That was the problem with Frank Lanier. You couldn’t give him a hand-up, because the minute he got on his feet again, he was insufferable and full of himself. Wood and Brundidge knew exactly what he was referring to, and they each gave silent thanks that the other crime they had committed last night was still unknown.
Brundidge said, “Shut up, Frank. You look like hell. You better go comb your hair if you wanna be in this rodeo.”
Frank sauntered off, still singing. And Brundidge took Charlotte off to the side, wanting to know what else she hadn’t told him.
Across town, Marcus West’s dog, Tracee, who was of about the same pedigree as Frank, was on his stomach, sniffing and pawing the strange new object that he had just managed to unearth. This had been easy to do, since it was near the surface of the ground and apparently wasn’t even sealed. And now Tracee had his head buried deep inside of it, trying to make a choice. Eventually, what he came up with was an old soda can. If he had been able to read the words on the can, he might’ve understood its significance and put it back. But because Tracee wasn’t capable of this, he did the next best thing, which was to bend it with his teeth, squarely on the part that said, “To Frank, Keep a cool tool. Mick Jagger.” Then Tracee started running wildly up and down a hill, proudly displaying as much of the can as he could in his mouth. After a while, he got bored and started chasing the large white envelope that had blown right by him when he was running. Once he caught up with it, he shook it mightily in his mouth and then began shredding it with the help of his paws—shredding all the words that had been so carefully crafted by a partially senile first-grade teacher as proof that her former pupil had stood up to the most famous rock band in the world on behalf of the dignity of all hicks everywhere.
Wood was calling for Milan and someone said she was upstairs with Mavis, who was now sick. He was starting to feel a little sick himself, as he stood at the bar and poured another one of Brundidge’s Bloody Marys. Wood didn’t need Frank Lanier to tell him you can’t always get what you want. All he had to do was look around. Compromise and half-victories were everywhere—an old couple who were coming to love a half-century late and to some still the wrong color, two lesbians who would get married today but not legally, and a man and a woman who had been together for twenty years, just now getting to know each other. Even Brundidge, who had his arms around Charlotte’s waist, was a living testament to compromise, albeit, one that was in his favor. Maybe you get a major New York City newspaper to admit that you come from a good and decent place, but apparently you could, if you played your cards right, make love to one of their representatives.
Brundidge and Charlotte came over and stood next to Wood. As Brundidge freshened their drinks he said, half-kidding, “I don’t know, buddy, I just don’t know. You wake up in the morning thinkin’ you’re gonna get a son-in-law. By nightfall, you got a cross burnin’ on you lawn.”
Wood frowned. “Thanks.”
For the first time Charlotte was afraid.
Upstairs in the master bathroom, Milan and Mavis were kneeling in front of the toilet. When Mavis was done retching, Milan wiped her old friend’s face with a washcloth and then held her. In a little while, Mavis’s expansive chest was racked with sobs.
“I’m so scared.”
“Of what?”
“My mother. Everyone.”
“Come on, you took on an entire church…and men, with guns.”
“Yeah, but these are people I love.” Mavis blew her nose. “Can you believe Mary Paige thinks I’m the strong one and she was captured by rebels?”
Milan seemed thoughtful. Then, “Maybe you’re not the man.”
“My God, will you please stop worrying about that?”
Now the tears were Milan’s. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Look, I don’t give a damn which one you are or what you are. All I know is I love you.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re ashamed?”
Milan shook her head, disbelieving. “You think I’m ashamed? Of you?” She sat for a moment, reflecting on this. “Do you remember in high school when you looked in my purse and found those homemade Kotex made out of old rags and rubber bands?” Mavis stared at her, unsure what this was about. Milan went on, “I thought I would die when you saw that. But you never said a word. To anyone.” Milan could hardly speak. “And I knew right then that you would always be my friend.”
Mavis took Milan’s hand in her own. “And I will. But I need you to…not look down on me.”
