Playing by the Rules: A Novel (7 page)

“Now they’re talking about getting gas on odd and even days,” said Medford, finally able to get a word in.

“What does that mean?” asked Vernelle softly.

“Excuse me?” asked Medford, unable to hear.

Billy was sitting next to Vernelle and explained. “That means that if your license plate number ends with an odd number you can go to the gas station every other day. And the people who have even-number plates get to go and get gas on alternate days.”

“And I just heard they’re asking for gas stations to voluntarily close down on Sundays,” said Granddaddy.

“Now you’re talking. That’s a good thing,” said Sadie. “Maybe it’ll get more people in church.”

“Guess I sold the Shop right in the nick of time,” Granddaddy added. “Who would want to be involved with all of this mess?”

The Shop was the car repair and gas station that Granddaddy had bought for Faye’s husband Harry when they got married. He thought he was doing Harry a favor by setting him up with his own business, but when Harry turned out to be bad news and turned up dead one day, Granddaddy had no reason to hold on to the Shop and got rid of it quicker than he would a lighted stick of dynamite. He sold it to the first person who gave him half the down payment in cash.

“Got that right, Granddaddy,” said Louise. “The other thing they want us to do is keep the thermostats down low to conserve energy.”

“Ain’t that a blip. Not during these mountain winters,” said Theola, sucking her teeth, throwing her arms around herself, pretending to keep warm, hoping that Clement would get the hint to wrap his arms around her too. Clement glanced in her direction, then lowered his eyes to the floor.

“It’s all part of the President’s conservation plan,” continued Louise.

“The only part that makes me happy is that daylight-savings time happens all year ‘round now to save fuel,” said Granddaddy.

Everyone smiled and cheered and saluted with their eggnog, nodding their heads in approval.

Bending under the tree, Nana happened to glance toward the front door to see Billy and Elvira talking while standing under the mistletoe. She stood up and yelled out, “Kiss, kiss!” and they did. Later, when Louise and Medford happened to be near the mistletoe, she shouted out, “Kiss, kiss!” They hesitated a moment before they made their lips finally meet, and Nana picked up immediately
that something else was terribly wrong beyond the way her granddaughter was dressed.

To get into the kissing game, Theola meandered underneath the mistletoe while Sadie prepared to sit down at the piano. As Sadie began to play “Silent Night,” Theola pretended to be listening to the song while shooting glances of encouragement at Clement.

Clement turned away and started up with Granddaddy.

“Willie, who you think is gonna be in the Super Bowl this year?” Clement asked, feeling Theola’s eyes on him.

“I’m not normally a betting man.” Granddaddy usually said this before he was about to make a wager. “But if I were, I’d put my money on the Dolphins. They lost to Dallas last year, but they showed the Redskins a thing or two, and I betcha they’re hungry for another taste of trophy.”

“The Vikings got themselves a good appetite too,” chimed in Billy, easing into the La-Z-Boy, pushing the arms forward to make the leg rest come up so he could take the pressure off his bad knee. “Tarkenton’s been doing a mean job quarterbacking this season.”

“Yeah, but Miami’s got a tough defense, which will make it hard for the Vikings to break through,” said Louise. When it came to current events, especially sports, Louise made a point of being as knowledgeable as the men. She couldn’t help herself. It was a natural feminist reaction.

“I’ll tell you this,” said Clement. “If Miami gets to the Super Bowl, they’ll rip the Minnesota front line to shreds.”

“In that case, it don’t matter how much better Tarkenton is getting; he ain’t got a chance.” Billy finished his eggnog, then rested his cup on the arm of the chair.

“All this talk going on,” Granddaddy said, still standing, holding the pitcher of eggnog, giving his grandson a refill. “I wanna know if y’all mean what you say. Who’s willing to bet that these two teams will be in the Super Bowl in the first place? I’m a nice
guy, but I’m willing to take your money.” Granddaddy paused, staring down at his fellow football fans. “Anyone just want to bet on the Dolphins making it to the Super Bowl?”

Billy and Louise shook their heads.

“Nah, Granddaddy,” said Billy. “I just spent all my money on Christmas.”

“Me too,” Louise added.

“All I got to spend are words,” said Clement, putting his hands inside his pockets. “Money is something I keep to myself.”

