Cry

By Pamela King Cable

Cry is a contrast in extremes. A young girl, living just above the poverty line, struggles with unanswered questions about her past. Running parallel to her story is the opulent and abundant life of a televangelist, who is not only well-known, she’s a woman, “God’s anointed daughter.”
Two different stories — two opposite women — merging in the most unexpected place.
The inspiration for this tale of Southern women came from the first line. I had written it weeks before all the characters revealed themselves. But also, with church being paramount in my life growing up (my religious roots go way deep), I wanted to explore what it would be like for a young girl who was not raised in church.
The characters appeared at the oddest times, visiting my mind regularly to check on my progress. Many nights they got me out of bed to finish a scene or change their dialogue. I originally intended Janey Gay to be my protagonist . . . but in the end, Essie and Loretta convinced me that they had the most important story to tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Satya House Publications Inc.
• Release date: Apr 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781935874171

Pamela King Cable

Born in West Virginia, Pam claims a tribe of wild Pentecostals and storytellers raised her. Southern Fried Women was a finalist in Fiction and Literature-Short Story category, Best Books of 2006 Book Awards sponsored by USA Book News and a finalist for ForeWord Magazine’s Book of the Year. Invited to speak at the Southern Festival of the Book in Memphis, and by the First Ladies of West Virginia and Mississippi, she has become a speaker in much demand. Pam’s passion and inspiration for overcoming life’s insurmountable obstacles is evident in her performances at bookstores, women’s groups, on the radio, for churches of every size, civic groups in major cities and throughout the rural South.

Book preview

CRY

by

Pamela King Cable

Copyright 2006-2012 by Pamela King Cable. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. For information address Satya House Publications, Inc., Post Office Box 122, Hardwick, Massachusetts 01037

ISBN: 9781935874171

Published by Satya House Publications, Hardwick, MA, a boutique publishing company, specializing in books that just might change your life or the way you think about it. www.satyahouse.com

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Cry is one of the stories in the award-winning book, Southern Fried Women, which is available in print directly from the publisher, Satya House Publications, your favorite on-line reseller, or, ask for it at your local bookstore. Cover photography and photography restoration by Michael Cable.

Cry

Essie

Selma, North Carolina

October 1989

Had I known my mother was going to leave me the day after I was born, I would’ve fought to stay inside her a while longer. My cousin, Ray Keith Bertram and his wife, Janey Gay, were my best friends. Janey, who was all of twenty-two, celebrated six months of pregnancy the same day I turned fifteen. Over time, I watched her belly inflate to the size of Ray’s basketball, so perhaps it was no surprise I thought of my own mama a lot during those days.

Ray Keith had joined the Marines and we were on our way to the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Base, Janey Gay and me, when she steered her Ford Pinto into the Wal-Mart parking lot. She said she needed to use the toilet and then get her glasses fixed. They had broken a week ago and the first aid tape she’d wrapped around the nose bridge wasn’t holding. Then she mumbled something about needing makeup to cover the zit on her chin and a pair of maternity pantyhose, and said if I complained one more time she’d throw me out on the side of the road.

We planned to drive to Cherry Point and back home in three days. Janey ached to be with Ray Keith. Her baby was due in three weeks and she’d cried buckets when we heard he might be shipped to Kuwait. But, I’d not even had a boyfriend and I wasn’t ready for a crash course in birth and delivery.

After she dropped off her glasses and used the ladies room, I took her by the hand on a search for the unmentionables aisle. Janey couldn’t see a lick without her pop-bottle lenses, which added to the severity of her waddle. It passed like an electric current through her arm into her hand and then flowed right into me. Before I knew it, I waddled like a pregnant woman.

Janey pulled a purple hosiery package off the hook and squinted. Holding it an inch from her nose, she whispered, Use your pretty green eyes and tell me what’s it say on the package.

Queen size, for women up to 200 pounds.

Shhh, not so damn loud.

So I whispered back, Sorry, queen size.

Janey leaned against an end rack of tube socks and sighed. Well, that’s me. I think I’m pregnant in both legs, too. Pull them out, let’s take a look.

My eyes darted down rows of bras and underwear, searching for anyone who looked like security. I pulled the taupe meshy fabric out of the cellophane package and held it up close to her eyes. Good God, Uncle Royal could hang a couple hams in those things.

Shhh. Essie! Will you please keep your voice down? I can’t wear this dress without hose; it wouldn’t look right in front of all those officers on base. She stuffed the pantyhose back into the package, then I led her like a puppy dog to the cosmetics aisle.

After we matched a bottle of Cover Girl to her fair skin, which looked even fairer next to her coal black ringlets, we picked up her glasses and were ready for our road trip.

Almost.

Another hurried stop at a gas station so Janey could fill up her Pinto and empty her bladder — again, but the toilet was nasty. So we detoured with a quick trip to Aunt Sye’s.

**

Although Aunt Sye’s house was scrubbed clean inside, it settled unevenly onto cinder block footings. A