Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1) - Page 123

“I’m born to raise hell,” she would tell me, and she would laugh.

Am I born to raise hell, too? I would wonder.

“I hope you’ll behave yourself, Phoebe,” Daddy suddenly said as if he could read my thoughts.

He said it like a prayer.

And what are prayers, I thought, if not just little lies between yourself and God?

2

At Aunt Mae Louise and Uncle Buster’s

I never really believed I was saying good-bye to anyone or saying good-bye to my home in the city. In my heart I truly believed I would be coming back sooner rather than later. Back at the apartment that night, Daddy hovered about like a nervous soon-to-be father, pacing in front of my door while I packed with little or no enthusiasm.

“Don’t take any of those wild clothes of yours, Phoebe. You’ll just steam up your aunt and uncle. Leave them here,” he pleaded. “None of those rings in your nose and your belly button, and no cigarettes. For God’s sake, no cigarettes. She becomes a banshee when she sees people smoking, a truly wild spirit warning people of impending death.”

It irked me how afraid of Aunt Mae Louise he was.

“I don’t have any cigarettes and I don’t have any wild clothes, Daddy. I’m not wearing no old lady’s clothes just to please her.”

“You’ve got to make this work,” he said. “Take it slowly, a day at a time. I’ll come by as much as I can, and I promise I’ll take you places on weekends.”

“Where you going to take me, Daddy? Some kiddy fun park?” I threw back at him.

“I’m just trying to make it work,” he protested. “We’ll go to a movie or I’ll take you to a nice restaurant, whatever, but I’m not bringing you back here to mingle with those juvenile delinquents, so don’t ask.”

“Right,” I said, looked at a miniskirt I knew would set off Aunt Mae Louise, and then tossed it on the closet floor.

“Maybe I’m better off with some strange foster family,” I muttered.

After I packed, I called Sylvia and told her what was happening.

“You’re movin‘?”

“It’s temporary,” I said. “Believe me.”

“Right. You ain’t that far away anyhow,” she said. “You come in on weekends and stay with me.”

That cheered me up until I considered that Aunt Mae Louise would probably not allow it, and Daddy had made it clear he wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to put up with it, I vowed. I don’t know why I’m packing so much, I told myself. I’ll be coming back so fast, it’ll make Daddy’s head spin. Either that or I’ll just run off like Mama.

“Maybe you and Beneatha could come out there, too,” I suggested to Sylvia.

“What’s to do out there?” she asked.

“I don’t know. When I find out, I’ll tell you.”

“Good luck with that,” she said.

I was so depressed I couldn’t sleep, so I went back out and saw Daddy was sitting in the living room staring at the television set. I could tell he didn’t care what he watched. His eyes were glassy, and he didn’t even realize I was standing beside him.

He can’t be too happy about how his life was turning out, either, I thought, but I didn’t feel sorry for him as much as I felt he should do something about it, prove he had that spine Mama said he didn’t have. Why was he so defeated? Plenty of my friends lived with a single parent and got by.

“Why don’t you just get a job here in the city, Daddy?” I asked him. “That way you wouldn’t be away from home and no one could come take me off. Maybe we could move to a better apartment or something, too.”

“Whaaa?” he said. He looked up at me.

“I asked you, why don’t you get a different job?”

Tags: V.C. Andrews Broken Wings Horror
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