The doorbell rang and Bootsie walked in with Ole Miss Johnson trailing behind. While Bootsie had been in the house just last week, Ole Miss Johnson hadn’t been under the Dunlap roof in over thirty years, even though she lived right next door. It seemed as if everyone stopped what they were doing to take in the spectacle of the fragile old lady emerging on foreign soil, which was as strange as witnessing concrete floating on water or seeing a mayfly in June. Judging by the quiet in the room, after welcoming her guests, Nana thought it was a good time to sit down to eat.

Once everyone was seated, Granddaddy folded his hands and said grace: “Dear Lord, thank you for bringing this family and their good friends together.” He squinted through one eye at Ole Miss Johnson. “Bless the food before us on this Christmas Day, and the fact that we don’t have to deal with Outsiders anymore. Amen.”

Granddaddy’s sensitivity to Outsiders increased about two years ago when his youngest grandchild, Faye, married one and all hell broke loose. Faye’s husband, Harry, had brought more problems with him than horseflies swarming around cow manure, and one day he turned up dead. His demise created even more chaos because Granddaddy and his family were under house arrest, considered suspects in Harry’s murder. Everyone at the table knew what Granddaddy was talking about as far as Outsiders were concerned.
If another Outsider never showed up on his doorstep, it would probably be too soon.

When the clamor of sterling silver utensils against porcelain serving bowls, platters, and plates began, Louise launched into conversation. “Have y’all heard of the NBFO?” she asked, looking at Vernelle, who was the most likely to be on top of women’s and health issues. Everyone at the table seemed to quiet down in order to hear Vernelle speak.

Vernelle was a midwife who had birthed many healthy Lemon City babies. She had big, steady hands, and her arms looked as though they could extend through a long, dark tunnel and grab whatever was on the other side.

“Can’t say I have,” said Vernelle, reaching for the salt and pepper. “What’s that stand for?”

After hearing her response, the clatter at the dinner table returned to normal.

“Does it stand for New Brotherhood For Officers?” Billy offered. “For some kinda new police organization?” He stretched out his leg and the joint was so stiff that it popped on cue, as if adding punctuation to his sentence.

“It stands for …” Louise didn’t get a chance to finish her statement.

“No, no…don’t tell me,” Billy interrupted. “Let me guess.” Then he turned to his grandmother. “What you think, Nana? New Bread From Oven…Nothing But Fresh Olives.”

“Billy, quit acting stupid,” said Louise, giving him a disgusted look.

“Wait a minute. I’m not done.”

“Yes you are,” Louise replied.

“Medford, this one is for you, brother. “What about…New Boyfriend Follows Obsession.”

Medford looked at Billy and wondered if he not only read people
their rights, but also read their minds. Maybe he’d seen the ad in today’s
Lemon City Chronicle
, Medford thought.

“Nana, can you please stop him?”

Medford wanted to tell Billy to let his sister talk, but he knew better than to interfere with the siblings.

Billy was on a roll. “Clement, try this one on for size…Nicotine Burns Foul Odors.”

“Now that don’t make no kinda sense,” said Clement, looking beyond Theola, who was in his line of sight, all the way to Billy. “Now be a gentleman and let your sister tell her story.”

“Nana?” Louise pleaded.

“Alright… alright. Billy, quit now. Behave yourself.”

“NBFO stands for National Black Feminist Organization,” said Louise finally.

“I should have known that’s what it was about,” said Billy. “Something boring. Who cares?”

“Since when did colored women become feminists?” asked Ole Miss Johnson, intrigued by the notion, trying not to let the pain of sitting upright in a chair reflect in the sound of her voice. Nana nodded her head in agreement, but stopped when she realized she was taking sides with her neighbor.

“Since Flo Kennedy founded the Feminist Party in 1971 and Eleanor Holmes Norton helped start the NBFO in November last year,” declared Louise, who cringed whenever she heard the word “colored” and flinched at the word “Negro,” but accepted the fact that old folks might never get used to the change of labels. Although that wasn’t the worst of it. What really sent her over the top was being called Afro-American, because she couldn’t imagine a race of people being named after a hairstyle.

“Flo who? Ain’t she the one from New York City who wears those big pink sunglasses and a cowboy hat?” asked Sadie, who suddenly became more interested in her mashed potatoes and
asked Bootsie to pass her the gravy. Smiling, she thanked him with a grin that showed as many teeth in her mouth as there were keys on a piano.

