Your Cheatin Heart

Chapter Twenty-One

The Irving Park Country Day School looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, with red brick buildings, thick white Grecian columns, and green sodded lawns. Even the students seem to have stepped off the canvas, with one lonely exception. Sheila was sitting in the middle of the front lawn, her long straight hair falling across her shoulders and hiding her face. Her shoulders were slumped miserably over her crossed legs. She was all alone.

She hadn't seen me pull up. I took advantage of that, and sat watching my belligerent baby. Life in Daddy's world wasn't turning out to be the piece of cake she'd been hoping for. Girls walked past her in little groups of twos and threes, all chatting amongst themselves, never saying a word to Sheila. I had my hand on the door handle, ready to run up to her, when he arrived.

Keith, the miserable slob, pulled up in a brand new red 4Runner. At first, I didn't want to believe it was him. I just knew he couldn't afford a snazzy vehicle like that. But there was no mistaking Keith. He pulled up in the circular drive, clearly in violation of the sign that said BUSES ONLY, and jumped out of the driver's seat.

"Sheila!"

At the sound of her name, Sheila's head jerked up like a marionette's, and her sullen frown was replaced by a broad smile. Clearly she'd forgotten that I was supposed to be picking her up, not this baboon.

I stepped out of my car and started walking toward the happy couple. What did she see in him? This was not going to be a pretty confrontation. Sheila, wasn't going to be happy to be hauled off by her mama. I tried to put myself in her place, to remember what it was like to be sixteen and in love for the very first time.

His name had been Tony, and my mama hadn't liked him worth a flip. A flat-topped greaser, Mama had seen right through his smooth line of talk.

"Honey, that boy's nothing but bad road and foolish decisions," she'd said. But I didn't listen. That's the thing about adolescent hormones and bad-picker genes, you can't hear the voice of reason when you're walking down the road of desperate love. It'd been desperate love with Tony. He was gonna be my ticket out of the reality of my daddy's drinking. Trouble was, Tony was just like Pa, only mean to boot.

I saw that same desperate look in Sheila's eyes.

Keith was her key to salvation. It wouldn't matter so much that Vernell had gone back to drinking full-time or that her Uncle Jimmy was dead, or that the girls at Irving Park looked right past her when she entered the room. Keith was gonna fix all that.

"Hey, sweetie," I said, breezing right up between them. "You must've forgotten that I was picking you up." I didn't give Sheila a chance to answer. "Keith," I said, turning to him, and trying not to stare at the fluorescent pink dog collar around his neck. "I hate for you to have ridden all this way for nothing."

Sheila started to protest. "Mama!" Her mouth puckered up into a pout, ready to do battle. But Keith interrupted.

"Sheila!" His voice cracked like a whip, and I found myself staring at him. It was the tone of an angry parent. "That's your mom you're being disrespectful to." Then his face softened and he turned to her. "Sweetie, we've got all the time in the world. You don't hardly get to see your mama. You girls go on and shop or whatever. I'll be around."

Sheila melted, but my insides froze up. It was like listening to Tony in the old days. He had her wrapped around his little finger. Telling her what to do and giving us permission to leave him. Why the nerve of that sleaze! You girls go on and shop…

Sheila got all mushy-faced and melted into his arms. He kissed her, then pushed her gently away. "Go on. I got band practice anyway." Then he looked at me. There was no mistaking the fact that he was angry. He smiled, but his dark brown eyes were smoldering.

"Y'all have a nice time," he said. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small wad of money. "Here, sweetie," he said, turning back to Sheila. "You might see something you want." He peeled off a couple of bills and stuffed them into Sheila's hand. They were twenties. He wanted me to know it, too. It was like he was marking his territory.

"Gotta run," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "'Bye, Keith." I walked away, willing myself not to run back and slap the boy. If Sheila even thought I didn't like Keith, she'd love him all the harder, and that was one thought I couldn't stomach. No, best to let time take its toll and hope she came to her senses.

Sheila sailed over to the VW, adrift on a cloud of adolescent love. She waited until we were on our way down the drive before she roused herself enough to speak.

"Isn't he just awesome?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," I muttered. Just awesome. "How's he come to have so much money?" I asked.

I could feel Sheila's eyes boring into the side of my head. I'd said the wrong thing, as usual, with her.

"Well, not from dope dealing, if that's what you're thinking!"

"I wasn't thinking anything," I said, keeping my voice cool and even. "I just wondered. I don't know a lot about him." Except that I knew he'd been arrested for dope dealing once; that much I'd learned from one of my neighbors.

"Mama!" Sheila sighed in exasperation. "I told you before, he's got a regular job. You just don't like him because he loves me and you don't think he's good enough for your only daughter. It's textbook classic, Mama. You've got empty-nest syndrome, and you're probably pre-menopausal."

