Taxi

The trouble started right away. Mama didn’t want anything to do with Laika. She wouldn’t even nurse her. When Laika cried, Mama would pace around the house with her fists clenched at her side. “If that baby doesn’t stop crying I am going to throw her in the creek.”

I’d carry Laika into my room and try to keep her quiet. I took care Laika the way I’d watched Aunt Pearl take care of Ivy. I sang her lullabies. Warmed her bottles. Changed her diapers. I even moved her bassinette next to my bed so I could take care of her when she woke up during the night. Aunt Sarah promised me that eventually Mama would get better. “It’s just what happens to some women after they have babies. It just affects your Mama worse than other women. It happened to her after you and Ivy were born too. We just have to wait her out. She’ll be herself soon.”

Aunt Sarah was right. Eventually Mama got better. She started combing her hair and stopped going around in her ragged robe. She smiled and actually held Laika. “I can’t believe you let me talk me into naming her ‘Laika’. What kind of a name is that for a little girl?” I didn’t tell her that the name actually meant “barker” in Russian.

Mama said she couldn’t stand being cooped up. “I am going to smother if I don’t get out of this house.” Since we didn’t own a car, she called up Will Davis - the owner of Belhaven’s one and only taxicab – and asked him to pick us up and drive us around. Will pulled into the front yard and honked his horn. Mama called for us to come out. Ivy and I ran out barefooted and climbed into the taxi.

Waggles tried to follow me. “Mama, can Waggles come too?”

“For Christ’s sake. Can’t you stand to me away from that damn dog for two minutes? Shut up and close the door or I’ll leave you here. Will, if that dog gets in your way, do me a favor and run over him.”

I looked at Mama’s face for a sign. I couldn’t tell whether she meant it or not. I was relieved when Waggles ran up the porch steps.

We left Aunt Sarah on the back porch with her hands on her hips, shaking her head and yelling that our dinner getting cold. Off we went – over the bridge, to Letha’s Log Cabin where Mama got beers for herself and Will. Next stop Sidney Cross Roads where Ivy and I ran in to get Dixie cups of ice cream. Then we were all set. Will drove us around – up and down the dark, dusty roads that snaked through Beaufort County. Mama and Will sat in the front of the cab sharing a six-pack. Ivy and I sat in the backseat with Laika between us. The moonlight rides became a tradition. The cab was blue and Will was black. I think he was genuinely fond of Mama and her children…especially the baby who Will called “Muttnik”. No money ever changed hands. Even though Will was colored and Mama was a cracker for sure, on those rides they were as close as brother and sister