Like I said, I’ve thought a lot about my mother. I’ve even thought about her life before I was born. She was a change of life baby. Grandma Lizzie told me she didn’t suspect she was pregnant until she was almost four months gone and the shock spun her catawampus. I don’t know what got into me, Lorraine. I must have been crazy. There I was, with what I thought was a pot belly, calling all my friends, yet not allowing anyone to see me, not even Catherine, unless I was covered up in bed. I did the wash in the evenings, hung the clothes on the line in the dark, and brought them in around six, damp with dew. After she was born, I had the prettiest baby in the clinic. Carmen had a headful of curls. The next Shirley Temple. As soon as Dr. Burdette released us, I showed her all over town.
No, she wasn’t crazy, just temporarily out of her sphere. For instance, where did the name Carmen Amber come from? My mother should have been named something serious, like Ruth, Leah, or even Mary. But Grandpa Hugh, the head usher, let it pass.
That was only the beginning. Grandma Lizzie learned to drive, and not just around Harshbarger Mills. That might not sound like a big deal, but it was then, because our part of the state is known for its terrible roads and circuitous routes. The only way to get to Clovington at the time was Route 40, a winding two-lane which was just as dangerous as any country road because the state never bothered to trim the growth along the berms. At a time when having a woman song leader in the church was a big stink, my grandmother drove to Clovington because her baby was going to have piano lessons from someone who knew music, and she was going to take tap, ballet, cotillion, and something no one teaches anymore—elocution.
Because of that, a lot of gossip centered around Grandma Lizzie: she told me so herself. Most of it came from Pearl Ellis, mother of crazy Lena and grandmother of Jane Lee Veach, who would torment me mercilessly at school after Mother left. Pearl actually stood up during a Wednesday night service and tried to prophesy. It didn’t work because everyone knew Pearl was incapable of seeing beyond her nose (which was very long and had a bump in the middle), but the words that flew out of her mouth stuck in my grandmother’s brain. Pearl prophesied that the devil now had a stronghold in Lizzie McComas, and because of her pride, Carmen Amber would desert the Savior and follow the world.
Grandma Lizzie repeated the accusation so often that I have to believe it bothered her more than she’d admit. But as often as she told the story, she told the ending twice — how the gossip turned prophetess enrolled her older daughter, Andrea, in piano and dance, but the girl proved so hopeless at ballet, she had to quit. As for the piano, she lacked Carmen’s light touch.
Every time my mother did something extraordinary, like appearing on Talent Hunt or making head majorette, the gossip would start again. It was all based on jealousy, Grandma Lizzie told me, but I could believe it for myself. You see, I’ve got the pictures: her yearbook, and dozens of photographs taken out in the back yard. My favorite is Mother in her full-dress uniform. It’s one of the few color shots. She’s turned sideways in an effortless pose, one leg straight and the other bent, knee directed toward her chin. Atop her head is a huge majorette hat with a plume dyed dark blue, while the baton is tilted downward, held by a white-gloved hand. Yes, there is sex, but it is clean, clean sex spilling out. She looks so young it’s hard to believe that in a few years she’ll be my mother.
My father’s name was Samy spelled with one ‘m’. He was such a handsome man, but the only picture of him was taken on the front porch steps. Because he is posing (what today would be called a J. Crew look), I know Mother must have been taking the picture. That and the fact that on the back, written in her round handwriting, is the word “Dreamboat.” And that’s it, none taken together. It’s almost as if my mother went straight from her majorette uniform into a wedding dress. I asked Grandma about this. She snorted and her cheeks turned red. She said she knew Samy was crazy about Carmen, but she had no idea they’d end up married so she never bothered to get the camera out. I’ve wondered if Grandma Lizzie wasn’t trying to hold back time. Surely it wasn’t deliberate, just that the time was nearing when all girls slip away from their mothers, and she wasn’t ready to let go.
