Ch. 2 Post 5

That was blasphemy. And so sweet a sound, coming from her, I dared not interrupt her. Cub Koda kept clicking the remote, sending strange soundbites into the kitchen.

She hit her stride. When you see all houses from on high, she  said, her voice about to pop, they look like toys, like the houses and the hotels in Monopoly. Trees like stalks of celery. With every bump, my body felt like it was off to the heavens, the very next one.  The noise is like a revival, too, no one can contain themselves. Then the brief suck of air on the other end of the line, and she announced, I’m headed to Atlanta to ride the Great American Scream Machine. Oh Momma, I said in a disappointed whisper. 

She got so lost talking, it didn’t even matter I feigned attentiveness, with monotone interjections. But when Daddy got his banjo out and tuned it up, out on the porch, she heard that. Put him on the phone, she said. I  took the phone to the screen door, trailing the long canary yellow cord that stretched into forever, or at least the sunflowers, and waved it at him. He shook his head, and continued plucking away. He’s busy, I told her, and it hurt me, too, the silence of her longing, the sad sound of her sucking breaths, as she strained to hear the man she loved ignore her. I know that song, she said, that’s Cumberland Gap. Daddy might have known what we were talking about, for he sang it louder…

Cumberland Gap’s a devil of a place Couldn’t find water to wash my face…

Can you make it a little longer, Clement baby? Can your Daddy? How much longer, I asked. She sucked on more air. After Atlanta I’ll figure something out. I couldn’t bear it any more. Can you make it that long? You been gone 2 weeks already. Daddy’s tough, he fought a war. But what about you, I spoke rapidly, so as not to weaken the momentum of my intention. Clement, she responded tersely, I love you. Remember your bible studies. The serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made.

I hung up on her, for show, because none of us cared about the bible stuff, if she didn’t care enough to drag us to church to learn it. Maybe she’ll call back, I thought. Before all this nonsense started, that’s the kind of thing she’d have done. Explode into a volley of exclamations. The phone, however, did not ring. Daddy played on his banjo. His singing voice returned to the softest you ever heard, softer than any other part of him.  And yet he hardly knew patience. Momma often would rile him with that ‘serpent’ line, she must have brandished a thousand times, so that now it was an old, unkempt hat, couldn’t protect anything. Daddy set down his banjo, and came inside.  He wanted to know where she went.

I told him what she told me. The top part of Georgia. Tennessee. How she said the towns in south all seemed to have the very same names as the ones here in Kentucky. Springfield, Moorehead. At least they did near Georgia, in the top part of Georgia. And Tennessee.

That revived him a little. He opened up a little. I bet they ain’t got no Zion, or Salt Lick.

But Momma knew her husband, and she had prepared me well. Yes they do, I told him, she said to let you know she drove toward Zion, Tennessee on Salt lick road. He cracked his knuckles. She said an awful lot for not saying nothing. How much longer is she gonna be? It was my turn for meeknes, a soft and gentle touch. I shouldn’t have tried to answer for her. I did though, I did. A while, I guess. Jesus, he said, Jesus, and balled his fists.

She didn’t mention him.