"What!" I ran into the parking lane of Bryan Boulevard, swerving back up onto the pavement, but not without spewing gravel.

"Oh, Mama. Really. I'm almost seventeen. We can talk about these things. Miss Dominick, my psychology teacher, says it's quite normal at your age for you to be clinging to your children and trying to recapture your youth. That's why you're doing this stupid country band stuff."

It was a reflex. My hand shot out and I swiped the top of her head.

"Ow, Mama! That hurt!"

She thought I was playing. She did not realize how close she was to extinction.

"How old is little Miss Dominick?" I asked.

"She's young. That's why we all like her," Sheila said. "She knows what's happening. Not like some old, dried-up prune."

"Well," I said, "let me just tell you a thing or two." I was losing it, I knew, but man, it felt good. "I am thirty-four years old, Sheila, and I am hardly in danger of losing my mind, my body, or my hormones. I do not have empty-nest syndrome or any other syndrome, as you call it. I do, instead, have a life and I have a right to that life, no matter how much you disapprove. Maybe you should go back to little Miss Dominick and talk to her about daughters who have a hard time letting their mothers have lives!"

Sheila eyed me like I was a mistaken kinder-gartener. "I don't have trouble with you leading an appropriate life, Mama," she said coolly. "But wearing miniskirts and jumping around on stage at your age is embarrassing. And I have my own life. Keith and I are very serious, Mama."

Those last few words struck fear into my very soul. "What do you mean, very serious, Sheila?" Oh Lord, did we need to see a doctor about birth control? That creep!

"He wants me to marry him, Mama."

"You aren't old enough, Sheila."

"You married Daddy when you were eighteen!"

"That was different." I regretted the words as soon as they'd left my lips.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't have what you have, Sheila. I didn't have college money sitting in the bank, or a chance to make more of myself. I needed your daddy, at least, that's what I thought. But it wasn't true. I didn't need him." I was failing at this, I knew.

"Well, I need Keith and I don't care what anybody says!"

"Well, you'd better think long and hard about ruining your life before it can even begin!"

"Is that what you did when you married Daddy?"

The conversation was disintegrating. We were almost to Vernell and Jolene's driveway and the more I spoke, the further down my throat my foot went. I stopped the car in the driveway next to Jolene's huge white Cadillac and turned to face Sheila.

"Yes and no," I said. Sheila's eyes widened and she looked as if she was about to cry.

"I loved your daddy, Sheila, or at least I thought I did, but I married him for all the wrong reasons."

Sheila gasped. "You were pregnant with me!"

"No, hon, honest to Pete, that happened on our honeymoon. No, I married your daddy because your grandpa was drunk most of the time and I wanted to get away." An understanding reached Sheila's eyes. Lately Vernell was the same way, drunk more than he was sober.

"But I didn't give myself credit, Sheila. I didn't know that I could survive on my own. I didn't think I had any options and I thought I was in love. It was stupid, honey. We didn't know ourselves or each other well enough to commit for the rest of our lives."

"But you loved each other," Sheila said.

"Sure, but love don't always make a marriage, honey. You got to be ready for marriage. You got to know yourself as well as your partner. All's I'm saying is take your time. Don't jump into something out of desperation."

Sheila heard me, but the wall was coming back up. "Well, I do know myself. I am mature for my age and I love Keith."

"Good, then," I said. "If you two have a strong love, then it will last no matter what. It'll last until you go to college and then some. After all, a lifelong love doesn't go away just because someone gets an education."

Sheila rolled her eyes.

"Do you want me to take you to the doctor?" I said finally.

"God, no, Mama!" I breathed a sigh of relief, but too quickly. "Jolene'll take me to her doctor. It's less embarrassing!"

As if on cue, Jolene stuck her head out the front door. "Phone," she yelled out to Sheila.

"I gotta go, Mama," Sheila said, already halfway out the door.

"Sheila, wait, I'm not finished with this conversation."

"I know, I know," she said impatiently, "but really, Mama, I gotta go. I won't rush into anything," she said, a concession to my worry. "But you gotta understand something, Mama. You and Daddy won't always be around. I can depend on Keith. He'll take care of me."

She was gone then, running up the cobblestone drive and into Vernell's brick palace. What had happened to my baby? Only two years ago, we'd talked about everything under the sun. She hadn't let the thought enter her head that I could ever leave her. What had happened to change her? Where had my little girl gone?

Jolene stretched out her arm and handed Sheila the phone. Sheila took it and ran inside without a backward glance, but Jolene made a point of smirking triumphantly at me. She could make my daughter come running anytime she wanted to. Sheila lived with her now and I was out in the cold.

Maybe it had been a mistake to let Sheila go live with her father. But what choice had I had?

Sheila had made up her mind; there was nothing I could've done. I drove off feeling empty and afraid for my baby and like the worst mother in the world. Where was the control in my life? Why did I feel like I was on a runaway train without brakes?

