The Devil's Beating His Wife by Siobhán Béabhar Page B

Show a bit of solidarity during this time."
    Mother raised her hand and smoothed down the loose curls of her hair. She grabbed the fabric of her dress and shook it out. "I should change into something else. Something black, I think." She gave one last glance at Carver then pivoted away from us. She walked into the foyer and skipped up the stairs.
    "What about dinner?" I asked the air.
    "If you're smart, you'll go into that kitchen and make us a batch of sandwiches. Your mother's mind is set on what she's going to wear this evening. Nothing good will come out of the kitchen once her mind is on something else. Better yet—" Father tapped Carver on his chest. "Why don't you have that wife of yours whip up something? Your mother will choke it down, but I'll make sure she does it silently. Bring Frankie and we'll make this a nice family get-together."
    "We're having a picnic to celebrate Roosevelt's death?" I asked, chagrined.
    "You know good and damn well that these affairs are about being seen and not about the reason for bringing people together," Father said. "The last thing we need is to air the little quibble between his wife and my wife out in public."
    Carver stared at Father and then slowly nodded. "I'll do that. I'll bring Mary-Alice and the boy."
     
    ***
     
    "I can't believe you are allowing that woman near my family."
    "What are you jabbering about? Like it or not, she's a part of this family."
    "If not for her, everything would be the same. You hear me? None of that would have happened years ago. She ruined my son. She ruined my relationship with Della. She ruined everything." Mother snapped the blanket and placed it onto the grass. She sat down and adjusted her skirts around her legs. Then she reached into the picnic basket and unloaded plates and silverware. There was no food in the basket. Father wouldn't allow it.
    He stood above Mother and ran his right hand over his face. I couldn't tell if he was hiding a frown or wiping his mouth of the filthy words hovering on his tongue. Cocking his head to the side, he looked at her with an unreadable expression.
    I decided to change the topic. "Look at all of these people gathered around. You'd think people would be tucked away at home, mourning in private. It looks like the damn Fourth of July out here. Will there be fireworks?" Anger ripped through me. My years spent fighting in Europe had distanced me from the realities of small town American life. Nothing brought together a community like a shared experience. Roosevelt had been our president. A diligent leader who brought us together through a difficult war.
    All of the white families were gathered in the park. You couldn't find a colored person amongst us. They were all congregated in the small Baptist church across the park.
    My eyes scanned over every person, forcing myself to recall who they were and what family they belonged to. I caught sight of my Aunt Fiona, my mother's sister, setting up a place with her family. There was Nixon Steele, clenching the hand of his new bride as they strolled from place to place. A local reporter was talking with a group of gentlemen, taking down their thoughts on the passing of our president.
    Murmurs and cries floated across the park. The small groups of families reminded me of soldiers huddled together to keep warm. I could practically hear gunfire in the background and encroaching tanks roaring just over yonder. I felt raw and exposed, standing here as if we had left ourselves wide open for an enemy attack.
    Through the haze, I could hear my mother wailing in excitement. She leapt from the blanket with her arms stretched wide. From the corner of my eye, I could see her hugging a young, pretty girl. I could hear her calling my name but my mind wouldn't allow me to listen to her words.
    A sharp smack came across the back of my head. I brought my hand up and touched the spot of the impact. Recoiling, I stared at its source and saw my father standing there. His hand was pulled