God Still Don't Like Ugly (22 page)

But like Mr. Boatwright, Rhoda was part of my past and I had accepted that.

“I
am
in love,” I muttered, watching as Mr. Willie glared at me and shook his head. The scowl on his face was so severe, it looked like he GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

171

was in pain. I didn’t need a psychic to tell me that he was going to be trouble.

Jerome’s mother, Marlene, wearing a pink chiffon dress, had already set the table and was prancing around on four-inch heels ordering everybody around the dining room like a drill sergeant.

“Annette, didn’t I tell you to sit between Jerome and Willie? You and Nadine act like a couple of schoolgirls.” Marlene reminded me of Muh’Dear because cooking and cracking the whip were her strongest points. Waving a napkin, she continued, “Jerome, you don’t have to sit so close to Annette. You’re stuck with her for the rest of your life, so give yourself some space tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to snuggle up to her.” As much as Jerome and I loved the bright yellow dress I had on, Marlene looked me up and down and frowned. “Annette, I guess you want to get as much mileage as you can out of that frock.” She turned sharply away from me and snapped her fingers. Then she opened her mouth to bark again.

First, she sneezed and turned back to me. “I was hoping you wouldn’t splash on none of that Giorgio, Annette. Cheap perfume is bad for my sinuses. And what did you do—swim in it? My goodness!” She waved the white napkin at me and started talking with her other hand covering her nose. “Annette, you better sit at the end of the table after all.” Marlene waved me to another chair. “No, wait. That’s still too close to me.” Instead of allowing me to sit at the table with the rest of the adults, Marlene seated me at a card table that they had dragged into the dining room for Jerome’s two young nephews and niece. I was pleased when Jerome got up from the table and sat with the kids and me.

I was even more pleased when Nadine took the seat next to Jerome. “I’m wearing Giorgio, too,” Nadine said with a wink.

As uppity as Jerome’s mother was, she was a fairly decent cook.

She had roasted a duck and stir-fried all the vegetables. With a smirk she yelled across the room, “Annette, you might recognize these dinner rolls. I picked them up from your mama’s restaurant. I hope you’re half as good a cook as she is. I want my boy to be well taken care of.”

“Mama, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Being with Annette is just like being with you,” Jerome said, not noticing the snickers from his siblings. Nadine shook her head and tapped my foot with 172

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hers under the table. “Uncle Willie told me when I was a little bitty boy that a smart man always marries a woman like his mama.”

“Mrs. Cunningham, Jerome is just playing with you. I could never be the woman you are,” I said distantly. Knowing that my goose was probably already cooked, thanks to Mr. Willie, I was not too particular about what I said now. I had nothing else to lose, so I kept talking. “I just hope that I make Jerome as happy as you have, anyway.”

Marlene glared at me with her mouth hanging open. Like Nadine, Jerome’s mother was not as pretty up close as she was from a distance.

Marlene’s small, beady black eyes were too close together, her nose was crooked, and one of her cheekbones was higher than the other, making her face lopsided. I wondered if a woman who looked like Marlene would have thought so highly of herself if she’d been born with skin as dark as mine.

Jerome’s Aunt Minnie from Sandusky cleared her throat. “Annette, the key to keeping your man happy is to always look good for him. No matter what you have to do. It’s such a shame my husband Clarence had to up and die on me so soon.” Miss Minnie lifted her chin and patted her cheek. I didn’t comment on her recent face-lift because she still had a few wrinkles and folds.

As hard as I tried not to look at Mr. Willie, every time I turned my head in his direction, his eyes were on me. There was no mistaking his contempt.

“So, now what do you do for a livin’, Annette?” Even though Mr.

Willie said it nicely, there was still a fierce scowl on his face as he addressed me. These were the first words he had spoken to me since the ride from my house.

“She’s a switchboard operator,” Jerome said proudly.

“And she was the smartest girl in my algebra class,” Nadine added.

“Mmm-huh,” Willie nodded. “When I was your age they only gave jobs like operators to those squeaky-voiced white girls. Black girls had to do some of everything to make a buck.”

