The Book of Bright Ideas

by Sandra Kring

  “Look at me, Jewel. Look at me good. My nose is too big, but I got nice eyes, so I play up on them. And look at my thighs. If they got any thicker, they’d catch fire from the rubbin’ together they do when I walk. But I got big boobs, so I bring the eye up there by showin’ them a little. I sweat like a pig when I’m worked up too. See how I’m sweatin’ now? Anyway, what I’m getting at is the fine art of distraction. That’s the trick, honey. Distraction! You got a full-length mirror around here?”

  Ma nodded and led Freeda to the guest room—which was really the sewing room—and I stepped out of my room and followed quietly, knowing that if I got caught, I could just say that I was going to use the bathroom. Freeda drug Ma to the mirror (which was propped up against the wall because Daddy hadn’t gotten around to tacking it on the back of the door, even though Ma asked him to about a hundred years ago), and she said, “There, now look at this, Jewel. Let’s start right on top. The best thing you got going for you here is your eyes. Big, deep-set—but not so deep-set that they sink into your head—and nice, thick, curly lashes. Well, if people could see the pale things, that is. You know what a good eyebrow plucking and a little makeup could do for those eyes? Well, probably not.” Freeda reached up and ran her fingers through Ma’s oatmeal hair. “And this. What in the hell kind of hairdo do you call this, anyway? You’re thirty-three years old, and I’ll bet you haven’t changed your hair since you left high school. Oh well, hair’s the easy part.”

  Freeda’s head dipped down to face Ma’s middle. She clamped her hands on the waist of Ma’s dress and bunched the material tight. “Just look at this, will ya? Starlets once had ribs removed to get waists as tiny as this! Course, you keep this asset hidden under these damn sacks you wear.” Freeda patted Ma’s chest where her boobies should be. “You don’t have much up here, so you gotta bring the eye to that pretty waistline. You see what I’m getting at, Jewel? Distraction! The trick is to learn distraction, just like I have.”

  Freeda backed up and leaned on one leg again. “Granted, I’m a pretty good-lookin’ woman in spite of my shortcomings, but I’ll tell you one thing, Jewel. Even if I was as ugly as a mud fence, I’d still be struttin’ my stuff. And that’s no goddamn lie. I don’t care who we are, or what we look like, we’ve still got something worth struttin’, and we should be proud of whatever the hell that something is. No matter what anybody says to us to the contrary.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but those words were the words that made Ma cry the hardest. I pulled away from the door and leaned against the wall.

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it, Jewel? Ya took a lot of shit growing up about how you weren’t good enough. Well, honey, I got dished up a whole shitload of crap as a kid too, but I’ll tell you this. It wasn’t your fault you got knocked down as a kid, but it’s your responsibility to get yourself back up now. You gotta reach inside and find what you’re made of, and you gotta prove them wrong. You don’t, and you’re not only gonna grow more bitter and ugly, but you’re gonna grow a daughter just like you.”

  “I never say mean things to Evelyn!”

  “You don’t have to say them. That kid looks just like you, Jewel. And if your looks aren’t good enough for you, how in the hell is Button gonna think they’re good enough for her? And you have that kid so afraid of doing something wrong that she hardly breathes when you’re around. She can’t ask for anything she wants, and she couldn’t give a spontaneous hug if she tried. That’s sad, Jewel. Goddamn sad!”

  It was quiet for a time, then Ma said, “I never was good enough for them. Not my mom. Not my dad. Not my sisters. Not even Reece and Evelyn. They can’t get away from me fast enough. They take every opportunity to go by Verdella.”

  “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 tol
d 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.