Marguerite (Maisie excerpt)
You probably remember like I do, how people didn't tell kids much about what was going on. You sort of learned to hang around invisible and piece together bits you could overhear, you know, like who was having babies and who was having fights and stuff like that. My own parents didn't talk about one another, but plenty of others did! Even so, I was amazed when Maisie turned up in the kitchen right in the middle of a party, red-faced and with tears rolling down her cheeks like round raindrops outlined in black mascara. She dabbed.
"Oh, Charlie," she sniffed. "He's being horrible again! Right in front of everybody, he said don't be such a...such a.." .Maisie hunched up her big shoulders and boo-hooed into her handkerchief like a ridiculously overgrown child.
I stayed totally still at the bottom of the steps, eyes and ears wide open. Mom wiped her hands on the towel at the end of the kitchen sink. She been just about to set out some pie and coffee in the front room.
"He doesn't mean it. He's just had too much beer." Maisie shook her head.
"No, siree! He does it all the time. Just because I met a couple of guys before him..." Well, true. She was a couple of years older than Martin. She'd been more experienced! Dad laughed, said Martin thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He was short and nice and kind of shy and Maisie was a big lady with a lot to say. Then the baby came and everything changed. Maisie need a better house, a nicer car, and the kind of clothes a Mother should wear! Martin worked overtime. He didn't mind; that way he didn't have to be careful all the time. When he came home, supper was already in the oven and the boy was sound asleep. He stopped for coffee on the way to work in the morning.
Everybody was working six days at the time, but Sundays Maisie felt they should go out and it was often "out" to our house! Mom could be counted on for afternoon desserts and maybe even supper if they played their cards right.The boys would have their beer, outside if it was warm enough, or in the front room if it was winter time. The women gathered mostly in the kitchen.
Mom took a look around and led Maisie to the stair door, warning me with a finger to stay behind as they went by. I crept to where I could hear them talking in the upstairs room.
"You seem pretty upset!" I hear Mom's voice. "What happened?"
"Well." said Maisie, interrupting her sobs, "I just asked him to get the box of toys out of the car and he blew up!"
"That seems funny."
"Yeah, well, he was telling Llew about the new Ford he got in and said just a minute and I..."
"Oh dear," said Charlie. "Just leave him be with the men for a while and then later on, give him a little pat on the behind or something."
"But what about the toys?" Maisie pouted. Uh, oh, Mom will be biting her lip about now! The dressing table drawer scraped open.
"Have you seen this new shade? It'd go perfect with your dress>"
"You think so, Charlie? Oh, you always know what to do!" She leaned to the mirror rubbing her lips together with luscious magenta. Mom rolled her eyes as she came past me down the steps to finish off the pies and coffee. Maisie sent Martin a big blue-eyed wink across the room. He blushed.
Long after dark, when they had finished off all the pie and later eaten all the sliced beef sandwiches from the Sunday roast and plates of tomatoes from the garden and a dozen ears of corn or so and had washed up all the dishes, they went home. Mom collapsed on a kitchen chair. The kids had mostly taken themselves off to bed. Beatrice was crumpled up in an armchair.
"That woman would drive you to drink!" says my mother. "She's ruining the kid, she driving Martin crazy, and they come here every Sunday!"
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