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by Marlys West
Sully says he wants to eat by the run-off gully. He's tired of cement, we all are. He's not even ten yet, small for his age and fair-skinned like me, but we aren't blood-related. Our church meets in my mother's cement-floored basement. It's cold there, even with blankets, even with a space heater in front of Lucky who doesn't get cold.
illustration by Jason StoutSully kicks the table. Don't do that, says my mother, stabbing the air around him with her finger. Sully kicks the table harder. We'll have to go. Lucky says give in to him, he's next in line at church. Lucky says let him have his fun while he still can.
Sully's full name is Sullert Vier Patterson. His mother was a girl I barely knew, who grew up, married Bertram, then got sick and died when Sully was still in diapers. My husband and I don't have any children, last year we found out why. Sully kicks the table so hard he hurts his foot.
Curl my hair for the gully picnic, says my mother and reaches with her free hand down to Sully. He stays under the table. My mother won't go anywhere without her hair curled. In her bathroom I take twenty curlers out of the drawer and pull the hair off them. Get the setting lotion, my mother calls.
I hear her tell Sully she'll get arthritis from a picnic, doesn't he care about that? I know she's got her hand upended like a claw in his face. Sully's kicking the table. My mother's ashtray is probably right now stuttering to the side of the table. Sully's got his eye on it, wondering how far he can go.
Sully and his father live with my mother. My husband and I live on the other side of town. Lucky lives with all of us. I don't mind that Lucky's back with my mother. Lucky eats a lot more than you'd think or hope. We aren't a Christ Church but we believe the less fortunate are to be shared with. Lucky's an unfortunate, she'll let you know. She got the calling when she was jailed for prostitution. My husband would love to know what exactly she did and how much she made doing it.
I hear the ashtray fall and Sully runs to the front door. My mother's grumbling but not cursing. She knows how much we need Sully, but he's been awful lately. Ma, I'll get that, I say, dumping the pins and curlers on the table in front of her. You forgot the lotion, she mutters.
Sully creaks the door back and forth on its hinges. My mother thinks it's Bertram, Sully's father, home from work. When Bertram's home my mother crosses her legs and swings the top leg back and forth, her slipper jammed on her thin blue foot. I ask Sully to run and get the lotion for me. He stands at the closed door and shakes his head. I tug my mother's hair and she folds her arms angrily across her chest. Please will you get the lotion? I ask him.
I saw three turtles the other day, he tells us. I continue to brush out my mother's hair. I'm doing Ma's hair so she can come with us, I tell him. Sully nods and brings me the lotion. My husband says he hasn't a clue what's in the kid's head. You were a boy once, I tell him, you should remember something. He doesn't.
I'm almost finished rolling my mother's hair when I hear Bertram outside, talking to Sully. He comes inside. The skin under his eyes is dark. He says hello but won't look at us. My mother sits up a little straighter and crosses her legs.
Bertram's shorter than I am and still looks like a widower. He drops a carton of cigarettes on the table in front of my mother. Here's to your health, he says and opens the ice box. There's no beer because Lucky's a recovered alcoholic, but we've got plenty of soda. Bertram opens a cola and sits down. He looks at my mother. You look good Rose, he says and laughs. I unroll the first roller and ask Bertram about his day.
Sully comes inside to get a soda and sits down. I wonder if it isn't a let-down to be the chosen one. It's a great honor and all of that, but you realize nothing changes; your father's still bitter, your mother's gone. Being chosen isn't the same thing as leading a trouble-free life.
Even if my husband didn't have sluggish sperm, we'd still have problems. The doctor said by the time sperm get to the egg, she's sick of the whole thing. It's interesting when they explain everything to you. It isn't interesting for my husband. It's hard for him not to take it personally. For a while he thrashed around more in bed, but then it was our turn to host Lucky and we didn't want to make so much noise.
I unroll the last curler from my mother's head. She and Bertram are arguing about something. Sully finishes his soda and sits quietly. I know he wants us to tell Bertram about dinner by the run-off gully. We're going on a picnic, I say. Bertram rolls his eyes and asks if this is one of Sully's ideas. Sully nods his head and kicks the table leg. Bertram puts his hand on Sully's leg to stop him and asks what time we're leaving. In an hour, I tell him. When my husband gets off work he'll go by and get Lucky from the counseling center.
