Sugar (21 page)

“We was just talkin’ ’bout them. Audrey! Go get Miss Mable from under that dryer, she about done. Go on girl, tell it.”

“I seen them at the Memphis Roll last night.”

“Pearl?”

“Uh-huh, her and that whore.”

“Pearl at a juke joint? You sure your eyes seeing right?”

“I ain’t blind, Fayline, I know what I saw. She was dressed all loose and drinking up a storm.”

“See?”

“See what, Josephine?”

“I was just telling Fayline about Pearl’s strange behavior since that woman moved here. Her hair was dyed, wasn’t it?”

“Now that you mention it, there was something different about her hair. She had a lot of makeup on too.”

“Get out of here, Anna Lee! Pearl Taylor?”

“She was dancing around and hiking up her dress. It was a shame.”

“What were you doing there?”

“W-what ... We ain’t talking ’bout
me,
are we?”

“Where Joe at?”

“He outta town, Red told me he went down to Florida to visit with his people.”

“And he ain’t take Pearl?”

“You know she don’t go nowhere since Jude.”

Silence.

“Well, he better hurry on back here and set his wife straight.”

“Well, shoot, he ain’t gotta if ’n he don’t wanna. Plenty of women be ready to take her place.”

“Like you, Anna Lee?”

“Humph.”

“I hear you wouldn’t mind being Mrs. Taylor, Fayline.”

“Go on with that bullshit!”

“What ya’ll talking ’bout over there?”

“Shoot.”

“Ain’t nothing, Shirley.”

“It’s something all right, ya’ll been huddled whispering and cackling like a bunch of hens over something, not nothing, and I wanna know what it is, so tell me.”

“She ought to know, she know Pearl better than the rest of us.”

“That’s true.”

“What you say about Pearl?”

“She was at a juke joint last night.”

Shirley stumbled forward as if the words themselves shoved her. “Shirley, you all right? Sit down, sit down and breathe. You need some water, Miss Shirley?”

“What you say?”

“She said Pearl was at a juke joint. Her and her
new friend
!”

“Anna Lee, please.”

“Well she ain’t heard you the first time.”

“The devil is at work.”

“Sure is.”

“Shirley, she done dyed her hair, too!”

“Stop it, Anna Lee.”

“She should know.”

“Lord have mercy. Lemme use your phone, Fayline, I gotta call my sister. We gotta go on over there and reintroduce the Lord back into Pearl’s life.”

“Sure, Shirley, you know where it is.”

“She was wearing makeup and drinking too.”

“Enough already, Anna Lee!”

“Uh, Shirley, you want me to doll up your wig a little before you go?”

Pearl’s character was stretched, tugged and pulled until her name only left grainy particles of soil on the tongue of anyone who spoke it. She had become, in the eyes of the most influential women of Bigelow, nothing more than dirt.

“You sick? You look terrible.” Shirley was peering through the screen door at Pearl, patiently waiting for her to open it. “I came right over when—” She stopped herself, she really had no good reason for being there except to pry. “You sick?” she said again.

“No, just a little tired.” Pearl’s voice floated through the gray that surrounded and concealed her from Shirley’s bulging eyes. It was nearly two in the afternoon and she had not parted the curtains or opened the windows to let in the sunshine and warm fall air. Sleep had not taken her until late in the morning, when her body and mind were finally able to put aside the events of the evening.

She reluctantly opened the door; her better sense told her to send Shirley away.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what have you done to yourself !” Shirley shrieked as she stepped through the doorway, Minnie following close behind. Pearl sighed; she had not noticed Minnie. Now she would have to contend with the two of them.

Shirley and Minnie scrutinized the woman that stood before them, her eyes red and swollen from lack of sleep and from watching wide-eyed at a world she’d never known. Pearl’s hair was wild about her head and its newfound blackness almost sparkled against the rays of the sun. They followed her to the kitchen, looking over their shoulders to see the dress thrown over the banister and amber brown stockings lying like drift-wood on the staircase. The women exchanged glances and wondered what awaited Pearl at the top of the stairs, in the bed. Thoughts of infidelity ran wild through their minds and their mouths watered at the illicit image.

“Why your clothes thrown all over the stairs, Pearl?” Shirley was the first to ask. She questioned her in a wary voice.

