The Book of Bright Ideas (13 page)

“Course they do. Verdella makes everybody feel good about themselves. You know why? Because she loves everyone for who they are, that's why. And she digs deep if she has to, to find that one good thing. And because she does, just being around that woman feels good. And if it's true that those two run away from you to get to Verdella, it's certainly not because she's better or more beautiful, for crying out loud. It's because she knows how to love. Simple as that.”

After Ma cried some more, Freeda said, “Look. It's a fact of life. If a woman doesn't feel good about how she looks, she doesn't feel good about herself, period. So what do you say you let Freeda Malone give you a hand?”

I heard Ma sniffle. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I said. I may not know much about a lot of things, but the one thing I do know is how to take what someone's got and make it look better. I worked in a beauty shop for a time. Not cutting hair—I never did finish beauty school, though I cut a lot of hair anyway—but I got a job in one, cleaning. The owner figured out real fast that I knew lots about hair and makeup and all that stuff, so she hired me to do makeovers. She said my mascara tube was a goddamn magic wand. So she started advertising ‘complete makeovers.' I'd look the women over, say what I thought they needed, and Lucy would give them the cut I suggested, roll it up, then I'd fix it for them. I'd do their makeup too. Shit, I'll bet I was single-handedly responsible for half the pregnancies in that town during the months I worked there—which might not have been a good thing, because not all of them were married—but goddammit, those women felt like a million bucks when they left that place.

“I'll bet when you look in this mirror, you don't see nothing but a homely, skinnier-than-shit woman who can't do nothing right. But you know what I see when I look at you, Jewel Peters? Potential! That's what I see!

“Course, we can rat your hair up to the roof and slap makeup on you an inch thick, but it ain't gonna help your cause if you feel ugly inside. I can help with that too. Look at ya, Jewel. Fingernails like stubs—either from chewing on them or from working them to the bone, I ain't sure which. Wearing those clothes that cover up the little ya do have. And lemme guess…when Reece lays his hands on you, I'll bet you freeze up like a Popsicle. You must've heard before how a man wants a lady in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom? Well, shit, with me, they get a whore in the kitchen too, but that's besides the point. The point is that I could have any man I set my mind on—and you can damn bet that I could keep him too,
if
I wanted to. I got a lot I could teach you, if you want me to.

“Okay, I've got to get back and get ready for work. But tomorrow I want you to come over. You hear? Marty's is closed on Mondays, so I'll be home when you get back from work. Fix up something for supper if you have to, and tell that man of yours it's on the stove. Then you head over to Verdella's and you make your apologies to her. If you aren't willing to do that, then I don't want a damn thing to do with you. But if you make things right with her, then you come over by me afterward. I'm gonna teach you how to loosen up, pretty up, and lighten up. You got it?”

I hurried down the hall and slipped around the corner of my room, just as Freeda and Ma came down the hall. I peeked out once they passed. Freeda headed to the door and put her hand on the knob. “And don't bother thankin' me either. I ain't doin' this because I'm particularly fond of you. I'm doing it because…well, I don't know exactly why I'm doing it. I guess I just like challenges.” And with that, Freeda Malone was gone.

 

I expected Ma to head back to the kitchen after Freeda left, but she didn't. She sat down in the living room for the longest time, then she got up and paced. She cried a little here and there, her arms folded, her one hand rubbing the opposite arm. Finally she called for me. I waited for just a little bit—about as long as I thought it would take to walk from my bed to my doorway—then I went into the living room and blinked, like I had no idea that anything at all had gone on. “Yes, Ma?”

“We have to run over to Aunt Verdella's. You go on and get in the car while I get my purse.” I did as she told me to do.

“Stay out in the yard and play while I talk to Aunt Verdella,” she told me when we pulled in the drive.

I knew why she told me to stay outside. She wanted to talk to Aunt Verdella about the mean things she'd said to her, and she didn't want my big ears hearing any of it. What I didn't know, though, was what she expected me to play.

After she went inside, I looked over at Winnalee's house. I didn't see her in the yard though. I looked around for Uncle Rudy, but I didn't see him either, even though his black truck was in the driveway.

I walked over by the house, right under the kitchen window, and I sat down on the edge of one of those little cement boxes that sit around basement windows. From there, I could hear my ma and Aunt Verdella talking.

“…No, it's not okay, Verdella. I had no business talking to you the way I did.”

“And I shouldn't dote on Button the way I do, Jewel. You're right. She's not
my
daughter.”

“That's true, but you're her aunt. And you're the best aunt a child could have.”

