Ginny

“Dumb ol’ Ginny got no brains, never had any…

Dumb ol’ Ginny got no brains, never had any…”

I could hear my cousins chant, and I knew they meant for me to hear. It was just a whisper of a song comin’ from a darkened room down the hall. The chant started as soon as I’d slipped out of the room we were sharing. They were s’posed to be sleepin’...but then again, so was I. Aunt Nettie had put us all on a pallet in Gram’s sewing room, all the younger ones. She and Gerald were takin’ my bed for the night.

We’d been told to be quiet and go to sleep with the sternest warning. I did try to do as she said, but with my cousins whisperin’ and gigglin’ and pokin’ fun of me, I just couldn’t. They’d been at it all my twelve or so of my years, pickin’ and tryin’ to taunt me wi’d their little song. One would think that on such a day as this, they wouldn’t carry on so, but they did. I just couldn’t take it anymore, so I got myself up. After all, the talk takin’ place was about me, and I figured I needed to hear it.

It was a most serious and dreadful day. Even as bein’ so dumb as I was, I knew that hereafter, my life would be changed forever. I s’pose I’d see many such days ahead of me now. But this one was ‘specially hurtful.

Blocking out their chant, I listened carefully to the talk going on in the eating room, and I heard my pap say, “I just can’t abandon her now.” From the hiding place in the hall, I watched him wipe a tear from his eye. “I promised her gram I would care for her, and by jimmies, I have to keep that promise.” 

The memory of Pap sitting at the table with the family all around, everybody looking so sad-faced, was to be ever stuck in my head.

Pap's hand cradled a cup of cold coffee, his gaze fixed on its murky depths. The late hour hung heavy in the air, past midnight, and sleep eluded us all. The fireplace cast a dim glow, the dying embers barely illuminating the room. A chill settled in, a chill that seemed to seep into our very bones.

In the center of the parlor, the coffin lay solemnly, propped up by two kitchen chairs. Draped in white sheets in a feeble attempt to dress them up, the chairs still betrayed their simple origins. It was a haunting scene, a stark reminder of the finality of life.

As we stood in silence, the weight of grief and loss hung heavy in the air. The room seemed to hold its breath as if waiting for the inevitable. And in that moment, time stood still, the only sound the soft crackle of the dying fire.

The beautiful pine wood box, adorned with intricate carvings and painted a brilliant white, represented the stylishness and grace that was Gram. Within its soft linen lining, delicately trimmed with eyelet lace, rested my Gram's head upon a small pillow, cradled with tenderness.

The gleaming brass handles, three on each side, adorned the box's exterior, adding a touch of sophistication to its design. The lid, painted in the same brilliant white, had a beautifully carved rose right in its center.

A simple bunch of wildflowers, lovingly tied together with a piece of yarn, was placed in a jar near the coffin, a heartfelt gesture from Missus Ida, Gram's dearest friend. Within the coffin lay Pap's beloved wife of fifty-six years, my Gram, a woman of strength, love, and unwavering devotion.

Gram died today…or was it now yesterday? She had what some called the sickness. The doctor called it typhus fever. All I knew was Gram had gotten awfully sick and had been in bed for a long time. I watched helplessly as the woman who had been the cornerstone of our family slowly withdrew into herself. Her laughter, which had filled our home with warmth, became a rare sound, replaced the sound of labored breaths. 

 I was by her side every day of her sickness for as long as they would let me. I even helped her take her last sip of water. She took that sip, and I gently wiped her mouth and watched as she just sort of went to sleep. As I sat beside her, I could tell what had been my Gram was gone. After that, I sat there for the longest time, watching her chest rise and fall for as long as they would let me stay. It was Nettie that made me leave her side. 

They made me stay out when the men came and took Gram away. Hours later, they brought her back in the box. It was only after the flowers were arranged and everything was set straight that they let me see her again.

I stood by the box for as long as they would allow, gazing at her lifeless face. Though my chest hurt something awful, I didn’t cry; I thought of her words tellin’ me to be strong and didn’t shed a tear. The air around me seemed to thicken with sorrow, wrapping me in a suffocating blanket that I couldn't escape. But still, I didn't cry.

All afternoon and late into the night, Pap and his son Gerald sat talking at the table. Gerald’s future was foremost on his mind, and he was exhausted and frustrated from pleading and trying to reason his point of view.  I knew that if it weren’t for his wife, Nettie, by his side, Gerald would have given in long ago.

“I know you promised her, Pap, but you got t’ think of yourself now. When Gram was alive, the two of you made out alright…but now…you just can’t.”

“All I have left is my word, Gerald. I gave my word to your ma whilst she was on her deathbed, and I aim to keep it. That girl meant the world to her,” Pap spoke without lifting his head. He was tired.

I could see Gerald was tired, too. His face was long and showed his frustration. It was late and he hadn’t had a drink all day. He did a lot of drinking even though Pap didn’t cotton to it and he tried to hide it, but Pap knew. 

As the night dragged on, Gerald's impatience grew, causing him to stand and pace as he tried to collect his thoughts. He couldn't help but shoot Pap a glare with a snarling face when Pap wasn't looking, but he dared not do so when Pap could see him. Despite being a grown man, Gerald still held a deep fear of his father, keeping him from being openly disrespectful.

