right and such, were the ones to envy, not her. But those Fervor ladies never saw my mama sitting up late at night, rocking a scared Rainey who’d had a bad dream. They never saw her early in the mornings making smiley face pancakes and trying to cheer up her sad daughters and take our minds off Daddy, right after he left. No, no one ever saw that side of Mama. But I did. And sometimes when she was wearing a nice dress and had her face put on just right, I looked at Mama and got this feeling down deep in my chest—a feeling like I wished somebody would just walk on by and I could say, “That’s my mama, and someday I’m gonna be just like her.”

  Right now Mama didn’t look anything like that. Her blonde hair framed a tired face that was growing longer by the second. Her skin was all stretched back like it was tied behind her ears, and she was screaming. Not for joy neither. Scared me half to death. I wished I could save her, but it’s not like there was blood or anything, something I could stick a Band-Aid on. I plugged my ears with my fingers and leaned my head against the cold hard wall. Hoping it would pass. “There, there, Mama.” She rarely hollered, if ever.

  “Well, isn’t this just fitting,” said Grandma Mona when the screaming died down. “This calls for a celebration, dear. Why don’t I go pour you a nice gin and tonic?”

  “Let me see,” I said, shooting Grandma Mona one of her own nasty looks. She got the hint and left us alone. Mama set the stick on the counter and I leaned over, studying it. I stared at the picture on the box. A minus sign meant not pregnant. A plus sign, pregnant . My mother was definitely pregnant. I covered my mouth. It couldn’t be. Daddy’d been gone for four years now. I figured maybe there was a mistake. Then I thought about it some more and thought maybe Mama had taken one of those ladies’ men, just like they’d worried about. Maybe she’d done it down at the pancake house or somewhere when Rainey and I weren’t looking. I was shocked my own mama could be so naughty. But then I thought on it some more and knew my mama wasn’t naughty, maybe just forgetful on how babies were made. So then I was just shocked thinking about a new baby being in our house.

  My legs went jelly, so I sat down on the cold edge of the tub. I felt like I was floating, like my spirit might fly right off. Mama dropped the stick in the trash can and it made a clunk noise like a jail cell door. “How could this happen?” she said, trancelike.

  “It happens.” Grandma Mona popped her head back around the door. “How do you think it happens? Good gracious, child, you ought to know how it happens by now.”

  At eight-and-a-half-years-old, I didn’t know everything, but being the smartest girl in the Macy family, I knew a few things, like, never climb onto a strange, mangy dog, even if he does look like he’s smiling. My sister, Rainey, learned that the hard way, and she lost the tip of her right pinkie finger too. Had to get the shots and everything. I say I was the smartest Macy girl because my sister, she was older than me and she was smart, but she was special, you know, and sometimes could only grasp so much. Well then there was Mama. I guessed I was smarter than her now, too, because another thing I knew was, you can have babies just by kissing a boy. Why, every time on TV somebody was kissing, there wound up being a baby. Mama should have kept her lips to herself because she had two children already, but maybe she forgot how you make babies. She must have because she’d gone and done it again. Didn’t look too happy about it, neither.

  “That’s good,” I said, patting Mama on the back. She was straddling the commode and quiet now. “Just take a deep breath. I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

  My mother stared at floating dust. Her shoulders dropped low as if a heavy little devil and angel were sitting on either side. Then the devil and angel began to jump, and Mama’s shoulders bounced up and down with them, keeping rhythm.

  “How did this happen?” She wailed again and put her head on the counter beside the sink. She banged it a couple times, then rolled it from side to side, her arms falling limp past the toilet paper roll down to the floor. “How could I let this happen again? What kind of mother aaaam IIII?”

  I didn’t want this.

