Hudson 01 Rain Read online

  "Once you two are gone," she said, "he can have this pleasure palace all to himself, for I'll be on the train to Raleigh."

  That set Mama talking about Aunt Sylvia and some of her memories from her own youth. For a while it seemed like we would never leave each other. We would stay around the kitchen table until the first light of morning. Suddenly though, Mama sighed deeply and scrubbed her cheeks with her palms.

  "I don't know about you two, but I'm thinking about going to sleep. This seemed like a day with forty-eight hours, not twenty-four."

  "I'm tired," Roy admitted.

  "What's Slim say about your leaving him to join the army?" I asked.

  "He's upset, but he told me to come around every time I get leave and work for him. I told him I don't exactly see myself spending leave time back here. Not with Mama down in Raleigh and you just outside of Richmond. At the end of the day, he told me he was happy for me and said he would do the same damn thing if he was young enough. He's been robbed twice this year, you know," Roy told us.

  Mama shook her head. She rubbed Roy's head like she used to when he was much younger and then all of a sudden, as if by reflex, he seized her hand and pulled her to him. He held her in his arms tightly. She fought back her tears as hard as she could, but it was a battle she was doomed to lose.

  "Get on with you," she muttered and turned away quickly. We watched her go into her bedroom and then we looked at each other, sadness making both our faces long and hollowed eyed.

  "I"m going to pack some things," I said in a voice only a shade above a whisper.

  He nodded and I went to my room. I stood there for a long moment just gazing at everything, at all of Beni's things, at all of our memories. What would I take with me? I had to take something of hers, of course, all our pictures together, some birthday cards we had given to each other and saved for years, her charm bracelet and her favorite ring. Nothing was very valuable. It was all imitation stones and fake gold, but it was hers.

  I sat on the floor and went through a carton of memorabilia, laughing at the funny recollections, growing thoughtful at some of the others.

  Roy knocked on the door and peered in.

  "I want to give you something," he said.

  "What?"

  "This." He slipped off his tiger-eye ring. He had saved and saved to buy it for himself and was as proud of it as anyone was of any jewel ten times its value.

  "Oh no, Roy. I can't take that."

  "Sure you can, Rain. It's something I want you to have. Whenever you get lonely, pick it up and twirl it in your fingers and think of me. Come on," he urged, handing it to me, "take it. Please,"

  I reached up and took it, closing my fingers around it. "Mama's done the right thing," he said. "I'll be able to sleep nights knowing you're both out of this place."

  "We'll be together again, Roy. I know we will," I chanted. It was like a prayer.

  "Sure," he said forcing a smile. He started to turn away. "Wait," I said. "Sit with me a while and help me go through some of these pictures."

  He looked at the carton and then at Beni's empty bed.

  "I don't think I can do that, Rain. I've got to get some sleep. I promised Slim I'd help him finish some jobs before I took off. I'm leaving for the garage earlier than usual tomorrow morning."

  He stared at me a moment and then, as if he was battling invisible steal chains to escape, he turned slowly and left.

  After breakfast the next morning, Mama gave me some money. I knew she couldn't afford it, but she insisted I take taxis to and from the department store.

  "You aren't going to ride any buses and such with your arms full of new things, Rain. Chances are you'd get robbed or something."

  I couldn't help being nervous about meeting my real mother, this time without Mama along. I wasn't sure how we would even talk to each other. I was at the department store just a little before three and found the salesperson whose name was on the card my mother had given me, Autumn Jones. She was a pretty woman in her thirties with highlighted blond hair and green eyes. My mother had called in the morning, so Autumn was prepared for me.

  "Oh yes," she said when I appeared, "Mrs. Randolph told me to tell you she would be a little late but we should start. From what she says, you need a complete wardrobe to take to your new school. Let's start from the inside out," she suggested and took me to the lingerie department. She appeared to know exactly how much of everything I should have. An assistant, a young, dark-haired thin man, trailed along and collected whatever was chosen or made notes on a pad.

  After pantyhose and socks, I was shown nightgowns, robes and slippers. When I questioned a price, Autumn informed me that I was not to be concerned. Finally, my mother appeared, rushing down the aisle to join us in the skirt and blouse section.

  She looked very stylish in her man-tailored black velvet suit. I thought she even looked somewhat sexy with her shirt undone, beaded high-heeled pumps and tousled hair.

  "Sorry, I'm late, Rain," she said. "It's been one of those days," she added with a wave of her hand as if I would immediately understand. Every day to me was one of those days. "How far along are we, Autumn?"

  Autumn told her what we had already picked out and then my mother directed us toward a leather skirt outfit that had immediately caught her eye.

  "She certainly has the figure for it, Mrs. Randolph," Autumn said surveying me from head to foot.

  "Yes, yes she does," my mother agreed.

  They sent me in to try on the skirt and blouse with a matching jacket. I looked at the tags that dangled from the sleeve and nearly fainted at the price. When I stepped out, they both nodded with satisfaction.

  "Alison wanted this suit," my mother muttered, "but she doesn't look good in skirts this short. She has her father's bone structure, unfortunately, wide hips, bony knees!'

  "Who's Alison?" I asked.

