Tallulah

Every evening after dinner, the phone in the hallway downstairs and upstairs rang shrilly. I never got to pick it up because Momma practically dove for it and shooed me out of the hallway. I wondered who she talked to that was so important and who made her giggle as much as she did—she was starting to sound like Katie—but since she wouldn't let me answer the phone, I didn't know. One night, while she locked herself in the bedroom with the phone, Hilda and the rest of my aunts crowded around the telephone downstairs and eavesdropped on the conversation. I wanted to hear too, but it was "grown up business" so I was shooed into the kitchen to help Grandma peel potatoes or green beans or something equally as trivial.

The next afternoon, on the way home from school, Momma told me she was going to be stepping out that evening with a friend. She wouldn't say who—not yet—but she would be leaving after dinner and might not be back before I went to bed, but she'd be okay. She seemed to be in a good mood—a really good mood, actually, and I wondered if her new found friendship with Mr. Franz had anything to do with it.

Momma put her makeup on like Simone, slow, calm, and without a care in the world. I watched her from her bed, propping my head up. Where was she going? It was late. We already ate dinner—and granted, we ate at about 5 every afternoon, except on Sundays when we ate at 4—but still, I thought it was too late to be going out, even if it was with a friend. I frowned.

"I want you to behave tonight. Maybe get some of your homework done, hm? I'll be back soon, so don't worry about me and don't make trouble for Cassie, okay? She'll tuck you in if I don't come home before your bedtime."

"But it's late," I protested, frowning.

"It's only 6." She started rubbing some rouge on, pinching her cheeks together as she leaned in to the mirror. "I'll be home before you know it."

"But Momma—"

"No buts."

"Who's your friend?"

"Someone nice. Don't worry about it." She glanced at her watch, tugging her dress down a little. It was white and blue and pretty, like everything else she had. "I should probably get going. He's going to be—"

"Savannah!" Cassandra Mae yelled up the stairs. "Company!"

She sighed.

"Be good, okay?"

"Who is she?"

"He is a very nice friend of mine." She kissed my forehead. "Love you." She walked out of her room and I sat on the bed sullenly—I didn't really like secrets and I didn't enjoy being treated like a child, even though I was a child. I ran out to the stairs and stood on the top so I could peek into the living room without being seen. It was Mr. Franz. I smiled as I watched them walk out the door, his hand on her back. Cassandra Mae glanced up at me, laughing. I walked downstairs and she smiled, sitting with me.

Momma finally had a friend.

"Your mother's something else," she said simply, shaking her head. "Wanna watch some TV?"

We watched TV for about half an hour and Cassandra taught me some dance steps. I finished my homework. I played some chess with Peter. Then I took a bath and started to get ready for bed. I glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. Momma had to be on her way home, right? It was a school night. Mr. Franz wasn't going to stay out with her all night, was he? I frowned. I walked downstairs, only to see my aunts peeking through the windows on the couch, giggling and whispering quietly. I squeezed between Hilda and Cassandra and peeked through the curtains too, wondering what was so interesting.

Nothing.

"What's going on?"

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

"Oh. Well, we're waiting for your mother to come back from her date."

"What's a date?"

"That's when a boy who likes a girl takes her out so she'll like him too. Adults date each other, okay? You're too young for that."

"No—they're friends. Why would they like each other?" I tried to protest. Momma wouldn't lie to me, would she? Why would she lie to me?

We sat there for the better part of an hour. Even Grandma and my cousins joined us when they came back from choir practice—she was peeking in the peep hole on the door. Mr. Franz was causing quite the sensation, all without even knowing it. Peter came downstairs about half hour into our vigil of sorts, yawning and scratching the back of his head.

"What in the—what are you doin'?"

"Shush! We're waitin' for—for—what's his name?" Patricia asked, looking around.

"Albert!" Hilda quipped, but she said it funny—it sounded more like Albear instead of Albert. "The Frenchman." My aunts and cousins giggled impishly. Was that his name? Albert Franz. Sounded pretty fancy, and Mr. Franz was a fancy man, so it suit him. Could I call him Albert? Maybe I should just keep calling him Mr. Franz, I thought as I squinted a little, waiting for his black car to pull up.

"Y'all are a new kind of crazy," Peter grumbled.

"Shush," Grandma said, shooting him a look. "We just wanna see, that's all."

"He's Tallulah's teacher, you know."

"Really?"

My aunts started talking amongst themselves.

He must be good with children.

I saw him. He's so handsome!

She's so lucky!

I wonder what kind of car he drives...