Their words sounded good, if you read them on paper, maybe. But spoken in stiff-sounding voices, they only sounded polite.

Ma cleared her throat. “About what I said, regarding your accident years ago. I'm sorry for that the most, Verdella. Freeda was right. It was cruel and mean of me to open that old wound.”

I waited for Aunt Verdella to say that that was okay too, but she didn't. Instead, she said, “Jewel, that's something that breaks my heart every single time I think of it. I still have nightmares of that morning. And when I'm drivin', and I see any movement out of the corner of my eye, my whole insides shake, even if I am on a county road, and I still can't back my car up without shivering.” I heard Aunt Verdella's voice gasp a bit from tears. “I don't think I'll ever get over that. And why should I? That little boy's poor mama and daddy will never get over it. You know?”

“Oh, Verdella. I'm just so sorry…” The politeness went out of Ma's voice, and sadness mixed with tears took its place.

“Freeda thinks that I believe God has punished me by making me sterile, but the truth is, I prayed to Him not to give me a child, even though there's nothing in this world I wanted more. But I told Him to give any child who would have come to me to that poor woman and man who lost their little boy instead. I had the local paper sent to me for eight years, and I scoured it every week, till I found what I was looking for. News that they'd become parents again. I finally could cancel my subscription when their third little one was born. A boy the third time. Somehow, that made me feel better enough to at least let go of it on some days.”

Ma and Aunt Verdella were both crying by this point in the story, their words too muffled with tears for me to hear what they were saying anymore.

I felt Knucklehead's wet nose against my leg and looked up to see Uncle Rudy coming through the yard. I stood up quick, so he wouldn't know I was being all ears.

“Hi there, Button,” Uncle Rudy said. He looked up at the house, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling even more. “Is your ma inside?”

“Yeah,” I said. “She came to tell Aunt Verdella she was sorry for the things she said, I think.” I said the first part so he wouldn't worry, and the second part so he wouldn't think I was eavesdropping, even though I was. He nodded his head once.

There were two metal lawn chairs over by the picnic table—one turquoise, one red—and that's where Uncle Rudy headed, telling me to come keep him company. He sat in the red one and saved the turquoise one for me because he knew I liked that one best. He pulled his Copenhagen can from his pocket and tapped the lid before opening it. He took a pinch, then held the can out to me, like he always did. “Snuff?” he said. He chuckled a bit when I shrunk away from his hand and made a face. He tucked the wad inside his lip and put the can back into his pocket with a chuckle. “Ah, nuts,” he said when he settled down, like he'd say sometimes, for no reason all at.

We didn't say nothing, but that was okay. I liked sitting with Uncle Rudy whether we were talking or not. While he looked out at the field, I looked at the back of his neck where the sunshine had settled as he sat bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees. I looked at the way the wrinkles there were crisscrossed over his skin, making diamond shapes.

“Where's your little friend?” he asked.

“I don't know. In her house, I suppose. I forgot to ask if I could go get her before Ma went in to talk to Aunt Verdella.”

I could feel Uncle Rudy looking at my arms, which were still rashed and scratched red. He opened his mouth to say something, but then Winnalee came out of her house. She jumped off the steps, set her ma down on the grass, lifted her arms, and started spinning in circles, the hot breeze wrapping her hair around her as she twirled. I didn't need to hear her to know she was singing. I could tell by the way she had her head tilted to the side and by the bouncy way she spun. She stopped, put her arms down, and must have seen Ma's car in the drive. She squealed when she saw me and hurried to pick up her ma. Her white mesh slip looked like it was waving at me, just like her arm, as she came running across the grass. I waved back.

There were only two lawn chairs, but they were plenty big for all three of us, so I scootched over and made room for Winnalee and her ma.

“Is Aunt Verdella done crying yet?” Winnalee asked.

“She is,” Uncle Rudy said. “Or she was before Jewel got here. But you know how women are.” He spit a brown wad on the grass, then looked over at us. At my arms, especially. “I suppose you girls were there when Jewel said those things to Verdie, huh?”

“Yeah,” Winnalee said. “She made Aunt Verdella cry really hard.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Uncle Rudy, is it true what Button's ma said? Did Aunt Verdella really run a kid over and kill him?” My whole insides felt puky when she asked him this.

“Yes, Winnalee, but it wasn't her fault. It was an accident. It happened a long, long time ago. Long before I met her. Aunt Verdie was driving to work in the middle of winter, and the highway was icy. She was going real slow, because she hadn't been drivin' long and she wasn't real good at it yet. She was going so slow she couldn't make it up a hill, so she put the car in reverse so she could get a running start. She didn't have any way of knowing that a little boy was sledding in his yard, because she couldn't see him. He came over the bank as she was backing up, and he slid right into her. She didn't even know what she hit until she got out of the car. And I know it's hard hearing such a bad story, but I didn't want you kids thinking that your auntie Verdie did something bad by choice.”