Milan put her hand over Mavis’s, thinking of all the times the two of them had taken turns placing their hands on baseball bats and batons, until the last hand at the top won.
“My God, I’m in awe of you. You were the only one who would spend the night at my house. Do you have any idea what it meant to have you lying there next to me while my dad was tearing everything up?…. Thirteen years old. You did that.”
Mavis’s eyes were amused now, the way Milan remembered them.
“What was that cheer? We used to do it over and over to drown him out.”
They sat there for a while, trying to conjure it up, reveling in the memory of their old bravery. Finally, they thought of it. Then, as though it were planned, they began to chant, soft as a whisper, huddled on the floor with one or the other carrying it.
CHAPTER 27
The brand-new wedding party was now standing just inside the door of the McIlmore den. As Wood made his way past them, toward the considerable gathering outside, Rudy actually crossed himself and others gave thanks that they were not in Wood’s shoes. After shaking hands and greeting people, Wood made his way to the rose trellis. There were some cheers on his behalf, as he used his hand to make a small awning over his eyes, surveying the crowd. Finally, he began.
“First of all, welcome to all of you. It, uh, looks like we’ve got ourselves kind of an awkward situation here. And believe it or not, the awkward part is not that I just got out of jail this morning.”
There were a few gasps and some laughter.
“I had to get out because my wife says it’s rude to be in jail when you’re giving a wedding.” More laughter. Milan, who was watching from the upstairs bedroom window, exhaled. She had decided to observe Wood’s speech from the place where she felt safest. Then, afterward, she would come downstairs and attend the ceremony, if there was one.
Wood continued, “Our daughter, who so many of you have helped us to raise, and let me say here thank you—”
Applause and cheers.
“Anyway, our, some might say irrepressible, daughter and her considerably wise beyond his years fiancé, Mr. Luke Childs, have decided to delay their marriage.”
Groans of disbelief. Wood forged on.
“I think anyone can see that these two are pretty gone on each other. In my opinion, this wedding will happen. It just won’t happen today.” Wood looked toward Elizabeth and Luke who, hidden from the rest of the crowd, gave him nothing. He rubbed his hands, uncharacteristically nervous. “So, what do we do? You’re here. You’re all dressed up. Milan has bought somethin’ like $950,000 worth of food—apparently this is very special food that comes in all kinds of little shapes and stuff.”
Laughter.
“And Mavis has made you all a hell of a cake. Which is why we’ve been kicking around the idea of going ahead and having a wedding anyway. I mean, all we need are two willing people. And that got me to thinking about how easy it is to get married the first time…when everybody looks all shiny and new.” Milan folded her hands under her chin, wondering where he was going.
“You take that person home and, I don’t care what anybody says, you know in your heart you can return ’em.”
More laughter. Brundidge muttered to Charlotte, “Lord help us. Now he’s a comedian.”
“But the real test comes after you’ve had ’em for a while, had a chance to open ’em up and look inside and find out that they don’t look so hot, after all.”
Wood turned toward Elizabet
h and Luke again.
“That’s the real test. And then, if you’re lucky, one of you says, in spite of it, Hey, let’s try this for another twenty years.”
People were beginning to squirm.
“And that is what has happened to me this morning. So, I was thinking, maybe this could be a second chance, something few of us ever get in this life, for me to stand up here and say…how much I love her. I’m not sure I said it loud enough the first time…I’m gonna say it loud today.”
There was scattered applause because people were unsure what to do. Milan stayed perfectly still, trying to keep her emotions in. Elizabeth, watching from below, studied her mother’s face for a response and was disappointed to see that she was moved. Wood searched the crowd for Milan, and not finding her, became more nervous. It was one thing for his wife to privately take him back and quite another to do it in front of everyone they’d ever known.