“Did she say Kennedy?” asked Bootsie, who was slightly hard of hearing despite being a tenor in the Pursuit of Happiness Jubilee Choir. “Which one is she talking about, John F., Robert, or Ted?” He leaned in closer to Sadie so he could hear her response.

“Flo,” said Sadie.

“Who’s that?” Bootsie looked confused.

“I believe she’s a black feminist.” Sadie was anxious to get back to being occupied with her mashed potatoes.

“Oh,” said Bootsie, as if he finally understood. Then he contemplated the idea. “We got them now too?” Perplexed by the concept of black women and feminism, which seemed like a contradiction in terms to him, he became confused all over again and decided to focus on his food.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. She’s that lawyer, ain’t she?” recalled Vernelle, getting back her memory. “Always cracking jokes while taking care of business. That’s what they say.”

“Both these women along with several others decided to organize the NBFO, to get equal rights for women,” added Louise.

“I don’t know why they bothered,” said Ole Miss Johnson, squeezing out her words with whatever air she could force out her lungs through her cracked ribs. “If you ask me, ain’t no colored women being oppressed by colored men.”

“I don’t know why colored women need to separate themselves from the men to begin with,” said Theola, directing her comment to Clement, trapping him with her eyes.

“One reason for the need for separation between the sexes is that women overall still get paid less than men,” said Louise.

“You get paid pretty well as head librarian, don’t you, dear?” asked Nana.

“This is not a complaint about
my
salary, Nana. I’m just talking in general. But I’ve always wondered, if they put a man in my spot…let’s say, you, for instance, Billy.” Louise turned to her brother. “They’d be more likely to pay you more money.”

“Damn skippy, they’d pay me more money. Because I’d be worth it. No offense, Sister, but I’d better get paid a higher salary than you. I got a wife to take care of, and at some point in the near future, kids to feed, Lord willing.” Billy nodded his head as if agreeing with himself.

“See what I mean? That’s exactly my point!” Louise exclaimed. “The Department of Labor statistics show that women are more reliable and absent less frequently than men in the work force. But the status quo thinks the same way Billy does, and that’s not fair, which is why we need an NBFO.”

“Don’t get yourself riled up over nothing, young lady,” Granddaddy mumbled to his plate. “You don’t need more money. You got plenty of money. Just looking for trouble finding things to worry yourself about for no reason.”

“All I can say is, put the community first,” offered Ole Miss Johnson, taking a break from her food as if she had just lost her appetite. “The rest will take care of itself. Ain’t no need in dividing folks, splitting something in two when it’s got more strength as one.” She patted the corners of her mouth with her napkin as if her cheeks hurt. “Don’t be fooled by nobody.”

“I’ll say amen to that,” said Sadie, trying to keep the food inside her mouth.

“Me too,” agreed Theola, winking at Clement.

“Depends on what you mean by oppressed,” said Vernelle. Thinking about what Ole Miss Johnson said earlier in the conversation about colored women being oppressed by colored men. “Rufus with his loud self tries to keep me down with the volume of his voice, shouting over me like what he got to say is more important,
like I’m standing in a room on the other side of the house. That man makes me half-deaf, forcing my ears to put up with that racket. I need the right to peace and quiet. Shucks. If I can get them rights, now that’s something I’ll sign up for.”

While everyone fell out laughing at the table, Medford leaned over and whispered to Louise.

“I don’t oppress you, do I baby?” He was having a sudden need for her attention.

It seemed to Nana as if this was the first time the two had spoken since they arrived.

“Not at all,” Louise replied, trying to put on a smile. “I’m not talking about you.” She playfully nudged his arm, forgetting about her attitude. Regardless of his having another woman in his life, she still wanted a friendship between them.

“We’ve always been liberated,” said Nana. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t know why in heaven’s name we need an organized group to take on that mission.”

“The bottom line is, y’all are just trying to avoid being in the kitchen,” Billy said to his sister. “That’s what it all boils down to. That’s all it is… just admit it. Well, if you want to know the truth, kitchen work is y’all’s job.” He waited for the backlash to hit him. There were gasps from the women, including Nana, who was scowling, but he didn’t care; he was just getting started. “And y’all are better suited for that kind of work than us men. Y’all got them little tiny hands that can get the grease out of the corners of pots real good, arms slim enough to reach in and out of ovens, find food in the back of the refrigerator. Y’all are better at organizing all those cans and jars in the cabinets, polishing the silverware, putting it back into place, and it’s our job to come along and mess everything back up. Ain’t that right, fellas?”