The Darkest Child

by Delores Phillips

“Well, I can see you,” I repeated. “You have those special eyes,” he remarked. “My friend, Mattie, she sees you, too.” “Your friend, Mattie, has an evil eye. Of course, she can see me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mattie sees ghouls, and witches, and vampires.” “You don’t like Mattie?” I asked.

Martha Jean seemed to have forgotten all about Judy, who was awake and lying in her basket. She was such a good baby. She was never fussy and seldom cried. I lifted her from the basket and carried her outside.

I saw my mother climb from Velman Cooper’s car. Her face was ashen and her eyes were dull. She looked like death struggling up a mountainside. Never in my life had I heard such rage under one roof as I heard that night. Sam wailed like a strong, full-grown man—the worst sound in the world. Grief and anger wrapped around his chest and sputtered and hissed with his every wail. It seemed to suck the air from his lungs and the blood from his heart. My mother enfolded him in her arms, and together they slumped to the kitchen floor. Sam clutched her shoulders and clung to her as though something inside of her could give him relief. “My baby, my baby,” Mama cried, and that went on for what seemed like hours until Sam’s arms fell weakly to his sides.

Oh? The mother has feelings of compassio ? Empathy? Woah

Sam crawled across the floor and curled his body up with his face to the wall. Mama poured herself a teacup of corn whiskey, then she sipped and kept watch over her son. I sat on a milk crate and watched my mother cry real tears. I heard my brother moan.

“That sounds like a lie.” I just didn’t believe him. “Well, lie or not, what I do wit’ yo’ mama is my business,” he said dryly. “You’re right.You and Mama are both full-grown. Martha Jean is the one I’m worried about.” “Why don’t you tell yo’ sister to trust me, and let’s just leave it at that.” “Trust you?” I asked.“Why should she trust you? Look at what just knowing you has gotten her. Martha Jean didn’t come looking for you.You chased her, and after I told you she was too young.” “Tell her to trust me, little sister,” he pleaded. “Do you intend to see my mother again?” He nodded. I walked away from him.

“Junior ain’t even buried yet, Mama, and you want me to put it behind me?” Sam asked. “I done put crying behind me, but somebody gon’ pay for what they did to Junior. I’m gon’ hurt somebody, soon as I know who the right somebody is.”

“I ain’t turning my back on you. If you ever need me, I’ll come, but I done took my last beating and it’s just time to go. I’m sorry, Mama.” He stepped into the hallway, then turned and looked at each of us.When his gaze met mine, he smiled sadly.“Tangy, girl,” he said, “this world a awful big place.You can’t save everybody in it. Stop trying, okay?” I nodded, and Harvey turned away.Through his tattered shirt, I saw the marks on his back. My emotions were in turmoil. Already I missed Harvey, but he had just shown me that one day I, too, might walk out of my mother’s house—alive.

“All I’m saying, Wallace, is if you were going to steal something, why didn’t you take a pair of shoes? That’s something you need.” “Aw, shoot, Tan,” he whined, “you take the fun outta everything. It’s almost summer. I don’t need no shoes for summer.” “You don’t need shoes at all,” I said. “All you need is one shoe. One shoe, Wallace.You can’t get anything on your right foot.You’re being punished for stealing. God saw you take that bike, and He’s punishing you so you can’t ride it. Now you can’t run, or walk, or ride that ol’ stupid bike.”

Tangy is so caring, thoughtful of her siblings and wise!

I planted a wet kiss on his cheek, then supported his weight as he awkwardly wiped it away. “Happy birthday, Wallace,” I said. “I hope you enjoy your bike.”

“Jeff Stallings? Ain’t that John Henry Stallings’ boy? Why he ask you?” I shrugged.“He just did.” “What you doing, Tangy Mae, the reason that boy ask you? Them people got money.They don’t even half speak to people like you.” “He thinks I’m pretty, Mama.” “Nah. That boy ain’t said nothing like that. Is he blind?”

“Well, if he asked you, then you go.You go and have a good time. And you make sho’ that boy bring you home when the dancing over. Don’t play ’round wit’ him, Tangy Mae.You ain’t the kinda girl he gon’ have much time for later. Boys’ll play ’round wit’ girls like you, but they’ll marry one of them Brandon girls.You mark my word.”

