Cutler 01 - Dawn

went off to think, Momma," Jimmy said. "He's probably just trying to come up with a plan and needs to be alone," he added, hoping to ease her burden.
    "I don't like him going off like that," Momma complained. "It never comes to no good. You should go look for him, Jimmy."
    "Go look for him? I don't think so, Momma. He don't like it when I do that. Let's just eat and wait for him to come back." Mommy wasn't happy about it, but she sat down and I served the grits and black-eyed peas. I had added some salt and a little bit of bacon grease I had saved.
    "I'm sorry I didn't try to get us something else," Mommy said, apologizing again. "But Dawn, honey, you did real fine with this. It tastes good. Don't it, Jimmy?"
    He looked up from his bowl. I saw he hadn't been listening. Jimmy could get lost in his own thoughts for hours and hours if no one pestered him, especially when he was unhappy.
    "Huh? Oh. Yeah, this is good."
    After supper Momma sat up for a while listening to the radio and reading one of the used magazines she had brought back from the motel she worked in. The hours ticked by. Every time we heard a door slam or the sound of footsteps, we anticipated Daddy coming through the door, but it grew later and later and he didn't reappear.
    Whenever I gazed at Momma, I saw that sadness draped her face like a wet flag, heavy and hard to shake off. Finally she stood up and announced she had to go to bed. She took a deep breath, holding her hands against her chest, and headed for her bedroom.
    "I'm tired too," Jimmy said. He got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I started to pull out the sofa bed, but then stopped, thinking about Momma lying in her bed, worried and frightened. In a moment I made up my mind―I opened the door quietly and left to look for Daddy.
    I hesitated outside the door of Frankie's Bar and Grill. I had never been in a bar. My hand trembled as I reached out for the doorknob, but before I could pull it, the door swung open and a pale-skinned woman with too much lipstick and rouge on her face stepped out. She had cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. She paused when she saw me and smile. I saw she had teeth missing toward the back of her mouth.
    "Why, what you doing coming in here, honey? This ain't no place for someone as young as you."
    "I'm looking for Ormand Longchamp," I replied.
    "Never heard of him," she said. "You don't stay in there long, honey. It ain't a place for kids," she added and walked past me, the stale odor of cigarettes and beer floating in her wake. I watched her for a moment and then entered Frankie's.
    I had seen into it once in a while whenever someone opened the door, and I knew there was a long bar on the right with mirrors and shelves covered with liquor bottles. I saw the fans in the ceiling aid the sawdust on the dirty brown wood slab floor. I had never seen the tables to the left.
    A couple of men at the end of the bar turned my way when I stepped in. One smiled, the other just stared. The bartender, a short stout bald-headed man, was leaning against the wall. He had his arms folded across his chest.
    "What do you want?" he asked, coming down the bar.
    "I'm looking for Ormand Longchamp," I said. "I thought he might be in here." A glance down the bar didn't produce him.
    "He joined the army," someone quipped.
    "Shut up," the bartender snapped. Then he turned back to me. "He's over there," he said and gestured with his head toward the tables on the left. I looked and saw Daddy slumped over a table, but I was afraid to walk farther into the bar and grill. "You can wake him up and take him home," the bartender advised.
    Some of the men at the bar spun around to watch me as if it were the evening's entertainment.
    "Let her be," the bartender commanded.
    I walked between the tables until I reached Daddy. He had his head on his arms. There were five empty bottles of beer on the table and another nearly emptied. A glass with just a little beer in it was in front of the bottle.
    "Daddy," I said softly. He didn't budge. I looked back at the bar and saw that even the men who had continued to watch me had lost interest. "Daddy," I repeated a little louder. He stirred, but didn't lift his head. I poked him gently on the arm. "Daddy." He grunted and then slowly lifted his head.
    "What?"
    "Daddy, please come home now," I said. He wiped his eyes and gazed at me.
    "What . . . What are you doing here, Dawn?" he asked quickly.
    "Momma went to bed a while ago, but I