Author’s Note: I’m torn between the Disney-fication of fairytales and just plain feeling bad for Hans Christian Anderson, who, it was suggested to me, saw himself as the Little Mermaid. For the record, I love Disney, and H.C. Anderson, and the persistence of love.
Allie sat in the front row and watched as waves of mourners processed around the peach-and-wainscot reception room. She recognized Miss Archer right away. Gran and Grandaddy’s next door neighbor, she traded pies and casseroles with Gran in exchange for fresh flowers from the garden or the mittens Gran knitted while watching her shows. Ms. Archer dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief and rubbed Mama’s back when they embraced. She held both Grandaddy’s hands while sniffling condolences and apologizing for her tears.
“But William, you let me know if you need anything, alright?” she insisted, their joined hands moving back and forth in an affirming shake. “I’m right next door.”
“I will, Melody.”
“You do that,” she insisted, and pressed his forearm.
“Mm hm,” Mama added, gently ushering her along.
Miss Archer stopped in front of the plinth upon which sat the urn with Gran’s ashes. She folded her hands, praised Jesus, and withdrew, wiping a fresh wave of tears in the process.
“Does Miss Archer fancy you, Dad?” Mama whispered during a break in the line.
“No idea.”
Gran’s friends from the public library arrived together. Mrs. Tweed shared a soft smile so foreign from her severe moue and batwing-framed gaze that Allie fretted staring too long. But Ms. Thornton-Johnson, the children’s librarian who smelled of roses and hand cream and never spoke an unkind word, stooped when she neared to hold Allie’s hand and offer a hug, which the girl accepted.
Then Mr. Riley shuffled up in a dapper brown suit and high-polished shoes, fedora in hands. Allie listened closely; she loved Mr. Riley’s voice. It sounded soft and smooth as velvet.
Mr. Riley was a Saturday fixture in Gran and Grandaddy’s house. While Gran and Mama helped with church functions or attended library meetings, Allie, Grandaddy, and Mr. Riley would watch football or baseball games on the television in the parlor. “Grandaddy’s room,” Gran called it. If there wasn’t a game, they might put on a movie, or just read books. Grandaddy had a wall full of them, from home repair to sports biographies to history and fairytales. Sometimes he and Mr. Riley took turns reading to her.
“James,” Mama began, “thank you for coming.”
He embraced her gently.
“Of course.”
He turned to Allie, who jumped up and hugged him around the waist, breathing in his familiar musky cologne. He patted her and held the back of her head they way parents hold their babies.
“You alright, Will?”
From under Mr. Riley’s long arm, Allie watched Grandaddy raise his open hands.
“It is what it is.”
Mama peeled Allie away from him so he could address Grandaddy directly.
“Well, it was a good long run, wasn’t it?”
Grandaddy nodded. “Thirty four years.” For the first time all day, he teared up.
Mr. Riley offered him a hankie.
“No, I got mine,” he said. “Thank you.”
“We’ll talk more after?” Mr. Riley asked.
“Of course. I’ll call you.”
Little by little the room filled up. Allie recognized Pastor White from the church, and several members of the choir. Gran had sung alto for a few years.
Then Daddy walked in. He didn’t bother with the line. Instead, he marched right up the center aisle, rumpled suit hanging off his lanky frame, silence following in his wake. He stopped before the urn.
“He gonna knock it over?” Somebody behind Allie murmured.
But Daddy lowered his head, folded his hands, and stood there a few seconds. Mama took a step toward him, but Grandaddy stopped her, shaking his head.
Daddy turned toward them. Allie saw his red nose, his bloodshot eyes—he looked the same as ever. His brow furrowed, so she turned to the source of his frustration. Mama pointed toward the door, shooing him with a hateful glare; Grandaddy had stepped out of view, into a nook created by the flower displays from the Library Board and the City Council, both of whom had knocked heads with Gran more than once over the years.
Mr. Riley stood up.
“Brian,” he said gently. “If you said your peace to your Mama, perhaps you want to take a seat.”
Daddy glared. “Don’t even start with me, Riley.”
But Pastor White and Deacon Anderson appeared at Daddy’s side. “Not now, Brian,” the pastor said. “Your Mama wouldn’t want this.”
“There’s a lot of things my Mama didn’t want.”
“That’s right. And you carrying on here would’ve been at the top of her list.”
Daddy moved to speak, thought twice, and allowed the deacon to walk him out.
Allie thought about the last time she and Gran spoke.
“Allison, why is it always blue jeans and tee shirts with you?”
Allie stood in the kitchen, one foot atop the other. Gran preferred she not bounce from foot to foot. “You look like you need the ladies’ room,” she had once said. Allie tried hard to keep still, but when she focused on her feet, that pent up energy turned into swaying hips or flailing arms. Gran took to holding Allie by the shoulders when she wanted to speak with the girl.
