The Sometimes Daughter Read online

  “Oh, what the hell,” she said. She took another glass from the cabinet and poured herself some wine, then sat at the table with Rhonda.

  “Good girl,” Rhonda said, smiling. “You deserve a drink, after everything you’ve been through.”

  Mama took a sip and closed her eyes, smiling slightly. Then she took a long drink from the glass. “God, I’d forgotten how much I love a good cabernet,” she said. She seemed to relax in her chair a bit, and smiled at Rhonda.

  “So,” she said, “how old is your angel?”

  “He turned two in August,” Rhonda said, smiling at the blond toddler whose face was now smeared with chocolate.

  “He’s really beautiful,” Mama said. “Are you married?”

  Rhonda nodded. “I married Pete Granger; do you remember him? He played in that band we used to go see at the Vogue. Tall, blond, very good-looking ...”

  Mama shook her head. “I don’t remember,” she said. “But good for you. Are you happy?”

  Rhonda nodded and sipped her wine. “I’m really happy,” she said. “Life is good.”

  They sat in silence for a minute. I looked from Mama to Rhonda, remembering how we used to play in the cardboard houses they made. Rhonda was the same as always, but Mama was ... different now.

  “How about you, Cassie? How are you? We were so scared for you.”

  Mama shook her head. “I don’t know how I am, Rhonda,” she said softly. “I feel like I’m in a bad dream and I can’t wake up.”

  “Well, God knows, it’s a nightmare,” Rhonda said, patting her hand. “But it’s over now, and you’re okay. I just thank God you weren’t down there. I just ... I don’t understand how all those people could kill themselves like that. And the babies ...” Her voice trailed off as she watched Jason with his cookie.

  “I don’t think they killed themselves,” Mama said. “I don’t believe that.”

  “But the news said ...”

  “I don’t care what the news says,” Mama said firmly. “I knew those people. They wouldn’t just kill themselves. Good Lord, Rhonda, they were building a paradise down there. Honestly, I saw the pictures. I talked to people who were there. It was beautiful, everyone living and working together. And they had a school and a nursery and ... they didn’t kill themselves,” she finished, her voice flat. “They just couldn’t have.”

  Rhonda didn’t answer at first. She sipped her wine and watched Mama carefully.

  “So, what do you think happened?” she finally asked.

  “It was the government,” Mama whispered. “The CIA or the special forces or something. They were after us for a long time, because we were socialists, you know. And if enough people learned the truth, the government wouldn’t stand.”

  Rhonda stared at Mama. “Is that what you really think?”

  Mama nodded, then reached for the wine bottle and poured more wine into her glass and Rhonda’s.

  “They bugged the church,” she said. “They bugged our phones. They spread lies about us. It was terrible. And now ...” She shook her head again. “Now, they’re all gone, all my friends, my family. They’re all dead.”

  Rhonda reached out and held Mama’s hand. “Not all your friends and family are gone, honey. I’m here. Judy’s here. Kirk’s here. We’re here for you.”

  “Thanks,” Mama said, her voice so soft I could hardly hear her.

  “More!”

  Jason’s demand made us all jump.

  “More cookie?”

  “No, sweetie,” Rhonda said, pulling a wet wipe from her bag to wipe his face. “No more cookies.”

  “More cookie! More cookie!” His voice rose an octave.

  Rhonda sighed. “Oh, all right. One more,” she said, handing him another Oreo.

  “Cassie,” she said as she sat back down at the table, “how did you get involved in that church? I mean, you never went to church when you were here.”

  Mama took a long drink from her glass and stared at a spot on the wall behind Rhonda’s head.

  “I was pretty much a mess when I hit San Francisco,” she said. “After I lost Judy, I went back to the farm, but it wasn’t the same without her there. And Glen ... well, he turned out to be a pig. So, I left the farm with a guy named Noah, a really interesting guy. He was smart and funny, and we did okay at first. But, we were doing a lot of acid. And Noah started with heroin. And then, he overdosed.”

