Miss Mae

Raisin' Up Catfish: Chapter Thirty

Comfrey, Mississippi

Often, while waiting my turn to order or be rung up by Miss Mae I wandered off and got lost in wonderment about her. It wasn't sexual or anything. She was crooked-toothed and shy, and homely as an old saw, but something about her had caught hold of me and once it did, it simply would not let me go.

Miss Mae wasn't all there, in her mind if you get my meaning. Some whispered that she was a little bit retarded. Slow, was the more polite term others used. Mose, who was unfailingly respectful toward her with each daily visit to her little store once fretted aloud after she’d messed up his lunch order for the second day in a row: “She ‘bout half a sardine cracker shy of a proper lunch.”

But Miss Mae was so polite and so gentle; she worked hard, taking care of her customers and making them feel welcome in her little store. I couldn't help but be charmed by her. Most days she did a helluva job.

Of course everyone knew Miss Mae was ‘different’ within moments of meeting her. But what a wonderful, gentle ‘different’ she was. Her smile was an angel’s, despite her crooked teeth. And then, there was that strange, magnetic tenderness. Like most of Miss Mae’s customers, I always felt better, somehow after a few moments in its slow, kind warmth. There was just something about her; something inexplicable, graceful, ...even beautiful.

One of the things that fascinated me most about Miss Mae was the way you could actually watch her mind at labor. Deliberately, cautiously, she would encircle and then swallow each statement or request and then, in slow motion begin to process and act upon it. Her technique reminded me of a snake constricting and swallowing its prey.

First she would repeat what was said to be sure she'd heard correctly, then roll her eyes back up into her head for the briefest of moments, as if to hand-deliver the message to her differently powered brain.

I considered feeling sorry for her a few times but honestly couldn’t figure how to do it. Pity just didn’t fit Miss Mae. Not even for a minute.

In the end, I suppose I just settled for simple observation and affection like everyone else. She was fine just as she was; different, sure, but making her way in the world with grace and adding so much to the daily quality of ours. It seemed a cinch my feeble regrets on her behalf would not improve her life even the slightest.

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Then, one day I heard a story that nearly turned my heart inside out for her, a story that left me so dry and brittle inside I feared even the tiniest puff of wind might blow me away. I had admired and thought maybe I kinda’ even loved Bone before that day, and somehow did find my way back to actually knowing I did, afterward. But for a time, terrifying and painful, just hearing that smiling bastard’s name made my pulse race and my skin crawl. I was sure he deserved to burn in Hell for what he’d done.

Afterward, I had to rethink everything I had thought I’d known about him, about Miss Mae, everything about so many things, really. And finally, I needed to burrow deep within myself searching for some way to make peace with the world that had made him …and made her.