Tending to Virginia (31 page)

“Pooh knew he was crazy,” Lena says. “Yessir, we all knew.”

“I knew,” Emily says. “You and Roy told me he was on the hardware store.” It didn’t surprise Emily a bit when she heard what he did. No sir, he had scared Ginny Sue that time and she knew that man couldn’t do a thing that would surprise her. Dressed like a woman and why did he marry if that’s what interested him? Felicia is a good woman and she is that way but Felicia doesn’t show herself on top of a hardware store and Felicia doesn’t scare children. She wasn’t surprised; she isn’t surprised at what they’ve got on TV. People walking down beaches with near to nothing on sipping a soda like there aren’t peas to shell and get to boiling and corn to
shuck and clothes to wash. Emily was so glad that Tessy didn’t have to hear of her son-in-law on top of the hardware store, ‘cause Tessy would have lit into that man like a fevered dog, the same as she done that time them young Mormon boys come to her screen door that time. Tessy shot ’em with that BB gun of hers, put a blister on one of those boy’s faces, told Emily all about it over the telephone.

“I’m glad Tessy didn’t have to hear of it,” Emily says. It makes her laugh to think of Lena striking that pose with her hands all crooked. Lena has always been able to strike a pose that way. Lena is striking one now with her mouth dropped open and that skint animal hat pulled to one side. Lena looks old and bad but she can strike a pose like nobody’s business.

“My God, it was no big deal,” Cindy says now and fluffs her hair. She hates when it goes flat. “Your hair looks nice,” Randy Skinner had said just last night and nuzzled up to her in the parking lot of Ramada. She knew she shouldn’t have gone at all, but she told herself well, if she’d had something better to do, she would have done it. “Play with fire, you get burned,” Constance Ann had said late yesterday afternoon. “Don’t call me to come spend the night again, because I’m warning you now. Besides, I can’t stand to miss ‘Dallas’ two weeks in a row.” And Cindy didn’t call her last night after making out with Randy Skinner; she didn’t need to call anybody because Randy Skinner meant nothing to her except a way to kill a little time. Charles and Nancy Price weren’t there even though Nancy’s sister was singing again.

“Don’t go, Cindy,” Constance Ann had turned right around and called on the phone to say. “Really, I’ll come spend the night. We could pop some popcorn.”

“Thanks, but it’s something I’ve got to do,” Cindy told her and even though the whole night was boring, two kamikazes and kissing on an old married nothing, it was something Cindy had to do. Constance Ann does not understand desperation; Constance Ann does not understand what a difference a little manly attention can make in this otherwise suck hole world. If Cindy’s going to make a mistake, then it’s her mistake, her business and the fact that Ginny
Sue is sitting over there pregnant as a horse with a lawyer husband does not take back the mistakes that she has made. Give somebody a marriage certificate and suddenly they’re the born again virgin, like the honeymoon opened that door for the first time. Everybody knows that when the Lord slams a door, he tries to crack a window and all she’s doing is just as he would have her to do, sniff down that window with a crack and fling it to the roof, let the world in. Anybody that looks hard enough can find a crack in this world, it might not be the one they’ve always dreamed up like Ginny Sue wanting to be Barbie and live in the dream house or like Constance Ann thinking a man is going to come along and find her there in her bathrobe watching TV and fall madly in love with her. The Lord helps them that helps themselves. “His cancer was a big deal,” Cindy says. “But not the hardware store.”

“It was all a big deal,” Madge says. “I tried to get him to the doctor.”

“Doctor, smoctor.” Cindy waves her hand. “What Daddy had hasn’t even been discovered, yet. They’ll probably name it after Daddy when it’s discovered.”

“He was crazy,” Lena says. “Yes Jesus, tell it ‘cause he was. Roy said it and Roy knows.”

“Say Alzheimer’s,’” Cindy says to Lena in a way she hopes that bitch can hear. “Alls Hiii Merrs!”

“I was so embarrassed,” Madge says and looks at Hannah. “I was.”

“I know you were,” Hannah says. “I wish somebody had called me.”

“I called you,” Virginia says. “Remember? I called from school because I had seen Betsy Peterson and her mama had been downtown and seen it all.”

“Seen it all,” Cindy says. “You make it sound like my daddy hung his pecker in the wind or something.”

