"That's not any better than what Mommy's doing, Daddy. You've got to stop drinking," I warned.
"I know," he said. "Soon. Well, I have to attend to some business problems. We'll stop in on Pierre after dinner. Maybe Ruby will snap out of it and come with us."
I didn't want to discourage him, but I didn't think she would. "We'll see," I said.
Mommy wouldn't come with us to the hospital, of course.
The nurses told us Pierre had eaten some softboiled egg and drunk some milk. He still didn't speak or act as if I heard what anyone was saying, but we were all encouraged. It was enough to buoy Daddy's spirits. He was more talkative and energetic.
"You've got to come with us tomorrow, Ruby," he told Mommy when we returned home and found her in the sitting room listening to music and reading.
"All right, Beau," she said, giving me a conspiratorial glance. "I will."
"Good. Good," Daddy replied and looked at me. I could tell from his face that he thought things were finally turning around. "I'm going up to bed."
"I'll be right along, Beau," Mommy told him.
"Pierre has made good progress, Mommy, but he needs to see and to hear you now," I told her.
"I know, dear. And he will as long as you remember what you promised."
"Mommy . ."
"I'll come by your room at eleven-thirty and knock softly. Be ready," she said.
I stared at her a moment. What was I going to do? Then I looked down at the book in her hands.
She was holding it upside down, just using it to stare at her own maddening thoughts.
"Mommy, it's too dangerous to go to the cemeteries at night. Daddy would be very, very angry at both of us, but especially at me. Please," I begged.
She gazed at me. "Okay, Pearl," she said. "If you don't want to do it, it's all right."
"But you're not going either, Mommy, right? Right?" I insisted.
"I won't go," she finally said, but I didn't believe her.
I pledged to stay awake and listen for her footsteps just in case.
7
Beyond the Grave
.
Despite my urgent and great desire to do so, I
had trouble keeping myself awake. I tried reading, but my eyes were drifting off the page and my head was nodding more and more. I told myself it would be easier to just-lie quietly in the dark, but almost immediately after I put out the lights and lowered my head to the pillow, my eyelids closed. The next thing I knew, I woke with a start and when I glanced at the clock, I saw it was nearly a quarter to midnight. If Mommy had come to my door to knock or if she had walked by, I hadn't heard her. I couldn't imagine her going out at night to a cemetery by herself. Confident I would find her still in her bed, I rose, put on my slippers and robe and tiptoed across the hallway to my parents' room.
The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it gently and peered in. The amber light of a half moon outlined the silhouettes of the dresser, lamps, chairs, and vanity table. I could see Daddy's head on the pillow, but when I looked closer, I did not see Mommy's. For a long moment panic nailed my feet to the floor. She must be in the bathroom, I told myself. I waited and listened, but there was no sign or any sound of her. I knocked gently on the door and waited for Daddy to lift his head. He didn't move.
I entered their bedroom and whispered loudly, "Daddy."
A heavy, resonant snore was his only response. I went to his side and touched his shoulder. I didn't want to wake him abruptly and frighten him. He might think the hospital had called about Pierre. But he wasn't responding.
"Daddy." I shook him. He moaned and turned over, still not opening his eyes.
The strong odor of bourbon reached me, and I saw the nearly empty tumbler on the nightstand. When I shook him again, more roughly, my father groaned and his eyelids fluttered but barely opened.