The Bad Lady (Novel) (5 page)

Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, back then, I was just very confused, almost the point of mental overload. I just knew, on a purely instinctual level, that somehow what Nancy and I had engaged in must have been monumental, different from the norm. It did not matter what she had said to me, how Nancy had tried to downplay the act. I had to figure out things for myself, come to my own conclusions. Therefore, if you’re sitting there passing judgment, please remember when this had occurred, my emotional and intellectual development was about a three on a scale from one to ten.

CHAPTER 5

After dessert, I overheard Andrew’s parents yet again discussing my mom. For whatever reason they could not seem to give the topic a rest, except now they were also chatting about my involvement with Nancy. Andrew had gotten up to use the bathroom. I still sat obediently at the dining room table. Mr. and Mrs. Keller were in the living room.

“But don’t you find that a little peculiar?” I heard Mrs. Keller saying.

“What, because Billy drives around with her?”

“Yes.”

“Stacie, who are we to say what‘s normal and what‘s not normal?”

“Donald, a ten-year-old boy spending his summer driving around in an ice cream truck with a grown woman who is neither a relative nor really a friend of the family. That doesn’t strike you as weird?”

“Well-”

“And his mother allows it to happen.”

“Stacie, you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I think his mother is not only an utter kook, I also think she’s completely irresponsible. I would never allow our son to pal around with a stranger in a Good Humor truck. And that woman Nancy Sutcliffe lets Billy sit on her lap and steer. How nuts is that? You don‘t let a ten-year old drive a motor vehicle on a residential street. Not under any circumstances.”

“Stacie, I understand what you’re saying. Believe me I do. But Billy is not our responsibility. When it comes to his affairs, it’s not our place to say what is right, and what is wrong.”

“I know he‘s not our responsibility. I’m just saying.”

“You’ve said too much already. Just leave it be.”

This heated conversation caused my head to whirl. What made Mrs. Keller think that she was so much better than everyone else?

“It doesn’t concern you in the least,” she added, “that our son Andrew is hanging out with someone who comes from a dysfunctional background?”

“No. Why should it?”

“Donald, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Give it a rest, Stacie, please, I don’t want to argue.”

“Of course you don‘t. You just want to ignore the issue. As usual.”

“And you want to harp. That’s your thing. Always wanting to complain about everything little thing.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s right.””

“Donald, you don’t even know me.”

“I married you. Didn’t I? Stacie, I know you like the back of my hand.”

“You think you do, but you don’t. Trust me.”

“Yeah, I trust you like I trust my own ass.”

“What does your ass have to do with anything?”

“I think the question is what does the Good Humor lady have to do with anything? Why are we even discussing her?”

“Because there‘s something awfully fishy about that woman,” Mrs. Keller explained.

“How do you figure there‘s something fishy about her?”

“That’s the chitchat going around. You don‘t sell ice cream to young children with your cleavage showing. Someone needs to remind that woman that she’s not working at Hooters.”

“Stacie, I’m serious, that’s the end of the discussion. I don’t want to hear anymore about this. You soccer moms have way too much time on your hands.”

“That’s your attitude about everything, Donald.”

“If you say so.”

“I do . . . Take the kid home.”

“Now?”

“Yes. We‘re through with dinner. Take the kid home. I don‘t want him here anymore.”

“Whatever.”

All of a sudden, all went hushed and a moment later Andrew’s mother reentered the dining room and says to me, “Billy, are you ready to go home?”

Still seated at the dish-strewn table, I peered over my shoulder, “I guess so Mrs. Keller.”

“Andrew’s father will drive you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to take some leftovers with you? There’s more barbeque chicken.”

“No thanks. I‘m stuffed.” I patted my bloated tummy.

“Mom,” said Andrew, now entering the room. “Why can’t Billy stay for a little while longer?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“He has to be home by seven o‘clock. Plus, you have to go to bed soon.”