  “Oh, God, Cassie, I’m sorry,” Rhonda said.

  “I was a mess,” Mama said. “I didn’t know very many people out there and I didn’t have a job. I didn’t know what I was going to do. And one day, I thought, Fuck it. It’s all over anyway. Just end it and be done.”

  Rhonda stared at her and then turned to me. “Judy, why don’t you take Jason into the living room and play?”

  Mama nodded. “That’s a good idea, honey. Why don’t you do that?”

  I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and hear what Mama would say next, what she wanted to end. But I knew better than to argue. I pulled Jason up by the hand, got him another cookie, and led him into the living room. I sat down in the doorway, listening as best I could to Mama and Rhonda.

  “So, did you try to ... Oh, Cassie, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “I took a whole bottle of pills,” Mama said, “and woke up in the emergency room.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I was a mess, Rhonda. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, when I woke up, there was a woman sitting by my bed, a black woman about my age. She told me her name was Yolanda and said if I wanted help to get off the drugs, she knew someone who could help me. Then she started talking about this church, Peoples Temple, and all the work they were doing with drug addicts and homeless people. God, Rhonda, it sounded like heaven on earth. And I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to be part of something. So, when I was released from the hospital, Yolanda took me up to Ukiah to meet Jim Jones.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Oh.” Mama’s voice sounded far away. “He was the most amazing man. Really, you just wouldn’t believe it. He took my hands and looked me right in the eyes and promised me that I could get well. He said they had work for me to do, so I had to get well. And honest, Rhonda, it was like he knew me. He really knew me. Like he could see my whole fucked-up life and all the stupid things I’d done, and he loved me anyway.

  “So, I moved into one of the church houses and I went cold turkey.”

  “Wow,” Rhonda said. “That must have been really hard.”

  “It was awful,” Mama agreed. “But Yolanda stayed with me the whole time. And not just her, other people stayed, too. And they helped me. They held my head while I threw up. They fed me and took care of me. They never left me alone, and they just kept telling me I could do it. And one day, I knew I could. I just knew I could do it.

  “After I got clean, I moved into an apartment in San Francisco with Yolanda and three other girls. We worked at the San Francisco temple. At first, I spent a lot of time on cleaning crew. Sweeping and mopping, doing dishes, helping in the kitchen. After a while, I got promoted to answering the phone and doing office work.

  “It was so great, Rhonda. Really, it was so great. I mean, I didn’t get a lot of sleep ... sometimes we’d go two or three days without sleeping. But it was great just being part of it all.”

  “How did everyone end up in Guyana?” Rhonda asked.

  Jason was toddling around the living room now, leaving chocolate handprints on everything he touched. I pulled some old magazines from the coffee table and found a pen, and let him draw on the magazines, all the while listening carefully to the conversation in the kitchen.

  “Some people in the media were out to get us,” Mama said. “They hated Jim for what he stood for, for helping the poor and having blacks and whites living together. It’s such a racist world.” She sighed.

  “So they started printing all these lies about the churc
h in the newspapers, and then some people who used to be part of the church and left, well, they got involved and started telling more lies. Honestly, it was awful. Scary, really. They just lied and lied, and the media ate it all up.

  “So Jim decided it was time to move the church down to Guyana. They started working on a place down there a few years ago, and Jim decided it would be safer for us to be there.”

  “How come you didn’t go?” Rhonda asked.

  “I wanted to,” Mama said. “But Jim wanted me to stay and work at the church in San Francisco for a while longer. He knew I wanted to bring Judy with me when I went down, and he said he was working on making that happen.”

  “Thank God it didn’t happen!” Rhonda said.

  “I guess so.” Mama’s voice was soft.

  “You guess so? God, Cassie, think about it! If you’d taken Judy down there, you’d both be dead.”

  I leaned my head back against the wall and watched Jason scribbling furiously. I felt like I might throw up. I’d been so worried about Mama being there, but I’d never thought about being there myself. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would have been like to live in the jungle, to be so far away from Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa and Lee Ann, to drink poisoned Kool-Aid and die like all those other people.