I drove, my car wandering across town on autopilot. The late afternoon traffic was beginning to build, but I hardly noticed. I was in a funk that had no end, a deep bottomless pit of self-pity that seemed to swallow me whole. The only thing that brought me back into the present was the awareness that I had just pulled into my backyard, the very last place on earth I'd wanted to visit.

I sat there behind the wheel, staring at the back door that led into my bedroom. Who the hell cared, I thought. What was the big, superstitious deal about not going into my own home? So Jimmy had died on my living room rug. I couldn't just run away forever. After all, wasn't that what I always did, run away? If I'd gone to court and tried to fight to keep Sheila, maybe the judge would've forced her to stay.

"Maggie, you are being ridiculous!" I said into the cool, late afternoon air. "Sheila is doing what all teenaged girls do to their mothers, she's trying to make her life your fault. Now, get a grip and get on with it!"

I grabbed the keys from the ignition, hopped out of the car, and slammed the door behind me. Now was as good a time as any to face the demon of Jimmy's deaths The band wasn't playing tonight. There wasn't even a rehearsal scheduled. What better time?

"You are a chicken girl, afraid of her own shadow. If you continue to act like the world is biting you in the ass, you'll always be at the mercy of everybody else." I was talking aloud to the neighborhood, climbing the steps to my back door, and sticking my key in the lock before I could change my mind. "We're going to go inside and clean this mess up. Then we're going to settle back in." I don't know who I thought the "we" was, but it felt good to pretend I was part of it.

I stepped inside, turned on the lights, and made myself walk straight through to the front of the house. I turned on the living room light and stared down at the floor, willing myself to look at Jimmy's bloodstain on my grandma's rug. It was still there. I don't know why that fact surprised me a little. I guessed it was my denial, still trying to trick me into the belief that this had all been a nightmare.

I pushed aside the furniture and rolled the rug up into a long thin tube. Dragging it through the house was more difficult than I'd anticipated. The old rug was heavy and seemed to resist my need to move it. But finally I dragged it out the back door, down the steps and over to the trash can. There I left it, not really sure that I was going to drag it to the curb on trash day, but relieved to have it out of the house.

"There!" I said to the empty yard and the heavy rug. "There."

I walked back up the stairs and into the kitchen, filling a pail with hot water and Pine-Sol. Mama always said Pine-Sol and a good airing would run the troubles right out of a house. I was going to give it my best shot.

I scrubbed for an hour before I got to the bedroom and saw the red light flashing on the answering machine. It was a good excuse to take a break. I hit the button and waited while the machine rewound. It was an ancient thing, a leftover from Vernell. He'd wanted to be available twenty-four hours a day to his "people," as he called them. I'd always figured if they wanted you bad enough, they'd call back. Still I found myself using the thing, just in case Sheila needed me. Just in case.

There was a series of four hang-ups and then a familiar voice, gruff and slightly inebriated.

"Like shooting ducks in a barrel, Maggie," Jerry Sizemore's voice grated. "I got some information you oughta have. I'll be at my place until I hear from you, so grab you a swimsuit and come on over here." He rattled off a set of instructions that would take me to the southeast part of Guilford County, apparently down every little side road in the county. Then there was a pause and he chuckled. "If you're thinking I'm gonna tell you this over the phone, you're wrong. And if you're thinking of forgetting to bring your suit, I'll make you sit in the tub naked. What I got on your inheritance is worth it, Maggie." I heard the clink of glass on glass and I knew he'd been pouring another shot of tequila. "Hell, girl, I ain't all that dangerous," he said. "I just like the sight of a pretty girl sitting in my hot tub while I'm discussin' business." The phone line went dead. The little man in the machine dated the call three hours ago. Damn, that Sizemore worked quick.

I put down my sponge and stared at the answering machine. I was going to have to go to him, I knew that. There was no use in trying to call him. Jerry Lee Sizemore meant what he said. I stood up and carried the dirty pail of water to the back door, opened it, and sloshed the water across my deck. Jerry Lee Sizemore was going to make a pass at me, but he was also going to tell me something important.

"No free lunches," I said to the backyard before turning around and heading inside. Jerry Lee Sizemore would be best handled with a strict, businesslike approach.

The bungalow smelled of pine. With evening's arrival, the lamps had begun to fill the rooms of the house with a warm, buttery glow. The hardwood floors gleamed and for a moment, it was as if nothing had ever happened in my home. For an instant, I was comfortable and safe, glad to be back. But then the little prickles of fear edged their way back into my awareness.

"Ah! Don't do that!" I cautioned myself. "Keep moving!"

I replayed Jerry's message, writing down the directions to his house. Then I grabbed my keys and my swimsuit and walked out the door, leaving every light in the house on. No more staying with Jack. No more running away. I was coming home tonight, this time for good.