God Still Don't Like Ugly (4 page)

I was further annoyed when the manager put his hands on his hips and watched us until we went out the door.

“I guess some things never change.” I sighed as Lillimae and I approached her car parked on the street directly in front of the vegetable stand. “I’ll never forget the way some white folks used to treat Muh’Dear and me when we lived down here.” I snorted so hard I had to rub my nose. I was surprised to see specks of blood on my fingers.

Lillimae didn’t respond until she had tossed the bag with her vegetables onto the backseat.

“I would have gone to another stand if I had known that woman worked here,” Lillimae hissed, gripping the sides of the steering wheel. The weather had cooled off considerably by now, but beads of sweat covered most of Lillimae’s face. She was red with rage. “I work my fingers to the bone at that damn post office so me and Daddy can eat good. This is one of the best stands in town and one of the closest.

But them motherfuckers’ll never get another one of my hard-earned dollars. I don’t have to put up with that shit.”

“I would not have been as nice to that old peckerwood witch as you were,” I snarled, looking back toward the vegetable stand.

The same cashier who had behaved so rudely was now standing outside on the sidewalk in front of the vegetable stand under a streetlight, looking at us. For a moment, her eyes locked with mine. I blinked because I couldn’t believe the unbearably sad look on the woman’s face now. I gasped when she offered a faint smile before we drove off. I let out a deep sigh and turned back around.

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Mar y Monroe

I saw no reason to share what I had just seen with Lillimae. As far as I was concerned, the woman was nobody. But what Lillimae said next made my eyes burn with tears.

“Her name is Edith,” Lillimae told me, her voice cracking.

“Who?” I asked, my eyes staring at the side of Lillimae’s head.

“That old peckerwood witch that just waited on us.”

I gasped. “You know her?”

Lillimae nodded. “She’s my mama.”

CHAPTER 7

The first few hours of the first day of my visit with Daddy and Lillimae had already been difficult enough. Seeing Lillimae’s mother at that vegetable stand had made it even more difficult.

Lillimae had prepared her absent sons’ small bedroom next to the kitchen for me to sleep in. I took a long bath in a huge, claw-foot bathtub, noticing that the Florida sun had already started drying out my skin. By the time I crawled out of the bathtub, slathered Vaseline Intensive Care lotion over most of my body, and returned to the living room, Lillimae and Daddy had disappeared to their bedrooms. I waited until I was sure they were asleep. Then I padded into the kitchen to use the telephone on the wall next to the refrigerator to call up Muh’Dear, my mother.

Before I could dial Muh’Dear’s number, that greedy cat from next door started clawing and thumping on the kitchen door. He was me-owing so loud, I let him in before he could disturb Lillimae. Since she seemed so fond of him, I knew she would come out to feed him again.

Once the cat rolled across the floor, straight to the refrigerator, I took out a slice of raw bacon and tossed it to him. He dragged it to a corner and started gnawing. He was already halfway done with it by the time I finished dialing Muh’Dear’s number so I knew I had to talk fast.

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Mar y Monroe

Muh’Dear must have had the telephone in the bed with her, because she answered before the first ring ended.

“What your daddy got to say for hisself after all these years? I bet he done already told you enough lies to fill a hog trough,” Muh’Dear said hotly.

Before Daddy’s desertion, Muh’Dear had talked about him like he was the king of some proud African tribe. She even used to call him
Mr. Goode
. Now when she referred to him it was always by his first name only, Frank. And she now talked about him like a dog. I felt tremendously sad knowing that Muh’Dear’s bitterness toward Daddy remained so strong after so many years. Despite Daddy’s departure and all of the obstacles we had encountered because of it, Muh’Dear and I still had a lot to be grateful for. We both had nice homes, jobs, decent friends, and our health. I had a man and he was a good man.

Muh’Dear loved Jerome as much as I did. “As much trouble as men is, we still need ’em,” she had told me a few years ago.

I didn’t agree with Muh’Dear’s old-school belief about women
needing
men. But the one man I felt I did need in my life was my daddy. A bloodline was one thing a person couldn’t change. It bothered me, knowing that part of my blood had run in so many different directions. I had a real daddy and siblings. I wanted to unite our blood while there was still time. The brief time that I had had Daddy in my life had meant a lot to me. Having him back meant even more.

