Bastard Out of Carolina - Dorothy Allison [54]
Yes, I would say.
Yes. I forgive you.
Then probably I would die.
I almost laughed, my shoulders shook. The pain was hot and took the story away so fast I made a little sound. I swallowed hard, determined not to cry. Mama reached over for me. Her face looked old, very old and tired. It made my heart hurt to see her look that way. I couldn’t hurt her, I couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t, honey, don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her lips were swollen where she had bitten them, and I felt my own lips swollen and cracked against my teeth.
“I love you.” My voice was so soft I didn’t think she heard me. But hers came back to me, quick and low.
“I love you too.”
9
Two weeks later we were back home with Daddy Glen. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Daddy Glen had said he was sorry, begged, wept, and swore never to hurt me again. I had stood silent, stubborn, and numb. He had gotten down on his knees in front of Alma, Wade, their kids, and Mama, pulled Reese and me into his embrace, and vowed that he couldn’t live without our love. Mama had knelt on the floor with him and made him swear an oath never to raise his hand to me again.
I had looked into his wet features and had known, without question, what was going to happen. Mama would forgive him, though she would watch him close and make him earn her trust again. He would be good, he would be careful. But after a while, Daddy Glen would begin to talk about the accident a little differently. He would remember things that had happened around that time, things I had said, looks I had given him.
One day, maybe months from now, there’d be something I’d done that would make it all seem justified. Then Daddy Glen would take me into the bathroom again, crying that it hurt him more than it could ever hurt me. But his face would tell the truth, his hands on my body. He would show me just how much he hurt when Mama left him in that parking lot, and then when he beat me, we would both know why. But Mama wouldn’t know. More terrified of hurting her than of anything that might happen to me, I would work as hard as he did to make sure she never knew.
I set my teeth and tried to ignore everything but what was right in front of me. I talked to no one and kept my face buried in books. At night, I lay in bed with my clasped hands pushing up against the tender place between my legs, listening to the radio and trying not to think. My shoulder had healed quickly under Mama’s patient, watchful care, but I felt as if something inside me would never be all right. I woke up so angry my throat hurt. My teeth felt ground down to the nerves. I would go look in the mirror, expecting to see blood in my mouth, but there was nothing, only my teeth small, white, and sharp. Mama kept me close to her. She even let me get up at dawn to sit with her during her most private moments, the hour when she sipped coffee and watched the sun rise.
“Never have been able to sleep past sunrise,” she told me. “No matter how little sleep I’ve had, I just come awake.” Her face was haggard. She hugged me to her hip and laid her chin on the top of my head. It was as if I was her mother now, holding her safe, and she was my child, happy to lean on my strong, straight back. I closed my eyes, wanting time to stop, wishing the moment would go on forever, the day never begin. But inevitably Daddy Glen would get up, or Reese, and Mama would rinse her coffee cup and go put on her uniform.
Afternoons after school, Mama insisted Reese and I go over to Aunt Alma’s and stay until she came to get us. I’d help Aunt Alma with her garden or her canning, and while we worked I would make up