Suder by Percival Everett Page A

“No reason.”
    There’s a long silence. Then I says, “I think Thelma is seeing somebody.”
    â€œThelma? No, I can’t imagine that.”
    â€œCan’t you?”
    David looks out the side window. “I don’t like your tone.”
    â€œI’m just touchy,” I tell him. “I’m probably just dreaming all this up, right?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to say?”
    â€œSay you ain’t the guy.”
    â€œI ain’t the guy.”
    â€œI didn’t think so.”
    David exhales. “Jesus Christ.”
    He lets me out at my car.

Chapter 8
    â€œGuess what?” Daddy said, slapping his hand on my shoulder. “Mr. Powell is coming back through Fayetteville.”
    â€œIs he coming here?” I asked.
    â€œYep.” Daddy sat down with me at the kitchen table.
    â€œHe’s coming to dinner,” Ma said, placing a platter of hotcakes in front of us. “Dr. McCoy is coming, too.”
    â€œWho?” I asked and I looked to see a puzzled expression on Daddy’s face.
    â€œYour dentist,” Ma said.
    â€œThat man is coming here?” I asked.
    â€œYou are joking,” Daddy said.
    â€œNo,” Ma said, “I invited him and he accepted.”
    â€œJesus,” Daddy said.
    â€œMa, that guy is crazy,” I said. I turned to Daddy. “He prays before everything he does. He dresses all in white. His office is all white.”
    â€œKathy, I don’t believe you invited that McCoy here for dinner,” Daddy said, pulling a few hotcakes onto his plate.
    â€œWhere’s Martin?” Ma asked.
    â€œAsleep,” I said.
    Ma turned to face Daddy. “Why shouldn’t I invite him to dinner?”
    Daddy didn’t say anything. He just pushed some food into his mouth and chewed quickly, leaning on one elbow. “The man’s a damn bigot.”
    â€œHe saw Craig as a patient,” Ma said.
    â€œSo what? He’s the worst kind of cracker.” Daddy punctuated his words by pointing his fork at Ma.
    â€œWell, he saw our son as a patient.”
    â€œI don’t know why he did. He probably got paid twice his usual fee. Who knows why this sick cracker took Craig as a patient. Jesus Christ, Kathy. Somebody would think that you—”
    â€œHe’s coming to dinner and that’s final.” Ma dumped the skillet into the sink and stormed out of the kitchen. Then she pushed her head back in. “It’s okay for you to invite somebody to dinner. A man who jumps into the river after a catfish.”
    â€œJesus,” Daddy muttered.
    â€œWhy don’t you invite Lou Ann Narramore to dinner, too!” Ma screamed.
    Daddy ignored her.
    â€œDid you hear me? Lou Ann Narramore!” Ma ducked back through the doorway. I could hear her in the other room. “From down at the drugstore.”
    All the kids in the neighborhood gathered around and stared at the sight in our driveway. Parked behind Daddy’s Mercury was a white Cadillac convertible with white upholstery and white sidewall tires. Out of the big car climbed Dr. McCoy, wearing a white shirt, white shoes, a white tie. The late-afternoon sun was playing off his white hair. His socks were bright red. He walked across the yard toward the front door. I was beside Daddy at the front window, watching Dr. McCoy approach.
    â€œJesus,” Daddy muttered.
    The doorbell rang and Daddy let Dr. McCoy into the house.
    â€œGood afternoon, Dr. Suder,” said the dentist.
    â€œDr. McCoy,” Daddy greeted him.
    â€œIsn’t this a beautiful day that God has presented us with?”
    â€œBeautiful,” Daddy said.
    Ma came into the room wearing her heavy coat and her high-top sneakers. She bounced over to the man in white. “Hello, Dr. McCoy.”
    â€œMrs. Suder, you’re looking wonderful. The Good Lord has blessed you with beauty.” Dr. McCoy looked down at me. “How are you,