Pearl breathed in again, and turned the flame on under the teapot.

“Is Joe back yet?” Minnie had not ventured completely into the kitchen, she stood in the doorway staring up the stairway, trying to hear the heartbeat of the man she knew for sure lay in waiting.

“He ain’t due back till next week sometime.” Pearl’s response was sober. She didn’t want to play the game with them. She was all too familiar with how they handled things, asked questions, heard the answers they wanted to hear and then went out into the small world of Bigelow and told the story they wanted to tell.

“I—I called you last night and you wasn’t here. Where were you?” Shirley adjusted her glasses and folded her arms across her breasts, waiting for Pearl to lie.

“ ’Round what time?”

“What?” Shirley hadn’t expected a question to her question. She was thrown off. “I believe it was about eight or eight-thirty.” Her voice was unsure and she looked back at Minnie, who’d taken a step closer to the stairway.

“Oh, I was here.” Pearl began clearing the table.

“Maybe it was later then.” Shirley pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Hmmm, how late?”

Another question. Shirley scratched at her wig.

“Listen, Pearl, I heard you was in some juke joint. Is that true?” Shirley’s voice came out as a controlled scream. Veins stood out on her chicken-thin neck in frustration.

“Do you think it is?” Pearl looked directly at her. The look alone was persuasion enough to get Shirley moving. She stood quickly, upsetting the chair and sending it toppling to the floor. “That girl done put some roots on you! You ain’t use to be like this. You done changed, Pearl, and it ain’t for the better either! I can’t believe Joe would approve of what been going on here in his absence—”

“What you know about what
my
husband approves of ?”

Pearl’s words were hot. Shirley backed away from her. She would not turn her back on Pearl and so she walked backward to the front door. Minnie, who’d made it to the third step, quickly moved in behind her sister.

“So nice of ya’ll to come by. See you in church tomorrow,” Pearl said smiling and softly closed the door.

Before visiting Pearl the women had made a decision. Shirley, Minnie, Clair Bell and a few others, each for their own reasons, decided to confront the evil spirit that had entered their town. They discussed their plan of action amidst the shampoo, hair grease and plastic curlers of Fayline’s Beauty Shop. Words of discord, unlike any that had been spoken in Bigelow since slavery times, flew between them like cat-o’-nine-tails.

Anna Lee had only seen Sugar in town, buying vegetables or picking up packages. She’d thought nothing more of her than as a brightly clad woman, cursed black. To Anna Lee’s dismay Sugar did not seem to mind this at all. Anna Lee’s suitors, men that once lined up at her door just because she was half of something they could never own outright, now ignored her, choosing instead to pay Sugar for whatever it was they needed, rather than come to Anna Lee.

She had not had a long-stemmed rose left on her porch since Sugar’s arrival. No small wrapped surprises left between the letters in her mailbox, or midnight telephone calls from men who professed their love in hushed tones, while their wives slept beside them. Sugar had taken all of that away from her. Anna Lee felt it was her birthright to have all of the attention of the Bigelow men. She was the half-breed of the town, the illegitimate child of Abraham the white storekeeper, the silky-haired girl with the dove gray eyes, tight high ass and abundant bosom. She should be the pinnacle of Bigelow’s black male desires, so she felt, not Sugar. Anna Lee wanted her gone.

Fayline wanted Sugar gone. At least six of her customers had started wearing wigs they’d ordered from the back of a movie star magazine. Sugar was taking food out of her mouth. Those women no longer needed to come in every other week for a wash and press.

To make it worse, Sugar had also taken a man out of her bed. Or she assumed as much. Cyrus Green wasn’t a man of substance or good looks, but he had shared her bed twice a week for the past ten years. She was barren and would not bear him children, which meant he could do anything he wanted to Fayline and the only thing she would produce for him would be groans of pleasure and squeals of delight. Groans and squeals did not require feeding or clothing.

Over the years, Fayline had grown used to seeing his overalls hanging on her bedpost, his large straw hat resting on her bureau. She was accustomed to kissing his fingers, the nails dense with dirt, and the way his tongue tickled her thick belly. She boiled over at the thought of Cyrus smiling down on the ass of Sugar Lacey.

Yes, Fayline wanted her gone.

