Tempest Rising - Diane Mckinney-whetstone [122]
“Please tell me that you and your mother were good to my girls,” she said in a voice that wanted to fall asleep. “Please tell me that they didn’t run away because they were being mistreated. Please tell me, why do you think they left?”
Ramona took in a deep breath and picked up an end of the purple shawl. Her voice shook as she started to speak. “Because I couldn’t act like you, you know, a real mother; because my mother couldn’t either. Because we didn’t even know how to be mother and daughter to each other. Because sometimes things happen to people that in an instant change who they are and they spend a lifetime trying to get back to who they used to be—” Ramona was crying again. She was pulling the sobs from her stomach, and her entire body convulsed, and she rocked back and forth and made choking sounds.
Clarise opened her blanket shawl, stretched it out for Ramona to lean into. “Or trying not to get back to who they were,” Clarise said. “That institute I just left is teeming with people trying not to be who they really are.” They nestled on each other’s shoulders under the tight knit and purl cross-stitch that didn’t let any cold in as Tyrone maneuvered through the ice along Lincoln Drive bound for West Philly and Mae’s house.
Mae’s block was crowded as Tyrone eased up Addison Street in Perry’s deuce and a quarter, Clarise sleeping against Ramona’s shoulder under the purple shawl. Anybody not already at Mae’s over the girls missing had surely run out of their houses and into the street to watch Mae and Clara Jane curse at each other and get ready to fight. They never really exchanged slaps. Clara Jane held on to the coconut cake knife; Mae broke a wine bottle against her concrete porch for effect. Said she’d cut Clara Jane right in her lying mouth. But people like Beanie and Hettie separated them, said the newspeople were likely to show up to do a story about the girls, and why we always got to be acting like heathens when the newspeople show, Beanie said. So Clara Jane walked on down the street, Mae went back into her house, and the tide of people separated to let the car through.
Tyrone stopped in front of the door, told Ramona he’d let them out, then go park. He got out of the car and walked around to the back passenger side and was just about to open the door for Ramona and Clarise when he was met by Addison barreling down the street, legs and arms moving in big circles he was running so fast.
He was holding up the mitten that he’d snatched from Mister’s pocket. “Look, look at what I have.” He waved the mitten in Tyrone’s face and then pulled it back. “You think this is worth a reward. I’mma show my aunts, ask her to hook it up for me.”
Tyrone grabbed Addison by the collar. “Is that—?”
“Shern’s, yepper,” he said.
Tyrone glanced into the car, saw Ramona gently nudging Clarise awake. “Where?” he demanded. “Where did you find the glove?”
“Hey, man, get off of me or I ain’t telling you jack.”
Tyrone tightened his grip around Addison’s collar. “Where’d you find the glove, you little shit? Tell me. Tell me right now.” He centered one hand under Addison’s collar and balled his other, reared back, and was just about to bring his hand down on Addison’s mouth.
“All right,” Addison cried. “I found it on Mister. It was