“Cindy!” Madge gasps but Emily thinks it’s funny. Lord to picture that pose like Lena showed with
that
hung out. A man is nothing to see unless you love that man. That’s what she told Hannah before she married; it ain’t much to see.

“Oh pardon me,” Cindy says. “Now what should I have said instead of pecker, since we’re all so pure and holy.”

“You coulda said dick,” Lena says and laughs.

“Or peter.” Emily has to reach for another tissue. “Heeee,” she laughs in a high wheeze.

“One-eyed trouser snake,” Cindy says and even Hannah has to laugh at that one.

“God, I’d hate to get bit,” Emily says and grips the arms of her chair. “Pssssh Heeee,” snuff dust spraying. “I told Hannah just before she married that it was not much to see.” She wipes her eyes.

“You told me nothing of the kind,” Hannah says. “You never told me a thing about anything.”

“You weren’t even at the hardware store,” Cindy says to Ginny Sue. “You were off with your nose in a book and then gossiped about it.”

“I did not gossip!”

“Shit!” Cindy says and leans back on her elbows. “You probably told all your snotty college friends and made it sound like my daddy was crazy.”

“Heeee, she’s said another word that makes me laugh,” Emily says and never in Hannah’s life would she have thought her mama would laugh over ugly words. Her mama had once made Hannah lick a bar of soap for saying “pee.”

“And she coulda said B.M.,” Lena says. “Couldn’t she Hannah?” Lena is laughing now too, shaking those curlers right out of her thin hair.

“It would have been nicer,” Hannah says.

“Or job,” Emily says and sprays snuff all over herself. “Business. Heeee.”

“Roy worked at his job,” Lena says. “Roy was into big business” and now Hannah cannot control her laughter; she just lets go and joins in, God knows, better the laughter than tears for a change.

“Roy got a watch when he retired,” Lena says. “That man he worked for said, ‘you’ve done a fine job, Roy,’” and she barely gets that out of her mouth but what they all fall to one side and laugh like they might be retarded when there’s not a damn thing funny
about it. “Don’t laugh at Roy!” she yells. “He was into big business,” and there they go again, just laugh and laugh and laugh till you drop dead. Roy worked hard and Roy played hard and he’d get that way better than any man that any of these sitting here will ever know. Let ’em laugh and laugh and laugh. They’ll be sorry when her and Roy are dead and there’s no laughing to be done. Jealous. Her and Roy had everything and they’re jealous and Ginny Sue sitting there with her legs straddled about to give birth ain’t got a reason to be jealous just because her and Roy had them happy times; Lord yes, tell it, New York, Chicago, Key West, you name it and she could fish like a man if she took a notion. “If you wanted our car you should have bought it before the nigger stole it,” she says now and they finally get quiet. Yeah boy, Roy could pick a good car. He told her getting a new car was like winning the New York lottery. “But you’re the real prize, you beautiful bitch, you,” he’d always say.

“It’s a prize all right,” Roy had said and gingerly rubbed his fingertip along the hood ornament of that great maroon Lincoln. And it was, a surprise, her birthday present though she never drove it. Roy told her over and over how he had gone and picked it out. He’d just walked on that lot and he said, “Give me your flashiest and most well-built model with lots of pep, full of gas and fast, ‘cause that’s who it’s for.”

He had stood there, so tall and handsome, that little cap tilted on his head while he squinted against that summer sun and ran his finger up and down the ornament. He had already blown the horn five times. “Surprise!” he yelled when she came out on the porch.

“What is going on out here?” she asked, still in a fury over a big old chunk of ice she couldn’t get loose from the Frigidaire. She hated to defrost. She hated any kind of household chore. “I hate that damn color,” she said when he pointed to the car. “Looks like blood. Whose is it?”

“It’s yours,” he said, the keys dangling from his fingers, glittering in the sun like golden carrots while she made her way down the
steps. “And what’s yours is mine, right?” he asked and hugged her close, whispered “Happy Birthday, Miss Rolena, love of my life and beautiful bitch.”

