The Optimist's Daughter - Eudora Welty [29]
“Great Day in the Morning!” exclaimed Miss Tennyson Bullock.
“Mama,” said Fay, “you know what? I’ve got a good mind this minute to jump in with you. And ride home with my folks to Texas.” Her chin was trembling as she named it. “Hear?”
“For how long do you mean to stay?” asked Mrs. Chisom, coming to face her.
“Just long enough.”
“You going to rush into a trip right now?” Major Bullock asked, going to her other side.
“Major Bullock,” she said, “I think when a person can see a free ride one way, the decision is made for them. And it just so happens I haven’t unpacked my suitcase.”
“I haven’t heard your excuse for going yet,” said Sis. “Have you got one?”
“I’d just like to see somebody that can talk my language, that’s my excuse. Where’s DeWitt?” Fay demanded. “You didn’t bring him.”
“DeWitt? He’s still in Madrid. He’s been in a sull ever since you married Judge McKelva and didn’t send him a special engraved invitation to the wedding,” said Bubba.
Fay gave them a tight smile.
Mrs. Chisom said, “I said, ‘DeWitt, now! You’re a brother just the same as Bubba is—and Roscoe was—and it’s your place to get up out of that sull and come on with us to the funeral. You can take the wheel in Lake Charles.’ But DeWitt is DeWitt, he expects his feelings to be considered.”
“He speaks my language,” said Fay. “I’ve got a heap to tell DeWitt.”
“You may have to stand out in front of his house and holler it, if you do,” said Bubba. “He’s got folks’ appliances stacked over ever’ blooming inch of space. You can’t hardly get in across those vacuum cleaners and power motors and bathroom heaters and old window fans, and not a one of ’em running. Hasn’t fixed a one. He can’t hardly get out of the house and you can’t get in.”
“I’ll scare him out of that sull,” said Fay.
“I think that’s just what he’s waiting for, myself,” said Sis. “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, if it was me.”
Fay cried, “I don’t even mind standing up in the back and riding with the children!” She whirled and ran upstairs.
“You’ll wind up riding on my lap,” said her mother. “I know you.” She put her hand out and stopped a tray going by. “I wouldn’t mind taking some of that ham along, though,” she told Tish. “If it’s just going begging.”
Laurel followed Fay upstairs and stood in the bedroom door while Fay stuffed her toilet things into the already crammed suitcase.
“Fay, I wanted you to know what day I’ll be leaving,” she said. “So there’ll be no danger of us running into each other.”
“That suits me dandy.”
“I’m giving myself three days. And I’ll leave Monday on the three o’clock flight from Jackson. I’ll be out of the house around noon.”
“All right, then.” Fay slammed her suitcase shut. “You just try and be as good as your word.—I’m coming, Mama! Don’t you-all go off and leave me!” she yelled over Laurel’s head.
“Fay, I wanted to ask you something, too,” Laurel said. “What made you tell me what you did about your family? The time we talked, in the Hibiscus.”
“What did I say?” Fay challenged her.
“You said you had nobody—no family. You lied about your family.”
“If I did, that’s what everybody else does,” said Fay. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Not lie that they’re dead.”
“It’s better than some lies I’ve heard around here!” cried Fay. She struggled to lift her suitcase, and Laurel, as if she’d just seen her in the deepest trouble, moved instinctively to help her. But Fay pushed on past her, dragging it, and hobbled in front of her, bumping her load a step ahead of her down the stairs. She had changed into her green shoes.
“I believe a few days with your own family would do you good,” Miss Tennyson Bullock said. In the dining room, all of them were waiting on their feet. “Eating a lot of fresh vegetables, and so forth.”
“Well, at least my family’s not hypocrites,” said Fay. “If they didn’t