Read Online The Dry Grass of August by Anna Jean Mayhew - Free Book Online Page B

and her fourth baby stayed in the hospital two extra days because Mama had her tubes tied. I overheard enough of what was said between Aunt Rita and Mary to learn that Mama and Daddy were through having children, and that it was good Mama already had four or the doctor wouldn’t have fixed her.
    Right from the first time I saw Davie, I couldn’t get enough of holding him, smelling him, rubbing his silky head, letting him grab my fingers with his tiny hand. Mama taught me and Stell how to change his diapers when he was only a few days old, and I got enough of that right away. The first time I saw his thing, I wanted to puke. It looked like raw meat. How did boys walk with all that stuff hanging down?
    Davie didn’t hold his head up until he was six weeks old, and Mama worried about it. She also thought it might mean he was a genius with a big brain. I didn’t understand what Daddy told Uncle Stamos: “That boy’s head ruined the best thing a man ever had.”
    When Davie was six months old, we had our picture taken by a man who photographed all the best families. He posed us with Mama in the queen chair, holding Davie, and with Puddin perched on the arm. Daddy, Stell, and I behind them. My blonde hair, my blue eyes, my tawny skin were so like Daddy’s. I stood a head taller than Stell, who had Mama’s freckles and hazel eyes. The portrait had been enlarged, tinted, and framed in mahogany to hang over the mantel. I studied it, wondering what people thought about the happy family in the picture.

    We had to be quiet when Davie was napping, and sometimes I felt I’d bust from my need to make noise. When it got too much for me, I went out to the garage and climbed the stairs to what Mama called an efficiency apartment and Daddy called the recreation room. I thought it was heavenly, and had suggested more than once that somebody ought to live there full-time to discourage burglars. I spent hours by the windows that overlooked Westfield Road, watching people walk their dogs or ride bicycles or push strollers on the sidewalks. Our neighbors acted friendly, but I didn’t think I would ever really belong, being so plain and awkward. When we joined Myers Park Country Club, I felt we could be members and still not have the right to be there. Mama wanted us to get into Charlotte Country Club, but not enough people nominated us. Daddy said that was just as well, because Charlotte Country Club was too far away. Mama said, “Sour grapes.” She tried to join the Junior League. When that didn’t work out, she told Aunt Rita she’d rather be in the Junior Woman’s Club any day. I couldn’t help thinking about sour grapes.
    Stell was upset that Mama hadn’t gotten into the Junior League. “I’ll never get to make my debut.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” I asked.
    â€œComing out in society. It’s really important.”
    â€œWhat’s Junior League got to do with it?”
    She wiped Pond’s off her face. “Charlotte’s funny that way. If your parents aren’t in, you aren’t, either.”
    â€œIn what?”
    â€œLeave me alone.”
    She was a freshman in high school and had started ironing her clothes on Sunday evenings, lining up five outfits in her closet for the coming school week. I said to Mary, “I guess she doesn’t think your ironing’s good enough.”
    â€œShe want it the way she want it.”
    Mary would hear nothing bad about Stell but didn’t hesitate to point out my flaws. “Close that book, Jubie, and help your mother. You got to be quiet, your brother’s sleeping. Put things away when you’re done with them.”
    â€œWhy don’t you ever boss Stell?”
    â€œWhen she needs it, I will.”

    Daddy was at a dinner meeting at the club, and Mama told Stell and me it was time to watch The Family at Home . The commercial for it said, “The Henry Roberts family solves