I stood up. “Andy, maybe I’ll be allowed to come over tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll call you.” I looked around but did not see my book bag anywhere. I thought I had left it on the living room table. Then Mrs. Keller handed it to me. At once, I could tell that the bag had been unzipped. Mrs. Keller must have searched through it. Of course I did not like that, the fact that she felt she had the right to invade my privacy. The only thing I had in the clumpy bag were video games. I imagine Mrs. Keller wanted to make sure I didn’t have any that she considered to be too violent. Even so, she should have minded her own business.

***

“Is he ready to go?” Andrew’s father hollered from his car. Mr. Keller drove a gray Ford Thunderbird.

“He is. Now hurry along, Billy.” Mrs. Keller put her hands on my shoulders and then impatiently shoved me toward the door. In the yard, the sprinkler hissed like a snake.

“Billy,” Andrew’s dad says after I got in the car, “what’s the matter? Are you upset about something?”

I did not answer. I put my book bag on the floor near my feet.

“You are upset about something. Now what could a ten-year-old boy possibly be mad at?”

“If it’s all right with you, Mr. Keller, I don’t feel like talking.”

“You don‘t?”

“No.” I put my seatbelt on. “Sorry.”

“You know kiddo, I don’t know what your mom teaches you, but when an adult addresses a child, that child is obligated to answer.”

“I just don’t feel like talking anymore. That‘s all. I‘m kind of tired.” Sometimes I got so frustrated at life because I wanted to be able to shut certain people out and I couldn’t. Why did Andrew’s father feel the need to lecture me when I wasn’t even his son? I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he thought since I had no dad of my own that, it was his duty, being a friend of his boy, to put me in my place.

“There you go. Maybe that’s why you’re mother scolds you a lot because you’re noncompliant. Have something against authority.”

“You don’t know my mom,” I quarreled. “She’s not the way you think she is.”

“I see.”

True, maybe my mother did get angry often, like earlier, when I had broke the lamp. Yet, the way I see it, that did not make her a cruel person and it definitely didn’t make her a witch.

Without uttering another word, Mr. Keller eventually pulled the Thunderbird into the driveway of my house, a small cottage.

My mom sat on the cement porch, waiting. She had on close-fitting denim shorts and a peach-colored shirt and wore no shoes. Her boyfriend Rudy’s pickup truck wasn’t there, so he must have had something to do. I assumed he had already eaten dinner and had rushed off, which my mother’s newest boyfriend frequently did. A skilled auto mechanic, Rudy Knorr always seemed to have places to go, odd jobs lined up.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said to Mr. Keller out of respect. I had been taught to always be considerate to adults.

“You’re welcome Billy.”

Before he could drive away my mom cried out in a hospitable voice, “Mr. Keller, hold on, can I have a word with you?”

“Sure.” He put the window down. “How you doing Mrs. Hall?”

“Miss Hall,” she promptly corrected him.

“Right, Miss Hall.”

“With millions of people starving in Africa,” she says, “I guess I have no reason to complain. How have you been, Mr. Keller?”

“Fine.” He fumbled for his cigarettes. When he found the slightly crumpled pack in his shirt pocket, Andrew’s pop inserted a smoke between his lips. My mom produced a Bic lighter, lit the cigarette for him. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Anytime.” With her long, undulating brunette hair, prominent Angelina Jolie red lips, and hip swinging physique, many people considered my mother to be a jaw-dropping beauty. It’s true. Even Nancy, of all people, had said that she was a ‘real looker’, with a ‘killer body’, Yup. That’s exactly how she had phrased it.

My mom had sky-blue eyes, and was a dainty little thing, five feet three inches tall, weighing, about one hundred and ten pounds. When she walked into a room, or whatever the setting might be, she dazzled crowds, particularly men, who would often rave about how great she looked. This always bothered me. People weren’t supposed to view my mother that way. Stare at her with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. This would happen all the time, and most of the time my mom, like today, would have on normal everyday attire, jeans and a T-shirt. It was not as if she garnered this type of attention because she went out in public wearing extravagant dresses, high heels, with her hair done up perfectly.

“How’s your wife?” she asked, putting her Bic lighter away.

“Not bad.” Already, Mr. Keller commenced to eye her up and down.

“I appreciate you feeding Billy.”

“No problem.”

“Was he well-behaved?”

