One Good Mama Bone by McClain Bren; Monroe Mary Alice;

Author:McClain, Bren; Monroe, Mary Alice;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of South Carolina Press
Published: 2016-09-08T04:00:00+00:00

NOVEMBER 18–19, 1951

The envelope was pink and lay on top of the light bill in Sarah’s mailbox. She’d not taken the time the day before to check her mail, since she and her boy had stayed with Lucky, who was still on his feet and alive, but his whistle had not returned. Sarah’s eyes were tired, so she couldn’t be sure, but it looked to be a personal letter with a large “S” that started off the first name. Could it be Sarah? Or Sister? Mattie’s favorite color was pink. Sarah felt a surge rise to her head.

She reached for it. There was her name, the “C” of Creamer standing tall like the “S” and both taking up space. The return address showed Mrs. Luther C. Dobbins. Sarah put her finger on the letters and traced them, letting herself follow the woman’s rises and falls.

She felt a tightness in her belly. What if Mildred was writing to say she no longer wanted to help her find buyers for her dresses? Sarah thought about putting the letter back in the box. But what if it was something good?

She opened it. The letter inside was of that same pink and carried a border of red roses. The paper was more delicate than any she’d ever seen. She held it lightly. “Dear Sarah,” she read, “I have a special surprise for you Monday morning. I know it’s late notice, but it would delight me to pick you up at your house at fifteen minutes past 9. However, if you do not choose to answer your door, I will understand that you do not desire to go. Sincerely, Mildred.”

Of course, she desired to go.

She wanted to scream and tell someone. Emerson Bridge was in the lot with Lucky. She opened her mouth and drew in a breath, made a gasping sound, the kind her boy had first made when he was days old. Harold was holding him in the kitchen, and Emerson Bridge was laughing and Sarah noticed his dimples, for the first time, noticed his dimples. She blew on his face like a gentle wind, but he gasped and Sarah feared she’d hurt him. His laughter, though, resumed, his dimples sinking deeper into his soft flesh. Sarah knew then that he was filled with more capacity for joy than she’d thought was possible for one living soul, much less one so new to this world.

Sarah now began to laugh. She laughed hard and loud and spun around like a schoolgirl. But she lost her balance and fell to the dirt. When she got on her feet again, she was facing the garden and, on the other side, the house that used to hold Mattie.

She felt Mattie’s eyes on her. They were sad. “You’re still my friend, too,” Sarah called out and took off running to Mattie’s, to the front steps, once painted a pretty green but now faded and cracked. The screened door with the bird on it had rusted. Sarah had not stood on this porch since the day Mattie died, and the ambulance carried away what was left of her.

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