Storkbites by Marie Etienne

Author:Marie Etienne [Etienne, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alluvium Books
Published: 2013-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

29 ~

For four years, Momma called Aimee every week, delivered groceries and clothes to her, and kept a picture of her grandson Michael in her wallet. But Daddy never mentioned my sister’s name.

Then one night, Momma announced that Aimee had rented an apartment and was divorcing Alvin. It was strange to hear my sister’s name spoken aloud, especially in Daddy’s study. I set my Teen magazine down and turned toward Daddy. Casually, as if he’d never said anything to the contrary, he scratched his stubble and mumbled that it was all right for Aimee to visit us. And just like that, my sister reentered the fold.

Once a week, Aimee sat at the kitchen counter with her blond-haired boy, smoked her Marlboros, and watched Momma stuff a pork roast or stir a roux. Anne and I often tried to coax Michael away from his mother’s side, but he clung to her as if he was afraid of us. He eyed the large plastic bowl of Snickers bars, but if he dared reach for a one, Aimee shot him a look and he froze. This wasn’t her house anymore. She talked about her job search and her plans to take classes at USL when she could afford to pay for daycare. Every time she left, Momma slipped some folded green bills into her pocket. As she left, Aimee thanked her with downcast eyes.

Daddy didn’t go out of his way to welcome Aimee back, so she visited when he was at work. But when he found a four-hundred-dollar dental bill for Michael, a charge Momma had authorized, next to his napkin at dinner one night (the designated spot where we all left our bills for Daddy to pay), he just sighed heavily and tucked it into his pocket. When an opening became available at the wholesale, he asked Momma to offer Aimee the job. And when she decided to marry beady-eyed Byron Whatley, a roughneck who called Momma Miss Esther and fished with Daddy when no one else was handy, he bought her a dress, hired a caterer and Al Hirt, and opened the house for her small wedding. He even helped them buy a house a few streets over.

Standing in the bathroom, I admired my new school uniform in the mirror, turning this way and that so that my skirt swelled and fell an inch above my knees. Claire watched and said, “Wish you were coming to Lafayette High with me this year.”

“Lafayette High’s too big—I’d get lost. At least at Fatima there’re only two halls and the classes are small. Plus there’s no black kids. Why don’t you switch to Fatima?”

She rolled her dark eyes and began chewing on her thumbnail. As I applied my mascara, I watched her pout. There was something fragile and unsettled about Claire that made me feel sorry for her. I knew she was panicked because she was about to break up with her boyfriend and hadn’t found another one yet.

We pulled further apart as I

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