  “I might still be dead.”

  “What?” Rhonda sounded alarmed.

  “If the CIA finds me, they’ll kill me, Rhonda. They’re killing all of us.” Mama’s voice was tired.

  “Oh, Cassie, come on. You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “It’s true,” Mama insisted. “They killed hundreds of people already, don’t you think they’ll finish us all off if they can?”

  I heard Daddy’s car pull into the driveway, and then the back door opened.

  “How are you girls doing?” he asked.

  “We’re okay,” Rhonda said. But she didn’t sound very sure of that.

  “Good,” Daddy said. “Where’s Judy?”

  “She’s in the living room with Jason,” Rhonda said. “Speaking of which, I’d better be getting him home for his nap.”

  She appeared in the hallway and stopped when she saw me sitting there. She shook her head and put a finger to her lips, then reached for my hand to pull me up.

  “Don’t you worry about what she says,” she whispered, hugging me close. “She’s being kind of paranoid, but she’ll come out of it.”

  She picked Jason up and carried him back into the kitchen. “Let’s wash your hands, kiddo,” she said. “I’m afraid he’s left a cookie mess in your living room.”

  “That’s okay,” Daddy said. “We’ve had cookie messes before.”

  I followed Rhonda into the kitchen and watched as she rinsed Jason’s hands and face. Mama still sat at the table, her wineglass empty, her eyes dull.

  “What are you guys doing tomorrow?” Rhonda asked. “You’re welcome to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. I even bought a turkey.”

  “Thanks, Rhonda, but we’re going to my folks’,” Daddy said.

  “Well, let’s plan on getting together soon, okay?”

  Mama just nodded. She didn’t look up when Rhonda and Jason left. She simply turned the empty wineglass in her hand and stared at the table. She looked very sad.

  “Mama?” I touched her hand gently. “I’m glad you didn’t go down there.”

  She smiled at me then and pulled me into a hug. “Me too, honey.”

  I don’t know if she meant it or not, but I did. I was glad she hadn’t gone.

  Daddy ordered Chinese takeout for dinner, and I ate cashew chicken while Mama picked at her plate.

  “Do you have anything to drink?” she asked Daddy.

  “I’ve got some wine,” Daddy said. “It’s white, is that okay?”

  Mama nodded and smiled as he poured a glass for her.

  After dinner, she went to bed, even though it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

  “Is she okay, Daddy?” I asked, watching her walk unsteadily up the stairs. She seemed so tired, so old, so different from the Mama I remembered.

  “She’ll be okay,” Daddy said. “She just needs lots of rest right now.”

  The phone rang, and Daddy answered it.

  “Hey, John,” he said. “Yes, she’s doing okay. She’s already gone to bed. No, I don’t think so. She says she’s clean. Yeah, I believe her. I think she’s just exhausted. Yeah, that sounds okay. Sure, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  “That was your Grandpa John,” he said. “I think he’s coming tomorrow evening to see your mama.”

  “Is that woman coming, too?” I asked. I thought that probably wouldn’t make Mama very happy.

  “No, honey.” Daddy smiled. “Your grandmother isn’t coming with him. John and I thought it would be better if she didn’t.”

  “Daddy, is Mama going to live with us?”

  “No, baby.” Daddy sat down on the floor beside me. “She’ll stay with us until she gets better.”

  “What will happen then?”

  “Well, then I guess she’ll get a job and an apartment and ... and she’ll be better.”

  I nodded. “Maybe she can live with Rhonda.”

  “Is it okay, having her here?” Daddy asked.

  “It’s okay,” I said. But it wasn’t, really.

  For so long, I’d wanted Mama to come home. I’d wished for it, dreamed about it, wanted it more than anything. But now that she was here, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it anymore. She wasn’t like I remembered. The Mama I knew had smiled and laughed a lot. She’d told funny stories and danced around the living room. Not like the fragile, scared woman she was now. This was a Mama I didn’t know.