  “Mama, it’s not your fault you’re pregnant.” Hearing that word pregnant come out of my mouth made me want to crawl in a hole. And then hearing how dumb I sounded, I added, “Well, you didn’t do it by yourself, anyway. Somebody musta kissed you back. Or maybe they kissed you when you weren’t expecting it—surprised you or some such. Could have been like Sleeping Beauty and the prince, you know. She had no warning from him whatsoever. Just snuck up on her and boom!”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Grandma Mona. “That’s just what I wanted, Janie. A nice little picture in my mind of your mother being with a man. Lovely. And for an eight-year-old girl to know all this. I swanny. Just a disgrace.” She walked away, sputtering and leaving a trail of venom behind her like snail slime.

  “I’m eight-and-a-half!” I hollered.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” My sister, Rainey, heard the commotion and filled the doorway, her hair still mussed up from sleeping. She had her hands covering her ears for the noise. She was eight years older than me but seemed more like my age, except for her body was a grown-up’s. Go figure. I wasn’t sure why they called it Down syndrome. They should have called it “Up” or something. Rainey was the most loving, positive, excited person I knew. She was like our Labrador puppy Bitsy was, always wagging her tail, just happy to be alive. Until she got run over, that is.

  Anyway, Rainey saw joy in everything . . . unless she was scared or bothered or mad. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

  “Oh, nothing, honey—”

  “She’s pregnant,” said Grandma Mona.

  “What’s pregnant?” Rainey asked. Strangers had a hard time making out her words sometimes, but I’d been with her for so long, I had no trouble at all. Sounded more like “whad-ped-nat?”

  Mama looked shocked at hearing the word. “It means having a baby,” said Mama, holding her middle and looking like somebody kicked her in the stomach.

  “A baby?” Rainey’s face lit up like sunshine. “Oooh, we get the baby! Goodie!”

  “No, Rainey, it’s not a good thing,” Mama said, straightening up. “It is not a good thing for an unmarried woman with no money and a crappy job to get pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Rainey’s eyes flitted from Mama to me. Understanding crossed her flattened face, and she looked at her shoes. “Mama bad. You the bad girl.”

  “No, no. I’m not a bad girl, Rainey. I just . . . I don’t know how this happened . . .” Tears began streaming down Mama’s face, and she excused herself to the kitchen for some water.

  “Sit down,” I told Rainey. I was more like the big sister in our relationship, and it was time to do big-sister things. I patted the toilet seat and Rainey sat down. I put my head in my hands and rested my elbows on my knees so my brown hair covered my face. “See, it’s like this. Somebody kissed Mama and it might not have been her fault. Just because a lady gets pregnant . . . is going to have a baby . . . it doesn’t mean she’s a bad girl.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Like Mary!” Rainey sq
uealed. I peeked at her between my fingers. “Mary had the baby,” she said. “From the Bible.”

  “Yes! Yes, that’s right. Mary had a baby, and that didn’t make her a bad girl, did it?”

  “Jesus was in her tummy,” said Rainey, looking out the door to her book bin. She got up and hurried to it, lifting the lid and digging until she found the one she wanted. I followed her and plopped down on the couch, feeling like I’d gained five thousand pounds. I curled my feet up under me and Rainey brought me her book, flipping through its pages with thick fingers. “See? Here the baby Jesus. He come again someday. Mama having the baby?”

  “Uugh.” I put my head down and closed my eyes. I knew Mama wasn’t happy about being pregnant, and I also knew the Jamisons at the Y had adopted a baby from Russia, so I knew Mama could give hers away if she wanted. If I thought on it, I felt sick inside. “I guess Mama’s having the baby,” I said. “But we don’t really know yet, Rainey. It’s up to her.”

  She was quiet for a second, so I turned to look at her. Rainey’s eager look had turned to frustration. “Why?” she whined. “I thought Jesus coming to our house. I want the baby Jesus.”

