A Change of Plans
She had seen death many times. When her mother snatched a chicken from the coop, it was Julia’s responsibility to shut and lock the makeshift door. Her mother would murmur approvingly, stroking the feathery body, running her fingers up and down the neck before wrapping her hand around its head and slicing its meaty throat with one deft slash. Mother and daughter would squat side by side, waiting patiently for blood to fill the bowl as the gaping neck grinned broadly, the body convulsing in staccato beats, pumping out the blood, quickly, neatly. “Cut throat quick. Chicken no hurt too much,” her mother would say. Julia knew these were bonding moments and more than just lessons in food preparation. She would nod solemnly, her eyes focused on the thick, dark liquid in the bowl, on the open wound, on her mother’s hands. As an eight-year-old, even she knew that a chicken didn’t want a slow, painful death. Julia yanked on the tail of another shrimp, ripping the body in half. Usually, she was careful not to tear off too much meat. “A waste,” her mother would say. But today, her hands were sticky from shrimp entrails and smeared newsprint, and the continuous squealing of the crabs was irritating. Tossing the ruined shrimp aside, she thought about the twins next door and wondered if they were still waiting for her to come over and play. The previous day, the three of them had decided that they should turn the abandoned car into a playhouse. They agreed to do it secretly since their mothers forbade them to leave the yard. It had taken two long hours, but Julia convinced the twins that they weren’t really leaving the yard if they could still see their houses through the chain link fence. They were supposed to meet at noon to start remodeling, but it was well after three o’clock. She figured the twins had probably waited fifteen minutes before returning to their enormous pink bedroom filled with Barbie dolls, Barbie shoes, Barbie clothes, Barbie furniture for the Barbie Dream House, and even a Barbie pool that filled with real water. She sighed, knowing that they really didn’t need her since they had each other and that bedroom. In her heart she knew that if the situation were reversed, she wouldn’t even wait fifteen minutes. At three-thirty, the telephone rang. “Hello?” said her mother. “Nothing. I cook dinner.” Julia knew her father was calling from his work at the Navy Base in Gulfport. She watched the muscles in her mother’s arm tighten and release, delivering painful blows to claws searching the steamy air for a way out. It was strange for him to be working on a Saturday again. But maybe, she thought to herself, he had special work schedules, like the rainy day or holiday schedules at school. She tried not to give it much thought because it gave her a headache, and besides, she was hot and lonely and had two more buckets of shrimp to think about. She listened to her mother talking on the telephone. “I make crab. Julia peel shrimp. When you come home?” Her mother cradled the telephone against her neck and shoulder as she stood in front of the stove. A few red claws still dangled over the side of the pot, scratching at the metal. The mustard-colored telephone cord stretched the entire length of the kitchen, and Julia imagined the crabs climbing claw over claw from one end of the cord to the other in a last ditch effort to escape from the pot. They were all in a row on the cord, moving slowly but steadily, their bodies burned red by the hot, boiling water. Yet they carried on. In her excitement, Julia squeezed a shrimp until it was mush. She watched as the crabs marched silently by her mother who was distracted by her father, who was working on a Saturday. “When you come home?” He mother repeated this several times before putting down the chopstick. She stood with her hands on her hips. Julia tried her best to help the crabs along but they seemed to have slowed down quite a bit. “Why you go to CPO Club when I make dinner?” Her mother was pacing back and forth now, and the crabs were clinging to the telephone cord while Julia held on tightly to the mutilated shrimp. “Who go to CPO Club with you? Why you need go then? Nobody go with you.” Then her mother turned to face her. “You not home for dinner,” she barked, “ I take Julia to Ahn house. No. No. Goodbye.” Julia instantly forgot about the crabs at the mention of her Auntie Ahn. They had all been neighbors in New Orleans. Seven months ago, Julia’s family moved to Mississippi while Auntie Ahn moved to Florida. Within the last month, Julia’s mother had announced that the two of them were going to Florida for a visit. Both times the announcements had come right out of the blue, and both times the trips were cancelled at the very last minute. Both had been extremely disappointing and confusing to Julia, and when she had asked her mother why the trips were cancelled, her mother said, “Change of plan.” Julia knew better than to question her mother further, but she missed Auntie Ahn and her daughter, Lisa, and was anxious to see them. It seemed to Julia that her mother was anxious to see them too. The