  "My daughter," she said and then after a moment added, "your half-sister. She's three years younger than you. You have a half-brother, too, Brody. He's a junior and a shoo-in someday for a football scholarship. They're both good students, but Brody's straight A's, honor society, the whole enchilada, as they say. He takes after Grant and was so bright Grant got him into an accelerated program. After second grade, they advanced him two grades and he went into an accelerated program in high school. He's two years younger than you, but you could never tell. Alison does well, but it's like pulling teeth to get her to work at it. She's too easily satisfied with C's. It drives her father crazy."

  I looked at Autumn who was across the aisle putting together a few more outfits, blouses and a pants suit for me. "Who does she think I am?" I asked, nodding at her. "Oh. I told her this was an act of charity, don't worry!'

  "Charity!"

  "Keep your voice down," she ordered.

  "I'm nobody's charity," I said.

  "All right. Let's not make a federal case over it. I had to tell her something," my mother said.

  Still, I couldn't help but fume. She avoided my eyes. "Autumn, please show Rain some coats and a raincoat," my mother said. "She'll need a short leather jacket, too."

  "As you wish, Mrs. Randolph. Rain, would you step over here?" Autumn said.

  "I'm no charity case," I emphasized. My mother directed her attention to a pair of slacks and pretended not to hear.

  After a coat, jacket and a raincoat were chosen for me, I was taken to the shoe department. My mother bought me boots, flats and a pair of high heels to go with my formal outfit.

  "How am I going to get all this home?" I asked her.

  "It will all be packed for you in luggage I'll buy and placed in the limousine. What point is there in your taking it back to... wherever and then having to pack it again?" she asked.

  I had intended to show it all to Mama, but neither she nor I had any conception of how much my mother was going to buy for me.

  "I can't send you to my mother's house without a decent wardrobe," she continued. "I'd only hear about it."

  "So then, you a
lready told her about me?"

  "Sort of," she said.

  "Sort of? What does that mean?" I asked.

  "It means... sort of. Why do you have to ask so many questions?" She stared for a moment and then relaxed her shoulders. "All right. My mother's a problem. She can be a terrible pain in the ass, and my sister doesn't help the situation much," she muttered.

  "Did you tell her I was going to live with your mother?"

  "I just told her I found someone to stay with Mom. She knows we had to do something and she doesn't want to live with her."

  "Why not? It's her own mother, isn't it?"

  "When you meet Victoria, you'll understand," she said, frowning.

  "Don't you like her?"

  "Boy, you do ask lots of personal questions, don't you?"

  I stared, barely blinking. I wanted to say why shouldn't I? It's my family too, isn't it? I think she heard my thoughts.

  "Look, my sister and I don't exactly see eye to eye about things. We're ... different. We have different needs. Victoria is content being single, being ...Victoria. She spent a lot of time working with my father, and she was very good at what she did and valuable to him, managing his accounts and overseeing the budgets on his projects. He was a developer. He appreciated her, but she always thought he favored me over her."

  "Did he?"

  She looked like she wasn't going to answer and then she smiled.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. He was a real ladies' man and he wanted women to look and act like women. Victoria can come off hard, unfeminine. She's more comfortable with a balance sheet than she is with a bed sheet."

  She paused and looked around.

  "What else? What else?" she muttered. "Oh, let's just take a break. I need a cappuccino. Come on," she commanded and started for the elevator. "I'll call you about all this in a little while, Autumn," she sang as we walked. "Just get it all ready for packing."

  "Yes, Mrs. Randolph."

  We stepped into the elevator and she pushed the button for the floor that had the coffee shop.

  "What about your husband?" I asked as the doors closed.

  "What about him?"

  "Won't he ask questions about me, about these bills?"

  "He doesn't ask questions about my bills. I have my own money."

  "But what about my living with your mother? He'll know about that, won't he?"

  "Yes," she said with great effort as the doors opened. "Well?"

  She stopped and turned to me with frustration.

  "I don't have all the answers just yet. I'm planning on telling him you were recommended by friends of mine who are involved with charities. He'll think it's a nice thing. I'm doing something for Mom and I'm finding a home for a needy young girl at the same time," she concluded.

  "Won't he still ask a lot of questions about me, though?"

  "He has too much on his mind these days to be distracted by my problems," she said as she continued walking.

  "Problems. Is that how you see me?"

  "Oh Lord," she said gasping and putting her hand on her forehead. "Look," she said turning back to me. "I know this isn't easy for you, but you've got to think about me, too. I don't know you. I don't know how to talk to you. I don't even know if I'm doing a good thing. Give me a break, will you. Teenagers," she muttered. "As if I didn't have enough at home."

  "I can go back to Mama," I threatened.

  "Oh sure. No thank you. That's one woman I don't want mad at me," she said.

  I couldn't help but smile to myself at that.

  "Let's just relax for a few minutes. Please," she pleaded. "My head feels like it's being used as someone's bowling ball."

  I followed her to the cafe where we were seated in a booth.

  "What would you like? They have a great ice mocha with whipped cream," she suggested.

  "Just coffee," I said.

  She shifted the menu and looked at me.

