Clarissa sat among the cartons: closed, sealed and ready to go; half-packed; folded flat, waiting to be filled. Books that had been her father’s. Wedding china Grandmother Duncan had set aside for her. All destined for Tim and Glenna’s barn. Just stuff. Cradled in her hands was the tin cup Michael’s grandmother had brought from Ireland when she crossed the ocean alone.
Tin’s Bended, page 18
She’d been a young girl from the west coast of the old country—a tale that grew more glorious with each telling. She’d lived a long hard life, raising her brood of boys with little help from her invalid husband, but Mary Catherine O’Shea had kept the beauty she found and passed on the longings she’d come with to her youngest son James, Michael’s father.
“As you build your life together.” James said as he’d handed the cup to Clarissa on her wedding day, at the small reception they’d held in this very room, “remember marriage is long, luck is with you, and you need to be careful with each other.
“There are things we do, one to the other, that scar, that harm this first gloss of love you feel today. And I know you’re young. And I know my son. Sometimes, the bending is so bad, there’s no mending it.”
“Don’t bother to lock the door when you leave,” the man from the bank had said.
She placed the cup in the trash. They were not, after all, destined to be together, she and Michael. She had memories of her own, without the need to borrow more.
“Sometimes,” James said, “when the tin’s bended, the story’s ended.”
My name is Sula Mae Low. I am twelve years old. Until today I was a twin. Sam said I was a twin no matter what. Old Man Meyers says Sam was right, but also wrong. Granny Pauline says we’ll feel him gone a while, but then he’ll be back with us.
SamSula, page 1
“Like Mama?” I ask her.
Granny grits her teeth, squints her eyes, and snaps at me like an old gator snapper that them chores aren’t gonna get themselves done.
I don’t know what Mama says on account of her not being anywhere to be found most days. And when she does show herself, she shows mean.
The story that starts today is a whole new story. Like my world stopped at a station where I never been. And with a lick and a spit, smirked hard and told me to get off.
And good luck.