Читать книгу God Still Don't Like Ugly - Mary Monroe - Страница 21

I was apprehensive about leaving Muh’Dear alone after all we had been through together. Even though she had a lot of friends now, there was no special man in her life. And there hadn’t been since Daddy’s departure, fourteen years earlier.

Before I could finalize my plans to flee Richland, Muh’Dear got involved with a new man, a lonely old widower named Albert King. Not one of the horny old geezers that Scary Mary had tried to dump off on her, but a dignified man that everybody loved and respected. However, a big red flag went up in my mind right away, because Mr. Boatwright had been the same way at first. As pessimistic as I was, I didn’t believe that lightning could strike twice in the same place.

However, I still approached Muh’Dear’s new man with extreme caution. Especially since she had met Mr. King through Reverend Snipes, the same meddlesome old preacher who had cursed us with Mr. Boatwright! That alone was enough to make me keep my distance.

Mr. King was nothing like Mr. Boatwright. He wasn’t some one-legged old man with nowhere to go, like Mr. Boatwright. Mr. King was the owner of the Buttercup restaurant and he had enough money to live a comfortable life. He owned his own home, so I didn’t have to worry about him moving in with us. He didn’t have any family left, but he had a lot of friends. He had severed a two-year relationship with another woman so he could be with my mother. I avoided being alone with Mr. King. When he came to the house while Muh’Dear was out, I hid behind the curtains and refused to open the door. When I couldn’t avoid being alone with him, I remained distant and suspicious.

Mr. King had called the house for Muh’Dear one day and I’d been sharp with him. I had hollered at him the way I did those annoying people who called up on the telephone trying to sell something or asking nosy questions for a survey.

“Annette, you don’t like me, do you?” he asked in a whiny voice. He was breathing through his mouth, groaning, hissing and making low whistling noises that I knew he couldn’t help. As annoyed as I was, I felt sorry for this old man.

I waited for Mr. King’s breathing to return to normal. Then I sucked in my breath, hoping I didn’t sound like I belonged in a barnyard myself like he sounded. “I don’t know you well enough to hate you,” I told him coldly. “I’ll tell Muh’Dear you called,” I added with impatience. I wondered what made Muh’Dear take up with a man who had obviously started falling apart. With all his wheezing and breathing difficulties, it seemed like he was one step away from his grave.

With a low, weak voice he said, “Well, I hope you do get to know me soon. I love your mama and I think she loves me. Me and Gussie Mae get along real good, so I’m gwine to be comin’ around yonder to see your mama whether you like it or not. So you can stop all your foolishness right now!” Mr. King stunned me by being so direct.

But I didn’t back down. “What you and my mother do is none of my business,” I snapped. “If my mama wants to make a fool of herself, I can’t stop her.”

I heard him gasp and suck on his teeth. “One thing your mama ain’t, is a fool.”

“Well, I’m not, either. Now if you don’t mind, I’m watching American Bandstand right now.”

He sighed and mumbled something unintelligible before he spoke again. “Look, girl. I would never do nothin’ to harm you.” He paused and steadied his voice. “I cut my teeth on God.”

“So did Satan,” I reminded.

“What you say?”

“Nothing,” I muttered. I rarely sassed old people and I wasn’t proud of myself for doing it now. I cleared my throat and softened my voice. “Uh…I’ll tell Muh’Dear you called,” I said sheepishly.

Mr. King let out another sigh, this one longer and deeper. “Child, I know you was real fond of Brother Boatwright. Everybody was. Even me.” He paused and laughed. “Even though he departed here owin’ me several hundred dollars. Bless his heart.” Mr. King paused again and cleared his throat. “Anyway, your mama done told me all about the special joy he brought to your life.” His last comment almost made me choke on my own tongue. “But I ain’t the type to get too close to young people. It breeds contempt. Matter of fact, I don’t really like to keep company with women that still got kids livin’ at home. Especially gals. They can get a man in a heap of trouble.”