I knew that if I had never reunited with him, I would never feel like a whole person again.

I didn’t appreciate Muh’Dear’s negative attitude, but she had every right to still be angry.

“Annette, Frank brought you all the way to Florida to tell you more lies. Once you see what a snake he is, you’ll get him out of your system once and for all. I sure enough did.”

“Daddy hasn’t told me any lies, Muh’Dear. He was glad to see me,”

I replied, speaking low.

The cat had finished the slice of bacon and had returned to sniff at the refrigerator once again. This time, I tossed him a huge pork chop, hoping it would keep him occupied until I completed my conversation with Muh’Dear.

“Well, Frank’ll be lyin’ like a rug as soon as he tune up his lips. That no-good jackass. How he lookin’ these days? I bet he look like he GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

27

been whupped with a ugly stick. When you act ugly, you get ugly sooner or later.”

“He looks the same way he did the last time we saw him,” I lied.

Without going into detail, I added, “He’s still one of the best-looking Black men in town.” I paused and sucked in my breath. “He still goes to that Baptist church on Greely Street that we used to go to when we lived down here. He’s an usher.”

“That don’t mean nothin’, girl. The Church is full of devils,” Muh’

Dear snapped.

I was exasperated. I covered my mouth with my hand to keep Muh’Dear from hearing my deep sigh. “Muh’Dear, let’s forget about what Daddy did to us. We can’t change the past.”

“I know that. But Frank Goode is goin’ to rue the day he run off and left us the way he done. He goin’ to be sorry.”

“He’s already told me he was sorry,” I said dryly, my fingers twisting the telephone cord.

“Oh, he did? That’s a surprise.” Muh’Dear sucked her teeth and took her time continuing. “You called Jerome?”

“Not yet. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Well, you better. You ain’t never goin’ to find another man as good as him at your age. And you better hurry and marry him before he change his mind or before he take a real good look at you. Makeup is a mask you can hide behind but for so long.” Muh’Dear laughed.

“It was years before your stepdaddy found out what I really looked like.”

“Go to sleep, Muh’Dear.” I sighed. “Don’t forget to go water my plants. I’ll be home in a few days.”

“Wait a minute, girl. I ain’t finish talkin’ to you yet.” Muh’Dear lowered her voice to a whisper so I knew what was coming. “You seen that white woman? Your auntie told me that that she-puppy done dragged her white-trash tail on back to Miami.”

“You mean Edith?” I saw no reason for me to whisper the way Muh’Dear often did when she and I talked about white folks.

“Who in the world is Edith?” she hissed, still whispering.

“The white woman Daddy was with.” I didn’t like saying things that hurt my mother but she made it hard for me to avoid.

“Oh, excuse me! So now you on a first-name basis with that pale-face Jezebel?”

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Mar y Monroe

“No, I’m not. I saw her at a vegetable stand that Lillimae took me to today. Uh . . . Lillimae is Daddy’s oldest girl.” I paused and added with a chuckle, “She looks just like me. She took off from her job at the post office to spend time with me. Daddy lives with her.”

“
You
is Frank’s oldest girl,” Muh’Dear reminded with a hiss. “And how she look like you is a mystery to me, since you took after me.”

“Well, I take after Daddy, too. Listen—I’m tired and I really need to get some sleep. It’s been a long day. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“I still can’t get over what possessed Jerome to let you go down there, by yourself, to prance around with—”

“Jerome didn’t
let
me do anything, Muh’Dear. He doesn’t own me and I do have a mind of my own. You should know that by now.”

“Which is why you still single at thirty-five and I ain’t got no grandchildren.” Muh’Dear let out a heavy sigh before she started grinding her teeth. I rolled my eyes and shook my head as she continued.

“Where is that Frank at now? Up in some bootlegger’s house gettin’

drunk and lookin’ for another white woman to joog his pecker up in, I bet.”

“He’s in bed. He’s not well, Muh’Dear. I think his barhopping days are over. And for the record, the lady friend he’s got now is Black.

Miss Pittman.”

“Oh. Well, you try to enjoy yourself down there. Like I told you before you left, all I want is for you to be happy. And . . . and I’m glad Frank still in the Church. You can tell him I said that.”

“I will, Muh’Dear.” I hung up and smiled. I couldn’t wait for that ar-rogant old cat to finish the pork chop. He dragged what was left of it across the floor as I shooed him back out the door.