“So, that’s what we’re gonna do…If she’ll have me.” Now he clapped his hands, like a man who is trying to give himself momentum. “And, as it turns out, we’ll be joined by two other couples.” Wood said this like it was an afterthought. Like, Oh, by the way, there’ll be punch and cookies, too. He tried to smile winningly. “People who also love each other and want you to know it.” He looked in their direction. “Miss Mavis Pinkerton, who wants to marry, at least in spirit, Miss Mary Paige Kenyon. And Miss Margaret Delaney, who has decided to marry Mr. Serious West.”
A current of shock and disbelief traveled through the assembled guests, as though Wood had plugged in a cord somewhere that they were all attached to, bringing them to life as one howling, wounded chorus. It was a noise and a response that he wanted to unplug immediately. Mary Paige’s mother had been too ill to attend, but her Aunt Frieda and Uncle Neal, who were patients of Wood’s, were now up and moving. They had come to see his cute blonde daughter marry the Duffers’ grandson, not to be humiliated by having to witness their own niece flaunt her relationship with the big, lesbian loudmouth who had taken on their church. In fact, on the day they heard about this “romance,” they gave all their bread that came from Doe’s to the birds. And they liked to tell people about how the birds had refused to eat it—liked to say that it was a sign or something. Mavis’s mother had also stood up, but for some reason had thought better of it and sat back down. Mavis and Mary Paige had seen all of it, standing in the doorway. Mavis squeezed Mary Paige’s hand and Mary Paige took a deep breath, as though air were a fortifying substance against meanness. A few feet away, Serious West, with his good arm around Miss Delaney’s waist, said to no one in particular, “Well, there’s no point in havin’ a party, is there, if it ain’t gonna be excitin’?”
But Margaret Delaney didn’t hear any of it. She was thinking what a privilege it was to look into the face of this good man and see her own future, or what was left of it, and she had never felt so sure about anything in her life. Wood had his hands in the air, motioning for everyone to settle down. A few other people gathered themselves to leave as he continued.
“Now, I know that may not sit right with some of you. Two women who love each other. Black mixing with white.”
Maybe it was Brundidge’s Bloody Marys, or what Slim had said to him at the cemetery, or even the exuberance left over from his run down Main Street, but he was wound up now, determined to see this through.
“I know it’s hard to let go of your old feelings and resentments.” He noticed that Elizabeth was no longer standing next to Luke. “It’s something I’ve had to do myself. But what I want to tell you is that it feels good. Feels real good.” Finally, he looked up and saw Milan in the window, saw that she was with him.
More guests got up to leave. “This is the same old bullshit that killed Carl Jeter.” He paused and met some eyes in the crowd evenly. “And I don’t want any part of it. If you want to hate people for who they love, then you do need to get off my property.” There were audible gasps and some applause. Several of Mae Ethel’s grandsons cheered.
“And don’t come around asking me to fix you up anymore, either. ’Cause I don’t want your business.” Then muttering halfway to himself, “And I sure as hell don’t want to look up your ass.”
Slim closed her eyes at her son’s vulgarity. Wood looked up again and smiled at Milan like she was the sweetest thing he had ever seen.
“I’d rather stay home and make love to my pretty wife…. She is pretty, isn’t she?”
He pointed now. “You see her up there in that window? That’s her spot.” Milan smiled. Wood walked directly toward the crowd. “I know you all think I’m drunk. But I’m just happy. Happy to be here with all of you, because now I know, you’re the ones worth knowin’.”
There was some laughter mixed with tentative relief.
“We got that taken care of, didn’t we, Sheriff?”
Serious smiled and said, strongly, “Yes, sir.”
Wood clapped his hands again, glad to be unburdened. “And now we’re gonna have ourselves a wedding. Not a damn lesbian wedding or some kind of interracial deal, but a wedding for these fine people. And it’s gonna surprise ever’body, too. ’Cause you know what they say about us…about a little southern town—they say we’re not up to the task. Isn’t that right, Charlotte? You know they say that, don’t you?”
Charlotte nodded a little, half smiling. Wood smiled back.
“That’s a cute hat. I like that.” Then to the others, “Isn’t that cute?”
