V.
1921
Maggie stared at the house across the street. She saw the silhouettes of her family in the window. Her daughter would be somewhere in the house. The young Gray woman had been sitting outside in her car for the past twenty minutes.
She saw kids playing in their front yards. It was different from Birmingham. The kids were dressed neatly and the mothers who gardened around them. They were happy. The lovely houses were surrounded with expensive cars. Nothing like home.
Maybe Polly could fit in with the people in the neighbourhood and since Micheal had grow up in a friendly, harmless area, he'd fit in quickly too. Carissa was still young, she would adjust here easily. But Maggie felt out of place.
They were moving up in the world. They didn't just have one family car. They had a proper offices for everyone in the den, plus Thomas had his own office elsewhere in the city. The kids were growing up with shoes on their feet. They no longer worried about money or food.
But Maggie couldn't catch up. Everything around her was changing but she was still sat in the old family car, unmoving, wishing that time would stop. Too much was happening to quickly. It only felt like yesterday the boys came home. Only felt like last week she was holding Carissa for the very first time. It didn't seem like that long ago she lost her best friend.
She wanted it all to stop, to pause. Just for moment.
But it didn't.
Inside the house, her mum and brother were catching her, and her little girl was growing up. Nobody and nothing was going to stop for her. She had to be there to get to know her brother again and watch her daughter live.
But she couldn't move.
Not until the thin curtain was pulled to the side and her brother appeared. She saw a smalls smile appear on his blank face. He knew she was here.
She sighed heavily before opening her door. She stepped out, looking up and down the street. It was a charming little street, well taken care of. Leaving her flask in the car, knowing if her mum saw it she would scoff and scold her, she slammed the door harshly behind her.
Ending up at the end of the path, she faced the door, knocking lightly. They knew she was hear by now. Carissa was here so they'd be expecting her anyway.
Micheal answered, his kind smile greeted her, calming her a little, "Hi Maggie."
"It's good to see you again Micky," she smiled back, not moving in yet.
He stood to the side, giving her space to step in, "You can come in, y'know," he spoke.
She nodded, "I know," walking through the threshold, she rubbed her shoulder as she passed him. The door closed behind her and she stopped.
"How is she? Carissa?" She asked, looking up the stairs.
"Er Tommy came by, dropped her off, spoke to Pol-" he paused, looking at his sister but she had no reaction to the name, "I don't know what they said but she said to keep Carissa happy." Maggie nodded.
"How's... how's mum?"
"She's good, tried to hide her anger when I spotted you outside," Micheal said cautiously.
He wasn't aware of the workings of the family. He figured it wasn't unusual for Carissa to end up at Polly's and that Tommy wasn't Maggie's biggest fan. Micheal had definitely picked up on a few things for this situation.
Maggie smiled sadly to herself, "sounds normal," she looked into the kitchen were she heard her mother, "I'll talk to her. She'll have some things to say I bet so you can stay out of it. Where's Carissa?"
"Upstairs." He answered simply.
She nodded again, "Good, could you please stay with her while we talk."
Micheal gave a small nod to his sister and went up the stairs. Maggie watched as he wandered up. She waited until he heard him speak to her daughter before she went to her mum and when's he heard her daughter talk back, she felt her heart ache.
There she was stood at the table, glaring at her. Polly was ready to argue by the looks of it, with an evil look in her eyes and her hands turning white as she gripped the chair beside her.
"Carissa's here. You know that," Polly started, with a calm voice, "you know why?"
Maggie answered, "Tommy-"
"yes Tommy. Because you decided to get pissed drunk with your daughter in the room next door."
"I know mum."
"You don't know. We have spoke, we have argued, I have told you how worried I am. How worried we all are," Polly snapped, "now when your daughter comes to your cousin's house saying you have passed out on the couch, what are we supposed to think, what is she supposed to think."
"It wasn't my intention."
"'It wasn't my intention', 'it wasn't my fault', 'I didn't mean to', 'I was only meant to be one drink'. I've heard these excuses before, I just never thought they'd leave my daughter's mouth."
Maggie bit her tongue as Polly spoke. Her dad had made those excuses and many more too many times that maybe his daughter picked them up from him.
"I'm going to be honest with you, like I always try to be. You are going to end up like your father. With Micheal home and Tommy's ambitions, I don't have time to make sure Carissa is fed and cleaned and left alone with a drunk woman," Polly spoke sternly, keeping her voice low, "you need to get help because no one here knows how to help you and, being honest, all we care about right now is making sure Carissa is safe and if that means not living with you, then so be it."
Maggie stood still, listening to the sound of her daughter potter about upstairs.