“And he was dead, then?” Winnalee asked.

“Yes, he was.”

“That's sad,” Winnalee said. I didn't say that it was sad too, but I sure felt it.

I looked over at Winnalee. She was staring down at the urn propped between her legs. “Could Aunt Verdella have killed that boy just from being mad at him?” she asked. “Like, if he said she couldn't wear her favorite dress, and it made her so mad that when she left for…well, for the store or something…that she thought she wished he'd die?”

Uncle Rudy reached over and patted Winnalee's bare arm. “No, honey. No.”

For a time, only the birds and the wind said anything. I reached out and took Winnalee's hand.

“Uncle Rudy?” Winnalee asked after a while. “Is Aunt Verdella really trying to steal Button?” Uncle Rudy smiled slowly. He shook his head and the diamonds on his neck stretched and scrunched with each turn. “Course not,” he said. “She's just lovin' her. That's all.”

After a while, Ma and Aunt Verdella came out of the house. They walked down the steps side by side, their two arms twined together. They both had red eyes, patchy faces, and shaky smiles on their faces. I could see from just one glance at Ma that something in her had changed. And when I saw her look over at Freeda's house with something in her eyes that looked like both a “thank you” and a “please,” I had a guess that the changes were just beginning.

12

Late in the afternoon, the Monday after the big yelling-and-making-up day, Ma came outside where I was doing nothing but sitting on the tire swing, missing Winnalee. “Button?” she called. When I got to the steps, Ma was dangling a key from her fingers. “You want to run over to the Malones' with me for a minute? I finally found the key to Mae's back door and thought I'd drop it off before I start dinner. Your daddy has to work late tonight, so we'll have time.”

“Sure!”

I knew that Freeda never locked their doors, so she probably wouldn't exactly do flips when she got that key, but I didn't tell Ma that, because I wanted to see Winnalee. Even if it was only for a minute or two.

“Daddy's over at Uncle Rudy and Aunt Verdella's,” I said when I saw a splotch of Daddy's truck peeking through the trees along their driveway.

“Oh,” Ma said, “I thought he was working late.” Ma didn't even look at his truck when we got level with the driveway. She was too busy looking at Grandma Mae's house. She looked a bit scared, like maybe she thought Freeda might yell at her for coming over, even if Freeda told her to come when she got done yelling at her yesterday.

Winnalee burst out of the house the second Ma stopped the car. “I saw you coming!” she yelled in a voice that sounded more like singing than talking. Winnalee was wearing a lady's dress I'd never seen before. It had big flowers on it. I think she must have had a belt strapped around the middle so she wouldn't trip, because the material was bunched up over something around her middle. She was barefoot as usual.

As soon as we stepped inside the house, we heard two voices laughing. One was Freeda's, and the other one sounded like my daddy's. Ma must have thought so too, because she got a sour look on her face.

“Freeda, Button and her ma are here!”

Daddy's laugh stopped quick, but not Freeda's. She came out of her bedroom shaking her head. “I don't know how you put up with that guy, Jewel,” she said, while still laughing. She tossed her head back and turned her face some, like she wanted her next words to float inside the room where Daddy was. “He puts in a new light fixture, and it actually works, and he's so damn proud of himself that he gets cocky!”

Freeda waited a second, like she thought maybe Daddy would yell something smart-alecky back, but he didn't. She shrugged, then headed toward the kitchen, leaving Ma and me still standing in the dining room. “How about a cup of coffee, Jewel? I was just about to make some.”

“Oh, I wasn't staying,” Ma said. “I just stopped by to drop off a key for the back door.”

“A key?” she asked.

Ma reached over and quickly set the key down on the dining-room table. Her face was redder than it usually was.

“Wanna see the pictures I drew?” Winnalee asked.

“Sure,” I said, my eyes still on Ma.

“Come on,” Winnalee said. Ma and I started following Freeda and Winnalee to the kitchen. We hadn't yet cleared the living room when Daddy came out of Freeda's room, coming face-to-face with Ma and me. He had his hand bunched around a screwdriver and was carrying a box with a picture of a ceiling light on the side. The old light was stuffed in it, poking out of the top of the box. Daddy looked a little red-faced. “Her ceiling light was shot,” he said. “A short. So I picked one up in town.”