  “Oh, Rain.” Tears sprang to my eyes. They dripped down slowly, lingering on my cheeks. Rainey moved in and clumsily swiped at my face, trying to dry my tears. She thought of crying along with me, then smiled instead. “Don’t be sad. I help. Baby Jesus stay in our room. I feed him and change the diaper.” Then she pounced off the couch and ran away, hunched over with purpose, clutching her book of Bible stories. I could only imagine she’d gone to prepare a place for Jesus. Probably my bunk on the bottom.

  And then it occurred to me. Mary was called a virgin, and God gave her a baby. If Mama truly didn’t know how all this had happened, then it could very well be that she was a virgin, too, and God had given her a baby. I imagined Mary was just as upset as Mama was when she found out. Then I got excited and nervous and serious all at the same time. My mother was having a child of God like Mary did, so I hunkered down in the couch cushions, waiting for angels to come tell us the news. I knew it was something that might happen only once in a lifetime. Most folks, I knew, weren’t this lucky, and I certainly was nobody special to deserve something as such.

  Chapter Three

  BIRDS AND BEES

  I sat still and felt the lumps of the sofa. I closed my eyes and listened to the grandfather clock ticking. Tick, tick. Time was rushing by, Mama more pregnant with every second. I waited and waited, but no angels came.

  I touched my own stomach, and my blood swelled. No matter how Mama got pregnant, a baby was coming to our house. Into our lives. And what would it mean for Rainey and me? No more late movies on Fridays nights with popcorn and Co-colas. No more roller-skating at the Y or half-price bowling every other Tuesday. Mama would be too tired for me and Rainey. Life, as we knew it, was completely over.

  I could hear Grandma Mona letting Mama have it in the other room. “Why do you always go for men who use you, Priscilla? Who’s the Prince Charming this time? I tell you, one of these days . . .” Mama stayed silent, taking all the abuse. Then she came white-faced from the kitchen carrying a glass of water, and she set it down with shaky hands on a coaster and sniffled. Pulling a balled-up tissue out of her pocket, she wiped her nose before sitting next to me. Mama and I didn’t look at each other but stared straight ahead at the glass half-empty with a faded print of Donald Duck on it.

  “I guess,” she told me, “I really did it this time.”

  I kept my mouth shut, but Grandma Mona, of course, could not. “Yes, you did, Priscilla,” she said. She was hovering over Mama’s shoulders like a gnat.

  “Cain’t you just leave her alone?” I said. “I really don’t think she needs this right now. It might not even be her fault.”

  “But we talked about this years ago. Didn’t we?” Grandma Mona ignored me. Her rouged cheeks were getting redder; her skinny hands perched on pointy hips. “I thought I was very open and honest with you, Priscilla Lynn. It made me quite uncomfortable, but I told you all about the birds and the bees. What about contraception? Don’t you know about it? My goodness, Priscilla. There are so many kinds these days. There must be a hundred ways not to get pregnant!”

  “Grandma Mona!”

  Mama stayed silent. Beaten down. She swiped at her nose again. Then she said, “What am I going to do?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her. “You’re gonna have a baby. It’ll be okay, Mama. I know it will. We’ll all help.”

  “I am single. I live in a tiny, nothing town with a terrible job slopping pancakes and sausages on a buffet for senior citizens. And then there’s Rainey . . . she needs so much more than what I can give her. She doesn’t get enough from me as it is . . .”

  I turned and looked at my mother. Her eyes were closed and she was gnawing on a spot inside her cheek. Slowly, I melted into her side. I lay down on her lap, and her hand rested on the top of my head, unmoving. I wondered if she even knew I was there.

  “Well? What are you going to do, Priscilla?”

  “Grandma Mona, could you just leave us alone for a while?” I said from the tops of Mama’s knees. “Cain’t you see this is hard on her?” “Back in my day, having a baby meant having a baby. I suppose in today’s world it could mean a multitude of things. What in the world is the world coming to anyway?”

  “Please, Mona.”

  “That’s Grandma Mona to you, young lady. Don’t sass me.” She sped away to the kitchen where she liked to spend most of her time. I imagine the heat of the stove must have made her feel right at home.