"Hear me?" Her mum said.
"Yeah mum."
"Yes mum what?" Polly asked, stepping closer, "don't just say that. Did you listen to what I said?"
"I did."
Her mum exhaled slowly, "Carissa is staying here. You go and speak to her but she stays here."
"Mum... she's coming home with me-"
Polly shook her head, "no not until you prove you are trying."
"Trying to what?" Her face scrunched up as she raised her voice slightly. She stepped closed to her mum, angered.
"Prove to me you are trying to get help. Prove to me that you are putting your daughter before a cheap bottle of gin." Polly jabbed a finger into her shoulder.
Maggie stood back listening to the sound of pattering feet around her again. She heard two pairs of feet scurry down the stairs. Before Maggie could speak her young daughter ran in.
She saw her mother and stopped at the down in front of Micheal. Maggie's cold expression vanished as she lay eyes on her daughter, a warm smile replacing it. She bent down slightly as Carissa stepped forward to her mum.
The woman opened her arms and the girl ran into them. She wrapped her arms around her mum's neck and hid her face in her shoulder.
Micheal and Polly both watched the embrace. They heard quiet sobs but neither knew which one was crying until Carissa moved her head. They watched as Maggie pushed the hair out of her face. Stood in the soundless room, tears ran down her cheeks. Maggie's heart ached knowing she caused it.
"Can we go home now?" Carissa asked.
Maggie tilted her head, not liking the answer she was about to give, "well nan has decided that it would be a good time to have a little holiday here. Spend time with Micky and maybe make some friends on the street."
"So we aren't going home?" She sniffled, rubbing her nose.
"Well I'm gonna have to head home or else who's gonna keep the place in order," she smiled sadly.
"Es can mind the flat. Please mum stay. You promised you'd help me with the book," she spoke softly, pleading.
Maggie hugged her daughter, "I know I did but I can't help right now. Maybe after your little holiday of fun."
"Maybe I could help, Cara?" Polly spoke up softly.
"No it's all right. I'll help her after all this," Maggie answered, looking down, "only a little while right. I'll still be around, not going anywhere," she ran her fingers through her thin hair, "I'll have to cut your hair soon anyway, won't I?"
The young girl nodded, touching her dirty blonde hair. Maggie stared at her tear stained face and almost starting crying too. The girl's arms wrapped around her mum's neck again, hugging her tightly.
"You can still call and you'll see me everyday," She whispered, pulling away, "now I think your nan has something for you in the kitchen."
Carissa smiled, looking from her mum to her nan, who both smiled back at her. She skipped into the kitchen ahead of Polly. Pol walked forward and held Maggie again, "call later. You come around tomorrow." She dismissed her daughter.
"Kicking me out?"
"Yes, Mags," She answered, softly. Maggie stood there still staring at her mother. Why? "If you do want to come around tomorrow, then stay of the liquor tonight." Her daughter nodded, now staring at the kitchen door. She wasn't even in the door ten minutes and she was getting kicked out, empty handed.
"Love you Cara, I'll talk to you later," she called into the kitchen, already moving to the front door.
Closing the door behind her, she held back tears as she left her daughter. She treaded down the path, staring at her feet's as she moved quickly. She needed a drink. Something to calm her down as her heart beat quicken. She held her chest as she took shallow breaths.
She walked around the side of the car, and instead of getting in she leant against the door. Facing away from her mum's house, she pulled out a cigarette. She balanced on her lip as she fumbled with the lighter in her pocket.
Her hands shook and she lost the strength in her fingers to push down on the lighter. She couldn't feel the lighter in her hand anymore. She rubbed her fingers together, as if the lighter had disappeared into thin air but she soon realised it hadn't at the sound of a quiet voice, "here," Micky.
He brought the lighter up to the mouth, holding his hand over her cigarette as he lit it for her, "thanks." Her hands were still shaky as she brought the cigarette away from her mouth, "assume you don't smoke. Yet."
He leaned back on the car as well although he looked more relaxed compared to the trembling woman. He simply nodded at her comment.
"You look after Carissa tonight?" She spoke softly.
"Of course. She's a good kid. Can tell everyone loves her," he responded, glancing at his sister briefly.
Maggie chuckled, "yes, she is. Sorry for the unpleasant situation," she felt guilty that this was his first impression of her, "only been here a week and already there's... unfortunate events."
His eyes followed her trembling hand as she took another drag, "It's all good. No family's perfect," he reassured her.
"Guess you're right." She agreed quietly.
Micheal hesitated, "Does this stuff happen a lot?"