If it weren't for us, Lucky would not be doing so well. She might have a relapse, start her old habits again, maybe even turn tricks to get liquor. I used to think that was wicked or shameful, now I think it's very sad. Lucky said no one talks about how dirty you get, just grubby, having sex with all those people. Lucky thanks us every Sunday for opening our hearts up to her.
I saw some turtles, Sully tells Bertram who wants to know what kind. I finish my mother's hair. She puts her hand behind her head and asks Bertram what he thinks now. Sully leaves the kitchen, following me to the bathroom. He opens the drawer for the curlers. She's not my mother, he says, and I nod because sometimes she's not mine either. Sully and I sit on the front step outside to wait. We wait almost two hours.
My husband pulls up with Lucky. She's so short I can see most of the top of her head in the car. When they see us sitting on the stoop they wave. I wave back. Sully runs down the stairs to the car to tell Lucky about the picnic.
I kiss my husband hello. His name's Truman and he's in a good mood. I can tell because he hugs me so that our hips meet. Lucky is watching us.
Sully runs up the stairs, Lucky behind him, wheezing lightly. Her legs are stout and swollen at the ankle. Lucky can't have children because of scar tissue. She wants us to have a baby, not just for me, but for the congregation. So far the congregation has five members: me, my husband, Bertram, my mother, Sully and Lucky. Lucky's looking for more people, but it's hard asking people to come sit in a basement and talk about beauty in the world.
Sully's our next leader because Lucky had a dream about him years ago, before she knew us. In her dream Sully was a grown man with a large family and many followers. Lucky said that Sully and the ones after him would be the ones to make amends in this world. She says we'll be the church of the negotiators. Lucky says that in order to understand people, you have to love them as if they were your own arm or leg or heart or lung. It's hard to love so much, but we try.
My mother's almost finished packing dinner. Lucky's in her room changing clothes. She wears a lot of shapeless dresses. Sully's drinking another soda. I worry that his teeth will fall out. I can't tell if Sully's our new leader or not, but he's going to need his teeth for a few more years in any case. We get blankets and plastic bags to sit on.
My husband drives us to the run-off gully. It's wet outside and the gully smells like mildew. The cars and trucks overhead are deafening. We have to yell at each other to be heard. Sully runs to the edge of the gully and looks for turtles. Lucky's eating and telling Bertram to think about another wife. She only says this when Sully's not nearby. My mother keeps interrupting Lucky, yelling, who'd marry him? We don't have room in our house for another woman. My mother's an infidel at times.
We eat egg salad and pickles. My mother keeps patting her hair, trying to tell if Lucky's still talking to Bertram about getting married. I tell Sully to stand back from the edge of the water. He ignores me. My husband eats three sandwiches then looks at the last on Sully's plate. Bertram tells Sully to come back and eat his dinner. Sully pretends he can't hear and runs up and down the gully's edge looking for turtles, frogs, anything living. He finds two tree snails. Lucky says he's a true naturalist. Sully drops both snails in the water when she's not looking. Truman eats half of Sully's sandwich and drinks more soda. I worry we'll all lose our teeth by the end of the year.
On the ride back to my mother's house, Sully falls asleep on me. He's not normally affectionate. When I put my arm around him he sits up and rubs his eyes. I pat my lap but he leans away from me and falls asleep on my mother. Bertram is squeezed between my mother and the door. He leans over and ruffles Sully's hair.
When Truman and I get back to our own house, he pulls a bag out from under his seat and carries it inside. He puts the keys on the shelf by the door and turns to me. I got you some things, he says, talking fast. This is for you. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks down the hall to our bedroom. I open the bag when I hear the door shut.
There's a bra and underwear and some stockings in the bag, all red and filmy. I wonder did it come out of the congregation money. We put a little bit in every week, even Sully does. I pull the stockings out of the bag. They have lace and elastic on the top, I guess so they don't fall down when you're walking around. My stomach is a pancake flipping over and over.
I peel my clothes off in the foyer and put the red things on. Everything fits, but I don't want to walk down the hall without shoes. What if I run the stockings? They look expensive. I put my sneakers back on and walk down the hall.
When I open the door to our bedroom, I fold my arms across my chest. Truman pulls the covers back and I sit on the bed next to him. I want to remind Truman that what we're doing isn't so new, but I don't. Truman pulls my feet up on the bed and takes the sneakers off, dropping them off his side. I don't know who to pray for, so I say a little blessing over my husbands' bent head. He's holding my feet like they're two good plates and he knows fine china.
