Bastard Out of Carolina - Dorothy Allison [117]
Aunt Raylene didn’t seem that surprised to see me when I walked up her front steps. She was on the side porch, where she had set out flats to start seedlings. Her hands were covered in dirt, her hair tied back with a scarf, and she had a streak on one cheek. “Bone,” she said briefly, and went on mixing black dirt and potash. “An’t seen you in a while.”
I wiped my face. Sweat was running down my neck. My feet hurt. I dropped onto a stool. “Get yourself a glass of something out of the kitchen,” Aunt Raylene said, but I didn’t move. After a while the dry tight feeling in my throat eased. I watched her spread the dirt out in her flats and layer fertilizer in each. She mixed again and again, turning the dirt over and not looking up at me.
“Spring’s coming,” she said finally.
I nodded.
“Your uncle Earle’s staying here now.” She wiped her hands on a rag and took a cigarette out of her overalls, leaned back against the table of flats, and lit it. “He took a room downtown with that little girl he brought to the funeral, but that looks like one of his shorter romances, ’cause she’s still downtown. Man’s living out of two suitcases and sleeping on the couch. Won’t move into my spare room, keeps saying he an’t gonna be here that long.
I loosened my jacket. When I spoke my voice was as flat and careless as hers. “Mama always said Earle lived from woman to woman. Told Daddy Glen that Earle had become a cradle robber, that there was nothing solid left in his life but whiskey and family.” I paused, surprised to hear myself mention Daddy Glen. It felt suddenly hot on the porch.
“Well, I told him he should get himself a widow next time, some fat old girl to iron his shirts and wash his back. But Earle likes them young, likes them openmouthed and gawky. He’s like all men, I suppose, loves a grateful woman, specially one that he don’t have to do nothing to impress. And the girls he finds—my Lord, it about hurts my heart, these little strays he brings around. All Earle has to do is speak gently to them and they fall all over him. They’re just like fruit in the sun, heavy and ripe for someone to pick.”
I squirmed a little on my stool. “Uncle Earle told me he’s sure there an’t no woman ever regretted giving herself to him.”
“Christ Lord, you love him just like one of them, don’t you?” Aunt Raylene frowned at me. “You don’t think it’s cruel the way he takes up with these children? He’s never divorced a one of them, never stays with any of them more than a few months. God knows how many babies he’s planted.”
“None.” I bit my lip.
“You know that, do you?”
“He told me he took care not to make children anymore, said he didn’t think he had no business making any more babies than he had already.”
“Well, isn’t he thoughtful!” Aunt Raylene ground out the stub of her cigarette on the side of one of the flats. She walked over near me and picked up one of the glass window frames leaning against the wall. Carrying it back, she set it down so that it covered two of her flats. Two more windows completed the task, leaving the mix to heat in the sun. She didn’t look at me, and her lips were set in a thin straight line. I knew that meant she was mad at me.
“He only marries them ’cause they want it so bad.” My eyes stung, as if the tears I had refused to shed on the long walk out were burning me now. My hands balled up into fists. “He loves them,” I yelled. “He loves them more than they deserve. ”
“Bone.” Aunt Raylene turned to me and shook her head. “Girl, you are seriously confused about love. Seriously.”
“Oh?” I drawled at her sarcastically, and rocked to my feet. “And whose fault is that? Huh? How am I supposed to know anything about love, anyway? How am I supposed to know anything at all? I’m just another ignorant Boatwright, you know. Another piece of trash barely knows