"Mum taking Carissa?" she spoke and he nodded, "no, I have been worse but mum's never taken Cara. I've always liked to go out for a drink, maybe take something to make the night a bit more interesting."
She continued, "with you being back, she's probably, more than ever, worried that I won't prioritise her and my habits will be the reason I lose her. Like she lost us back then."
Micheal saw tears build her in her eyes as she spoke and felt horrible that he caused it by asking. But he was staying, so he was going to find out anyway. He also wanted to get to know his family, because at the moment he felt like an outsider
"Do you remember... then?" He didn't want to go into detail as he didn't know if it would trigger her.
"Yep," she answered, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, "you?"
He stood his head, "some."
"Not great memories, I bet," she took a drag from her cigarette.
"I remember your screaming and shouting," he said quietly. It wasn't a pleasant experience to look back on, "you slapping them away from us. Anna's crying. I remember the deep red mark on your face after one of them hit you." He recalled, looking at his shoes.
"You remember that?" She asked, matching his tone.
"They tried to pull your hand off of Anna's and when they forced you off, she gripped onto your hair for dear life. You continued to scream at them, pushing them away. You were only seven but you hit one guard right between the legs when he went to grab me."
She scoffed. These people took three helpless children from their family, from their mother, "some memory you got." Maggie said, "those people were cold and heartless for what they did. For what they did then and for what they did after that."
Michael looked her at his sister. She was looking at him. She knew what they did. He knew. He didn't even think about her. He was still young then but when he recalled those memories he never thought of what it was like for his sisters.
She smiled softly, slinging her arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a side hug. He was still curious. It was nice to know that she was there, "Pol said you came home a few months later. Well ran." He asked.
"No one wanted a screaming, out of control seven year old so I stayed in the parish. I tried to find you, tried to find Anna but I couldn't. A little while after we were taken, I was causing too much trouble, so I was sent to this place more rural, but only for a few months. By the time I was brought back, you both were adopted." She explained, trying not to go into detail to much, "one day after a few more months, I ran."
"Why didn't you run sooner?" He leaned his head in her shoulder, listening to her.
"Something happened. And made me realise I was alone. It was either escaping and risking getting caught or giving up. I don't know why I stayed so long. I felt I couldn't do anything."
Exhaling the fumes, she dropped the finished cigarette on the ground, stepping on it a bit, "do you happen to know what happened to Anna? Mum tell ya?" She asked.
"She got sick." Micheal started, but for some reason Maggie's reaction to those three words told him he didn't have to explain. He didn't see her face he just listened to her sigh and pat his shoulder.
"Probably why mum's been acting different for a long while." She whispered.
There is a moment of silence for their sister. She had grown up butt Micheal and Maggie only remembered the little three year old who could smile and everything in the world would seem alright.
"Is Pol okay with me not calling her mum yet?" He muttered, embarrassed.
Maggie sighed softly beside him, "she understands that it may be too soon. You grew up with the Jones an-"
"Johnsons." He corrected with a smile.
"Sorry Johnsons. You grew up with them. You've, for as long as you remember, have known them as your parents. It's hard to get used to, calling someone else mum. You don't have to call her mum until you feel you want to, don't feel forced."
"Sure?"
"Micky, I'm a 'one word answer' kind of gal so when I give you something like that, you better believe it, alright," he nodded, grinning.
"Carissa used to call Tommy dad when he came back for war. For weeks. And Tommy never said a thing about it, didn't want to burst her bubble. So I'd be there trying to make her understand. Eventually she got over that but nothing could change the fact 'dada' and 'Tommy' came out before 'mama'.
"Oh god." Micheal laughed a little. His laughter died down, "So Carissa's dad... not around?"
"Oh, we lost him before Carissa was born."
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, Micky. Things happen, it's been a few years." Four years, seven months, fifteen days, "Carissa doesn't know much of him or his family and didn't care to know as she is still young until a few weeks ago when she starting asking more."
Micheal nodded, interested in his sister's life — what he'd missed. "You were young when you had her." He observed.
"Yep. Not to much younger than you when Carissa was born — don't be following in my footsteps now." She pointed.
"What did Pol think of it when you told her?" Maggie could tell, even after she reassured him, that he still felt guilty for calling her Pol.
"She was shocked and angry. Not furious cause she was around my age when she had me except our dad and her were more serious. I was, am, more reckless than reliable and everyone knew. Me and her got in a fight, then we made up. She was there for me. Said she was a girl. Said to name her Florence and I said Carissa, and that was that."
Maggie turned her her to her brother before looking at the house, "this doesn't count y'know, I'll catch up with you properly soon. Sit down and have a drink — tea or whiskey, whatever you prefer."
