Page 14 of Under the Tulip Tree
I’d just moved to the front door when I heard a soft sound behind me. Mrs. Washington stirred before her eyes opened, momentary confusion filling them at seeing me there. Then she nodded as if remembering who I was and why I was in her home.
“Guess I went to sleep.” She gave a drowsy chuckle. “Not a very good hostess, am I?”
I smiled. “We both needed a break.” I gathered my courage. “Would it be possible for me to use your bathroom?”
“’Course, chile, ’course. I shoulda told you first thing how to get to the outhouse.”
As she slowly got to her feet, my stomach lurched. Did she truly mean what I thought she did?
“It’s out back, just past Jael’s garden.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t do anything butnod and move in the direction she pointed. A door next to the kitchen sink led to the backyard, which surprisingly held more flowers than the front yard. I’d failed to see them earlier from the window over the sink because the house sat higher than ground level, requiring a set of steep concrete steps. A well-worn dirt path wove its way through the plants to a small vegetable garden that must provide an abundance of fresh produce during the summer months. Now only a handful of green tomatoes remained on the vine, though small holes told me worms had claimed them before Jael could.
Beyond the garden and tucked into a corner of the small yard sat the wooden structure I sought. Never in all my life had I used an outhouse. Mama would be horrified to see me now, but there wasn’t any choice in the matter. I couldn’t wait three hours until Mr. Norwood arrived to pick me up. The ride home would surely be miserable even if I could contain myself until then.
I cautiously opened the door. The odor that met me caused me to catch and hold my breath, although I desperately wished I’d done so before filling my lungs with rancid air. With as much speed as I could manage, I took care of the deed and hastened from the shed, practically stumbling away as air swooshed from my burning lungs. I couldn’t imagine using such a crude facility again, and I made a mental note not to drink anything at my interviews until I’d ascertained the bathroom conditions.
When I approached the house, I glanced up to find Frankie watching me from the kitchen window. Her gazewent from me to the outhouse, then back to me again before she turned and disappeared from my view.
Had she witnessed my desperate flight from the smelly privy? A place she and her caregiver were forced to use every day?
I entered through the back door to find Mrs. Washington seated in her chair again. Two slices of bread spread with purple jam and two hunks of cheese sat on a plate on the low coffee table.
“Thought you might be gettin’ hungry.” She motioned to the food.
I returned to my seat, hoping the outhouse episode would pass without mention. “Thank you. I didn’t think to bring my lunch.” I gave a small shrug of apology.
She helped herself to one of the bread slices. “I guessed right then. This is your first interview, ain’t it?”
“Yes. And no.” I took the other slice while she nibbled on hers. “I had a job at a newspaper for several years, first working in the mail room and then as a secretary, before my boss promoted me to reporter. I interviewed a number of people for news stories, including the governor.” I didn’t mention that Governor McAlister abruptly ended the interview when he learned who my father was. Dad, a staunch and vocal Republican, had laid blame for the stock market crash solely at the feet of the Democrats before he disappeared into his drunken exile. Although McAlister wasn’t governor at the time, he didn’t want anything to do with a Leland and demanded George send someone else to finish the interview.
“Well now, that’s somethin’ to be proud of.”
We ate in silence. I noticed a glass of water on the table beside my chair. Although I could have used some to wash down my lunch, I left it where it sat. I didn’t want to visit the outhouse again.
Whether or not Mrs. Washington took notice of my ignored water, she drank her fill. When she settled back against the chair, she watched me with a look that could only be described as knowing. Finally she spoke.
“I’d venture to guess you ain’t never used an outdoor privy before today.”
I stopped chewing the bite of cheese I’d just taken, wondering how she’d guessed. Swallowing the lump, I shook my head. There was no reason to lie. “No, ma’am.”
After a moment, she chuckled. “Your face gives away too much information. I seen you come outta that outhouse like you was on fire.” She chuckled again, then shrugged. “We always talked ’bout having an indoor bathing room added on, but the money seemed needed for something more important every time. After all these years it don’t make any sense to worry over one now. I’ll let whoever lives here after I’m gone bother with it.”
I couldn’t think of anything more important than the sanitary convenience of an indoor lavatory, so I simply nodded.
She grew somber. “I’d have given anything for use of an outhouse the day I went to be Miss Charlotte’s companion.”
That was my cue to set aside our simple repast and return to the interview. I retrieved my notebook and pencil,wondering what she meant as I began jotting down her words.
“Yes’m.” She stared off into the distance as though remembering that long-ago day, massaging her deformed hand. “One trip to the outhouse woulda saved me a lifetime of pain and suffering.”
“Hold still, Frankie.”
Aunt Liza, a woman of no relation to me, gave my shoulders a firm shake to stop my fidgeting while she attempted to poke pins into the hem of one of Miss Charlotte’s cast-off dresses. The smooth, soft, green material with tiny white dots felt wonderful against my skin after wearing coarse cotton all my life, but the lace around the neck and cuffs itched something fierce.
“I can’t help it.” I yanked again at the stiff fabric to keep it from irritating me.
Aunt Liza huffed and glared at Mammy where she sat peeling potatoes. “Lucindia.” Aunt Liza’s scowl landed on me again even as she spoke to Mammy. “This girl ain’t got no understandin’ of manners. She done talked back to me three times already, and I ain’t even got this dress half finished.” She brought her nose up close to mine. “You stand still or I’ll take a switch to you.”