“Here,” she said. “If you going out wit’ John Henry Stallings’ boy, I want you to look decent.Take whichever one you want.” I studied the brassieres, and could see no difference in color, shape, or size.They were all white, cotton, and too small for me. I chose the one from the middle. “Thank you,” I said, and was moved nearly to tears. I pressed the brassiere to my nose and sniffed the faint scent of lilac. Mama watched me. She stood up, held my head between her palms, and kissed my hair.“Tangy, baby,” she said tenderly, “it’s just a ol’ brassiere.Ain’t nothing but a ol’ brassiere.Don’t cry ’bout it, baby.” “Yes, ma’am,” I said, as the tears spilled from my eyes.

On the drive back to Penyon Road, he asked again if my mother had ever told me who my daddy was. “She never did,” I answered, “but the minute I saw you, I knew it was you.” “That’s right. It’s me.” He parked in front of our house and pressed two bills against my palm.“Here,” he said.“Buy yo’self something pretty. Something fit for a queen.”

Tarabelle’s voice startled me.“That big ape do you?” she asked. “Do what? That big ape is my daddy,” I said, then I stretched out and tumbled into sleep, spending my riches as I went.

I was not stupid ordinarily, and so I blame my behavior on my desire to impress Jeff Stallings. Desperately, I reached out and tried to retrieve my money from my mother’s hand. She clenched a fist around the bill, looked me in my eyes, and began to laugh. I had gotten away with one impulsive moment of impertinence, but . . . Anger is airborne. It can be inhaled, and once it enters a body it becomes a tenacious blob of blues and browns with tiny speckles of red. It settles heavy in the lungs, making breathing ever so difficult. . . . I had been infected with anger. “Give it back, Mama,” I wheezed.“It’s mine and I want it. I need it.”

“This ain’t got nothing to do wit’ courting, Frank,” she’d said.“This just a few hours in one night in one lifetime.You mean to tell me you don’t think ever’ one of them children out there deserve at least one good time?” Reluctantly, he had nodded.“You right, Pearl.They do, but that don’t take away from the fact that Tangy Mae awful young for this.” Miss Pearl had given one of her “so what” grunts, then returned to the task of styling my hair into a fancy bun held by pearl-studded clips.The dress, gloves, earrings, and the white shoes with small heels just right for dancing were all gifts from Miss Pearl.

“When will you turn eighteen so I can marry you?” he asked. I giggled. “In about four years.” He took my hand in his.“Well, that’s perfect. That’s about the time I’ll be done with college. I’ll come back through here and take you away with me.We’ll go someplace where they don’t have red dirt, or cornfields, or cows, or bad storms, or any of the other junk in Pakersfield.” “I kind of like the storms,” I said. “Okay,” he said, lightly and agreeably, “we’ll keep the storms. I’ll just wrap you up and keep you safe.”

He seems to actually like Tangy but it could be deception like her mom thinks

At the Garrisons’ front door, under the porch light, Jeff did not kiss me goodnight. He brushed my arm lightly, and winked an eye at me. “I knew you’d be fun,” he said. “I knew if I ever got you away from Mattie, you’d be fun.” “Am I?” “Yes.” “Goodnight, Jeff Stallings. I had a wonderful time.” “Goodnight, Tangy Quinn. I did, too.”

The Fourth of July fell on a Friday. God woke up early, before any of us, and painted the sky the softest shade of heavenly blue.He blew a kiss into the air, offering us a gentle breeze against the summer humidity, and when I opened our front door, I saw that He had sent a fearless thrasher to our house. It stood perched atop the weather-worn edge of the porch with its long tail motionless, and it did not fly away, but lingered until I closed the door to keep it out.

Love the vivid imagery here!

Martha Jean had spent her time with Velman Cooper, engrossed in conversation, using signs that were foreign to me. I had experienced a pang of jealously that intensified when Velman reached for Judy and she went to him with the ease of familiarity.

