The Cow Song

by Carol-Ann Sasser

“Come on now,” said Mama. “Come on. Hurry up.”

I grunted as I yanked my suitcase as hard as I could up the last step and onto the front porch. The old white house was still as big as I remembered. Lots of windows with dark blue  shutters. There was a big tree in the front yard that gave a lot of shade. And that was good  because it was so hot. The porch was covered, and it felt good to be out of the sun. Last time we were here it was winter – right around Christmas. I remember because I missed my fourth-grade class party.

My arms and face were burning. Mama had parked her car down around the corner and she made us walk the rest of the way. I had to carry and drag my suitcase by myself because Mama was carrying Lily and the rest of our stuff. It’s not the kind of suitcase that has wheels on it either. And it was really heavy. It took a while to get to the porch. By the time we got there my cheeks hurt and I could see the redness on my arms.  

There are a bunch of apartments inside the house. Different people always live here and  every time I visit someone has left or someone else has moved in. It was a big house but not for one family. Not for any families if you think about it.  

Mama put Lily down and rang the bell. Lily tugged on Mama’s shirt, but Mama just shooed her aside. Lily whined and just held her blanket. Almost 100 degrees in a heatwave but she had to have her baby blanket. She always has it. She needs it.

Mama was getting impatient. She knocked loudly on the door. After a moment or two we could hear slow, heavy footsteps from inside. The door opened. It was Grandma. She wasn’t excited or surprised to see us. 

“Hello Jennifer,” she said. “You’re here already.”  

“Don’t start,” said Mama. “You know I need to go find out about this job.”

“How long will they be here?” asked Grandma, looking at the suitcases. “They have a lot more with them this time.”  

“I don’t know,” Mama said dismissively. “A few weeks. Maybe more.”

Grandma frowned. “But it’s August. What about school. Doesn’t Miles have school soon?”

Mama grew more impatient. “I don’t know, okay?” she snapped. “I told you. I need to find out about this job. He’ll be fine. He can read.”

Grandma said nothing and just shook her head. She looked at me and tried to smile. “You got so tall, Miles! How are you?”

I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Mama moved past Grandma and set the bags inside. She was hurrying and it was obvious. I knew why.  

“Don’t you want to come in and see your father?” asked Grandma. “He’s taking a nap, but he’ll be up soon. Stay for supper maybe?”  

“Next time,” said Mama. “I have to go.” She turned and headed back down the stairs.  “Jennifer!” cried Grandma. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your children?”  

Mama stopped. “Oh yeah,” she said. She looked at us. “Be good and mind your grandma and I’ll be back soon.” And that was it. She hurried down the rest of the stairs and practically ran back towards the car. I had hoped she would pass the house and maybe wave to us or something, but she never did. By parking around the corner, she was able to avoid that and keep us from seeing which way she went. I wondered how long it would take Grandma to figure out that Mama wasn’t coming back. I knew that the minute I saw her putting winter clothes in my suitcase.

We went inside and down the hall to their apartment. It was really small. Barely big enough for two people let alone four. But Grandma always knew how to make extra space for us.  

Everything looked the same. The kitchen was tiny, but everything worked. There was one window and even though Grandma had it open for fresh air the curtains never moved. I remembered those curtains. They used to be white, and they have little daisies on them. They were old though which is why they aren’t so white anymore. Now they were just a dingy color, having collected kitchen fumes and smoke and dust over the years. You couldn’t wash that out if  you tried.  

The living room has an old pullout couch, a chair, and some tables. The couch creaks when you pull out the mattress. The window in there was also open but that room was even hotter than the kitchen. The heat hung heavily in the air, stifling any desire to sit and rest. The bedroom door was closed.  

“Are you hungry?” asked Grandma. “I can fix you something if you want a snack before supper. I’m sure you’ve been in the car a long time.”  

“I’ll just have water,” I replied. Grandma was right. I was hungry but I didn’t want to take too much. Maybe she could give something to Lily instead.  

Grandma took a sippy cup from the cabinet.  

“Come here, Lily,” she said. “Grandma give you a drink.”

Lily didn’t move. And then she dropped to the floor and cried, still clutching her blanket. Grandma picked her up and sat at the kitchen table, rocking her and talking to her. I could hear movement in the bedroom now. Grandpa was up. I heard him open the door. “They here already?” he bellowed. “She didn’t come in, did she?”  

“Of course not,” replied Grandma, patting Lily’s head. “You get enough rest?”