“You see this suit?” Gran wore her favorite pink pantsuit with a white blouse and gold cross necklace that day. ”When I walk into the library or the city council wearing this suit, this blouse, they send a message. They say ‘I’m here for business.’ Now what do your grass-stained jeans and dirty tee say about you?”
“That I’m twelve?”
Gran tsked. “They say I got to have another talk with your Mama again.”
But she wasn’t wearing her pantsuit the day she died. If she had, Allie thought, she might not have gone face first into her mashed potatoes at Benjamin’s Diner, right in front of her Tuesday supper club.
But when it came time for the funeral, Allie wore a new pantsuit of her own: light blue, in a show of respect.
After the interment and church basement meal, Mama planned Grandaddy’s evenings.
“We’ll be over each night after work,” she began.
“You don’t need to, Denise,” Grandaddy insisted. “I got things under control. Between the church and the library, I won’t need to cook for a month.” He smiled his bravest.
“Mm hm.”
He pointed to the folding table where the ladies’ auxiliary had begun packaging leftovers. “They got chicken soup. Casseroles. There’s a container full of ham that I’ll freeze.”
“Mm hm. What about putting her things away?”
“Her things are already away. That’s what the bureau and dresser and closet are for.”
“Mm hmm,” Mama said a third time. Allie could have told him it was no use, but she suspected he knew that already.
Grandaddy sighed. “Why do I get the feeling this is happening whether I like it or not?”
As the conversation turned toward the specifics of whether and how often to call on Miss Archer, Allie stepped outside. Brian awaited her.
“How’s my little girl?”
Allie scanned left and right. They weren’t alone. Good.
“Fine, Daddy.”
“You gonna come see me sometime?”
She hesitated. “Not until Mama approves.”
Brian huffed and kicked an acorn. “She ain’t ever gonna approve.”
His daughter began shifting. One foot stepped on the other. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have hit her.”
“It was once. An accident.”
“Daddy, I saw you. You hit her five times.”
“But—“
Mr. Riley appeared in the doorway. “Allison, go on inside. Your Mama wants you.”
Daddy stopped her. “No. Stay here.” He turned to Mr. Riley. “I’m talking to her.”
“I can see that, Brian. But her first duty is to her Mama.”
Brian spit on the pavement and shoved Allie aside. She cried out, tumbled over the mums, and landed in the flowerbed.
He balled his fists and started toward Riley. “How bout if I just send you right after my Mama? God knows you gave her that heart attack.”
Allie heard the click, looked up quickly, and saw her Daddy stop cold. Mr. Riley had his pistol out. Up the walk, one of Allie’s former schoolteachers, Mrs. Banks, ushered her husband back into the church.
“I feel bad I had to bring it, and worse I had to pull it out in front of Allie,” Riley said. “But somebody had to be ready if you showed up.”
Daddy opened his hands. “Put it away, Riley.”
“I will, Brian,” Mr. Riley said, “but first we’re going to clear the air, you and I. What you accused me of wasn’t untoward, wasn’t a secret, and didn’t involve you from the start. But what you did to your ex-wife? What I just saw you do to your little girl? Far more sinful than anything you think you saw.”
Daddy said nothing. From between the parked cars, Ms. Thornton-Johnson motioned for Allie to come to her.
Riley didn’t bat an eye as Allie slipped away. “Now you get in your car and drive away, alright? You do that, and we won’t have to hold a funeral here for you next week. Nobody wants a scene in front of your little girl.”
“Brian Charles,” Ms. Thornton-Johnson called out. Brian turned to find a small but angry crowd. The librarian safely held Allie against her. “Everyone here just saw you shove your daughter and threaten our neighbor. You better pray for their lives, and the lives of your father and your ex-wife. Cause if anything happens to any of them, we will see to it that they lock you up till the Second Coming.”
“Amen,” said Mrs. Tweed, whose piercing glare had returned.
Daddy backed up, cowed by the crowd. He got into his car and peeled away.
“Thank you,” Mr. Riley said as he reholstered his pistol.
Mrs. Tweed whacked him on the head with her purse, knocking his hat sideways. “And what the dickens are you doing pulling out a gun in front of a child?”
“I… uh…”
“I thought you were smarter than that!”
“No, ma’am.” He said.
“Just as stubborn as always,” she said, half smiling. “God help us.”
Every night that week, Mama and Allie reported to Grandaddy’s. The first night they just ate and talked. Gran’s plants had missed their weekly watering, drooping behind still closed blinds. Potted plants given in her memory cluttered the old desk. Allie found Gran’s watering can under the kitchen sink and gave them all a much-needed drink.
But by the third visit, Mama brought a roll of black garbage bags and several boxes from the liquor store.
