Surviving Lions

I’m movin’ in with my friends,” Elena Mae said through a mouthful of collard greens. Ruth scoffed. “You ain’ got no friends, gal,” Ruth deadpanned, before a chorus of giggles from her other girls filled the air. “Hush up, gals!” Robbie half-whispered to his daughters. “’Mae, we need you her’n, to help de family. Dese other gals need you to look after ‘em after school, yo’ ma needs help ‘round dis her’n house…an’ we don’ know dese folks you talkin’ ‘bout.” “Dey’s Adventists, Daddy; Seventh Day Adventists. Dey worship on Saturday. The true holy day,” Elena Mae said. Her mother sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. Stomping her foot under the table, Ruth said, “Adventists? How you get tangled up with dem folk? I always shut de door right in dey face myself when dey manages to come ‘roun’ me. Jus’ like dem Witnesses. A-bam! Dat’s what dey her’ns from me. Door shut,” Ruth said. Robbie swallowed a chuckle. He knew his wife could be crude, but to him she was hilarious. “—It’s jes’ too many people in dis house,” Elena Mae said, her eyes tearing up. In a choked voice, she said, “I can’ breathe.” Ruth lowered her hand and went back to eating for a few minutes. The only other sound in the room was Elena Mae sniffling. Clearing her throat, Ruth continued. “An’ you think dese Adventists is gonna give you a better place to live? I always says y’all don’ know how good ya got it. Yo’ daddy was good to ya. He made sure you ain’t miss one meal! An’ in dese days an’ times when many folks do, dat ain’ easy,” Ruth said and forked in more stew. After wiping the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin she’d sewed herself, in a low voice, Ruth asked, “An’ you says dey got room for ya?” Sighing, Ruth shook her head over a sweaty glass of iced tea. “Yes, Mama. Dey says dey do,” Elena Mae said, sounding perfectly confident and feeling half that emotion. Ruth looked at Robbie. Let her go, his eyes seemed to say. After drinking a long gulp of sweet tea from her glass, Ruth said, almost defeatedly, “…Well, ain’ nobody gonna throw no fit if you is determined to go.” Ruth threw her napkin into her plate and left the table. Elena Mae looked at Robbie quizzically, and for assurance. He returned her gaze and winked. Elena Mae glanced around the room one final time and sighed. That’s when she saw her younger sister, Li’l Mama hugging the doorway, watching her with big, sad eyes. “What?” Elena Mae said through a sigh. “You goin’?” asked Li’l Mama chewing on her index finger absently. Elena Mae sat on the bed to tie one of her shoes. “Mm-hmm.” “Daddy n’ Mama know?” “Mm-hmm. Daddy say I could.” Suddenly, giant tears filled Li’l Mama’s eyes and drained down her cheeks. “Come here,” Elena Mae said, holding out her arms. Li’l Mama ran over, grabbed her sister, and held her tightly. After a long silence, the girls let go, and Li’l Mama ran out of the room sniffling. Elena Mae blinked away burgeoning tears and got down on her knees to check under the bed one last time, finding a pair of shoes she meant to pack. “You all right, gal?” Robbie asked, standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom wearing his apron, white undershirt, and house trousers. Elena Mae looked up from the floor with watery eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said re-seating herself on the edge of the bed. Wringing her hands nervously, Elena Mae’s moist eyes darted between her father’s concerned face and the floor under her feet. “You ain’ got to go jus’ ‘cause you said you wanna befo’. You ain’ got to.” Brightening, Elena Mae blurted out, “I ain’ gon’ be but two roads over, Daddy. Dey gon’ gimme dey oldest girl’s room. She gon’ to dat famous girls’ school up in A’lanta…” Elena Mae’s voice trailed off as she recognized the hurt boiling in her father’s gentle, brown eyes. His voice interrupted her second thoughts. “B’lieve me not, ‘Mae, all us—‘specially dem li’l ones—is sad to see you goin’,” said Robbie, shifting his weight against the door frame. Elena Mae shook her head in assent and sighed. Looking at the floor, she said quietly, “Bet Mama ain’.” Robbie smiled with understanding in his eyes. “Aw, now. Stop dat, girl. Yo’ mama loves you. Y’all jus’ too much alike. Dat’s all. She loves you,” Robbie said firmly. “We ain’ alike, Daddy. Dat’s what’s wrong. We ain’ got nothin’ in common ‘cept our looks,” Elena Mae said in an exasperated voice. Then, sparking up a bit, she added, “But I love her, too, Daddy.” Robbie laughed. “’Sides, who gon’ do dem chilrum’s hair once you gone? Dat’s de one thing I can’t claim. Dem heads is better off left up to you ladies.” Elena Mae let a cackle escape and smiled widely. She was the resident hairdresser and was often the one that others came to when they were having a bad hair day. In no more than five minutes with little more than a comb and a jar of Royal Crown grease, Elena Mae’d worked her ‘miracle’. Robbie lowered himself onto the bed next to his daughter and rubbed her back soothingly. “You sure dem Adventist folk is gonna be good to you, ‘Mae?” Elena Mae looked away and nodded. “Yes, Daddy.” Then, Robbie studied the brave smile his daughter flashed his way and pushed away his doubts for the time being. “Well, like I always says to you chilrum, ‘be particular’. You ain’ got to go along wit’ jes’ anythin’, y’ know. You is a Morgan. So, now, you let me know if dey don’t treat you good. ‘Cause you can always come right back home if’n dey don’t. You ‘member dat, her’n, gal?” Smiling appreciatively, Elena Mae shook her head. “Yes, sir.”