I always feel strange about TWs, never sure if something merits a “warning” because it all just seems part of life to me - sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes horrifying. Well, at any rate, there is alcoholism in this story and some domestic violence. I come from a long line of alcoholics, and maybe an even longer line of hot tempers - talk of these things have never been a “trigger” for me though sometimes what I call ‘crazy-making’ stories can bring me to both laughter and tears.
Yep, Mam hit the roof. Cassie watched her with gentle, gray owl-eyes that blinked nervously.
“That son of a bitch…that…” [mumbling under her breath far worse words she didn’t want the six-year-old to hear].
Payday was always tough, especially when Papaw started a new job, and he was always starting new jobs. Papaw was late getting home this evening, and the hours passed slowly. Mam paced the floor, and Cassie made mud pies till it got too dark to play outside. Finally, the pair of them settled into watching an old cowboy movie on one of the two channels that the rabbit ears brought in. At last, Papaw’s noisy engine could be heard coming up the driveway.
Papaw was a good mechanic but a bad drunk and often went on binges, disappearing for weeks until Mam had to hunt him down, drag him home and help him dry out. Drying out meant days in bed, shaking, sweating, cursing, puking, peeing, and runny poops. Cassie was not allowed around Papaw when he was getting dry, but it was a small house and she could not help but see, hear…and even smell everything it took to get dry. She heard her mother and Mam whispering sometimes that he got himself some more “D-Teas” and she reasoned they were talking about some sort of tea that made a person real sick. Cassie never asked Papaw or anybody about the D-Tea - she might be a little kid, but she understood all about family secrets - the world of grownups was a really weird place, it was conceivable that a grownup might keep doing something bad over and over again even if it made them sick.
He sauntered in with his big “Ain’t it a great day to be alive” face. Most drunk days were that way except for when they weren’t…or when he had to get dry. Papaw was pretty good at hiding his drunk but just like how a gambler knows all the tells, Mam knew all of his.
“You have been drinking, again!”
“No, Mary, I haven’t. I had some engine trouble and had to pull over and work on that piece of shit to get it started up again. Some guy finally stopped and gave me a jump.”
“Where’s your paycheck?”
“The boss was gone when I left, and he told Sam to tell me I could pick it up early Monday.”
“We have no money for the whole weekend. Nothing to buy food, gas, nothing!”
“I didn’t know we were that low – you always figure out something good to fix from nothing. You betcha, Mary – you’re the best cook in the county, heck, the whole state! Is the cookie jar empty – we could borrow some from it, then pay it all back Monday?”
“No. There is nothing in the cookie jar, I had to spend it on Cassie’s birthday present.”
Mam got up in his face and smelled his breath. He smiled and they stared at each other for a bit. Cassie could smell his breath too the minute he walked in the door -smelled like cherry breath mints. She wondered if this was what that D-Tea smelled like.
“Cassie?”
“Yes, Mam?”
“Go check the truck and see if you can find a bottle – it’ll be hidden good.” Mam was looking Papaw up and down with her you-make-me-sick look.
Cassie didn’t want to leave her movie and she noticed Papaw was giving her a funny look - a look she was not sure how to read.
“There is nothing in the truck, Mary. Let the kid watch her movie. What ya watching, Cassie?”
“Cassie let’s see how good you are at solving mysteries. There is a bottle, probably empty in the truck - it will smell like cherries – see if you can find it.”
Mam didn’t come right out and say it was a bottle of D-Tea, but Cassie knew; D-Tea must smell just like cherry breath mints! Solving real life mysteries was one of her favorite things to do and finding that D-Tea sounded like a much better thing than watching the old cowboy movie she had already seen several times. If she helped find the D-Tea and it got throwed out, then Papaw wouldn’t have to dry out.
“This is stupid, Mary,” Papaw said, rubbing his hands back and forth over his burr haircut.
Cassie jumped up and ran outside letting the ripped-up screen door slam behind her.
Papaw’s truck was an old jalopy - it was no looker - seemed like it would fit better in the junk yard than in their cinder driveway. Cassie started her detective work back in its bed. She found wadded up food wrappers from the A&W Root beer stand, empty bottles of pop…some cans of motor oil, tools, Papaw’s tee-shirt all wadded up - but no bottles of D-Tea that smelled like cherries. She sorted as carefully as a newly turned six-year-old could, determined to solve the mystery.
Some time passed and she got bored. Abandoning the truck bed, she opened the creaky passenger door and peaked into the cab. Nothing stood out. No bottles of D-Tea even though she could smell cherries (probably from Papaw breathing out his cherry breath). She ran back to the house.