Shirley, Minnie and Clair Bell wanted her gone because Sugar represented all that was wrong with Bigelow, and nothing had seemed wrong with Bigelow until right before Sugar Lacey had waltzed into town. They still consoled the women who’d lost their children during the spring. The Bigelow five. And now those same women and quite a few more confided to them amidst tears and wringing hands the fact that their men were often absent from their beds, paid little attention to their living children and always seemed too tired to slop the hogs or clean the barn.

Shirley, Minnie, Clair Bell and the rest of the Bigelow women all wanted Sugar gone.

Things had not gone well at Pearl’s house. Shirley and Minnie returned to Fayline’s and it was decided. The four of them: Fayline, Clair Bell, Minnie and Shirley, climbed into Fayline’s old Ford and were off to Grove Street. Faces set in hot contempt, adrenaline pumping, they did sixty from one side of town to the other and arrived on Sugar’s front step just minutes later.

Sugar opened her door and came face to face with Shirley. She had her arms folded across her sagging bosom and her foot thumped impatiently on the wooden porch. Sugar was surprised, and her face gave it away, but then she saw the rest of the women milling around the porch, looking at her, through her and behind her into the house.

“Yeah?” Sugar said. Her voice was pure St. Louis street. “What ya’ll want?”

“We wanna talk to you,” Shirley said and pushed her head forward until her forehead was near to touching Sugar’s.

“ ’Bout what?” Sugar said and stood back on one leg.

“About Pearl. You and Pearl and where you all was last night,” Minnie chimed in from behind Shirley. The women moved in closer.

“Pearl know ya’ll here?” Sugar asked and nodded her head toward Pearl’s house.

“No, it ain’t for her to know,” Fayline said and flicked grit from under her nails in Sugar’s direction.

“Can we come in?” Shirley asked and took a step forward.

Sugar put her hand up. “No. Anything you gotta say can be said right here on this porch.”

“This here is private talk, not for anybody and everybody who pass up and down Grove Street. Just you and us.” Shirley looked over her shoulder at the women for support. They all nodded their heads in agreement.

“Don’t nobody hardly come down Grove Street, ain’t but seven houses between the corner and the field, so I don’t think we have to worry about people passing by and hearing what you got to say. But if it’s so important for you all to be on the inside, why don’t I come over to one of ya’ll houses, we can talk and you can serve me lemonade and sweet cookies. How’s about we do that?” Sugar’s eyes challenged them.

If the look of horror that swept across the women’s faces also made a sound, then all of Bigelow would have been on Grove Street.

“I wouldn’t ’low nothing like you on my porch no less in my house!” Minnie yelled out. Shirley turned around and threw Minnie a warning look. “Hush up, Minnie,” she whispered to her and then turned her attention back to Sugar.

“We all Christian women here—”

“Not all,” Sugar corrected her. Shirley cleared her throat, nodded her head in agreement and continued.

“We don’t want no trouble, we just concerned about what you done gone and done to Pearl, is all. She ain’t use to nobody of your sort. You know what I mean, don’t you? She a Christian woman like us and ain’t never been exposed to your kind of people—”

“My kind of people? What kind is that, black people? Nah, can’t be black people, ’cause all that live around here is black people, so what kinda people you talkin’ about?” Sugar stepped out onto the porch, forcing Shirley to take a step backward.

“Girl please, you know what kinda people we talkin’ about.” Fayline stepped up, moving Shirley to one side. “You a whore and worse of all you a whore with bad luck as your pimp. Now we come over here to ask you to leave Bigelow, just pack your shit and be on the next train outta here.”

“A whore? How you know I’m a whore, somebody done told you so or you been with me to know so?”

Again the sweeping silent look of horror.

“Uh-huh, thought so.” She stared at them, those faces that could no longer look directly at her. “Ya’ll need to go on back home now. Go on.” She waved them away.

“You’re influencing Pearl to be with other mens, just like you do. It ain’t right.”

Sugar was puzzled. “What you talkin’ about, what other mens you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, you She-Devil, you! I seen it with my own eyes. Clothes all over the floor, a shadow at the top of the stairs, hiding. I seen it! And she done gone and colored her hair too!” Shirley was yelling and spewing saliva as she spoke. Her wig vibrated on her head as she shook uncontrollably.