All the times over the years that he had told the story, he put in the part where her eyes lit up like Christmas and how she couldn’t get inside that house and into some different clothes fast enough. She wasn’t about to ride around town in those pedal pushers and plaid shirt. She put on her gold threaded shell top and some black pants, gold shoes, teased her hair a speck and she was ready. She intended to get out and stand by that car every chance she got so people would know it was hers. He bought some little gold letters and put “Queen B.B.” on her car door, “Boss” on his; he bought sheepskin seat covers even though they were in Florida and a pair of leather gloves. She filled the backseat with gold velvet pillows so that Trickie would have a place to sit, and Trickie would stretch and meow so sweetlike. Trickie loved that car as good as her. Everything she had pulled out of the Frigidaire that morning went bad and they went to the grocery store and filled that big trunk full of grocery bags.

“I feel like a queen,” she had told him when they were on the highway, heading home to see Emily, her right index finger fiddling with the electric window, a quick spurt of air and then the quiet ticking of the little clock that came with the car and was deep in the dash, all padded like velvet.

“I’d not have such written there on the door,” Emily said when they finally got to Saxapaw, poor Trickie with a little upset stomach. “What does that mean anyway, Queen B.B.?”

“It’s mine and Roy’s secret,” Lena said. “You want to know?”

“Queen Beautiful Bitch,” Roy said from across the hood, sexy, he looked so sexy there leaning over that hood. “That’s what I call Lena.”

Lena had stood and watched that car pull away when it was sold, her hand firmly holding the porch post, her eyes getting all filmed over like she might have had some Sominex. That niggra man leaned
his arm out the window and tooted the horn, waved until he was hidden by the Piggly Wiggly. “I rode by here last night to show my wife the car,” he had said, said he taught school, liked to fix up cars. “I hope you don’t mind, the lights were off and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Disturb? What the hell difference would it have made with all that took place here last night?” He just looked at her, nice of him, acting like he didn’t notice the wild party. “I hate your wife had to see all that.” He just looked at her like he was confused. Well, good enough. He could pretend that he didn’t notice. She’d have rather had that man and his niggra wife in her house over them tramps and wild-acting men that Roy had invited over and him dead under that house with a piece of pipe clutched to his chest like he loved it, loved a piece of pipe and a set of blueprints better than he loved her.

“But you and your wife can’t have Trickie,” she had told that man, shaking her finger to let him know that she meant business and he acted like he hadn’t even seen Trickie. You can tell when one’s up to something, yeah boy, you can tell it. And Hannah said, “Come on now and let’s go to the doctor.” And that man that stole her birthday car rode by later, a woman in the front seat, a herd of little colored children in the backseat playing with the windows, and he beeped that horn and waved, those children turned around backwards and grinning at her.

Lena had held onto the porch post and waved back; “Bring your children to see me,” she called and then she remembered that was her car they were driving, the new car, the prize, and it made her mad as sin. “Stop it you colored thieves!” she screamed. “Stop!” but they had rounded the corner again, rounded the Piggly Wiggly and Emily’s house should have been there. “Trickie?” she called and he was rubbing up on her leg, purring, but he was old and thin and blind, his long hair all short and pulled out in places.

“Leave him alone, now,” Hannah had said. “That cat just about tore your leg up last week,” and she looked down at those red scratches on her ankle.

“Trickie wouldn’t hurt me,” she said and laughed. “No sir, me and Trickie have been together here in Florida for years now.”

“That’s not Trickie,” Hannah had whispered and hugged her hard,
too hard, ’cause it made Trickie scoot away and under the house where they all lived. “It’s just an old stray.”

“It’s not your business!” she says now and they laugh again. “Just laugh. Laugh like you get paid for it. You don’t have to live under the house!” She feels herself ready to cry and she doesn’t give a damn if she does ‘cause they’ve got no right to laugh at Roy. “I’m tired of it, now, I am tired.”

“Oh, we’re not laughing at you,” Hannah says and is there with her arms around Lena’s neck. “What you said was funny, Lena. That’s all. You know we love you.”

“She knows it,” Emily says. “She has pulled this stunt her whole life.”

“I have never pulled a stunt,” Lena says and wipes her eyes on her shirt. She doesn’t care, doesn’t wear makeup anymore, not like floozie Cindy sitting there with her legs straddled. “All I ever wanted was Roy Carter.”

“And you had him,” Madge says. “Aren’t too many that get just what they want.”

“No.” Lena shakes her head. “But I want him now.” She bangs her fist on the arm of the chair with each word.

“Then behave so you’ll end up where he is,” Emily says. “I’d think Roy made it to heaven.”

“Of course he did,” Hannah says. “He’s probably driving around in a big car right now, probably has already built a city of his own.”