Charlotte seemed flummoxed. Wood pressed on, now even more emboldened by his spur-of-the-moment dream for his town—no doubt caused by liquor and life-altering circumstances, but a dream nevertheless.
“Well, I’m gonna tell you somethin’. I think we are exactly the ones who are up to the task—all of us who grew up here in this place where…familiarity turns so easily into…understanding…. And where, if you’ll just think about it, all our triumphs and our failures are met with the same embrace.”
Miss Delaney was nodding now with her eyes closed, the way she always did when words from one of her students began to sound promising.
“This is the place where, more than anywhere else on earth, we have the chance of being truly loved in spite of who and what we are.” Wood expanded his arms to include everyone who was left. “We are exactly the ones who can get out there ahead of everybody else and say right here today, in my grandfather’s backyard, that we are gonna put a stop to this hate that gets passed down from generation to generation.” He was gesturing toward Serious, Miss Delaney, Mavis, and Mary Paige now. “We are exactly the ones to stand up and say, once and for all, where there is love, by God, I want to be there!”
Slim McIlmore was looking at her son, as fascinated as she had been on the day he was born. Sidney turned to Slim and started to speak, but instead, cradled her arm in both of his. Charlie had a puzzled smile, still waiting for the punch line. And Luke had looked at Wood, in spite of himself, and shared with him a glimmer of something. Brundidge was on his feet now, clapping, trying to infuse the moment. “That’s a good speech! A damn good speech!”
A fair number of people chimed in, but more were now starting to get up and leave. Some, because they had been too polite to interrupt Wood. And others, because they had to. People like Windola Thacker and her son, Kirby, who have an unspoken agreement that he will spend the rest of his life driving his mother to the beauty shop and taking up the slack at heterosexual dinner parties. And then there was coach and church deacon Wally Faber, who believes that homosexuality is a choice, like deciding to try for a field goal on third down instead of kicking it. He left with Mrs. Faber, who believes whatever Wally believes. And also, the Metcalfs, from the Duffers’ guest list, who fought and lost the right to raise the Confederate flag over the country club every morning. But in spite of that fact, Trudy will be the first to tell you that they once met Muhammad Ali on a train and he was just the nicest person you could ever want to know—soft-spoken and not an ounce of big shot in him. Anyway, those were so
me of the people who left, including a few more who made a mental note that they would never speak to Wood McIlmore again—this drunken, bleeding heart asshole who they allowed to feel their most private parts, but who still didn’t know them any better than this. But improbably, amazingly, most stayed, if not in outright support, then just to see what would happen next. And the Laniers, who remained oblivious to all social issues, held on, hoping for dinner.
Milan watched from the window as Wood continued to work the crowd. Periodically, he looked up to make sure she was still there. But what he could not know yet was that he had finally become some kind of real hero to her. For the first time, had actually earned it—this half-drunk evangelist sinner, reborn lover, whose veins now coursed with the newly fired blood of the just forgiven. She didn’t have to wonder anymore if he loved her. He was standing here, proclaiming it. Proclaiming his love for love, proving that the ecstatic lover’s journey is a short one toward the rest of humanity—black, white, old, poor, queer—Wood was saying they could all get together at his house. Even for a boy raised by progressive parents in a town of ordinary social barriers, this was an adventurous leap. As a little girl, Milan had stood with her family outside those barriers. She had been a nigger, a queer, a misfit herself. This was solvent for an old wound she hadn’t even known she needed. And she had never loved her husband more for providing it. Here were scores of people fleeing her house, running from a gamut of social faux pas and insults that violated not just their sense of propriety, but their most deeply held values and beliefs. Far from wanting to stop them, she couldn’t have cared less if Wood had turned the garden hose on them. She wasn’t going to use it to wash her house anymore. She had nothing to hide. Like Wood, she was out of jail. The whole town knew he had been unfaithful. The whole town had seen or heard about her at the car wash, acting like white trash, beating the hell out of Wood’s old lover. And now her best friend was marrying a woman and she was giving her a party for it.
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