Tempest Rising - Diane Mckinney-whetstone [56]
Mae studied the child inching toward her, her good eye fixed on the gauze and tape strips covering Victoria’s knee. She knew the walk of children. They’d come to her from the state with all kinds of peculiar walks. She’d gotten them stricken with polio so that one limb was always curled or with joints dislocated where they’d been thrown against a wall; she’d gotten them brain-damaged from lead fumes so they staggered like drunks or with a bad case of rickets so they hopped when they walked. She knew how to look them over like she was doing a walk through on a house she would rent, knew how to point out their maladies to the social workers dropping them off and how to get it in writing witnessed and notarized that they had come to her less than perfect. She prided herself on turning her fosters back in a condition that was at least as good as how they’d come. And Vie had assured her when she’d called her in Buffalo that these girls were in perfect, absolutely flawless physical condition. But this child inching toward her had a less than perfect walk. Mae could see now that there was a persistent bend in the child’s knee. The child was hurt, and try as she might not to let it show, it was a hurt that went all the way to the bone.
Ramona suspended her breath while Victoria walked to the couch where Mae sat. “See, Mae, it’s not like she’s all banged up or anything, just a little scrape, like I said.”
“Don’t you say a word more to me right now.” Mae answered Ramona with a hiss, without even turning to look at her. She kept her stare fixed on Victoria’s walk. “Me and you gonna get together about this all right, when it’s just me and you.” Her voice was low and steady, her words measured and controlled. She stretched her hands out to Victoria. “Come here, pudding.” The syrup was back in her voice. “You don’t have to feign like you’re better than you are for Mae. Mae can see that lil darling done hurt herself.”
Mae took Victoria’s hand, and Victoria’s first instinct was to wrench it back. She did at first.
“Lord, Lord, Lord, is your hand hurt too? Did that hurt you when I pulled your hand? You didn’t say nothing to me about her hand, Ramona.”
“It’s fine.” Victoria said it quickly and let her hand relax in Mae’s. Mae’s hands were calloused around the fingers, and Victoria thought they smelled of Clorox. She wanted to sit, to take the weight from her leg. Mae squeezed her hand and began massaging her arm up to her elbow. Victoria inched in to get all the way to the couch.
She sat, and Mae put her arms around her shoulder and squeezed her to her and coated her with her syrupy words. “Mae sure hopes that Ramona took care of this sweet little piece of caramel candy. Mae so sorry about that baby doll’s situation that has her living here. But don’t you worry, time’s gonna fix it, and your momma’s gonna get better too. Not today or tomorrow, but she will, I promise you that, buttercup.”
Victoria’s stomach started to spin, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to vomit caught up in Mae’s arms and the aura of Clorox that seemed to surround her.
Before she could vomit, the doorbell cut through the room.
Ramona ran to open it, relieved for the distraction. She saw Tyrone first, even though he