“Nope, no bottle! I looked real good, Mam.”
Papaw smiled, “See? Good job, Cassie, now let’s watch that movie.”
“I want you to go back again. Look harder. Look in places a sneaky, bad guy would think to hide something. You have to be smart if you want to replace Paul Drake and convince Perry Mason to hire you.”
“Come on, Mary…can’t you let this silliness go?” Papaw tried to snuggle up to Mam, but she was not having it.
Cassie pictured some Snidely Whiplash character secreting bottles of D-Tea somewhere in Papaw’s truck, to get him in trouble…Papaw didn’t need any help getting in trouble. But even though she knew bad stuff was about to go down, and it had something to do with cherry-smelling D-Tea, Cassie didn’t see - couldn’t see - Papaw being a sneaky, bad guy. Still, come what may, she had been given a mission, a challenge, and she had something to prove to Mam (that she was smart), and to the gods of cinema that always had their eye out for a sharp, new actress – she could be the first girl Paul Drake!
Cassie bolted out the door again with renewed energy and focus.
She ransacked the front seat and found all sorts of interesting, and disgusting things: cans holding spit tobacco, cigarette butts, gooey handkerchiefs, but no cherry-smelling bottles. Flummoxed she sat on the old, ripped upholstery that covered the foam stuffing on the driver’s side of the truck. There was a pretty good rip in it and pieces of the stuffing lay around the floor and on the seat.
Think like a bad guy, Cassie.
Maybe a bad guy would tear a rip in Papaw’s seat so that he could hide something in there. She reached her hand inside, moving the foam around. It felt unpleasant, vaguely damp, and definitely smelly. All at once, near the bottom, she felt something hard and wrapped her fingers around it.
Cassie pulled out a bottle alright – nearly empty, and she unscrewed the cap to smell it. A sickeningly sweet cherry aroma wafted up - just like Papaw’s breath. She sounded out the letters on the bottle: C H E R R Y V O D K A - it didn’t say anything about D-Tea. Of course, D-Tea was a secret, so probably it wouldn’t be written on the label - but vodka was no secret, any more than beer, whisky, wine, rum, gin, brandy, or moonshine - Cassie knew all about those things.
She figured that she had not found D-Tea but instead a bottle of cherry vodka and it started to dawn on her that some bad guy didn’t hide the vodka bottle deep in the foam of Papaw’s seat, Pawpaw had. He would be in trouble for sure, but not as much trouble as he would have been if she had found a hidden bottle of D-Tea. She felt sad and didn’t much like it that Mam had made her help get Papaw into trouble, but she had solved a mystery and if the ever-vigilant cinema gods were watching, they were probably impressed…not to mention that now, Mam would see that she was smart. But what if she stuffed the bottle back into the foam and lied? Cassie doubted this would do any good - Mam would not give up. She would stomp out to the truck, discover the bottle, know Cassie told a story and then both she and Papaw would be in big trouble.
It’s always best to tell the truth, Cassie.
Slowly and thoughtfully, she walked back to the house holding the incriminating cherry vodka bottle and stood on the porch wishing no one would notice her.
Mam’s back was to the door, and she was cleaning the sink, but Papaw spotted her instantly– there was that funny look again, but this time Cassie knew how to read it – it was a look of dread and anger, a look that a bad, sneaky guy might show when he was afraid of getting caught, and it hurt her feelings that Papaw would give her such a look.
Mam turned, saw Cassie and the bottle, smirked, and smiled meanly at Papaw.
Then the yelling started.
Then the pushing, throwing things and cussing started.
There was nothing new about all this except one thing – this time, Cassie made it happen.
She sat the cherry vodka bottle on the porch and walked out to her swing set, far enough away where the words, the sound of things being thrown, and the yelling could not reach her. It was the dark of the evening and she wasn’t usually allowed to be out at this hour, but the woods were cool, the swing set squeaked hypnotically, and the night creature sounds felt soothing.
Cassie dreamt the cinema gods were talking about her, smiling, until at last, a booming voice said she could have the role of Paul Drake – Perry Mason was waiting to meet her. Cassie shook her head hoping she wouldn’t make the cinema gods mad. Mr. Mason was just going to have to make do with the Paul Drake he already had – she wanted nothing more to do with detective work.
Somewhere in the early morning, Papaw carried her back to the house and put her in bed; she knew it was him because though not as strong as earlier, he still smelled like cherry breath mints.
Helplessness is not hopelessness, he said to me!
It all seems a part of life! Thank you Tracy, G