talk to me about anything. Even that. I hope you didn’t jump the gun and slide off your bloomers too soon and for the wrong one.”
“I didn’t,” I muttered. I recalled the first time I’d ever had sex in my life, with Mr. Boatwright when I was just seven years old. Just thinking about it made my crotch start aching so hard, I had to turn and sit on the side of my hipbone.
“I didn’t think so. I can tell you too feisty to let some dude take advantage of you. Sugar, before you leave, let’s set down and kick back and you can tell me more about your life in Ohio. Hear?”
I sighed and offered a weak smile and a nod. A great sadness suddenly consumed me. I would tell Daddy more about my life in Ohio, but I’d leave out the parts about the years of sexual abuse I had endured and my fling with prostitution.
And the part about me having a best friend who was a murderer.
CHAPTER 12
Before Lillimae returned from church, I spent a few minutes telling Daddy a glamorized, edited version of my life in Ohio. He beamed and nodded when I told him how well I’d done in school and how quick the telephone company had hired me. But when I started to brag about the nice big house and the fancy restaurant that Muh’Dear owned and how good my late stepfather had been to us, Daddy promptly changed the subject.
“I think I’ll go back down to the lake and see if them bass is bitin’
later on this evenin’. I like to keep the freezer well stocked.” He grunted and let out a deep sigh. “Uh . . . I guess you and your mama didn’t need me after all,” he mumbled, looking at his hands like he was inspecting them.
I gave him an exasperated look and shook my head so hard that my ears rang. “Yes, we did, Daddy. Yes, we did need you. It was not easy for Muh’Dear and me to get to where we are now. You weren’t there to see me grow up, graduate, nothing. You would have been proud of me. Do you know—”
Holding up his hand, Daddy cut me off and said in a voice so weak I could barely hear him, “I am proud of you, child. I always was.”
I was glad that Lillimae returned to the car before the conversation could get out of hand. She was fanning her face with the wide-GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY
45
brimmed black hat she had purchased for the funeral to match the black tweed suit she had on. Before she could get all the way back into her car, Daddy grabbed the back of her seat and asked, “Lillimae, you all right? Ain’t you gwine out to the cemetery to see your mama get buried?” I was surprised at how strong he sounded now.
Lillimae mumbled something unintelligible under her breath and slapped her hat back onto her head backward. Then she said in a hoarse voice, “As far as I’m concerned, I done already done that.”
Daddy groaned and slid back into the corner of the backseat, rubbing his head.
Before Lillimae started the car, she glanced back at the church. I followed her gaze and watched as four grim-faced pallbearers hauled her mother’s casket out of the church and slid it into the back of a dusty hearse. As Lillimae eased her car away from the curb, a faint smile crossed her face and stayed there. We rode home in complete silence.
Daddy only stayed in the house long enough to get out of his suit and to get his fishing equipment. He took a coal-oil lamp to the lake with him so I knew that he was planning to spend as much time fishing as possible.
A few minutes after Daddy’s departure, Lillimae joined me on the living room couch. She was clutching a damp handkerchief, tapping her eyes and nose. She had changed into her ratty old housecoat and had removed her shoes. I was surprised to see a serene look on her face. Despite her swollen, bloodshot eyes and smeared lipstick, she looked so much better now.
Surprisingly, I had shed a few tears myself the night before. There was something about people dying that did strange things to my emotions, even when it was somebody I didn’t really care
“I didn’t,” I muttered. I recalled the first time I’d ever had sex in my life, with Mr. Boatwright when I was just seven years old. Just thinking about it made my crotch start aching so hard, I had to turn and sit on the side of my hipbone.
“I didn’t think so. I can tell you too feisty to let some dude take advantage of you. Sugar, before you leave, let’s set down and kick back and you can tell me more about your life in Ohio. Hear?”
I sighed and offered a weak smile and a nod. A great sadness suddenly consumed me. I would tell Daddy more about my life in Ohio, but I’d leave out the parts about the years of sexual abuse I had endured and my fling with prostitution.
And the part about me having a best friend who was a murderer.
CHAPTER 12
Before Lillimae returned from church, I spent a few minutes telling Daddy a glamorized, edited version of my life in Ohio. He beamed and nodded when I told him how well I’d done in school and how quick the telephone company had hired me. But when I started to brag about the nice big house and the fancy restaurant that Muh’Dear owned and how good my late stepfather had been to us, Daddy promptly changed the subject.
“I think I’ll go back down to the lake and see if them bass is bitin’
later on this evenin’. I like to keep the freezer well stocked.” He grunted and let out a deep sigh. “Uh . . . I guess you and your mama didn’t need me after all,” he mumbled, looking at his hands like he was inspecting them.
I gave him an exasperated look and shook my head so hard that my ears rang. “Yes, we did, Daddy. Yes, we did need you. It was not easy for Muh’Dear and me to get to where we are now. You weren’t there to see me grow up, graduate, nothing. You would have been proud of me. Do you know—”
Holding up his hand, Daddy cut me off and said in a voice so weak I could barely hear him, “I am proud of you, child. I always was.”
I was glad that Lillimae returned to the car before the conversation could get out of hand. She was fanning her face with the wide-GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY
45
brimmed black hat she had purchased for the funeral to match the black tweed suit she had on. Before she could get all the way back into her car, Daddy grabbed the back of her seat and asked, “Lillimae, you all right? Ain’t you gwine out to the cemetery to see your mama get buried?” I was surprised at how strong he sounded now.
Lillimae mumbled something unintelligible under her breath and slapped her hat back onto her head backward. Then she said in a hoarse voice, “As far as I’m concerned, I done already done that.”
Daddy groaned and slid back into the corner of the backseat, rubbing his head.
Before Lillimae started the car, she glanced back at the church. I followed her gaze and watched as four grim-faced pallbearers hauled her mother’s casket out of the church and slid it into the back of a dusty hearse. As Lillimae eased her car away from the curb, a faint smile crossed her face and stayed there. We rode home in complete silence.
Daddy only stayed in the house long enough to get out of his suit and to get his fishing equipment. He took a coal-oil lamp to the lake with him so I knew that he was planning to spend as much time fishing as possible.
A few minutes after Daddy’s departure, Lillimae joined me on the living room couch. She was clutching a damp handkerchief, tapping her eyes and nose. She had changed into her ratty old housecoat and had removed her shoes. I was surprised to see a serene look on her face. Despite her swollen, bloodshot eyes and smeared lipstick, she looked so much better now.
Surprisingly, I had shed a few tears myself the night before. There was something about people dying that did strange things to my emotions, even when it was somebody I didn’t really care
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