Freeda appeared in the kitchen doorway. She had one of those little scoopers from a coffee can in her hand. She looked at Daddy first, her eyebrow on that side raised, then she looked over at Ma, and her other eyebrow lifted. “Thanks, Reece. Now get lost so us gals can talk about you.” Daddy almost ran to get to the door. “Oh,” Freeda called after him. “And before you put that little toolbox away, why in the hell don't you hang that mirror up in your wife's sewing room, huh?”

“See ya, Uncle Reece,” Winnalee called, but I doubt Daddy heard her, because I think he was already halfway down Peters Road.

“Come on, sit down, Jewel.”

Ma sat down, her back as stiff as the chair she sat on.

“Winnalee, get those papers off the table.”

“Wait! I wanna show them to Button!”

Winnalee might not have been good at coloring (her crayon marks going every which way, her colors all goofy), but she sure was a good drawer. Her paper—which must've come from Daddy, because it didn't have good lines—was filled up with pretty fairies with skirts shaped like bells, and pointy wings coming out of their backs, both wings the same size.

“They're real nice,” I told Winnalee, and she said thanks. “You want to draw some too, Button?”

“Out on the coffee table,” Freeda said.

“No!” Winnalee whined. “I want to color here! All my stuff is already out!”

I started picking up the crayons. “I'll help you,” I said quietly.

“No! I'm going to color right here.” This time she screamed.

“I said move it, kiddo. You take cream or sugar, Jewel?” I glanced up at Ma, who was watching Winnalee hard.

“Um, no. Just black, thank you.”

One by one, I picked the crayons up and tucked them back into neat little rows. That is, until Winnalee grabbed the box from me and shook them out onto the table. I held out my hands to catch the red-orange crayon that was rolling to the edge.

“Damn it, Winnalee. Now scoot! We're going to have coffee here. Go on!” When Winnalee didn't budge, Freeda scooped her papers into a heap.

“You're crumpling them!” she bellowed.

“I'm gonna dump them in the garbage next. Just try me, Winnalee. You gonna move into the living room, or do I throw them out?” When Winnalee grabbed the crayon box from me and shook them out onto the table, Freeda ran to the trash can. “I mean business, Winnalee. You get your butt out of here now, or they're going in.”

I didn't know what to do, and I guess Ma didn't either, because she was staring just like me, with her mouth open.

“Stop it!” Winnalee screamed. She ran to Freeda and started slapping at her hands to get her pictures back. She whacked Freeda right in the bump, and Freeda cussed and tossed Winnalee's pictures into the air. Winnalee was crying and screaming both, as she tried to catch the pages. “I hate you!” Winnalee screamed. “And I hate the way you tell me what to do. You're not my ma!” Freeda stopped, her arms going limp at her sides.

Winnalee sobbed as I helped her gather up her papers. Freeda had tears in her eyes too.

I spread out the pages and crayons and pencils on the coffee table, while Winnalee sat on the floor, her arms folded tight over her chest. “I hate her,” she hissed. “She crinkled my best fairy.”

“You should have listened to her the first time,” I said quietly.

In the kitchen, I could hear Freeda telling Ma how she didn't know what to do with “that kid” and that she should count her lucky stars that I was not as headstrong as Winnalee.

“Well, Freeda,” Ma said. “Any kid would act like Winnalee if they knew they could get away with it.”

“Well, what in the hell am I gonna do with her? You saw how she doesn't mind!”

Ma laughed a little. “Maybe I have something to teach you, in exchange for my beauty lessons. When it comes to discipline, I've got plenty to spare.” And Freeda said, “No shit!”

In no time at all, the whole fight between Freeda and Winnalee was over, and Winnalee was drawing and chattering, and Freeda was telling Ma how she should update her hairdo. “I should give you a short, cute bouffant do.”

“You cut hair? I thought you only set it.”

“I can cut hair. I've cut lots of hair—just not in a beauty shop.”

“No, here, like this,” Winnalee said, right in my ear that was busy trying to hear the story Freeda was telling Ma. “You're making angel wings, but fairy wings are different. Like this.” Winnalee was yapping so much that I missed the whole story, even though it had to be a good one, because it made Ma laugh. And not one of those soft kind of laughs either, but the kind that jiggles your belly. I'd never heard my ma laugh like that before.

Winnalee decided we should have some cookies then, so I followed her into the kitchen, where Freeda and Ma were still dabbing at their laugh-damp eyes. Winnalee hoisted up her lady's dress and leaped up on the counter to fetch the fudge-striped cookies.

