The Eye Begins to See

Taste of the Eye

Thea had never seen a woman wear lipstick. Or eyes shadow. This woman wore both, her eyes rimmed in heavy, messy circles so dark the marks appeared etched with charcoal. Her lips, painted the color of deep, red summer berries, a perfect bow against her ebony skin. The deep black skin was flawless, except the fine velvet texture of it stretched so taut Thea could see bone beneath the high cheeks and delicate, arched eyebrows. She watched the skeletal woman use the arm of the heavy couch to pull herself to standing, then continued to hold on with outstretched, bone thin fingers, until a fit of shaking and swaying passed. There was something about her though, an almost ethereal quality, as if even in physical ruin, she'd been lit from within. She looked like Mama D, but sharp and brittle, full of angles. Mama D was soft, with a fullness of heart, welcoming and warm.

"Everline," Thea heard Mama D say, "you can't keep coming by every little bit asking for more money. Look at you. You're so thin you can barely stand. You're killing yourself."

"I give a shit, Mother. You gonna give me the money?"

Mama D breathed in and seemed to hold the breath forever. When she it blew it out it deflated her. Thea heard it in her voice.

"You gonna take time to see your children this time?"

"No. I don't have time for that. You know Clarence is waiting on me. And 'sides, what am I gonna' do with two kids?"

"Everline." Mama D sounded wrung out, like speaking the name pained her. "No. You can't keep coming here for money. Every time you do and disappear before Clarence Jr. even gets to see you, it kills him a little more. Thea don't understand as much, but it hurts Clarence Jr. I won't help you do that to that boy anymore."

"You kidding me? You really saying no? When did you get a backbone old woman?" Everline laid her head back and howled out a vicious bark of laughter. "Fine. And fuck you and those two little shit heads. Good riddance." She pushed past Mama D on wobbly legs and slammed the door so hard the picture of Papa Lucky flew off the nail and splintered on the floor.

Who was that? Thea had never heard anyone, ever, talk to her Mama D that way. She'd wanted a better look, but was frozen into a tight ball of fear on the stair.

Mama D sat where she was. "Methea Wren, you may come down off those stairs." Thea didn't answer. "Right now, honey."

She crept down the stairs careful to avoid the explosion of glass with her bare feet.

Thea walked into the front parlor. She'd been seated high enough up the stairs she'd have sworn Mama D wouldn't know she was listening in. Mama D was still as a stone. She'd kneaded her hand-embroidered handkerchief into a tight ball. Thea watched her sit, straight as a poker, on the corner of her reading chair. Thea came to stand close, and stared out the window too, at the woman wobbling across the street.

"Who was that?"     

"Hmm? Oh, child, until I heard you twitch up on the stair, I thought you were sleeping in your bed. That there was Everline, my daughter. Sorry for that hateful talk you heard. Everline is, well, she's unkind sometimes." Mama D gave her a weak smile.

Thea stared at her. I'm sorry I asked who that was, she thought, I don't want to know anyone who hurts Mama D so bad. It hadn't occurred to her that Mama D might have other children she didn't know about, let alone a child that would behave like that woman.

"Was that the Heathen Everline?"

Mama D leveled Thea with a look as sharp as razors. Thea dropped her eyes to the rug.

"And just where did you hear that from, young lady?" Mama D asked, surprised. Her lips slid into a tight line. "Never you mind. I expect I know well enough where you heard that nonsense from. I'm going to have me a talk with your Aunty Opal."