I didn't understand what Peter had against Mr. (Albert) Franz. He was nice to me and he made Momma smile—one of her really pretty bright toothy grins—so what was his problem? He stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.

"Don't be slammin' doors up in my house!" she exclaimed, turning around.

Winona came home about five minutes before Momma did—she had spent the afternoon studying at the library and so she had no idea that Momma was out. Grandma went to go fix her a plate of food since she missed dinner and hadn't eaten anything. And while she heated up the mashed potatoes and chicken we had for dinner, Mr. Franz's car pulled right up to our house.

"Oh, my goodness," they breathed in perfect unison, watching as he got out of the car to open Momma's door. Apparently they thought that Mr. Franz was handsome too. Hilda shushed her sisters as they practically pressed their faces to the glass. He walked her to the door and my aunts held their breath. Momma and Mr. Franz were still talking.

I couldn't hear what they said but I sure did see when they started kissing. What kind of friend was that? I had friends, but none of my friends ever kissed me there. I looked at them wide-eyed. Grandma kept looking through the peephole and Winona was still in the kitchen.

"What's going on?" she asked Grandma, chewing slowly. I glanced at her and watched as Grandma moved over to let her see. Winona scowled and started flicking the porch light on and off, scowling at them. Momma laughed and kissed his cheek, waving at him as he walked away. We all sat around the living room, whistling or picking at our nails, trying to act like we hadn't been staring at them or anything. Grandma practically dove into the kitchen. Winona was the only one who stayed in front of the door, hand on her hips.

"Mom!" she exclaimed when she walked in. Momma was taking off her earrings, putting them in her purse. "What the hell?"

Momma's smile faded as she looked at Winona. We all stared at them, holding our breaths. It wasn't a big secret—Winona wasn't exactly a fan of Mr. (Albert) Franz and took every opportunity she had to make her disdain towards him known. We thought that she'd grow out of it eventually or not say anything about it. Obviously, we were wrong.

"I know you didn't just cuss at me." Momma laughed humorlessly. "I know you didn't."

"What was that?! Why were you just necking with some guy on the porch?!"

"I didn't know I had to explain myself to you. I'm a grown woman and I'm your mother. That means I do what I want when I want and I don't have to explain it to anyone. That means that if I wanna go out with someone I like I will. That also means you can't ask me why I do the things I do, Winona Mae. Mind your own business. Aren't you supposed to be at the library?" she asked, frowning at her.

"I just got back. What's wrong with you?!"

"There's nothing wrong with me. I could ask you what's wrong with you though, cussin' at me like that? Do you know who I am?"

"Momma—"

"Damn right I'm your mother. You better watch how you talk to me. Next time I'll smack that sass right outta you. Don't ask me why I do things, okay? I do things 'cause I wanna do them, and so if I wanna go out and have a nice time, I will and I won't explain myself to you, or anybody else. You better go to your room before I do something crazy. I hope y'all heard me," she says, poking her head into the living room. "I saw all of you, and Tallulah, you were supposed to be in bed an hour ago so, c'mon, let's go. You are all so damn unbelievable, spying on me like I'm little girl or something and I just went out with a boy and didn't tell Momma." She shook her head, holding out her hand. "You're goin' to bed, Tallulah. It's past your bedtime."

We walked upstairs as my aunts started talking, voices overlapping.

"Don't act like I can't hear you!" Momma yelled, frowning. She took me to my room quietly, steaming mad. Winona was still in the bathroom and the girls were still downstairs, so I had the whole room to myself. I climbed into Yvonne's bed, mostly because she didn't hog the covers like Winona usually did. Momma tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead resignedly, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.

"Momma?" I asked when she got up. "Why'd you kiss Mr. Franz like that?" She looked at me and sat back down on my bed, smoothing my hair down.

"Sometimes, um—when two people like each other very much, they do things like that. It's a display of affection. It's something that grown-ups do."

"Is he your special friend? Like Isabel and Peter?"

"Um... something like that. But I don't think we're getting married like they are. At least, not for a very, very long time." She laughed a little, pushing my hair behind my ear. "It's a little early for that, don't you think? We're friends, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good night." She turned off the lamp and shut the door quietly.

I couldn't sleep. Momma kept arguing with her sisters, Winona wouldn't stop crying, and on top of it all, Ronnie came home stinking drunk and kept stumbling around in his room and cursing every time he ran into the wall or something.

"Why are you crying?" I asked Winona when she finally came in, face blotchy and hair a mess as she sniffled and undressed. She pulled a nightgown over her head jerkily. She pulled the blankets over her head and groaned, sighing.

"Momma doesn't love Daddy and he doesn't love her anymore either. Go to sleep, Tallulah."