Freeda got up quick. “Get your ass down from there, before you fall and crack your head open.”

“I'm gettin' the cookies!” Winnalee grabbed the bag, then reached an arm around Freeda's neck, and let Freeda swing her down. Freeda kissed the top of Winnalee's head. “You're a sassy little shit,” she said, “but I love you anyway.”

“Love you too, Freeda,” Winnalee said, meaning it this time, even though ten minutes ago she hated her enough to want her dead.

“Yoo-hoo!” Me and Winnalee glanced at each other and grinned when we heard Aunt Verdella's voice. We raced out of the kitchen and into Aunt Verdella's arms for our hugs. “We're gonna have cookies. Want some?” Winnalee held up the bag so Aunt Verdella could see what kind.

“Just a couple,” Aunt Verdella said. “I've gotta watch my girlish figure, you know.” We headed into the kitchen, our arms wrapped around each other.

“Hi, Jewel!” Aunt Verdella sounded surprised to see Ma sitting at the table having coffee with Freeda.

“Grab a cup, Verdella,” Freeda said. “The percolator's here on the table.”

We let go of Aunt Verdella so she could get a cup down from the cupboard. “Want to see the fairies we're drawing?” Winnalee asked.

Aunt Verdella sat down while Freeda poured coffee into her cup. As Winnalee ran to gather up our pictures, Aunt Verdella caught her reflection in the chrome toaster. She tilted her head this way and that while she plucked at the tufts of hair poking out from the bobby pins holding back the sides. The stripe on the top of her head had gotten as wide as a belt. “Oh, Jesus, look at this mess!”

“Funny you should mention hair. I was just telling Jewel that she should change her hairdo. Update it a bit. A nice bouffant.”

“Oh, that would be nice. I should do something with mine—probably shave it off,” she said with a laugh. “I don't know what color to make it this time.” Aunt Verdella took the fairy pictures Winnalee handed her. “Jewel, you remember when I colored it with that off-brand that time, then permed it myself?” She laughed, her belly shaking. “The box said Bright Auburn, or something like that. Good God, I don't know if it was the coloring, or if I left my perm on too long, or what, but remember that? I looked like a red squirrel who tried lighting a woodstove with gas. Clumps of red-orange hair fell right out in my hands. Poor Rudy, he didn't know what to do when he came home and saw me. I know he wanted to laugh, but he was afraid to. Once he'd laughed at my coloring concoction—that time I went jet-black, and ended up lookin' like a witch—and I started cryin'. Course, that was back in the days when I'd get all emotional from the curse. Anyway, there we were, needing to go to a wedding, and I had that red-squirrel thing going on. I had to get a hat from Mae. She didn't have anything the right color for my dress, except this old thing with a fake flower on the side. I'll tell ya, I looked like a circus clown in that ridiculous thing. Bozo, with a dead red squirrel sticking out from under his hat!”

We were all ha-ha-ing over her story. Even Ma. “Oh, such pretty pictures, girls,” Aunt Verdella said after we all settled down. “How about giving Auntie a couple to hang on her fridge? You each pick out the one you want me to have. Okay?”

“Hey, I know!” Freeda suddenly yelped. “Let's go to the drugstore and get some Clairol. We'll play beauty shop!”

“Right now?” Ma asked.

“Sure! Why not?”

“Oh, I don't know. I haven't even made dinner yet.”

“Oh, let's do it, Jewel! Reece was having stew with Rudy when I left. So you don't need to worry about him,” Aunt Verdella said. “Button, run over to my place and grab Auntie's purse, will ya?”

So off we went to Aunt Verdella's, then to the Rexall drugstore. We laughed and chattered, right there in the drugstore aisle, when Freeda grabbed a box with pale, reddish-brown waves on it and held it up to Aunt Verdella. “Look at that, kids. Auntie Verdella's gonna look like a peach in this, ain't she? Hot dog!” She shoved the box of color at Aunt Verdella, then started scouring the shelves for something Ma would look like a piece of fruit in too, I suppose.

“Here we go! A nice golden blond. You wait and see how this brightens you up, Jewel.”

Me and Winnalee didn't play that afternoon, and we didn't talk about fairies either. We stayed in the kitchen and watched Freeda goop up Ma and Aunt Verdella's heads with that stinky hair-coloring stuff, while we ate bologna sandwiches.

After both their heads were rinsed, Freeda gave them each a haircut. “Don't cut too much!” Ma said, as tufts of hair rolled down her shoulders, and Freeda told her to hush up. That she was giving her a cute bouffant hairdo, like it or not, and that she'd love it when it was done.