I absorbed this information and listened with interest now. Clutching the telephone with both hands, I cleared my throat and asked, “What…what do you mean by that?”

“Well, the reason I broke up with Sadie Watson was because of her teenager daughters. Them some fast girls and they out to cause trouble. Both of ’em got babies and not a man in sight to help raise them kids. Naturally, they ripe to start up some devilment so they won’t be the only ones miserable. That Betty Jean was always tryin’ to provoke me. Sittin’ on my lap, huggin’ on me, beggin’ me for money. That youngest one, Sarah Louise, was even worse. Kissin’ me on my jaw every chance she got.” He sighed again. “I’m too old to be gettin’ caught up in somethin’…uh…unholy. I got too much to lose.”

I suddenly felt more at ease. “Well, I’m too old to let one of my mother’s men get caught up in something unholy with me,” I said stiffly, scratching myself between my thighs. It had been weeks since I’d turned my last trick, but I still felt unclean, no matter how much I bathed and scrubbed myself. After each bath, I sprayed my crotch with whatever smell-goods were available. Now I had to deal with an irritating inflammation that my excessive use of the sprays had caused.

“Look, girl. I ain’t got no kids of my own. I ain’t a young man no more, so I doubt if I ever will have any. But I still love kids. I helped my use-to-be business partner raise all five of his young’uns. Then, after he passed, I helped send all of ’em to college. Even though they don’t even call me or send me a card, unless they wantin’ money, I still care about them kids. I want to see all kids succeed in life. Black kids especially. Now the Lord done blessed me. I got a few bucks in the bank and I can’t take none of it with me when I lay my burdens down and go to meet my Maker. I want to enjoy life while I still can. All I want to do is make somebody happy. Right now that somebody is your mama…and you. If I ever say or do somethin’ you don’t like, you seem like the kind of gal would put me in my place. Your mama didn’t raise no fool. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” I said contritely. My head felt heavy as I bowed it. While I was between thoughts, I noticed some faint, inch-long, slightly crooked black lines on the kitchen wall I was facing. I rubbed my fingers across the lines until I realized they were the markings that Mr. Boatwright had made with a pencil to measure my height over the years. I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned. With my heart pounding against the inside of my chest, I realized Mr. Boatwright still had some control over me.

Even from his grave.

Before I could speak again, Mr. King did and I was glad. I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of my mouth anyway. Especially with additional thoughts of Mr. Boatwright, even more potent than the ones I’d had a few moments earlier, dancing around in the front of my mind.

“And you got too nice a voice to be soundin’ all grumpy anyway.” He laughed. “You ought to be singin’ in the choir. I’ll mention that to Pastor Jenkins.”

I was glad to know that Mr. King and I were on the same page. I knew that I was not the only girl in Richland to have had the kind of trouble I’d had with one of Muh’Dear’s men friends. Thank God Mr. King was bold enough to stand his ground.

That conversation broke the ice enough for me to accept Mr. King in my life. I regretted my behavior and wanted to retract my remarks but it was too late. However, it was not too late for me to change my attitude toward him. So I did, right then and there.

“Uh…I’ll tell Muh’Dear you called. And…Mr. King, you have a nice evening.”

Now that I was comfortable with Mr. King, I encouraged Muh’Dear to secure her relationship with him. It eased my mind to know that she would not be lonely when I did move away. Even though I didn’t know a soul in Pennsylvania, she surprised me by encouraging me to go.

I was bowled over when she surprised me with a ten-thousand-dollar cash gift from an insurance policy that Mr. Boatwright, of all people, had left for us. Now I felt even worse about selling my body. The money I had collected from all those horny men was pocket change compared to the ten thousand dollars. I was even more anxious to get away from the scene of my crimes now. I had to leave Ohio. Even if I had to flee on foot.

I left on a Greyhound bus, crying and waving to Muh’Dear until the bus turned the corner.