  "Just coffee? Well, I feel like a rich

  cappuccino." She ordered for us and ordered chocolate biscotti, too. Then she sat back and contemplated me. "Tell me about yourself," she said.

  "What do you want to know?"

  "What are your interests? What do you want to do with your life? Do you have any boyfriends? Is there someone you're going to leave behind?" she catalogued. "Jeeze," she said, sitting forward, "I thought you were smart. Figure it out."

  I didn't know whether to be angry or not. There was something I really liked about her. She was rich and elegant and even snobby, but she had an edge, an offbeat way about her that brought smiles to the faces of my most critical thoughts.

  "No, I don't have a boyfriend, but I'm leaving Roy behind. Actually, he's going into the army anyway," I said.

  "Roy is..."

  "My brother," I said. I looked down. "Well, not really, I know, but that was how I was raised."

  "Are you really a good student?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you play an instrument? Were you in school plays? A cheerleader?"

  "No to everything," I said. "The school I attend isn't exactly conducive to all that."

  "Conducive?" She smiled, acting impressed. I had to smile myself.

  "I read a lot. That's a big interest. I like music, but not hip-hop."

  "Hip-hop?"

  "You know, rap."

  "Oh." She fixed her gaze on me a little more intently and for the first time, I felt she was looking for something or someone in my face.

  "What about my real father?" I asked.

  The waitress brought our order. I waited for my mother to respond before sipping my coffee.

  "What about him?" she countered.

  "I thought you were smart," I served back to her. "Figure it out."

  She looked at me without much expression for a moment and then started to laugh.

  "I guess we are related. Okay. I don't know where he is or anything about him now. We met when I was in college. I was not exactly the perfect little rich girl then. In fact, there were times I resented my family, my father and mother, their wealth and position. I felt as if I was part of some oppressive power structure and so I hung around with rebels and protestors, poets and singers. To tell you the truth, they were a lot more interesting. One of them was a handsome African-American man who looked like he could be the next Sidney Poitier. We had a hot and heavy passionate romance. I got pregnant and the rest you know."

  "What was his name?"

  "Why? Are you going to search for him?"

  "I'd just like to know. Wouldn't you?" I demanded.

  She softened.

  "Larry Ward," she said.

  "What happened after you became pregnant?"

  "Daddy took me out of college and sent me to a Midwestern school. I met Grant while he was in law school and we became engaged and married shortly after I graduated. Daddy helped Grant set up a practice here. He introduced him to influential people, politicians, and Grant built himself a significant firm and reputation. Now he's thinking about getting into politics, maybe someday becoming Attorney General. He's ambitious and he'll probably do what he sets out to do."

  "Weren't you ever curious about my father, what happened to him?"

  She sighed, dipped her biscotto into the cappuccino and then nodded.

  "Yes. I did hear that he had gone to England. He was very creative, a writer, and he wanted to teach. He always talked about immersing himself in the Elizabethan age, Shakespeare, all that," she said.

  "And that's all you know?"

  "I'm different now, a different person with an entirely new lifestyle. I don't resent my wealth and position anymore. I don't choke on the silver spoon. I have to erase him from my memory, pretend those years never happened."

  "Then you must hate the sight of me," I concluded. She froze for a moment and then shook her head.

  "I don't hate you. How can I hate you? I don't even know you. Maybe after a while, I will hate you," she offered.

  She kept doing that, unfreezing my face, cracking my ice with
her quips.

  "I just can't...acknowledge you the way you would like me to," she continued on a serious track. "Please try to understand. Believe me. It will make it easier for all of us."

  Mainly for you, I wanted to say, but I drank down the words with a sip of coffee.

  "Let's get this shopping done," she declared. "I see you don't wear much make-up, not that you need it. You could do something more with your hair, though. Ponytails are coming back into style, you know. You know what else would look nice, a French twist. Your ears aren't pierced, I see. Don't you want that? It will make it so much easier to wear earrings.

  "You need some costume jewelry and you don't have a nice watch, I bet. Do you? Doesn't matter," she said before I could respond. "Let's get you one."

  I had a hard time not laughing at her. She seemed to enjoy shopping for me. As we paraded through the perfume department and she

  experimented with colognes and lipsticks and scented lotions, she grew more enthusiastic and energetic, whereas I was beginning to feel exhausted. Finally, she stopped and turned to me, noticing the look on my face.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to do so much at one time, but I never get a chance to do this with Alison. She hates my taste and doesn't enjoy shopping with me. She's at that stage, you know, when it's poison to be seen with your mother."

  I couldn't imagine why. Despite myself, it was impossible not to enjoy someone who knew about all the styles and the latest fads buying you things, and buying without any worry about cost, too. Mama and I never had the opportunity to do this sort of thing. We made a single visit to a discount shoe store or the lower end department stores for an item or two from time to time, but to spend an entire afternoon in a department store, talking about clothes and hair and cosmetics was a fantasy come true. Before long, my mother was laughing at me and I couldn't help but smile back at her.

  "Well, that's a start," she declared after she had chosen a silk scarf for me and had it placed with everything else.

  "A start? I think we bought more today than I've bought in my entire life," I said.