only way they kept in touch was through letters and sometimes the telephone, but that was more expensive and reserved for special occasions. All of their letters were exciting and when they arrived in the mail, her mother would say, “You read. I cook.” Both of them smiled as they experienced together how Auntie Ahn and Lisa went digging for clams in the ocean and how good they tasted after being on the barbeque. Julia’s favorite letter was the one about the new pool in the backyard. She imagined it was a lot more convenient than going to the Navy Base pool, which was always too crowded. She pictured herself wearing her red bathing suit and swimming round and round in Lisa’s new pool. The two of them would dive off the sides, daring each other to go to the really deep end while their mothers stayed indoors and out of their way, cooking and playing cards all day. All of this was more than she could stand. She took a deep breath and imagined her whole family heading down Interstate 10 all the way to Florida: her father driving, her mother filling and refilling his coffee cup, and herself in the back seat singing along to the radio. She started to shell the shrimp faster, just in case. Her mother walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. Beer took up most of the upper shelf where they usually kept the iced tea and milk. She picked up a can, stared at it, and then put it back into the refrigerator. She walked back to the boiling pot of crabs. She didn’t poke at a claw or bang on the side or anything. She simply stared at it. The pot was silent, except for the steam and boiling water, and Julia decided that the crabs had died and that her mother was waiting, just to be sure. “Mama?” Julia waited for a reply, but her mother continued to stare at the pot. She cleared her throat and asked again. “Mama?” “Huh?” Her mother turned around, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Are we going to visit Auntie Ahn and Lisa?” She held her breath as she waited for the answer. “Not sure.” Julia’s face fell. She decided another approach. “Maybe if Daddy comes home in time we can all go together?” She smiled widely at her mother, so glad she thought of this. Her mother stared blankly at her for a few seconds. “Why you no finish shell shrimp yet? Troi oi, Julia! You too slow!” She sat down at the table, picked up several shrimp at a time. Her hands were a dark blur as they quickly dismembered the shrimp. “See? So easy.” Watching her mother, Julia picked up another shrimp and tried to make her hands move faster. “Good,” said her mother. “Don’t take too much meat off tail—” “It’s a waste,” Julia said. “Yes,” nodded her mother. “Good.” Julia nodded in reply. She liked getting things right. She decided that now was as good a time to ask about the crabs. “Mama,” she said sweetly. “Yes, con.” Julia scooted her chair closer to her mother. “How come you put the crabs in the water before it was boiling?” Her mother mumbled something that sounded like “butcher knife,” but she wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. She was deciding whether or not she should ask again when her mother put the shrimp on the newspaper, put her hand over Julia’s, and said, “I teach them lesson.” Julia looked down at the hand covering her own and waited for further explanation but her mother gave nothing more than a squeeze of her hand. She looked at her mother’s face and nodded. She understood. The crabs hurt her mother, so her mother taught the crabs a lesson. It was easy to understand. Julia picked up another shrimp and pulled off its head. Her mother sighed and continued to stare at her. Julia thought it was because she had been caught removing too much meat in an attempt to be quick. She decided to slow down and be more careful. She wanted to do it right. “You go outside to play, con.” “But I can help finish. I don’t mind. We can go faster so we can go see Auntie Ahn. We can bring some shrimp. Don‘t you think they would like that?” As an offering, she held up both hands full of shelled shrimp to her mother. “No,” said her mother. “You go. Still sunshine outside. I finish. Be home for dinner.” “Yes, ma’am.” She knew better than to argue. She kissed her mother and headed toward the front door. “Wait. Wash hand first. Don’t be yucky, Julia.” In the bathroom, she quickly rinsed off the sticky, gray slime. She wondered if her mother knew that she had used no soap. She turned the water back on and stood there for a couple of minutes, just in case her mother was listening. Satisfied, she headed out into the dark hallway and stopped short of the kitchen entrance. She could hear her mother crying, murmuring softly in Vietnamese as she sat at the table and shelled the shrimp. She even heard her own name mentioned in between sobs and sniffles, and though she couldn’t understand the foreign language, the sounds made her heart hurt. She was certain that her mother cried because her daughter had disappointed her, first with the shrimp and then by not using soap. Julia raised her hands to her face, smelled the ocean on them and thought once more of her father. Every