Authors: Mark Childress
Georgia wondered when the free clinic became the “Wellness Center,” and how you could call yourself “CEO” of a county-funded clinic. Little Mama had an expression for people like this:
Her dog’s named Brag
.
Roudy said, “Now, do you need some form of executive expe
rience to do as good a job as our current mayor is doing? Of course you do. But do you have to have
been
mayor in order to
run
for mayor? I don’t think so.”
Georgia hadn’t said a word about having to have been mayor. Her question was about experience. See how Roudy danced out of harm’s way, pirouetting to re-ask the question with her own slant, delivering her answer as a slam dunk. She turned back to Georgia with a pretty smile. “Anything else?”
Georgia smiled too, and shook her head no.
“Okay, well, I hope y’all will excuse me, I’ve got appointments all through the noon hour.” Madeline Roudy edged toward the door. A ripple of appreciation traveled through the ladies. They could only dream of a schedule as busy as hers.
To Georgia it seemed obvious that Roudy was far too busy to be mayor. How could she ever squeeze in city business between all those important appointments? Roudy shook hands with Maribeth Parker, president of the LWV, then made her exit to a smattering of applause.
Georgia was amazed at all these white women in awe of the doctor. Even the Junior League types acted as though they liked her. Georgia knew in her heart that if Roudy had won over the Junior Leaguers, Krystal was finished.
Never mind that Krystal had been the best mayor ever—annexing East Over without a hint of racial upset, landing a fat state grant she used to resurface every street in town, breaking ground for a new office park on the Andalusia Highway. If the people of Six Points wanted the hardest-working, most competent mayor, they would vote for Krystal. If they wanted a glamorous lady doctor who looked like a slightly bucktoothed movie star…
Krystal was watching Roudy’s protracted departure with a predatory smile, like one of those hard-eyed lady tennis players when the ball is coming down and she’s planning an overhead smash. Georgia tried to send a mind signal:
Go easy on Roudy. She went easy on you. These ladies like her, or at least the idea of her. Nobody wants to hear you trash Madeline Roudy.
The air in the community center must have been too cool and dry to conduct mind signals. Krystal tugged her lapels, stepped to the podium, and spread out a speech of many pages. The ladies around Georgia wilted. Punch and cookies were the chief attraction at an event like this, and it was awful to think of that much speech before the first bite of anything.
Georgia gave up trying to be subtle. She waved a hand at Krystal, made a clownish face, and drew a finger across her throat.
Krystal was looking straight at her but didn’t appear to notice. She focused her gaze on the pages on the lectern. “Good morning, ladies, and thank you for inviting me,” she said. “Let me first say that I always thought ‘ABC’ was a hit record by the Jackson 5. But now, from what I understand, in some corners of Six Points it has come to mean ‘Anybody but Crystal.’ I’d like to remind you that I spell my name with a
K
.”
She looked up for a laugh that never came. A lady coughed, way in back.
What a lame opening line!
Georgia marveled—and she was Krystal’s best friend. Imagine what was going through the other women’s heads!
Krystal was headed for disaster. Georgia could not just sit there and let it happen. She hadn’t felt an urge this urgent since the day she rose from her pew to stop Preacher Eugene from blurting the truth.
She raised her hand. “Excuse me, Krystal, can I ask you the same question I asked Dr. Roudy? Tell us about your experience in city government.”
Krystal frowned. “Yes, Georgia, I plan to get to that. If you let me. If you could, please, hold your questions till I’m through.”
That was a bit rude. Some ladies sucked in air. Everyone knew Georgia was Krystal’s best friend. Georgia thought most of them recognized she was only trying to save Krystal.
Krystal wouldn’t take well to further interruption. But if Georgia didn’t stop her, she was going to ruin herself.
Georgia said, “I don’t think we want to hear some long speech, do we? Just tell us what you’ve done, and what you plan to do.”
A murmur spread through the audience, a positive hum of agreement.
“Do you want to come up here and do this for me?” Now Krystal was pissed. She seemed to have no idea why Georgia might be trying to stop her. Georgia couldn’t think of a way to explain in front of everyone without causing her even more embarrassment.
Maribeth Parker cleared her throat. “If the mayor’s gone to all the trouble to prepare a speech,” she said archly, “I for one would love to hear it.”
