Momma was home and she had company. We stopped on the side of the house. I cleaned Lenora up somewhat. I used the tail of her dress to wipe the dry, crusty snot from her lips. Then I wet the tip of her dress with spit and cleaned the dry tears from Lenora’s oil deprived, dark, fat cheeks. Her face was ashy but there was nothing I could do about that. When I felt that Lenora looked presentable, we went inside.
Just before I entered the back door, I felt it necessary to threaten Lenora.
“If you tell Momma that Daddy gave us money, you not gettin’ none of it.”
Momma and Mr. Joe were in the living room. Momma was sitting on his lap.
“Lil Sister that you?”
“Yes mam.”
“Send Lenora outside and you come in here.”
I turned to Lenora. “You heard her! Gone outside!”
Lenora started crying loudly and screaming.
“I don’t wanna go outside by myself! I don’t wanna go outside by myself! I don’t wanna go outside by myself!”
Momma hopped off of Mr. Joe’s lap in the blink of an eye. She tore through the beads hanging at the kitchen door and connected her hard, rough hands against Lenora’s face before Lenora even realized that she was being hit. Momma must have slapped her about 10 times.
“Git yo’ backside out that door lak I said or I’m really gone give you somethin’ to cry fo’!”
Momma pulled open the back door with a storm like force and pushed her out into the elements. We could hear Lenora crying profusely.
Then Momma turned to me. She grinned at me, displaying yellow teeth and red gums where the two upper ones used to be.
“C’mon in here wit me and Joe,” she urged, as she took my right elbow and slightly guided me to the sofa in the living room, directly across from Mr. Joe.
“Tell me what happened wit yo’ Daddy.”
I looked at Momma puzzled. She had never shown this much interest in Daddy before. As a matter of fact, she rarely talked about him.
“He just took me and Lenora to the Horseshoe Restaurant. I had some fried chicken, string beans and some macaroni and cheese. Lenora had a cheeseburger.”
“Ok. Did he ask about me?”
I thought for a minute. I was confused. I played with my hands. I was thinking hard. I couldn’t remember if Daddy asked about Momma or not.
I looked over at Mr. Joe. He was a fat, greedy pitiful looking man. He had big bugged eyes. His clothes were dirty. He must work at Goldkist or Planters Peanuts I thought. His hands were dirty but his nails were neatly trimmed. He grinned at me as I stared at him. There were ugly creases around his mouth when he smiled. He needed Vaseline for his lips because they were chapped really badly and they were peeling.
“Lil Sister! Lil Sister! Don’t you hear me talkin’ to you? Did yo’ Daddy ask about me?”
Startled I said, “No mam. He didn’t ask about you.”
I squirmed on the sofa. I was ready to get away from Momma and Mr. Joe. Momma slapped me across the face.
“You tellin’ a story! He did ask ‘bout me!” I looked at Momma, confused.
She continued. “He asked you a bunch of questions about me and you tole him about my house, the amount of food I bought y’all, who comes in my house, where I work . . .” She went on for about thirty minutes.
I was scared. The palm of my hands began to sweat and I felt Mr. Joe eyeing me intensely. I felt as big as a mosquito. I held my head low after a while. I had no other place to look, except down. I recalled vaguely the questions that Daddy asked me.
Momma got up from her seating position and moved close to me on the sofa. She got so close to me that I could smell her bologna and sandwich spread breath. She looked directly into my eyes. She stared hatefully at me for over five minutes. Then she began to speak in a low, threatening, freaky kind of voice.
“You ain’t got no business tellin’ yo’ daddy about what I do in my house! He don’t pay no bills here! He don’t buy the food I give y’all! He don’t buy the shoes y’all wear! He don’t buy oil and wood to keep y’all warm when it git cold! Where do he git the nerve to sit and ask you ‘bout what I do in my house? Let me tell you somethin’! The next time yo’ daddy call for you to meet him somewhere you not goin’! You hear me! You not goin’! I don’t care he is yo’ daddy! He ain’t doin’ nothin’ fo’ y’all no way!”
Momma slapped me to make sure I was paying attention. I looked at her and wished that I was a big burly man at the moment so that I could kick her butt; real good! Instead, I held in the tears and continued to inhale Momma’s bologna and sandwich spread breath. I kept telling myself that nothing lasted forever, not even Momma’s long drawn out tongue lashings. That was comforting to know at the moment.
Momma continued berating and belittling me.
“I was gone git you some new shoes and those new dresses that Mr. Bowser showed me out the back of his car last week! Now, I - ain’t - gone - git - you - nothin’! I was gone send you to Della’s hairdresser and git yo’ hair done. You can just keep walkin’ round lookin’ lak Aunt Jemima! I ain’t gone spend my money on you! Tell yo’ daddy to do it! He called here and tole me what you said. How you talked ‘bout me behind my back!”
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