Martha Jean shook her head, but I could tell by the movement of her elbows that she had loosened her grip on Judy. I could not see her fingers from my place on the step, but she was responding to Velman. I knew that. “Give her to me, ”Velman signed.“I want to hold her. I need to hold her. If you let her go, I will take you away from here. I promise. Trust me.” How he intended to keep that promise was beyond me, and Martha Jean must have wondered, too. The minutes passed like hours with everybody waiting to see what would happen, if Martha Jean would pull away from Velman, if Dr. Mathis would have to give her a shot, if Mama would come down from the porch. None of those things happened. Martha Jean must have wanted to trust Velman because slowly she leaned forward and kissed her baby, then she gave Judy over to Velman.An overwhelming sadness consumed me as Velman gave Judy a final kiss and offered her small, still body to Dr. Mathis, and Dr. Mathis, after an expeditious examination, nodded to the sheriff that Judy was indeed dead. For the first time since her fall, I had a clear view of my baby sister. She looked as if someone had put her to sleep dirty, bloody, and raggedy, with particles of glass clinging to her hair.And I guess somebody had. My mother, sitting on a chair where the women had placed her, screamed when Dr. Mathis drove away with Judy’s body, and Reverend Nelson mounted the steps to console her. He knelt beside her chair and held her hand as he spoke.“It’s a...

Im SICK to my stomach..... this hit me like a ton of bricks. I feel like i known the baby myself. Heartwrenching. I hope God avenges and justice is brought

That night as we began to stack the folding chairs, a car pulled up on the road, and I went to the door to see who was arriving at such a late hour. From the passenger side of the car, the old midwife emerged with a quart-sized jar in her hand. She struggled up the embankment, removed the lid from her jar, and began to sprinkle a liquid into the yard as her voice rose in a shrill chant. “What is that?” Mama asked, coming to stand beside me. She glanced down, saw the midwife, then staggered back the entire length of the hall. I turned to see her standing in the corner that was reserved for the slop bucket. She was whispering, “No, no, no,” and banging her head against the wall, over and over again.

???

“I’m seventeen,” she announced, much the way one would announce the time.“Today is August twenty-eighth, and I’m seventeen.”

Wow. Nobody remembered or cared it was Tarabelle's birtbday. Cold world

“Maybe not, but I’ve heard Tannus was last seen with a white boy,” the sheriff said. “I don’t know any white boys in this county who run around with coloreds. I’ve spent some time thinking about this, and I keep coming up with you.

“Harvey, do you think I’m being punished for bringing Martha Jean home?”Mama asked, as tears rolled down her face.“I had to fight Skeeter to get her.Maybe I’m being punished. I’d rather have Sam.”

Ain’t nobody gon’ kill him. Let him out, Angus, or I’m gon’ tell everybody he’s yo’ son.” “Don’t threaten me, Rozelle. I’m trying to help. Bill Griggs cares about his boy the same way you care about yours. He didn’t say it to me, but I’ve been hearing rumors of trouble. He could get a bunch of men together to come out here and snatch Sam from this house, and you know what would happen. I’m trying to keep Sam safe until this dies down some.” “Go to Hell, Angus!” Mama said angrily.“Why you trying to keep him safe? We ain’t asked for yo’ help.You ain’t never claimed Sam to be yo’ son, so why you all of a sudden wanna keep him safe?” “First of all, I’m not convinced that he is my son. All I know is what you told me. I was just a boy, Rozelle, and you had me thinking you were a white woman. Remember that?”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” the sheriff said. “I wouldn’t dare touch you.You’ve been with just about every man in this county. I wouldn’t take that kind of filth home to my wife.”

I propped my elbows on my knees and watched the men as they worked in the field.Velman had removed his shirt, and his bare back glistened with perspiration. I imagined it couldn’t be easy trying to remove a buried car from crusted earth, but Velman’s agile, flowing movements made the task seem effortless.The sight of him caused my stomach to flutter and my underarms to prickle, and I didn’t know why. Folding my arms across my abdomen, I turned away and focused my attention on Laura’s neatly parted braids, anything to keep my thoughts away from Velman. I was beginning to like him. I hadn’t at first, when he had seemed pushy and gabby, and when I had thought he was courting my mother. I knew now that he hadn’t cared anything about Mama; he’d been teaching her to drive, bargaining with her for the love of Martha Jean. Now he seemed strong and protective, like someone I could depend on.