Saturday, her family would go to the pier. They would get up so early that Julia would fall asleep during the short drive to the ocean, leaving her father to carry her as well as both his and her share of the gear. When her father wrapped his strong arms around her waist, tossed her over his shoulder, and whispered, “Up and at’em, Sweet,” she would wake up. But she kept her eyes closed, loving the way his flannel shirt would tickle the tip of her nose as he lumbered down the length of the pier. Just like clockwork, her mother would nag him to, “Put down. Julia big enough to walk.” Her father would reply softly, “Ssh. It’s alright, it’s alright. She’s as light as a feather.” Julia would smile secretly into her father’s shirt; he had gotten his way. Her father would greet other locals with a friendly, “Good morning,” or, “Any luck?” Her mother would chime in, happily going on and on about different kinds of bait and when it was best to catch speckled trout or catfish. The locals and her parents would laugh together, while Julia cooed softly, inhaling Old Spice aftershave, and sneaking peeks at the rolling waves that were the color of seals. This morning’s trip had been completely different. Julia and her mother left early for the pier, but the air was sticky and hot, and the pier was crowded. Even worse than that, her mother had insisted they still bring all of the gear: five crab nets, three fishing poles, bait, snacks, juice, and sandwiches. Then they went to Mr. Long, the local fisherman, to get three buckets of shrimp. “Just in case,” said her mother. She was always prepared for everything, which meant that Julia had to carry her usual share of the load and then some. She put her sticky hands over her ears as she ran past the kitchen; she made sure not to look at her mother. The small living room full of second-hand furniture was a blur as she dashed through the front door. The screen door slammed behind her as she headed towards the twins’ house, then changed her mind and ran straight for the abandoned car. * Julia scraped her right knee as she climbed through the jagged passenger window. Not again, she thought. She cleared away dead leaves and roly-poly bugs and made room on the car seat to inspect her knee, half hoping there would be blood. She propped her foot on the dashboard to get a closer look. The blood slowly oozed down her knee, trailing over some scars while going around others. She thought the soft hairs on her leg had something to do with it, but she wasn’t sure. She reached out and touched the dark blood, rubbing it between her index finger and thumb before putting them in her mouth. She enjoyed the salty, metallic taste on her tongue. She was sorry the twins weren’t here to see her injury, especially since they would’ve certainly cried if it had happened to them. But she was brave and proud of herself for not crying, even though the wound was beginning to sting a little. She squeezed the skin on her knee the way she had seen her mother do when she pricked her own finger slicing meat, but squeezing caused the knee to bleed more. She dipped her finger into it and wished more than ever that the twins could see her. She could picture them squealing and begging her to stop, knowing that she wouldn’t and that they didn’t really want her to anyway. She closed her eyes and fantasized that she was the injured patient and they were paramedics taking her to the hospital. She would call one twin, “Driver,” while the other would be called, “Siren”. Siren would hang her head out the passenger side and howl, warning people to get out of the way. Julia would lay across them, her head in one lap, her legs in the other, with a pained look on her face, but never crying. She would whisper for medicine, something to dull the pain a little. Siren would give her sips of grape Kool-Aid and fresh blackberries to eat, while gently stroking Julia’s hair away from her face. “Don’t worry,” Siren would say, “you’ll make it just fine. You’re in good hands.” Julia would nod in agreement. Siren would use dead leaves as bandages, twigs for a splint, urging Driver to hurry—the patient was taking a turn for the worse. Julia, on cue, would fight the pain, maybe even moan once or twice, and then when it became unbearable, she would cry out for a little more medicine, just as Driver delivered them safely into Keesler’s emergency entrance where the best nurses and surgeons waited patiently, eagerly to pamper her back to normal. To celebrate this new game, Julia would see which twin had better aim by convincing them to take turns tossing blackberries into her mouth. After all, she was the patient. She opened her eyes, imagined the tart purple liquid exploding against her teeth, inside her cheeks, as she munched and munched while the twins fought over “who got more in.” So in honor of the twins, their friendship, and the game, Julia began licking her wound. Her tongue swirled round and round deep inside. The taste of metal and salt was strong as she pressed her mouth firmly to her knee, slurping loudly. Lifting her head, she imagined her lips and teeth and chin were dripping