Gerald’s wife, Nettie, on the other hand, seemed unusually patient with Pap. Although she never admitted it, I could sense that she was secretly relieved Gram had finally passed away.

For weeks on end, she had labored with the ordeal of cleaning and caring for Gram…Gram being bedridden and unable to care for herself. In her mind, I know she was thinking just a few more hours to settle this mess was not too much to endure. A few more hours and she would be rid of the lot of them, and they would have the entire farm to themselves. 

Pap took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. With a glance in the direction of the coffin, I heard him quietly say, “Isabelle loved that girl, ‘n Ginny loved her.” 

“We know, Pap,” Nettie whispered, giving Pap's arm a gentle pat. “But you know, now that Gram is gone, it’s just too much for you. You can’t care for that child all by yo’self. Ain’t fair to either of you. You got to give her up.”

I watched Pap swallow hard and hang his tired head. For the first time, I realized he was so very old. I could see his weathered face from the flickering lantern; its dim light enhanced his deep wrinkles. I suppose in his heart, he knew what she said was true, and it hurt him deeply. As I stood there, a mere child in comparison to the burden he bore, I could sense the pain in his heart. The truth of her words cut deep, and I could see the hurt etched in his eyes. It was a harsh reality that even I, in my youth, could not ignore.

Despite their age and weariness, Pap had always been there for me, alongside Gram, doing everything in their power to care for me. And now, as I stood witness to his silent suffering, I realized even more the depth of their love and sacrifice.

“I know,” he finally admitted, “but she has had it so rough.” He looked down the hallway with sad eyes as if he were looking right at me, and my heart almost burst in two.

‘Course, he couldn’t see me sitting there all alone in the dark, huddled against the wall, and listening to their grown-up talk. In my hands, I held the rag doll Gram had made for me. I fought hard against it, but despite all I could do, tears ran down my cheeks from the words they were saying. Still, I dared not cry out. Even though my head hurt from holding back, I dared not cry out. Gram had told me not to cry, and I always listened to Gram.

My heart was breaking with the thought of life without Gram. And now— now they wanted to take my Pap from me. I didn’t understand. Why did Gerald and Nattie have to be so mean? Why couldn’t me and Pap look after ourselves and each other? Folks would help out when needed, just like they did when Gram was alive. I could cook and clean almost as well as Gram. She’d showed me. I could, and I would take care of Pap.

“Pap, you made a promise to Gram, who is gone, and to a drunkard, no one has seen in years. You don’t have to keep that promise now. Have you thought about maybe placing Ginny in an orphanage?”

An orphanage? I knew the word, and it almost took my breath at the mention of it. The other younguns, my cousins, had told me of the orphanages. They used the word as torment, saying it was where I would be put should anything happen to Pap and Gram. Even though I knew it was a lie, they'd say they’d heard Pap and Gram talking about putting me there. They told me stories about how awful a place it was. They said the children in the orphanage had to work all day and night, and if they didn't, they got a whoopin’... and how they only got stale bread to eat and sour milk. 

Dropping the ragdoll, I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming out. Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks, and my chest felt like it was exploding. Certainly, Pap wouldn’t put me in an orphanage!

Before Pap could say anything, Nettie broke in, “And, besides, Pap, you know that girl isn’t right. Everybody knows about her ma being crazy as a bedbug. You know Ginny ain’t much better, and the older she gets, the more she acts it too. Why, just last week, I saw her down at the creek just yelling and arguing with herself like there were two people with her. I don’t mean no harm… I mean, the poor girl hardly talks to the other children.”

“Course she don’t,” Pap’s head shot up. “All they do is make fun of her.”

Nettie's lips tightened, and a frown creased her brow. “That's just how kids are, Pap. They make fun of what they don't understand. But you know she's not like the rest. Even with Gram's passing, she hasn't shown a hint of sorrow. Not a single tear shed,” she exclaimed, gesturing with disgust.

She was right; I held it back hard when I was around other folks. I was remembering what Gram had said anytime I was upset or mad at other folks. She’d tell me young ladies don’t act out. 

She often said, “Ginny, only those who care about you can hear you when you’re quiet. If folks don’t understand your silence, they’ll never understand your words.” I was doin’ my best to mind her wishes now.

What she’d said about me yelling and arguing with myself was true, too. I remember it well. It was the day I figured out Gram was dying. I rightly did me some yelling that day. I was hurt and angry, mostly at God. I had to do me some making up to him afterward ‘cause I’d been right ugly about it.

I remembered the long talks Gram gave to me about being mad. There were many times I’d be mad as fire at one of my cousins and wanna cause a ruckus, but rather than let me, she’d take my hand and sit me in the kitchen, and we’d talk. While I didn’t always understand her words at the time, I remembered them rightly. 

She would look me in the eye and say, “Ginny, don’t ever regret your life. Good days give you happiness, bad days give you experience, worst days give you lessons, and the best days give you memories.”

She did most of the talkin’, and I’d listen. Gram had a way of wiping out all the cruel things other folks said and did to me.