“But she's right,” Madeline said. “You are self-righteous. You are a prig.”
“Maddy, how can you say that?” I asked. The others could not have hurt me, I don't think, at least not one by one; only she.
“Because it's true.” She let go of Floyd's hand, stood up, and faced me. I don't believe I will ever forget a single word of what she said. More memorating, God help me.
“You were here for the wake, you were here for the reading of a dead-letter her own son wasn't good enough to write, you were here for the burying, you were here for the after-burying, and you're here now, looking at things you don't understand and passing a fool's judgement on them because of all the things you don't know. Things that went on while you were up in New York, chasing the Pulitzer Prize with a broom in your hand. Up in New York, playing the nigger and telling yourself whatever different it takes for you to get to sleep at night.”
“Amen! Tell it!” Sophie said. Her eyes were blazing, too. They were a demon's eyes, almost. And I? I was silent. Stunned to silence. Filled with that horrible, deathlike emotion that comes when someone finally spills out the home truths. When you finally understand that the person you see in the mirror is not the one others see.
“Where were you when she died, though? Where were you when she had the six or seven little heart attacks leading up to the big ones? Where were you when she had all those little strokes and got so funny in her head?”
“Oh, he was in New York,” Floyd said cheerily. “He was employing his fine arts degree scrubbing floors in some white man's book-publishing office.”
“It's research,” I said in a voice so low I could barely hear it. I felt all at once as though I might faint. “Research for the book.”
“Research, that explains it,” Evelyn said with a sage nod, and put the cash money carefully back into the tin box. “That's why she went without lunches for four years in order to pay for your schoolbooks. So you could research the wonderful world of custodial science.”
“Oh, ain't you a bitch,” I said... just as though I had not written many of those same things about my job at Zenith House, not once but several times, in the pages of this journal.
“Shut up,” Maddy said. “Just shut up and listen to me, you self-righteous, judgmental prig.” She spoke in a low, furious voice that I had never heard before, had never imagined might come from her. “You, the only one of us not married and with children. The only one with the luxury of seeing family through this... this... I don't know...”
“This golden haze of memory,” Floyd suggested. He had a little silver bottle in his pants pocket. He drew it out then and had himself a nip.
Maddy nodded. “You don't have the slightest idea of what we need, do you? Of where we are. Floyd and Sophie have got kids getting ready to go to college. Evvie's have gone through, and she's got the unpaid bills to prove it. Mine are coming along. Only you—”
“Why not ask Floyd to help you?” I asked her. “Mama wrote me a letter and said he cleared a quarter of a million last year. Don't you see... don't any of you see what this is? This is robbing pennies off a dead woman's eyes! She—”
Floyd stepped up. His eyes were deadly flat. He held up a clenched fist. “You say another word like that, Riddie, and I'm going to break your nose.”
There was a moment of tense silence, and then from down below Aunt Olympia called up, her voice high and jolly and nervous. “Boys and girls? Everything all right up there?”
“Fine, Aunt Olly,” Evelyn called back. Her voice was light and carefree; her eyes, which never left mine, were murderous. “Talking over the old times. We'll be down in a wink. Y'all stay close, all right?”
“You're sure everything is okay?”
And I, God help me, felt an insane urge to scream: No! It's not okay! Get up here! You and Uncle Michael both get up here! Get up here and rescue me! Save me from the pecking of the carrion birds!
But I kept my mouth shut, and Evvie shut the door.
Sophie said, “Mama wrote you all the time, we knew that, Rid. You were always her favorite, she spoiled you rotten, especially after Pop died and there was no more holding her back. You got plenty of how she saw it.”
“That's not true,” I said.
“But it is,” Maddy said. “And do you know what? The way Mama saw things was pretty selective. She told you about all the money Floyd made last year, I've no doubt of it, but I doubt if she told you about how Floyd's partner stole everything he could get his hands on. Hi-ho, it's Oren Anderson, off to the Bahamas with his chippy of the month.”
I felt as if I'd been sucker-punched. I looked at Floyd. “Is that true?”
Floyd took another little nip at the silver flask that had been Pop's before it was his and grinned at me. It was a ghastly grin. His eyes were redder than ever and there was spit on his lips. He looked like a man at the end of a month-long binge. Or at the beginning of one.
“True as can be, little brother,” he said. “I was rooked like an amateur. I think I'm going to be able to sail through without getting in the papers, but it's still not a sure thing. I came to her for help and she told me how she was broke. Never got over putting you through Cornell is what she said. How broke does that on the bed look to you, little brother? Eight thousand in cash... at least... and twice that in jewelry. Thirty thousand in stocks, maybe. And she wanted to give it to the library.” A glare of contempt closed his face like a cramp. “Jesus please us.”
I looked to Evvie. “Your husband Jack... the construction business...”
“Jack's had a hard two years,” she said. “He's in trouble. Every bank within fifty miles is carrying his paper. How much he owes is all that's propping him up.” She laughed, but her eyes were frightened. “Just something else you didn't know. Sophie's Randall is a little better off—”
“We keep even, but get ahead?” Sophie also laughed. “Not likely. Floyd helped all of us along when he could, but since Oren double-crossed him...”
“That snake,” Maddy said. “That fucking snake.”
I turned to Floyd, and nodded at the little flask. “Maybe you've been taking a little too much of that. Maybe that's why you didn't mind your business a little better when you had a little more business to mind.”
Floyd's fist came slowly up again. This time I stuck out my chin. You get to a point when you just don't care anymore. I know that now.
“Go ahead, Floyd. If it'll make you feel better, go on ahead. And if you think twenty or even forty thousand dollars is going to bail y'all out, then go ahead with that, too. More fools you be.”
Floyd drew his fist back. He would have hit me, too, but Maddy stepped between us. She looked at me, and I looked away. I couldn't bear what I saw in her eyes.
“You with the quotes,” she said softly. “Always with the quotable quotes. Well, here's one for you, Mr. Uppity: 'He that hath a wife and children hath given hostages to fortune. ' Francis Bacon said that almost three hundred years ago, and it was folks like us he was talking about, not folks like you. Not folks that take twenty or thirty thousand dollars to get educated, then have to do research in floor-polishing. How much have you given back to your family? I'll tell you how much! Nothing! And nothing! And nothing!”
She was standing so close and spat each nothing so hard that spit flew from her lips to mine.
“Maddy, I—”
“Shut up,” she said. “I'm talking now.”
“Tell it!” Sophie said happily. It was a nightmare, I tell you. A nightmare.
“I'm getting out of here,” I said, and started to turn away.
They wouldn't let me. That's like nightmares, too; they won't let you get away. Evelyn grabbed me on one side, Floyd on the other.