“That’s for sure. My mama cleaned houses and cooked for most of her life. When I was little, I remember a job she had spreading manure on some politician’s farm. I used to help her,” I said evenly. I didn’t particularly care for duck, but I managed to take a few bites.

“Spreading manure? Yegods.” Marlene clucked and shook her head. “I’d do anything to get out of doing something that ghoulish.”

GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY

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She sighed and looked around the room from Jerome to her other two sons. “Boys, just being a woman in this world is a mighty cross to bear. Some of us have to do some of the most unspeakable things so we can take care of our loved ones. I’ve been telling Nadine that all her life.” Marlene turned to me with a rare smile and said, “Well, be thankful you had a mama willing to do whatever she had to do. Just look where she’s at now.”

“She owns the Buttercup restaurant now,” I announced proudly.

“I know. I used to go by there a few times before I moved away from Richland. I didn’t know Gussie Mae was your mama,” Mr. Willie grunted, waving a tall flute of wine in front of his pink-and-brown lips.

“Oh, Miss Gussie’s a sweet woman. Goes to church every Sunday,”

Clifford, Nadine’s sharp-featured husband, said. He occupied the seat next to Marlene. “She cooks and serves free food to the homeless on a regular basis.”

I smiled proudly. I didn’t want to brag about the fact that my mother had also started giving cash donations to the homeless, too. I didn’t care what anybody thought or said about me now, I was proud of the person I had become. I was so bold as to now believe that the people in my life should consider themselves lucky to know me. I just hoped that Jerome was one of those people.

Marlene patted Clifford’s shoulder and grunted. “It’s a crying shame Annette’s mother associates with wenches like that Scary Mary,” Marlene said with disgust, shaking her head and waving her fork high in the air. “That woman gives the rest of us a bad name. If Annette’s mother and Annette could shovel shit to survive, Scary Mary could have, too! A Black woman running one of those . . . those

. . .
houses
. Shame, shame, shame. I didn’t even know snake pits like that still existed in America. That whole business is so . . . so third world.”

I was surprised when one of Jerome’s brothers defended Scary Mary. “Scary Mary’s cool. It’s because of her generous donations that they can keep that youth center open. Lord knows, Black kids need all the help they can get to keep them out of trouble.”

“Scary Mary also helps my mama cook and feed the homeless,” I said, holding my hand up defensively. “Even if the woman is a madam, she’s got a good heart and she doesn’t judge people.”

Jerome beamed proudly; his mother just looked at me and blinked.

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Mr. Willie glared at me and shook his head. Everybody else in the room smiled at me, even the children.

Then the conversation suddenly shifted to family matters that didn’t concern me, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I made it just in time to throw up in the toilet. When I opened the door to leave, Jerome’s ferocious uncle was standing there, blocking the doorway.

The contempt in his eyes could not be measured.

CHAPTER 43

“Ex...excuse me,” I mumbled, attempting to walk around Jerome’s angry uncle. I even offered him a smile.

The huge man stepped to the side, preventing me from moving.

His face was close to mine and his foul breath made me cough. “Get thee behind me, Bride of Satan,” Mr. Willie commanded.

“Uh . . . I . . . uh . . . I . . .” I couldn’t believe the gibberish coming out of my mouth. I felt more like a spectator than the recipient of his wrath.

Mr. Willie rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, like he was preparing to punch somebody out. In a way he was. And I was his target. Wiry, reddish-brown hair covered his thick arms as he folded them.

“So. We meet again,” Mr. Willie said gruffly as he reared back on his stump-like legs and started to rock back and forth on his feet.

I attempted to walk around him again but he was determined to keep me from moving. He wobbled to the side and blocked my path.

“Where do you think you gwine?” he sneered, stabbing my chest with his thick finger.

“I’m going back to Jerome,” I said, trying to sound firm, my arms hanging limply down my sides.

“You ain’t gwine noplace, Whore of Babylon.”

“But . . .”