CHAPTER 8

Long after Clyde the cat had disappeared from the kitchen, I stood in the doorway looking out into the night. Even with the back porch light on, I couldn’t see much. Green vines crawled up the sides of the porch walls. There wasn’t much of a backyard. But it had a clothesline, an old picnic table with three mismatched chairs, and what appeared to be an orange tree. In the yard of almost every one of the sorry shacks I had shared with Muh’Dear and Daddy during my childhood, we’d had an orange tree. I felt like I had come home. In a way, I had.

I was surprised to turn around and find Lillimae standing by the table in a muslin nightgown that barely covered her body.

“I hope you don’t think I was eavesdroppin’ on your conversation with your mama,” Lillimae said, removing a pitcher from the refrigerator. She poured us both a glass of water and waved me to a chair at the table as she sat down across from me.

“That’s okay. I don’t really have anything to hide from you,” I said, plopping down with a groan, drinking water I didn’t want. “Uh, that reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about all evening.” I drank some more water, wishing that it was something stronger sliding down my throat.

There was a blank look on Lillimae’s face. “What’s that?”

“I know you must be hurting right now about your mother.”

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Mar y Monroe

Lillimae sighed and clutched her glass with both hands. “And you’re probably wonderin’ why I care about a woman who don’t care about me.”

“She does care about you,” I said firmly.

Lillimae gasped and gave me a dry look. “How would you know that? You didn’t know her. And what about the way she behaved at the vegetable stand this evenin’?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I paused because I could barely form my sentences. “Your mother came outside as we were getting back into your car. She had a smile on her face, but she looked like she wanted to cry when we drove off. I bet if her boss hadn’t been around, she would have run out to the car and said something to you.”

Lillimae started blinking hard and biting her bottom lip. “Sure enough?”

I nodded. “I would have told you sooner or later. I guess the sooner you know she cares, the better.”

Lillimae folded her arms and glanced around the kitchen. “Now that I know where my mama works, maybe I’ll go back over there and slip her a note, tellin’ her to meet me somewhere where we can talk.

Would you go with me? I don’t think I can do it otherwise. I am not as bold as you.”

I nodded. “I’m sure your mother would appreciate you taking that step.” I heard the toilet flush, so I glanced toward the doorway. Every time Daddy was out of my sight, I got nervous. It was like I couldn’t look at his face enough. Because my beloved stepfather had recently died, I had been afraid that Daddy would die before I could see him again. I blinked even harder and returned my attention to Lillimae.

“That day Mama left us, she took me aside and told me that I had to be stronger than Amos and Sondra because of the way I look.” A faraway look appeared on Lillimae’s face. “She was right.”

“You mean your color?”

“My lack of color would be more like it. I didn’t know what she meant, but it didn’t take me long to find out. Bein’ a Black girl in a white body ain’t no picnic. I’d give anything in this world to be as dark as you.”

“But don’t you have some advantages over the rest of us? When you go out alone, don’t white people treat you like one of their own?”

She nodded. “The ones that don’t know me do. But you don’t know how hard it is to be around Black folks and have them make GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

31

jokes about me lookin’ white. You don’t know what it feels like when white folks on my job find out I’m Black. I can’t go around an-nouncin’ to the world that I’m Black, but when they find out, it’s a whole different ball game. My first boyfriend’s mama was into that Black Panther stuff. The first time she got a look at me, she told me to my face that she wasn’t goin’ to be ‘eatin’ with the enemy’ or some shit like that.”

I pursed my lips and shrugged. “You can’t do anything about the way you look.”

“And don’t think I haven’t tried. I used to wear Afro wigs and dark makeup. When I got tired of that, I started wearin’ braids and all the things I saw the other Black girls wearin’. But that wasn’t me. I can’t be happy tryin’ to be somethin’ I’m not. Now my old man, Freddie Lee, ain’t too fond of white folks. But even before me, all his other girls was high yellow. That confused me. And it confused our boys when Freddie Lee put ’em in a all-white school tellin’ ’em he thought they’d do better goin’ to school with white kids. My babies would come home cryin’ every day because the white kids called them coons and niggers
and
spit on ’em.” At this point, Lillimae reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You are so fortunate, Annette.