  Mama stirred, so I sat up. “I have no idea what I’m going to do,” she said. “Or maybe I do. Maybe I know exactly what I have to do. I think I’m going to be sick.” She put her face in her hands and pressed her eyes. “God, how could you let this happen?”

  “Oh Mama, I’m sure there’s a reason for all this. Right? God has his reasons.”

  I was finding it hard to keep my optimism. Apparently, being pregnant was akin to the end of the world for her. Were we really that bad? I tell you what, I knew I was never kissing a boy until I got married. That was the truth. Time seemed to have stopped for my mother. I wished so hard I could rewind it for her and undo all this. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mother did the same. Then we heard Rainey singing “Rock-a-bye Baby” from the bedroom, and that just sent Mama over the edge. Her tears plopped down hard, making wet spots on her blue jean shorts.

  Mama had a choice to make. Simple as that. This was America, right? She could just make a list of her options and choose the best one. She could do pros and cons for each option. She liked lists. I did too. I could help her.

  Mama’s eyes were closed. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. I hated what all this was doing to her. It should have been a happy occasion. It should have been.

  “Oh Mama, I’m sorry,” I said. I lifted myself off the couch and went to the bathroom to look at the stick again. Maybe this was all a big mistake and we read it wrong. Now that would be funny. That would be really, really funny.

  I leaned facedown into the metal wastebasket. Keeping my eyes closed, I said a little prayer and smiled, imagining Mama’s face when she found out how silly we were, reading it wrong. Oh, how silly.

  Then I opened my eyes and stared at the stick. A pink plus sign was staring right back at me, like a cross or a bonified sign from above. Or like angels coming and bearing the news.

  Chapter Four

  THE KEEPER OF SECRETS

  {Mona}

  I was standing there in the kitchen with my back pressed against the door. I bit my lip and closed my ever-living eyes. I could hear Priscilla sobbing in the next room. I could picture her face, distorted and red, her faint stork’s foot now splotchy across her forehead. I had to fight back the tears myself. It’s a thing no mother can bear, the sight of her child in pain. And although I fussed at Priscilla as always, I had grown especially hard on her now . . . for her sake and for ever
yone else’s. She had once again put herself and her family in a terrible predicament.

  I wanted to throttle her. I wanted to tell her that this was not how she was raised! That she was once a proud young girl who knew how to say no and wouldn’t take no for an answer! She worked hard at her studies. She was going to make something of herself. She kept her frilly room clean, took care to wash her hands and face. She brushed her long, beautiful hair a hundred strokes a day, just because I told her it would make it stronger.

  That was back when she listened to me.

  And then . . . well, sometimes people make choices that change their lives forever. Priscilla gave up everything and everyone to bear her burdens all on her own, thank you very much. In many ways she was still so proud now that she was all grown up. Too proud to ever ask anyone for help. That’s why I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands.

  When the lights were all out and the world was quiet, I slipped into Priscilla’s bedroom while she was sleeping, knelt to the floor, and buried my head in her mattress. Silently I prayed that she’d make the right decisions regarding the child she was carrying—and that I might could help in some fashion. And an amazing thing happened right there in the quiet of her room. Alongside the sound of Priscilla’s breathing, I heard something. A word from above? Perhaps. All I know is that I felt it down thick and wide and true in my soul: She must go home.

  I opened my eyes and watched Priscilla’s covers moving slowly up and down. I touched my fingers to her forehead and gently rolled them over her hair like I used to when she was younger. She’d left home so long ago. Seemed like another lifetime. She’d sufficiently cut the thought of home right out of her mind and clean off her family tree. What or who could ever make Priscilla go home now? The one thing I knew about Priscilla was that she was stubborn. Just like her mama. I knew anything I said to her would be the very opposite of what she did. It’s just how our relationship had become. It didn’t please me, no. It’s just how it had to be.