Grandpa grumbled something about the heat and came into the kitchen. He looked at me. “Boy you get taller every time you come here.”  

I smiled but I didn’t say anything. Grandpa could be a little moody sometimes. I could never tell if he wanted us here or not. He got a glass of water and talked to Grandma about where we would sleep. Same place as always, where else. Yes, there is enough room on the pullout. No, I’m not too old to sleep next to Lily. No, I won’t roll over on her. That seemed like an odd question since she’s almost three.  

“That blanket’s dirty,” remarked Grandpa, gesturing at Lily. “Edna, why don’t you clean that thing. God knows when it got washed last.”  

“No!” I said. “Leave it. It’s just a grape juice stain. I did it. I didn’t put the lid on her cup tight enough and it spilled. It’s my fault. I tried to wash it but it wouldn’t come out. She really doesn’t like it when you take her blanket but if you have to take it just do the cow song because that helps. And don’t take it from her when she’s sleeping because she’ll know. She wakes up.” Grandma and Grandpa just stared at me. They left the blanket alone.  

Supper was good and then afterwards we went outside and hung around under the tree. Some of the people in the house left a few chairs under it so Grandma and Grandpa had a place to sit. Lily ran around the yard, dragging her blanket in the grass and kicking up dust with her feet. The grass was patchy and had turned brown because no one was watering it. The air wasn’t much better even after the sun had gone down but it was still better than being inside. Grandma said it hadn’t rained in over a month. This was the second week of the heat wave and people were getting tired of it. But we knew fall wasn’t coming anytime soon. Lily said, “Mama,” a few times, but Grandma would just tell her, “Mama, bye, bye,” and “Mama, soon.” Grandma knew though. You could tell by her voice.  

Later, Grandpa played his viola because there wasn’t anything good on tv. Grandma said he started playing again now that his arm felt better. I didn’t ask what was wrong with his arm. I know he used to play music a lot more when he was younger. He was a real musician and even played in a band. Lily liked the music, too. She clapped her hands, and she hardly ever does that. It was a nice time for a little while.  

That night Lily cried a lot. We all sang the cow song.  

The next day Grandma unpacked our bags and there was a lot of whispering with Grandpa. I heard Grandpa saying something about why Mama would pack our winter coats in this heat and then things got really quiet. I hoped they would let us stay that long. I didn’t hear anything else and then Lily started tugging on my shirt. When she does that, it usually means she’s thirsty.  

I gave her some water and then I went outside. The sun was beating on everything, so I sat on an old chair on the porch. I closed my eyes and held my head back, hoping to just feel a breeze. But all I felt was heat.  

“Takin’ a nap out here, boy?”  

I jumped. It was Grandpa.

“Sorry, son. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”  

“It’s okay,” I replied. “It’s just so hot.”

“Thinkin’ about your mom?” he asked. “I know you must have heard us.”

“Not really,” I said. “I know she ain’t comin’ back.”  

“You been takin’ care of Lily a lot, haven’t ya?”  

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want to tell him how much Mama goes out. I didn’t want to get her in trouble, so I looked down and just nodded my head.  

“Lily’s not talkin’ too much yet either, is she?”  

Again, I said nothing but this time I shook my head.  

Grandpa didn’t say anything else for a minute or two. Felt a lot longer, though. I wasn’t sure if I should say what I was really thinking but I might as well find out now. No use wondering about it. So I said it. I didn’t look at him when I said it, but I said it. “You gonna let us stay?”  

Grandpa stayed quiet for another moment and then he took a deep breath and let out a long, sad sigh. He bent down and looked me in the eye. I didn’t like that. I don’t like looking at anyone in the eye. I knew he was gonna say no.  

“Miles,” he said sternly. “You listen, now. You listen, good. You and your sister will always have a home here. For as long as we can take care of you. I know your mom’s got problems but it ain’t your fault and it ain’t Lily’s fault, neither. She’s had her problems since long before you were born. Even when she was a girl, we knew something wasn’t right. Lord knows we tried to help her. For years and years, we tried. But you know what, in the end, you just can’t help people who don’t wanna help themselves. But don’t you worry. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Grandpa?”  

“Yes, Miles?”  

“When did you learn to play the viola?”

Grandpa knew I got the answer I needed, and he took the hint.  

“Oh, a long time ago,” he replied. “Have you ever played anything?”  

“Nah,” I said. “Never had the chance to do nothing like that.”  

“Wanna learn?” suggested Grandpa.  

“Okay,” I said. “When?”  