“We put it off long enough, Dad,” Mama insisted.
Grandaddy grudgingly followed her upstairs, but returned while Allie was still deciding what to watch.
“Your Mama sent me back down here to keep you company,” he said, settling into his chair and wiping his eyes with a hankie.
This continued all week. Mama neatly folded, packed, and removed Gran’s things little by little while Grandaddy and Allie watched movies. Sometimes Grandaddy helped, especially after the task shifted from packing her personal effects to emptying the second bedroom that served as her workroom.
“It’s easier,” he explained to Mama. “I was never in this room much. She didn’t like interruptions while she worked.” So he helped a little more and retreated to his room as needed.
That Saturday, Mr. Riley came over. Allie had already claimed her end of the sofa. Mr. Riley staked out his usual place at the other end, closer to Grandaddy, who had brought in a tray of ham sandwiches with brown mustard, chips, and Cokes for the three of them.
“What are we doing today, Allie?” Mr. Riley asked.
Watching a movie.”
“What movie?”
“Little Mermaid.”
Grandaddy laughed. “That’s not a movie. It’s a story in a book.”
Allie puffed up. “No, it’s a movie.”
He sat forward. “No. Book. Right, James?”
“Don’t get me involved,” Mr. Riley said, and sipped his soda.
“Wait, Grandaddy. Is it both?”
“Let’s find out,” Grandaddy said. “You put on the movie, and I’ll go get my book.”
So they watched the movie. At the start, Grandaddy asked Allie to pause, and explained what was and wasn’t in the story. But soon they left off the comparison—at least until it ended.
“And they lived happily ever after!” Allie cheered.
“That’s not how it ends,” Grandaddy said. “Not in the book.”
“How does it end in the book?”
“She turns into a piece of driftwood and floats away.”
“Really?” Mr. Riley asked.
“Driftwood?” Allie frowned.
Grandaddy nodded. “Uh huh.”
“And never gets her prince?”
“And never gets her prince.”
“No offense Grandaddy, but that’s stupid. Everybody should find somebody they love.”
“She got you there, Will,” Mr. Riley chuckled.
Grandaddy tapped the arm of his chair. “But it doesn’t always work out that way, I’m sorry to say.”
The trio sat quietly, watching the credits roll. Finally, Allie spoke again.
“Grandaddy, were you Gran’s Prince Charming?”
He pulled out his hankie and set it on his knee.
“I guess I was.”
“But she’s gone now.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Are you still sad?”
Grandaddy stared at the peace lily on the stand by the window. Gran had insisted it live there. “Sometimes. Yes I am, Allie. Sometimes I am sad.”
“What about you, Mr. Riley?”
He turned, surprised. “What about me?”
“Are you somebody’s Prince Charming?”
He looked at his hands, then at Grandaddy, then at Allie. “Not yet,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be. Maybe someday.” He paused. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“You!”
“Me too. Maybe someday,” Allie said. “I could find a Prince Charming. Maybe I could be one. If I needed to.”
She got up suddenly, hugged her Granddaddy, then hugged Mr. Riley.
“I think people should be happy. I don’t think anyone should settle for becoming driftwood.”
“Allie!” Mama called.
“Wisdom of a child,” Mr. Riley murmured as she ran to answer her mother’s call.
By the middle of the second week, Mama had removed most of Gran’s things. When they arrived late that afternoon, Grandaddy wasn’t waiting at the door for them.
“Dad!” Mama called.
“Upstairs,” he called back. “Be down in a minute.”
Mama set a bag of prepared meals on the counter.
“Wow, Grandaddy,” Allie said when he entered the room. He had donned a navy suit and a striped bowtie. His shoes shined like mirrors.
“Well, you’re dressed to the nines, Dad. What’s the occasion?”
“I got a date.”
Mama looked shocked. Grandaddy handed a bottle of cologne to Allie. “Your Gran liked this smell on me. Do you like it?”
Allie sniffed and smiled. “Yep.” It smelled musky, comforting, familiar.
“A date? Really?” Mama asked. “Ain’t it a little soon?”
“Denise,” he said. “By God in Heaven I was faithful to my Jeanne every minute for thirty four years. That’s a long time, and I got less in front of me than I used to.”
She began to argue. “But Dad—“
“And I don’t want to become driftwood. So I’m off to meet my Prince Charming. He’s been waiting a long time—as faithful to me as I was to Jeanne.”
He winked at Allie, who giggled, beaming.
“You’re somehow behind this, aren’t you?” Mama said, eyebrow raised, half a smile on her lips.
Allie tried to look innocent. Grandaddy sprayed on some cologne and checked his teeth in the mirror Gran had hung by the coat closet.
When the doorbell rang, he was ready.
Nicanor Abbott 