“Absolutely. Your son is sophisticated beyond his years.” I was surprised to hear him say that.

My mom smiled, gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. “I think Billy’s wise beyond his years because I force him to read a lot. I try to limit his TV watching as much as possible.”

“Really, why‘s that?”

“I’m of the opinion that too much television stunts a child’s intellectual growth, it doesn’t force them to think nearly as much as books do. In my view, TV is for people who are lazy.”

I knew that wasn’t a decent thing for her to say because Andrew’s family seemed to watch the tube nonstop. I never saw them read books, the newspaper or magazines.

“I have to tell you Miss Hall,” Mr. Keller said, ignoring the comment, “you’re boy here sure gets along with that Nancy Sutcliffe. He’s the envy of the neighborhood. Getting to eat all the free Push Up Pops, and slush Cups, he wants. I even heard Billy got to drive the Good Humor truck today. Nancy let him sit on her lap while your boy steered. My son Andrew is so jealous.”

“Miss Sutcliffe is good people,” my mom declared, although as I stated she did not know Nancy that well. “So Billy,” she looked at me, “you got to drive the Good Humor truck today, huh?”

“I did. Andrew says I‘m becoming a regular big shot.”

“How far did you go?”

“I don’t remember,” I responded noncommittally. “Just up the street.”

“Anyway, Miss Hall, when Nancy Sutcliffe dropped off your son, my wife Stacie told me she just up and drove off. Peeled out actually. Didn‘t bother to say hello. Wave or anything. Stacie said her behavior seemed a bit odd. Just thought you‘d like to know.”

“Odd?” My mom shrugged. Watched Mr. Keller tap ashes onto the pavement. “Maybe she was in a hurry.”

“Yeah. Could be. Either that or maybe she didn‘t feel like dealing with my wife.”

My mother snickered. “Hey you said that, not me.”

“I admit Stacie can be a royal pain in the butt.”

“She just talks a lot, but your wife’s okay . . . I hope Nancy Sutcliffe didn’t fill my son’s belly with too much sugar.”

“Oh. I don‘t think so,” said Mr. Keller. “At dinner, Billy had quite an appetite. Finished everything on his plate. He must love barbeque chicken.”

“I do,” I said, wishing Andrew’s father would leave.

Pleased, my mom tousled my hair. “Billy’s a growing boy. He needs his protein. Before you know it he’ll have huge muscles like Hulk Hogan.”

“Speaking of sugar, Miss Hall, here you go.” Mr. Keller handed her a brown paper lunch bag.

“What’s this?” she asked, peeking inside at the contents.

“A piece of Boston Crème pie. Compliments from my wife.”

“That’s right. On the phone, Stacie did mention that she would give me a piece. Tell her I said thanks.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you later Mr. Keller.”

“So long.” As he backed up, Andrew‘s father waved.

“Bye,” I uttered.

CHAPTER 6

On the way into the house, my mom put her arm around me. “Billy, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I know you didn’t mean to break the lamp.”

“That’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay. I’m your mother and I shouldn’t have blown my top the way I had.” She sounded sincere.

“I promise I won’t kick the ball around in the house again,” I told her. “So can I have it back?”

“What, your Nerf football?”

“Uh huh.”

“Of course you can have it back,” she says. “The football is in your room, on top of your dresser. Did you really think I would throw it out?”

“Kind of. I wasn’t sure.” You could say my mother had one of those unpredictable personalities where one minute she might be pissed off and the next moment she would suddenly be back to her normal happy self. I could never quite figure her out. Soon you’ll understand why.

“You have to realize though, Billy, that lamp cost a lot of money.”

“I know.”

“It’s something I can’t just go to K-mart and easily replace. That was a custom lamp.”

Ashamed, I hung my head. “I said I was sorry. I told you I didn‘t break the lamp on purpose.”

“C’mon. I realize that. Look at me.”

I did.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you. As a matter of fact, to make it up to you, Billy, this afternoon I went out and bought new wallpaper for your bedroom.”

“You did?” For about a month, she had been saying she would get new wallpaper for my room, though, for whatever the reason, had never gotten around to actually doing it.

“Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.”

“Okay. What color is it?”