The Heirloom
Momma put the money Aunt Flora sent in the glued-together vase on top of the old piana that don't play right no more. The vase bin glued together since Rubin run away. Papa said Rubin run away 'cause he broke granny's vase; like it was a family heirloon. I seen them vases down at the pitcher show, and that's where Granny got it.
Papa was drinkin' again and after he promised—for the very last time—that he wasn't gonna do it no more. When he drinks, he don't need no reason to beat Rubin, and everybody knows it.
Rubin is in the Satchkaw Mountains at Aunt Flora's, but she told Papa, "No, he aint!" Papa won't go up there, anyhow, 'cause Aunt Flora's got them dogs, and them dogs are layin' on the front porch just waitin' for trouble. Alls he has to do is call the mountain school to see if Rubin's there. But the phone's out; he aint paid the bill. Folks round here won't help, especially old Betsy down at the telephone office. She listens in to all the calls. Why, she knowed little Duncan died before his own mammy knowed it. She aint bout to put no calls through for Papa.
We's all glad that Rubin's gone. His screamin' was somethin' awful.
Papa can drink hisself into a ditch for alls we care 'cause momma and me—we's got plans. Momma gave Papa his last chance, and he showed her. He showed her that he could fall flat on his red-veined face before he even opened that creaky old ripped-screen door.
We's at the bus stop, momma and me. We stepped over Papa, left him there spread out on the front porch, and never gave no mind to it. Momma meant it this time. Since Rubin run away, she meant it.
I wrapped the glued-together vase in newspaper. It's in my satchel. Now, it's a real heirloon 'cause it means somethin'. We aint goin' back.