"Think I'm gonna have to get used to whiskey."
"Definitely."
"I like hearing about your life, what I missed."
"And I'll be happy to tell, if you'd be alright with tell me about your village life. Hear ya have a brother," She spoke, looking at the house thats at opposite her mum's.
Micheal didn't respond, "You grew up with them, I'm not gonna hate you for having a brother. Cause its not easy having a sister, ask any of the boys. I'd like to hear about it."
Micheal nodded.
Silence. Except for the sound of children's laughter down the road.
"I'm off," Maggie interrupted the silence between them. Micheal turned to look at her as she pushed herself of the car. She opened her door. Micheal was taken aback by her sudden leave. Maggie got in the car and started the engine while her brother watched, "see ya tomorrow sometime. Have some stories ready," She spoke, a small but genuine smile appearing on her face. He nodded again.
He watched as she took off quickly. She beeped the horn as she drove down the road, sure to anger their mum. As she left the nice neighbourhood, she realised what she had to do.
She had to do something that she was very good at; quit.
But she wasn't good at quitting the drink. Or the snow.
She knew if her mum stuck to her word, she wasn't getting her daughter back anytime soon.
—
It had been hours since she left Micheal on the curb. Hours since she saw her daughter or anyone really.
When Maggie got home, she raced through her flat, collecting every bottle of liquor she had. Tommy obviously didn't find all of them, not the ones she hid. He didn't find the ones behind books on the shelf, or the ones under Carissa's mattress. He didn't find the liquor she hid in perfume bottles.
From what she knew, the family weren't aware of her habits with cocaine. Sure she had tried to quit drinking a succeeded for a short time but Maggie couldn't remember the last time she last a day without a few lines. She kept the white power on her person at all time, night and day.
But looking at the bottles Maggie felt ashamed. It wasn't the first time she had gathered the her stash so she could get rid of them. She was aware of her habits, but no matter how many times she tried to quit, she always ended up at the Garrison with a glass of the amber liquid.
She felt ashamed that she had done this so many times. Because she was good at quitting quitting.
Walking over to the sink, she balanced as many bottle as she could. Get this over and down with. Seven bottle she held. Each one's contents being poured down the drain. All seven bottles she washed out. Going back over to the couch where the bottle lay. She carrying eight bottle this time and repeating the same thing as before.
She made three more journeys back and forth. Every bottle emptied and washed.
After, she collapsed on the couch. She huffed tiredly. It had been a long day. It had taken a while to pull herself form the car once she got back and even longer to motivate herself to round up the liquor.
Lying there cold, she only thought of the liquid she poured down the sink. Not her daughter or her brother or even her mother's harsh words.
—
John sat, again, in front of his cousin when he should be elsewhere. But this time Tommy didn't send him, or Polly. Maggie didn't call him either. He came all by himself. Didn't knock, just walked in.
When he did walk in, he didn't find her on the couch where she was hours ago. Instead she was sat at the kitchen table with three different books in front of her. Walking over to her, he noticed water drops stained the old pages.
One book was a lengthy one that he knew she would never read, another was one of Carissa's books. One that was full of little sketches. The third book wasn't a book. It was a photo album. Growing up the Shelby's weren't privileged enough to have expensive photographers at all their gypsy weddings and birthday celebrations but when Carissa's father came around, that changed.
Lived in a more upper class part of Birmingham and his family knew people. So when Carissa's father was around for a family celebration so was a photographer. Maggie loved photos and having big family pictures taken. Loved. When he died, her tears stained all her photographs before she hid them away.
Now she sat with the book of photos. John was concerned, like he always was when she quit, "alright Mags?"
"Uh huh," She hummed softly, sighing as she turned a page.
"What's with all the books?"
"I wanted to read, so I took out this one," she pointed to the wordy one, "but then I couldn't focus so I read this one," she pointed to the Carissa's book, "I gave on that one too because the pictures we're distracting. So when they both failed I took this out." Her finger glided over the black and white photos.
She was on the one that was taken on John last birthday before way. Little did they know, they would be receive letters that would change their lives forever.
John remembered that day, as he looked over his cousin's shoulder. Martha was there. So was his son and daughter. When he stared at that picture he tried to think of how they would find out Martha was pregnant weeks after that photo was taken.
Maggie stared at the picture too. There she stood smiling. She stood beside her love as he held her hand behind her back. They both smiled. She was thirteen at the time, so was he. The night before was the night they had their first kiss. It was the night that Maggie had her first kiss.
Right before this picture was taken he had whispered something in her ear and for the passed half an hour Maggie hadn't turned the page because she couldn't remember what he said to make look that happy.