“But nothin’!” He paused and let out a loud belch, shaking his 176

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head as he looked me up and down. “Jerome always was the family fool, but I never expected him to settle for a sloppy, leftover whore like you.” Mr. Willie sucked in his breath and stuck out his barrel of a chest. He looked just as disgusting as he did that night he paid me to use my body. Deep lines formed a wide “V” on his forehead. Gray hairs stuck out of his flaring nostrils.

“Jerome doesn’t know anything about . . . what I did before I met him,” I hissed, glancing around, a pleading look on my face.

“I didn’t think he did. Well, if you think I’m gwine to let that boy get involved in somethin’ he’ll regret, you way wrong. Just look at you—with your nappy-headed self.”

I wrung my hands nervously. “This is none of your business, Uncle Willie.”

Mr. Willie was clearly horrified by the way I had just addressed him.

He gasped and moved back a step. Then he stopped and stared at me with his mouth standing wide open. For a moment I thought he was going to laugh because there was such an odd expression on his face.

But then he screwed up his face into a frown so extreme it looked like he had on a mask.

“Gal, don’t you never fix your lips to call me ‘Uncle’ ever again. I will never be no uncle to the likes of you, with your nasty self. For your information, Jerome is my blood. My blood is my business.” He snorted. “My nephew deserves a decent woman. A
sanctified
woman who’s been splashed by the blood of Jesus—not the cum of a hundred and one heathens! Not some two-ton whore willing to sell her rank pussy for a few dollars. And, by the way, you was one of the cheapest pieces of tail I ever come across. Fifty dollars! Them other gals charged twice as much and they was worth it and more. You wasn’t!”

Mr. Willie interrupted his assault on me just long enough to catch his breath, then said harshly, “And for the record, you wasn’t even worth the fifty dollars! Shame on you! A two-dollar food stamp was about all you was worth. Look at you. You got the nerve to come up in this house in that loud yellow dress, lookin’ like a big, black cow peepin’

over a bale of hay.”

“Oh yeah? With all the squealing and sweating you did that night I was with you, you must have had a good time with this big, black cow!

You didn’t care what I looked like then,” I reminded, trying to keep my voice low.

“I could have had a good time with a bar of soap on a rope!”

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“Then why didn’t you do that in the first place?”

“I wish I had.” Mr. Willie growled and wiggled his nose, not taking his eyes off my face.

I felt like the lowest form of life known to man. But I also felt that this man was no better than I was! Women wouldn’t go around selling their bodies in the first place if it wasn’t for horny men like him.

“I wish I could take back what I did, because I didn’t have to do it.

I was young and I was foolish,” I mumbled, hardly recognizing my own voice.

“Foolish? You got that right. Well, you ain’t good enough for Jerome.

I suggest you get your big, black ass the hell up out of this family’s life!

My mama would do a jackknife in her grave if I let that boy marry a sloppy Jezebel like you.”

“You’re not going to tell Jerome, are you? Let me tell him in my own way, in my own time. Please.”

“You . . . just . . . watch . . . me . . . now!” Mr. Willie rubbed his neck and blinked. “I know you don’t think I’m gwine to let him marry you first. Do you think I’m that stupid?”

“What . . . what do you want me to do?” I whimpered.

“Devil, you do whatever the rest of them strumpets do. Find you a man that don’t come from a respectable family like mine. I don’t give a bejoojoo what you do. I know what you ain’t gwine to do, and that’s to marry into this family. Especially with your homely self. I seen better-lookin’ faces in a pigsty.” An amused expression appeared on Mr. Willie’s face as he continued attacking me. “You’d give birth to young’uns with hooves and scales, I bet.”

Just then, Jerome entered the hallway in front of the bathroom and strutted right over to me, draping his arm around my shoulder.

“Mama’s about to serve the drinks,” Jerome said, a puzzled look on his face as he looked from his uncle to me. “Baby, you really do look sick. I’ll take you home in a few minutes if you want me to. Just stay long enough to have a drink. You are going to be part of this family and I want you to get used to everybody.” Jerome wiped a layer of sweat off my cheek with the back of his hand, then felt my forehead.

“Hmmm. Feels like you have a fever, too.”

I nodded.

“It was nice talking to you, Unc . . . uh,
Mr.
Willie,” I mumbled, my words tasting like something contaminated.