with blood. She grinned broadly at her own cleverness, happily saturated in the make-believe screams of admiration and delight and horror around her. * Julia entered the house just as the sun was setting. Her father’s gray Dodge was in the driveway; they would have dinner together. She knew that this would make her mother happy. She hoped that it would make her happy enough to still go visit Auntie Ahn. She passed by the kitchen and saw her mother hang up the phone. “Who was on the phone, Mama?” She hid her right knee against the wall, just in case, but her mother didn’t even glance at her. “Wash hand. Eat dinner soon.” “Yes ma’am,” Julia replied. She walked slowly to the bathroom and decided that her mother was still mad at her. As she flipped on the light switch, she saw that the first-aid kit was sitting on the sink. She wondered if her mother had gotten hurt again while cooking. She thought it was strange that the kit was left out since her mother claimed it made the bathroom look messy. As she put away the kit, she could hear her mother in the kitchen—grabbing at plates, snatching silverware, and checking pots. She decided that the only way she was going to get to Florida was to be on her absolute best behavior. Putting away the kit was a good thing and washing her hands extra clean would be even better. She picked up the Dial soap and lathered her hands and arms until both were covered in suds. The white foam reminded her of chicken feathers, so she started flapping her arms up and down and almost let out a squawk when she remembered her plan. She rinsed off her arms, cleaned up the bathroom, and headed to the kitchen, determined to go to Florida. “Hi, Mama.” Julia flashed her mother a smile. “You pack bag after eat. We go visit Auntie Ahn.” Her mother continued to scurry around the kitchen, preparing dinner and packing food for the trip. She quickly piled steamed rice onto a plate and covered it with sautéed crabmeat and shrimp with garlic and onions. Julia almost dropped the plate of food when her mother spun around and shoved it into her chest, saying, “You eat, con.” She continued to smile at her mother. She had never won a battle and this seemed too easy. Still, she decided not to think about it too much. Sitting at the table, she looked around and realized that she was the only one eating. Her mother was rinsing dishes so quickly that Julia decided that she was in a hurry to go to Florida, too. “How come I’m the only one eating, Mama?” “Not hungry.” Her mother piled the rest of the rice into an empty margarine container and threw it into a grocery bag. “Where’s Daddy?” she asked, scooping a spoonful of food into her mouth. “In bed. No feel good.” Julia’s face fell. “He’s not going with us?” “No feel good.” “Why not?” “Head hurt.” “Hurt? Well, I’m hurt too, so I’m gonna stay with Daddy.” She knew she was risking severe punishment, but she was determined for everyone to go to Florida, even if it meant challenging her mother. “What you mean?” Julia stuck her knee out so her mother could see. “What happen?” “I hurt it in the car.” “The car in backyard?” She watched her mother put her head into her hands, and though she knew she might just wind up like those crabs, Julia stayed firm. “Yes ma’am. The car in the backyard. I hurt myself climbing in through the broken window. So I’m gonna stay here with Daddy. We can take care of each other.” Julia shoveled another spoonful of rice into her mouth, while her mother carefully cradled the injured leg, caressing it gently with the warmth of her fingers and palms. “Julia. You want to see Auntie Ahn and Lisa, right, con? They miss you.” Julia swallowed her food and said carefully, “I want to see them but I want Daddy to go, too. Don’t they miss him?” “He sick. Can’t go.” “Why not?” Julia whined, knowing she sounded like Siren. “Julia, if he go, he might get worse. If he get worse, he can’t take care of you. Your knee. Might get worse. Might get infected. Turn green. Smell bad. What you do? I not here to help.” Julia considered this. She nodded and smiled as her mother said, “Good girl,” before kissing her injured knee. “Can I go see him?” She asked, taking another bite. “After dinner.” “Can I have some soy sauce?” She tried her smile again, ignoring the pieces of rice that fell out of her mouth. “Soy sauce no go with that, Julia! Troi oi!” When her mother ran to the refrigerator and grabbed the bottle of La Choy from the top rack, Julia saw that all of the beer was now gone from the shelf. She was just about to say something when her mother quickly poured a tiny bit onto her food and said, “Finish eat. We go.” Her mother scurried back to the dishes, leaving her wishing she had not asked for the soy sauce. “Mama?” “What?” “Maybe we should wait ‘til Daddy’s better, so we could all go together?” Julia’s mother put down the plate she was washing. She turned to her daughter, looked her square in the face and said, “No.” She raised her arm, pointed at Julia, and said very slowly, “You hear what I say?” Julia nodded, spotting the Band-Aid on her mother’s hand. “Yes, ma’am,” she said quietly. But she would not be so easily defeated; she would ask her father when she saw him. She took the last bite of her food and then carried her plate over to the sink. Her mother grabbed it from her. “Go brush teeth. Pack bag. We go.” She washed the plate and quickly rinsed it before setting it neatly in the drain board. “Can I go see Daddy first?” She gritted her teeth and smiled harder than ever before. She hoped this would win her mother over. “Go quick. I pack your bag. We go.” She threw her arms up into the air, triumphant. She couldn’t believe she had won two battles in one day. She skipped off to her parents’ bedroom, convinced that her father would be an easy victory. * It was dark in her parents’ room. She moved slowly. Squinting at the figure in the bed, she rubbed her eyes to make sure that what she was seeing was real. “Daddy?” “Hey, Sweet Pea.” “What happened to you?” she whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off her father’s head. It was wrapped in gauze and twice its normal size. One eye was bandaged, and the other was swollen the color of blackberries. She knew there was no way he could go with them to Florida. Her mother had won again. “Oh, just a little accident at work. It’s okay.” Her father touched his bandaged head. “I’ll be fine in a couple of days. You’ll see,” he said, trying to wink. “Did you have a good day?” “Yes,” she lied, “but it was crowded at the pier. And hot. I missed you.” Julia looked at her father’s blackberry eye. She couldn’t breathe and she felt uncomfortable, like the times at school when she took math tests and couldn’t remember the answers, even though she had studied for them. She thought about showing him her knee but decided to change the subject. “Me and Mama are going to Florida.” “I know,” he said, holding onto her hand, “you’re gonna have a good time with Lisa.” “She has a pool.” She smiled as her father laughed. He closed his blackberry eye. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “she has a pool.” “Julia!” her mother shouted. “We go now!” “In a minute!” she shouted back. “Your mama’s calling you. Better not keep her waiting. Give Daddy a kiss.” She observed her father’s face, leaned forward, and planted a quick kiss above his left cheek, a spot which wasn’t covered by bandage or gauze. “Daddy?” “Yes, baby?” She watched her father gently rub the spot where she had kissed him and noticed his arm. Reddish-orange stains peeked out from underneath Band-Aids. She knew the stains came from the medicine her mother referred to as monkey blood but was nothing more than Brite-Life Iodine. She had often stared at the package, fascinated by the skull and crossbones in between the words, “DANGER” and “POISON” while her mother dabbed it onto scrapes and cuts caused from bicycle accidents and other injuries. Staring at the package helped take her mind off of the sting, and she felt proud for not believing the antiseptic to actually be monkey blood. She was glad that at least her father had been doctored so he wouldn’t get infections, though she knew the sting on his arms and head hurt a lot more than her own accidents. “Daddy. You didn’t hurt yourself at work, did you?” “You’re a smart little girl, aren’t you?” She nodded, wanting to ask about the missing beer from the refrigerator, but she was afraid that the uncomfortable feeling might get worse. Instead, she kissed her father on his cheek once more. “Bye, Daddy. When you get better, you can come see us in Florida.” She gave him her winning smile. She was sure it would work on him. It had worked twice on her mother. “We’ll see,” he said, kissing her hand. “Go on now, Julia. You don’t want to keep your mama waiting.” She turned from her father and walked away. She was glad to be leaving the dark room with its sickly smells of Band-Aids and monkey blood. Passing through the soft light and dinner smells of the kitchen, she imagined herself in Florida digging for clams and eating barbeque on the days when she was not splashing and swimming round and round in the big, sparkling pool. She felt sorry for her father but decided that this time he had learned his lesson, and when he got better he could come to Florida and they could all be together again. Just like it used to be. She promised herself that she would swim extra hard. When her father finally came, he could see how much she had practiced. So with the pool and sun swimming around in her mind, she grinned, running and shouting to her mother, “Don’t forget to pack my red bathing suit!”
Lucille Sutton was born in Saigon, Vietnam. Her short story accomplishments include publication in JMWW, Bamboo Ridge Press, Out of Thin Air, VenturaCountyStar.com, and The San Joaquin Review. She was acknowledged in the Indiana Review: Writers of Color Edition and as a top-ten finalist for the 2004 Dana Awards Short Fiction Contest. Her novel excerpts were finalists for Fall 2004 SLS/ St. Petersburg Writing Contest and Fall 2006 SLS/ Kenya Writing Contest, respectively. She lives in Clovis, California with her husband, two cats, and one dog. © 2008 prickofthespindle.com |
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