lips brushed Penelope’s milky white forehead. The baby whimpered, a kitten
kind of mewing sound. “There now, no need to fuss, my darling Sylvia. Mama’s here. Shhh. Everything’s fine.”
What did Mama say? Sylvia? Surely it just slipped out.
Peeking around, I hoped no one else noticed. Everyone chatted nonstop, going on about how the summer had flown by and school
would be starting in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.
Penelope yawned and stretched one leg out. Mama shifted a bit, never taking her eyes from the baby. Another whimper, then
Penelope wiggled and fussed louder. Mama picked her up and held her on her shoulder, but the pink bottoms of Penelope’s feet
pumped against Mama.
“Don’t cry, Sylvia. We’ll fix you up. Mama’s got you.” She spoke louder this time, and the whole room got quiet. Except for
Penelope’s screaming.
“Tara, Tommie Sue, please see if the ladies would like another sandwich.” Mrs. Johnson busied herself picking up empty punch
cups and stray toothpicks from the cocktail table.
“Penelope, that’s the baby’s name. Remember I wrote you a letter about her.” I didn’t even know if Mama heard me the way she
kept talking to
Sylvia
, cooing and making shushing noises, kissing her neck, jiggling her up and down. My skin crawled with chill bumps.
By now Sister Doris had finished taking Luke to the bathroom and sat in the armchair nearest Mama’s end of the sofa. Doris
smiled and acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world for Mama to be holding her baby and calling her another
name. I made a motion to Doris, pointing to Penelope, trying to see if shewanted to take the baby back. She shook her head no and looked at Mama with soft brown eyes. Her sturdy hand moved to Mama’s
knee, and she patted it softly.
When Penelope screamed loud enough to hear two houses away, Mama stood and paced around the cocktail table, soft, rocking
steps trying to calm the baby, but it didn’t help. After a while Sister Doris stood also and gently cupped Penelope’s bottom
in her hand and took her from Mama.
“Must be hungry. My, this girl likes to eat.”
Mama blinked a time or two, then flicked her hair away from her face and said, “You know, Alice, I would love another of those
lemon bars. And when you have time I’d like the recipe.”
Tuwana raised her eyebrows like maybe Mama’s nerve treatment didn’t take either. She didn’t say it though, and right then
my heart swelled with gratitude for Tuwana.
Mama stood poised with a lemon square. When she raised the sweet to her mouth, dots of powdered sugar swirled like the teensiest
snowflakes. Floating, twirling, like the inside of my head spinning with thoughts of Sister Doris and Penelope, Mama and Sylvia,
Cly and his uncle Norm. I sat glued to Mrs. Johnson’s new couch with the smell of furniture polish and baby powder and the
clatter of forks and punch cups and didn’t know what to do. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, hoping when I opened them
everything would be all right.
My insides felt like the day when Mama swallowed the pills. Something was bad wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I opened
my eyes, Mama stared in my direction, a strange look on her face. Detached. Vacant.
[ FOURTEEN ]
M AMA DIDN’T MENTION BABY Penelope when we left the party, but the minute we got home she took a bubble bath. At supper she told Daddy all about Alice
Johnson’s furniture and how much she enjoyed visiting with the ladies. I sat there thinking that Mama’s shock treatments had
done something to her brain so when unpleasant things slipped out, they got erased, never to be remembered again. I couldn’t
figure out anything else it could be.
And what about Doobie’s mom, Mabel Thornton? What did it mean that her nerve treatment didn’t take? Did you have to go back
and get a booster once in a while or what? Maybe Doobie acted like such a doofus because he worried about his
kind of mewing sound. “There now, no need to fuss, my darling Sylvia. Mama’s here. Shhh. Everything’s fine.”
What did Mama say? Sylvia? Surely it just slipped out.
Peeking around, I hoped no one else noticed. Everyone chatted nonstop, going on about how the summer had flown by and school
would be starting in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.
Penelope yawned and stretched one leg out. Mama shifted a bit, never taking her eyes from the baby. Another whimper, then
Penelope wiggled and fussed louder. Mama picked her up and held her on her shoulder, but the pink bottoms of Penelope’s feet
pumped against Mama.
“Don’t cry, Sylvia. We’ll fix you up. Mama’s got you.” She spoke louder this time, and the whole room got quiet. Except for
Penelope’s screaming.
“Tara, Tommie Sue, please see if the ladies would like another sandwich.” Mrs. Johnson busied herself picking up empty punch
cups and stray toothpicks from the cocktail table.
“Penelope, that’s the baby’s name. Remember I wrote you a letter about her.” I didn’t even know if Mama heard me the way she
kept talking to
Sylvia
, cooing and making shushing noises, kissing her neck, jiggling her up and down. My skin crawled with chill bumps.
By now Sister Doris had finished taking Luke to the bathroom and sat in the armchair nearest Mama’s end of the sofa. Doris
smiled and acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world for Mama to be holding her baby and calling her another
name. I made a motion to Doris, pointing to Penelope, trying to see if shewanted to take the baby back. She shook her head no and looked at Mama with soft brown eyes. Her sturdy hand moved to Mama’s
knee, and she patted it softly.
When Penelope screamed loud enough to hear two houses away, Mama stood and paced around the cocktail table, soft, rocking
steps trying to calm the baby, but it didn’t help. After a while Sister Doris stood also and gently cupped Penelope’s bottom
in her hand and took her from Mama.
“Must be hungry. My, this girl likes to eat.”
Mama blinked a time or two, then flicked her hair away from her face and said, “You know, Alice, I would love another of those
lemon bars. And when you have time I’d like the recipe.”
Tuwana raised her eyebrows like maybe Mama’s nerve treatment didn’t take either. She didn’t say it though, and right then
my heart swelled with gratitude for Tuwana.
Mama stood poised with a lemon square. When she raised the sweet to her mouth, dots of powdered sugar swirled like the teensiest
snowflakes. Floating, twirling, like the inside of my head spinning with thoughts of Sister Doris and Penelope, Mama and Sylvia,
Cly and his uncle Norm. I sat glued to Mrs. Johnson’s new couch with the smell of furniture polish and baby powder and the
clatter of forks and punch cups and didn’t know what to do. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, hoping when I opened them
everything would be all right.
My insides felt like the day when Mama swallowed the pills. Something was bad wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I opened
my eyes, Mama stared in my direction, a strange look on her face. Detached. Vacant.
[ FOURTEEN ]
M AMA DIDN’T MENTION BABY Penelope when we left the party, but the minute we got home she took a bubble bath. At supper she told Daddy all about Alice
Johnson’s furniture and how much she enjoyed visiting with the ladies. I sat there thinking that Mama’s shock treatments had
done something to her brain so when unpleasant things slipped out, they got erased, never to be remembered again. I couldn’t
figure out anything else it could be.
And what about Doobie’s mom, Mabel Thornton? What did it mean that her nerve treatment didn’t take? Did you have to go back
and get a booster once in a while or what? Maybe Doobie acted like such a doofus because he worried about his
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