“I bet it was,” he said with a smirk, both of his fleshy cheeks twitch-178

Mar y Monroe

ing. “And I didn’t get to say everything I wanted to say, but I’m sure I will,
if
I see you again.” There was no mistake about the threatening tone in his voice.

I was so light-headed, I could barely feel my feet as I followed Jerome back to the living room. I had perspired so much that the top part of my bright yellow dress was soaking wet. My stomach was in cramps and my eyes felt like balls of fire.

“Baby, I am so proud of you tonight. I’m so sorry you don’t feel too well,” Jerome said lovingly as we entered the living room where everyone was.

“I’ll be fine,” I managed, pressing my lips together to keep them from quivering. Mr. Willie was standing in a corner glaring at me with his arms folded. He flinched, shook his head, and took a drink when Jerome kissed me.

I felt like I had slid into the deepest bowels of hell and been sucked up into the jaws of the Beast.

CHAPTER 44

Ineeded a drink more than anybody else in the living room at Jerome’s mother’s house. But even a straight shot of vodka didn’t dull the pain. Nobody even noticed when Jerome and I slipped away from the crowd and went to his car.

“I know you don’t feel well, baby, but I wish you would have said good-bye to everybody before leaving,” Jerome whined, helping me into his car. “And don’t be shy around Uncle Willie. Don’t call him

‘Mr.’ when you see him tomorrow; call him ‘Uncle Willie’ like the rest of us did tonight. He’ll like that.”

“Jerome, I’m really sick and I need to get home right away.” The alcohol that I had been able to get down churned violently in my stomach. The inside of my mouth tasted like bile.

“Well, take care of yourself. I’d like for us to take Uncle Willie to the Buttercup tomorrow night for dinner. Your mother makes the best sweet potato pies in town.”

I nodded and placed my head against the window, praying that Jerome would drive fast. I wanted to be alone as soon as possible. I stayed pressed against that window all the way back to my house.

“I’ll call you later tonight. I would stay with you now, but my uncle is the head of the family and I need to spend some time with him.”

Jerome lowered his voice and continued. “I just hope Uncle Willie’s not expecting me to hook him up with some female company like he 180

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did the last time he came to visit. Since my aunt died, he’s been hornier than ever. Scary Mary’s girls just love him to death.”

I nodded and started to open the car door. I paused and looked at Jerome. “Jerome, you love me for who I am, right?”

He gave me a puzzled look before he grinned. “Yeah. But you know that already.”

“If you found out that I was not the woman you thought I was, would it matter?” I delivered the words with extreme caution. At the same time, I wondered if it would make a difference if the worst-case scenario did come to pass.

“Remember how Flip Wilson used to say, ‘what you see is what you get’?”

“What? Jerome, what in the world are you talking about?”

“Well, I like what I see and even what I can’t see in you. I am not perfect and I don’t expect you to be. I can’t imagine you having a secret so deep and dark—don’t tell me something strange, like you used to be a man.” Jerome laughed. “I don’t think I could deal with that!” He leaned over and kissed my cheek and laughed again. “We got some babymaking to do and you’d have to be a
real
woman to be able to do that.”

I laughed dryly. “Don’t worry. I’m all woman and I always have been.”

Jerome kissed me at my front door and waited until I got inside before he left.

Before I could cross the living room floor, my phone rang. It was Muh’Dear.

“Listen. I been thinkin’. It won’t make no sense for your daddy and your sister . . . uh,
half
-sister, to stay in no motel when they come up for the wedding. Frank can sleep in Brother Boatwright’s old room.

That Lillimae can sleep in my old room.”

“That’s nice, Muh’Dear. I know Daddy’ll be glad to hear that,” I said distantly.

“Are you all right? You sound a little strange.”

“I’m fine, Muh’Dear.”

“It’s just the weddin’ jitters. I had ’em both times I got married.

That Frank. He was so frisky the day we got married, I had to hide from him to keep him from makin’ a fool of hisself in front of the preacher. Oh, I never thought I’d live long enough to see you get married. And to such a fine young man!” Muh’Dear chuckled. “And GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY