The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,1

arise and entertain the high cotton sort that was Savannah royalty.

John blew through abruptly and left just as quickly, never staying longer than a night, unable to face the gravity of losing his beloved Grace. Thomas and I held vigil at her bedside daily until Sissy would muster the energy to half carry and half drag us down the hall to our beds. Mama had become a shell that housed multiple tubes. One snaked down her nose, one in her arm, and another in her chest. She’d wake briefly and shower us with smiles before drifting off again. Thomas was too small to feel the sharp sorrow that pierced my heart. She was larger than life to me.

“I don’t want a sick Mama anymore, Sissy,” I cried, watching the nurse adjust the tubes that made the most beautiful woman in the world a human pincushion. Turning away, my body found its haven in the arms of my shadow. Pulling me close to her bony chest, she brushed the dark unruly curls back over my shoulders.

“You wipe those tears dry, you hear? You’re a lucky girl, Julia Spencer.”

“My mama’s dying. That’s not lucky,” I whimpered, burying my face against her.

“Well, God sure didn’t see fit to give me a mama like yours. My mama was as mean as a cottonmouth snake. She used to make me pick my switch before she beat me with it. Your mama is an angel. Now, look at her. Is she not the finest woman we know?”

“Of course,” I replied softly, shaking my head in agreement, as I turned to see the pile of bones under Sissy’s homemade quilts. Only her head was visible, displaying the exquisite ebony silk that sprung forth from her scalp, meticulously coiffed by her old friend.

When the nurse left, Sissy laid out a picnic blanket at the bottom of Mama’s bed and presented Thomas and I with a basket of food to explore. He thought Mama was merely sleeping but we knew her silence was from the stuff that flowed through the tubes- the medicine that kept her quiet and free from pain. Sissy grabbed our hands, blessed the food, and prayed over Mama for healing before we broke bread. We talked about the blue water that stretched out into the horizon just beyond our backdoor and made plans to swim in the morning. Sissy handed out her special chocolate chip cookies and fruit punch that we held tightly while she sang old hymns. The sound radiated beautiful tones that filled the room- almost visible. She didn’t miss a note as she spied my brother’s body beginning to slant in the direction of the soft mattress. Rescuing the glass from his tight grip, she placed it on the vanity dresser where Mama once sat and brushed her hair.

Footsteps pounded heavily against the wooden floor in the hall, getting louder as they approached the bedroom. The melody stopped mid-phrase. Suddenly, the door flung open and my father filled the space between us with anger and rage, sucking life’s air out of the room like a vacuum. His face was as red as the inside of a watermelon. He walked with determination to where Thomas lay and grabbed him harshly, disappearing from our sight. The cries of my startled brother became more muffled as Father stormed further down the hall. Only moments passed before he returned and instructed me to leave with haste.

“I’m not leaving my mama,” I said defiantly.

“Oh yes you are, young lady, and I mean directly,” he replied, pointing to my exit.

Sissy took a step toward me, volunteering to incur his wrath on my behalf.

“You best stand back, Sissy,” he said, shaking his fist in her direction.

Looking to her side and then the other, followed by a lingering glance behind, she responded with an equal amount of hostility, “Just who do you think you’re talking to? You see a slave in this room? You forget yourself, Mr. Spencer.”

“You’re fired. Leave.”

“Well, you’ve already fired me one hundred and thirty-five times and I am still here. I’ll still be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that. I don’t work for you. I work for Nana- the one who bankrolls your business and bought you this fancy house. Grace is my best friend. You have no authority over me. Collect yourself before you scare your daughter.”

Opting to go around the mountain instead of through it, he slipped by her to the opposite side of the bed and started