Oh drop dead, Maribeth Parker,
Georgia thought. She was just like that in tenth-grade biology, too. A monumental suck-up.
“Sorry, Maribeth,” she murmured, “of course you’re right, never mind—please go ahead, Miz Mayor.”
Smoothing her skirt, Georgia fixed her eyes on a place where the floor tiles were laid slightly crooked. She was thinking what a burden it is to be right all the time—right, yet unable to convince
anybody. Doesn’t that indicate a failure of character? What good is it to be right if you have no influence? If everyone ignores you? You might as well be wrong.
Also she thought: I love Krystal as much as anybody on earth. But to love Krystal is to know that sometimes she can be a pigheaded fool. Now that Georgia had failed to stop her, her job as a best friend was to sit quietly and let Krystal make an ass of herself. And still be her friend when it was over.
“Sometimes you think you know a person,” Krystal began. “Someone who’s lived among you all their lives, you’ve said hello to as you passed in the street, and thought, hey, isn’t she nice. Then come to find out there’s a side of her you didn’t really know at all. Folks, I wish Madeline Roudy had stayed around to face the music, but I imagine she left because she knew what was coming. Frankly, I don’t think she had the courage to stick around. Because I’m here to tell you honestly that Madeline Roudy is not quite the person you think you know.”
That’s how it started. It went downhill from there.
Every now and then Krystal would veer close to a specific accusation—for a moment it seemed she was about to reveal a criminal past, or at least a nasty divorce—but then she would veer off again, leaving only a mist of innuendo. Without quite saying it, she implied that Madeline Roudy was nefarious in some way, a liar who had misrepresented herself.
Nervous tics were breaking out in the seats all around Georgia. Evelyn Manning propped her head against her index finger as if it were a gun she would like to use. No one wanted to hear the mayor ragging on the nice black lady doctor. For Krystal to roll on with her assault as if Roudy were still there to defend herself? Huge mistake.
Georgia closed her ears. She couldn’t listen to one more word. A true friend would tune out the other friend now.
The speech went on for about a month. A couple of phrases floated into Georgia’s ears, despite her efforts to block them: “Brought down shame on the whole community,” and later, “Without a shred of evidence to the contrary!”
Poor Krystal. Bless your heart, you won’t be mayor anymore. That’s okay. We’ll find you a nice job, a better job, where you won’t be slaving away nights and weekends for an ungrateful citizenry.
And good luck to you, Madeline Roudy!
Georgia thought bitterly.
You’ll be wishing for something as easy as a clinic full of sick kids!
By the time Krystal’s speech was over, even the ladies with good posture had slumped in their seats. The cookies slumped against the glass of the plate. The bubbles went out of the punch.
No one clapped, or asked any questions. No one wanted to prolong it by even one second. Krystal thanked them all for coming. The ladies smiled tight smiles and mobbed the door trying to get out. Several of them sidled up to Georgia to murmur “She should have listened to you” and the like, but this was just irritating. Where were they when she stuck her neck out?
From the visual darts Krystal was flinging at her, Georgia knew she was still mad. Not surprising. Krystal had failed, and she needed someone to blame. What a best friend does in this situation is hang around until everyone else is gone, so Krystal can rant and rave and blame it all on you. That’s why Georgia hung around, anyway—to get what she knew was coming to her. Certainly she did not expect to get thanked.
Krystal walked across the indoor-outdoor carpet and stuck
out her hand like a politician introducing herself. “I want to thank you,” she said, with a firm grip on Georgia’s hand. “Thanks for showing me who you really are. I never would have believed it. Now I do.”
Georgia was stunned. “Come on, Krys, don’t say that. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t put the genie back in the bottle,” Krystal said.
“Me and my big mouth,” said Georgia. “I regretted it the instant the words were out of my—”
Krystal exploded. “Get the hell out of my face! I’m not interested in your apology!”
Georgia backed up a step. My God—Krystal was livid! Face all twisted to one side. Her eyes shining with anger.