Ohhhh wow. Wow

Velman entered the yard and stopped at the steps.“I got your car all clean and running, Miss Rosie,” he said.“Now we both know it wasn’t my fault it got stuck out there, but I got it out for you just the same. I came to get Martha Jean.” “I changed my mind ’bout all that,” Mama said. “Martha Jean gon’ stay right here where she belong. She too young to be over there wit’ you and Skeeter, anyway. People talking.” “Then it all stops, Miss Rosie, ”Velman said.“It all stops, and I’ll have Martha Jean no matter what you say.You can’t keep us apart.” “Pretty sho’ of yo’self, ain’t you?” she challenged, eyeing him with contempt. “No, ma’am. I’m pretty sure of Martha Jean. And you right about one thing; people talking, but they ain’t talking about me and Martha Jean.They talking about you.They talking about what you did to Judy.You a mean woman, Miss Rosie. It don’t make no sense to be so hateful.”

Okay i think i like vean again/afterall

“Shut up!” Mama shouted, then reached a hand up and began to snatch invisible bugs from her nose. Velman glanced at me, his brows raised questioningly. I shrugged. “Bugs, ”Tarabelle said.“Mama, you want me to fetch you some bathwater?” “Shut up! I need to think,” Mama said, and snatched a bug from her forehead.

she has SERIOUS MYSTERIOUS ISSUES

“You can get me some bathwater,” Mama said, as she picked the key up from the floor.“Tarabelle, you and Tangy Mae get the house clean.There’s something in there.”

Issues ..wtf

“She ain’t scared of me,” Tarabelle said, then grunted. “She oughta be, though, but she ain’t. She the only friend I ever had.All y’all always had friends, ’cept me. I thought something was wrong wit’ me.Did you know that, Tan? I ain’t friendly like Mushy. I ain’t smart like you. And I ain’t pretty like Martha Jean. I ain’t never knew what I was s’pose to be. Then Mattie wanted to be my friend. She liked me better than she did you. I knew you’d be mad, but I didn’t care. It’s time for me to have friends, too.”

Skeeter’s house and I purposely avoided glancing in that direction. I was captivated by this loquacious side of Tarabelle, by her having taken me into her confidence. “Sometimes, Tan, I be walking to work and I go by that creek. I be thinking ’bout walking right on out in it. Then I think the water ain’t gon’ cover my head, and I’m just gon’ be wet and look stupid and won’t even be dead.You ever think about dying?” she asked.“When Judy died, I wished it was me.” “Why do you wanna die, Tara?” I asked. “I wanna live to get old—older than Miss Janie. I wanna do things.” “Ain’t nothing to do.And anyway, I’m too tired to do anything. Sometimes I think I won’t take another breath, but then I do, and I don’t even know why.” “Maybe you wouldn’t feel that way if you could get out of Pakersfield. If Mama hadn’t torn up your ticket and you could have left, maybe you wouldn’t feel that way.” Tarabelle blew a quick breath through pursed lips. “Shoot,” she said, “Pakersfield ain’t got nothing to do wit’ nothing. I’m glad Mama did it. First, I was mad, but after I thought about it, I didn’t even care. I don’t wanna go nowhere and live wit’ Mushy. She just like Mama. Just like her.”

“Tan, do you know what I do when I go out wit’ Mama?” she asked. “I didn’t at first,” I said, “but I think I do now.” “Mama think people don’t know,” she said angrily, “but everybody know. I can tell the way they look at me that they know.They look at me like I’m dirt—like they better not get too close.”

we finally get a deeper look into what goes on in Tarabelles mind. Shes sad, depressed , self conscious bc of the adult life her mom has her living (sexwork) at 16, now 17. She just wants to be a kid it seems

“I done been knocked up before, fooling ’round wit’ men,” she said.“Mama took me to Miss Pearl, and she got that baby out my belly wit’ a wire hanger. Hurt real bad, too. They made me drink corn whiskey in orange juice. It taste awful—worse than cast’oil. Then Miss Pearl scraped that baby out. Never was no real baby no how—just blood and mess . . . and pain.”