“How about right now,” answered Grandpa. “Hang on and I’ll go get it. No use sittin’ inside that hot apartment. We can play out here.”  

Grandpa went inside and came back out with his viola case and a glass of water. He handed me the glass and sat down in an empty chair. He took the viola out of its case and examined it. He always does that before he plays. Makes sure all the strings are in place and that nothing’s broken. I didn’t get that because he just played it last night. I didn’t say anything, though. I just watched him. Then he handed the viola to me.  

“Now what you do is hold it like this, see? That’s right. Put your chin right here in the chin rest. This one’s a little big for ya, but you’ll grow into it. Good. Just like that. Now hold the bow with your other hand. No, not that way. Turn it over. There ya go. And you just slide the bow on the strings. Now try.”  

I ran the bow over the viola, but it made this awful screeching noise. For a second, I thought I broke the strings, but I didn’t. Grandpa kept explaining and after a few tries I was able to play a single musical note back and forth.  

“Do you want to learn a tune?” Grandpa asked.  

I put the viola in my lap and shrugged.  

“Sure, but I don’t know any I could play.”

Grandpa thought for a minute. “What about that cow song Lily likes?” he wondered. “That’s easy and it sounds pretty simple - it’s just a few notes.”  

He took the viola and sang the song to himself a few times as he played. I couldn’t believe how fast he was able to figure that out. He gave the viola back and taught me the song, one note at a time. He said to keep practicing and how I’ll get it in no time. He said he’d teach me more if I wanted to learn. I did.  

Over the next week things started to feel a little normal. I practiced a lot and Lily started to get used to being here. She was eating better and she had stopped crying at night. Mama had already called and said how the job didn’t work out, but she had a lead on another one so she’d be a little longer than she thought. Grandma didn’t even argue with her. She said it was still too hot out and there was no sense wasting energy and getting upset for nothing. Grandma said she would talk to the people at the school about me starting there. Grandma also said a lot of kids around here walk to school every day on their own, and I could do that if I wanted to. I said okay. We never heard from Mama again after that.  

One day while I was outside practicing the viola, the lady upstairs complained about, “all the noise I was making” and how my playing was bothering her cat. She wasn’t very nice about it and was really rude to Grandma. She said if I kept playing out there on the porch, she was gonna call the landlord. Grandma told her there was no need for that and that I would just play inside.  

I not only practiced outside because of the heat, but also because I wasn’t very good. I didn’t want to disappoint Grandpa, but I knew I’d never get the hang of it. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. I didn’t want to tell him that and hurt his feelings. But I told Grandma I didn’t mind practicing inside because I didn’t want to cause her and Grandpa any problems. I even told her I didn’t mind how hot it was.  

I got a glass of water and went into the living room to practice. Lily was napping on Grandma and Grandpa’s bed so I hoped I wouldn’t wake her up. She’s a pretty good sleeper and the door was closed so I wasn’t too worried. The living room was stifling hot and kinda dark because Grandma also kept the lights off in the afternoon. She said it will be cooler that way. I don’t really think that makes any difference though.  

I went to the end of the couch closest to the open window because it was a little brighter there. My head was already sweaty but at least the cushions were comfortable. They were old and worn and when you sat down you would sink right into them. Sometimes at night, after Grandma pulls out the mattress, I’ll put the cushions on it and sleep on them. The mattress is thin, and I can feel the bar in my back. It hurts after a while. Maybe someday we can get a bed.  

I placed the viola under my chin and picked up the bow. I ran it across the strings a few times just to get warmed up. I tried the song again, but I was still screeching the same note. It was the last one and you have to tilt the bow to play it. And somehow, I just don’t tilt it the right way or at the right time and I mess it all up. It feels like I’ve ruined the whole song. And then for some reason when I try again, I wind up rushing it and messing it up more. Grandpa said not to play so fast, but it was no use. I just couldn’t play the last note of Lily’s cow song. It was so  frustrating. I was never gonna play it. This was hopeless.  

Just then, the living room curtains moved, and a small breeze hit my face. It felt so good. I watched the thin curtains dance in the air as I began to play the song one last time. I forced myself to play it a bit more slowly, trying to time the music along with the words. Another cool breeze blew through the curtains, this one a little stronger. It was so refreshing. I continued to play, with the dancing curtains as my audience and the breeze as their applause. I closed my eyes, sang to myself, and gave it my very best try. This time I could hear the music in line with all the words. And as I played the last note of that cow song, it began to rain.