“I know I should have kept my mouth shut,” Georgia stammered, “but I was only trying to keep you from—”
“You sabotaged me on purpose! Of course they hated me, they would have hated anybody after you did that. ‘Please not another one of your long-ass speeches, Krystal, can you spare us the long-ass speech?’ ”
“I did not say that!” Georgia was beginning to get her back up. “Not exactly. I was trying to stop you from making a fool of yourself.”
“Oh no. Quite the opposite.”
“Hey, you know what? This is really inappropriate, for
you
to be mad at
me!
” Georgia’s voice pitched way up high—it surprised her, how panicky she sounded. She would never have opened her mouth if she’d suspected Krystal would misunderstand this badly. “I tried to warn you before you started, I gave you all the high signs in the world. You saw me but you ignored me. I was trying to tell you, those women did not want to hear you tearing
down Madeline Roudy. They
loved
her. Did you even notice that? No.”
“Last night you said it was a good idea to go on the offense.”
“Last night it
was
a good idea,” said Georgia. “Then Roudy came in and charmed the pants off everybody. Were you completely oblivious?”
“I’ve had it with you!” Krystal stormed. “Damn it! It’s your fault she’s running against me in the first place!”
“
My
fault?” Georgia was mystified. “What the hell?”
“Because you made her mad—you know what I’m talking about! That time at Hull’s Market. She’s only running against me to get back at you!”
“God, that is so junior high school,” said Georgia. “You’re trying to put this whole thing on me? Because that’s just not fair.”
Krystal said, “Oh why don’t you just
fuck off!
”
Krystal said that.
The word echoed and rang off the cinder block walls and the flat carpet.
Georgia had never heard that word out of Krystal’s mouth. Even quoting someone, she always substituted “the
F
word.”
But she said it now. Then turned on her heel and rushed from the room.
The outer door slammed so hard Georgia thought the glass would surely shatter.
For a moment the room went pale. Georgia thought she was going to faint for real. Blood drummed in her ears. She sank down in a folding chair.
The right side of her face stung. As if she’d been slapped.
Fuck off.
Her best friend had said that to her. Good Lord. This was a new day. A territory she never expected to enter.
Georgia got up from the chair and went outside. Krystal’s car was gone, the parking lot deserted. Irma Winogrand stood under the eave, smoking, staring out at the pine woods. “Did your mother find you?” Irma said.
Georgia turned. “I’m sorry?”
“She was looking for you. Seemed kind of upset. I told her you were in there. Didn’t she come inside?”
“You sure it was my mother?”
“Georgia.” Irma took a drag on her cig. “I’ve only known Little Mama my whole life. She looks pretty good, too. ’Cept she forgot to change out of her bedroom slippers.”
“The pink ones?”
Irma nodded. “Bunny rabbits.”
Georgia’s heart filled with dread. Mama had been out of the house exactly twice in a year—once to accompany Georgia to the prison, and once to the doctor. She made Georgia handle all interaction with the world. That way nobody noticed her “memory problem,” which she still insisted was mostly in Georgia’s mind.
Irma said, “Poor old Krystal. You tried to save her from herself. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“I know,” Georgia said. She could think of lots of other things to say, but not to Irma Winogrand.
“Nobody’s gonna vote for her now,” Irma said. “That was just… ungracious.” She shook her head in disgust, as if
ungracious
was the worst thing you could be.
Georgia found herself springing to Krystal’s defense—never mind that Krystal had just attacked her. “Aw, she didn’t mean it that way. Krystal gets frustrated because she’s worked so hard,
and done such a good job as mayor. And nobody seems to notice.”
“Maybe so,” Irma said, “but that ain’t the way to go about it.”
“When was Mama here?”
“Not five minutes ago,” said Irma. “I thought she went in there with you. Is she all right, Georgia?”
Georgia worked to keep her voice light. “Oh, she’s fine. She just forgets.”
Irma blew out a cloud of blue smoke. “Hell, I wish
I
could forget.”
Georgia cruised the streets near the community center, looking for Little Mama. She swung by the Pik-N-Pay. Frances hadn’t seen her. She looped back by the house, parked in the alley. She found the back door standing open, all that expensive A/C pouring out into the hot afternoon.
She made a quick check of the rooms. No sign of Little Mama.
A truly caring daughter would be getting hysterical by now. Georgia was not that worried; her heart was still racing from the confrontation with Krystal.