“Tarabelle,” I said, barely above a whisper, “you said you never knew what you were supposed to be.Well, you’re brave.You’re the bravest child our mother has.” She moved then, and her eyes seemed to bore right through me. “You really think so, Tan?” “Yeah.” “Okay.You go on now. Go on to the fair.”

Despite Tarabelle’s gloom, Sam’s incarceration, and Martha Jean’s marriage, I felt strangely carefree. I inched a dime from my sock, and rode the Ferris wheel.

I stopped beside the car and yelled for Wallace, knowing he could not hear me over the din of engines and the cries of terror. Tarabelle and Mattie rushed toward us, and Mattie practically dived onto the back seat of the car. “Let’s go, Tangy!” Jeff urged, but I could not move. Up by the main gate, Wallace and a group of young men had armed themselves with gravel and were slinging it at the grounds crew. “Jeff, look!” I screamed. “They’re going to kill Wallace.They’re going to kill my brother.” “Shit!”Tarabelle said, as she raced back across the lot toward the gate. It seemed she would be struck by one of the vehicles racing from the grounds, but she made it across intact. Another shot sounded, and the gravel throwing ceased momentarily.Then someone bellowed with rage, a high-pitched battle cry, and the gravel slinging resumed. Jeff shoved me into the car, then rushed around to the other side and climbed in.Tarabelle had reached Wallace, and I waited for her to grab him and drag him away from the mob. Instead, she stooped and came up with a fistful of gravel.The

Tarabelle and Wallace sprinted toward the car. Jeff had to pry my hands from the dash to let them in. He managed to get the car in gear, and we moved haltingly along, braking for people who were still darting across the lot. “Anybody get hit?” Jeff asked as he guided the car onto the road. “Bubba Nash, ”Wallace answered breathlessly. “Hambone’s got him. He ain’t dead.”

“That’s what we hired you for,” she said.“Why are we paying a nigger if we’re suppose to clean it ourselves? That don’t make sense, honey.” I turned the water on at the sink as her word echoed in my head. I was angry.“Miss Veatrice, do you know there’s a difference between calling a person a nigger and a Negro?” I asked. “Sure, I do,” she answered, and explained with such simplicity that my anger dissolved and was replaced by pity. “Bakker says all the Negroes moved north. He says the niggers stayed in the south ’cause they don’t have no sense of direction. Oh, look!” She went to the window.“They’ve come to start on the house.”

Was this common thought back then or is this just Miss Veatrice being dumb and racist and belittling ????

“They could have killed us,” I said, “but they didn’t.” “No, they didn’t.They hurt us, though.You’re just a little girl, Tangy.You don’t understand that people don’t have the right to treat you any old way they want.” “What about you?” I asked, although I hadn’t intended to.“Do you have the right to treat me any way you want?” “What are you talking about?” “You know what I’m talking about, Hambone. I talking about what you tried to do to me in my mother’s kitchen.” “Oh, that,” he said.“You shouldn’t flirt with people if you don’t wanna be bothered. If you remember, you led me to that kitchen. I didn’t realize until later that I’d scared you halfway out of your mind.” “Were you blind and stupid?” I snapped. “If I was, that damn Tarabelle knocked some sight and sense back in me real quick, didn’t she? And I haven’t bothered you since.” “Because of Tarabelle?” “Because you weren’t ready.”

slowed my pace, lagging a few steps behind him, then I stopped. He glanced back, as I knew he would.“Were you with Sam when he beat up that Griggs boy?” I asked. “Did anybody mention my name?”

“And you don’t know how strong Becky is. Sometimes hatred resembles strength.” “You’re jealous.” “Okay,” I pleasantly agreed, “but if I have to get hit with a bat and knocked down in order to be strong, I’d rather stay a weak little girl.” He was quiet as he turned onto Penyon Road and stopped beside my mother’s car, then he laughed.“Get your smart little ass out of my car,” he teased.“You’re gonna be something else when you do grow up.” “So are you,” I said.

Tangy is such a smart, clever, cute little girl! Love the way she speaks wisdom to ppl, young and old