  14

  We went to Grandma’s in the morning to help cook Thanksgiving dinner. Daddy and Grandpa sat in the living room watching television while Grandma bustled around the kitchen, giving orders.

  “Cassie, will you put those cranberries on to boil? Judy, where are you? Come here and help me with these plates.”

  Grandma chopped onions and celery and mixed them with bread crumbs. Then she poured chicken broth from a can over the entire mess and began smashing it together with her hands. Finally, she took a large spoon and began ladling the stuffing into the huge turkey sitting on the counter. Mama watched for a minute, then excused herself.

  “Cassie? Are you okay?” Grandma called after her.

  “I’m fine, Anne.” She didn’t sound fine.

  “Oh, Lord, I forgot she’s a vegetarian,” Grandma said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  I followed Mama into the living room. “Are you a vegetarian, Mama? What’s a vegetarian?”

  She smiled at me. “A vegetarian is someone who doesn’t eat meat. I used to be one. I do eat meat sometimes now, but ... but I can’t stand looking at that carcass!” She shivered as if she were cold.

  Daddy laughed and said, “You don’t have to eat it, Cassie. Not if you don’t want to.”

  Mama smiled at him. “I’ll be okay once she puts the damned thing in the oven.”

  After we’d watched the Macy’s parade on TV for a while, we returned to the kitchen, where Grandma was boiling potatoes and stirring the cranberries. Her cheeks were flushed.

  “Oh, Cassie, I’m sorry about the bird. I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, Anne.” Mama smiled. “What can I do to help?”

  When everything had come out of the oven and off the stove, we sat down at a table loaded with food. Grandpa asked us to hold hands and said grace.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, we are so grateful to be gathered around this table today as family. We are so thankful to have Cassie back with us, and so thankful to have enough food to eat and a safe place to live.”

  I peeked at Mama, sitting next to me. Her eyes were open and she stared at her plate. She looked like she might throw up.

  “We ask your blessings, God, on those who aren’t as fortunate as we are, and especially on those who ... on those who left us this week. We ask that you accept them i
nto your heavenly arms and comfort them and their families. Amen.”

  “Amen,” we all said.

  “Thank you, Earl,” Mama said. Grandpa reached across the table and took her hand, patting it.

  Grandma chattered away while we ate, talking of the weather and the coming Christmas holidays and anything else she could think of.

  “Of course you’ll be with us on Christmas,” she said, smiling at Mama. “We’ll do Christmas morning at Kirk’s house, and then come here for a big lunch. Just think, it will be Kirk and Judy’s first Christmas in their new house. Before ...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Before that, Kirk and Judy lived here,” Mama said, “after I left. It’s okay, Anne, I’m not going to break if you talk about it.”

  “Oh, well.” Grandma rose and took the mashed potato bowl into the kitchen to refill it.

  “What did you do at Christmas while you were gone?” I asked, hoping it was the right thing to say.

  “Well, let’s see.” Mama laid down her napkin and thought for a minute. “When I was at the farm in Kentucky, we didn’t really celebrate Christmas. And then in San Francisco the first year, I had dinner with some friends. And the next year, we had Christmas on New Year’s Day at the church.”

  “Why on New Year’s?” Daddy asked.

  “Because everything goes on sale after Christmas,” Mama said. “So we could get the kids a lot more presents the week after Christmas. Every child in the church got presents. We spent the same amount on each one. It was beautiful.” She sighed then and picked up her napkin.

  “That is beautiful,” Grandma said, walking into the room with a bowl heaped with steaming potatoes.

  We sat in silence for a minute, then Grandma continued. “But it will be so good having you here this year, Cassie, especially for Judy.”

  Mama patted my hand.

  “And if you’d like, we can ask your folks to join us,” Grandma said.

  Mama laughed, but it didn’t sound like a happy laugh. “Thanks, Anne. I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, okay,” Grandma said. “Whatever you think is best.”

  The telephone rang and Grandma walked back into the kitchen to answer it.

  “Yes, this is Mrs. Webster,” she said. “Yes, she is my daughter-in-law. Why do you ask?”