Suvi braced himself. “I’m just thinking about it right now, Randy. No big deal.”
Dottie took the seat on the other side of LouWanda. “You moving, Suve?”
“Thinking about it,” Suvi repeated.
“Where to?” Dottie asked. “Not out of Mayhew Junction, I hope.”
“Naw,” Suvi said. “I’m not likely to ever leave here again. I just want something different.”
“Where you looking exactly?” Randy asked.
“I don’t know exactly, Randy. Maybe something on the river, or just something in a nicer neighborhood, but smaller. My house is just too big.”
“Ya shouldn’ta built it that big to begin with,” LouWanda chimed in. “That thing sticks out like a sore thumb where it is.”
“Don’t be rude, LouWanda,” Dottie swatted her hand for emphasis. “Suvi’s house is beautiful.”
“Well, I know it is, Dorothy. That’s why it sticks out so bad.”
Suvi sighed. How much of this was a man supposed to take?
“My breakfast is getting cold,” Suvi said and walked back to his table.
For the next ten minutes, Suvi Jones tried his best to ignore the whispers at the round table. Where’s he planning on moving to? Why don’t he just stay where he is? Which neighborhood is he lookin’ in? You reckon the Big Pig is going under? Your neighbor’s moving, ain’t he, Randy? How about that house next to you? Well, I would personally love to have Suvi next door, but I don’t know how the rest of the neighbors will take it, to be honest.
Dottie tried to hush Randy and LouWanda, but it only got louder when two other regulars got in on the discussion. He’s moving where? I don’t think we’ve ever had nobody colored live out there. Maybe he’s moving to Beanie’s old place. Naw, Beanie’s out there shackin’ up with Bubba John, right under Sweet’s nose…it’s a cryin’ shame how she’s behavin’.
“Can y’all just stop?” Dottie said finally. “Please, stop.”
Four mouths suddenly went quiet and four heads turned toward Dottie Brentwood. What? They spoke in unison.
“First off,” Dottie said between clenched teeth, “he can hear you and you know it. Secondly, it is no business of yours where he moves. And Beanie is not shacking up with Bubba John. She is helping them while Sweet is ill.”
“Aw, he ain’t listening,” Mac McConnell spoke up. “He’s reading his paper and paying us no mind at all.”
Suvi looked up over the edge of his paper and glared at Mac. “Kind of hard to read with all that yapping going on over there. Can’t y’all find something that is your business to talk about?”
As Suvi stood and approached the table, forty-some-odd-years of biting his tongue and hoping for the best from people who should know better threatened to get the best of him. He took a deep breath and willed his fists to stop clenching.
“Oh, shit,” Dottie said under her breath. She knew Suvi well, and she had never seen him so angry. His jaw was clamped tight, and a vein pulsed in his neck.
“I’m only going to say this once, so I’d appreciate it if I had your full attention,” Suvi spoke in measured tones to the entire table.
“Now, Suvi…” Randy began.
“Mac’s right about one thing,” Suvi cut him off. “I’ve been sitting over there for years, paying y’all no mind at all, or at least trying not to…”
“We didn’t mean any harm, Suvi,” said Mac. “Why you so riled up?”
“Well, see, that’s the thing, Mac. Just because you don’t mean harm, doesn’t mean you’re not causing it. So listen here…I’m looking for a house in this town, and if you have a problem with where I might live, I want you to say it. To my face. Right now.”
Suvi waited for someone to speak. No one did.
“Randy,” Suvi said. “Am I going to have trouble with anyone if I buy a house in your neighborhood?”
“Not from me, you’re not, Suvi,” Randy said. “Honest.”
“But from your neighbors? Will I?” he asked. “And from the county commission. Will I have trouble getting a permit for anything? Will we suddenly have an HOA out there picking out colors for houses just in case I get a wild hair to paint something purple? That’s what you think, isn’t it?”
Randy squirmed in his chair. “I can’t speak for my neighbors…”
“Yes, you can, Randy! Yes. You can.” Suvi threw his hands up in the air. “You know exactly what they think about having a black man moving in next door. Same thing they think about having a black president. Y’all go get your huntin’ dogs, there’s coons movin’ into the White House. You think we didn’t hear those jokes y’all told? Well, we did, ‘cause your kids didn’t have the sense not to tell them at school, where our kids heard them. And we know exactly where they got those jokes.”
A murmur rose through the café. Dottie stood.
“Suvi, let’s go outside for a minute. I don’t think this is the place, really…”
Suvi turned to his employee and softened slightly.
“So, where is the place, Dottie? Where is the place I’m allowed to say the truth? I eat here every day, same as all of you,” he said, waving his arms out to both sides. “I didn’t start this conversation. Y’all did. So where is the place?”
Sissy appeared with a full pot of coffee and started to pour as if nothing were happening.
“Suvi, you want some more coffee over there or are you gonna sit down here?”
Suvi looked at Sissy, then back at his table.
“Actually, I think I’m done.”
Suvi drew a napkin from the box on the table behind him and wiped sweat from his forehead, then took his wallet out and walked to the cash register. Sissy met him there.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m fine. Sorry about that.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” she said. “Nothin’ at all. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Suvi shook his head and pocketed his wallet.
“Okay, Suvi?” she asked again.
“Okay,” he said, and left the café.
Sissy walked back to the round table, where the group was still sitting in stunned silence.
“I don’t know exactly what happened here,” Sissy said, “but in all my life I have never seen that man so angry.”
“See, that’s what I’ve been a’sayin’,” LouWanda was nearly crowing. “Y’all keep fussin’ at me, but I’m right. They’s all walkin’ around mad as hornets, and for what? Ain’t nobody stoppin’ them from nothin’. I’m sick of bein’ in the grocery store and havin’ ‘em put their carts right in my way and darin’ me to make ‘em move. We ain’t the ones causing the trouble…”
“Stop, LouWanda,” Dottie said. “You’re making it worse. I’ve never noticed any such a thing.”
“I don’t know…I think she has a point,” Mac said. “I’m not saying they’re bad. They’re just different that’s all. And I don’t see what’s so wrong with everybody just keepin’ to their own. They segregate, too, and somehow it’s fine if they say something about a black school or a black church, but we’re bad if we say we want a white church. It’s just not fair.”
Dottie looked up at Sissy and shook her head. “I can’t believe they just said that out loud.”
Sissy stood looking down at the table for a moment, turned to walk away, then turned back.
“I want y’all to know something. That man,” she said, pointing at the door Suvi just exited, “is the most decent man I ever met. If he’s mad, he’s got a reason, and I’m pretty sure the reason is right here in front of me. The problem with y’all is, you spend too much time at this table. From where you sit all you can see is each other, and the whole damn world looks ugly.”
42
Trust and Believe
It was slightly more chaotic than usual in the Atwater house on this Monday morning. It had been determined that there was no school due to a scheduled teacher workday, which no one had noticed, except Bitty and her informatio
n was deemed unreliable at best. After a few phone calls, Bitty was vindicated and received both gratitude and apologies for doubting her in the first place. So, at the last minute, plans were drastically changed. Bubba John took T-Ray with him to work on the house and meet with Nonie Crawford. Not only had Bubba John been undeterred in his goal to surprise his wife, he was more determined than ever and wanted to be finished by the time she was released from the hospital. He and Nonie were going to sit down today, finish the outline for final changes, and call in the cavalry. The contractors would be able to knock out the work in no time.
Beanie would keep the little ones home with her. She decided to teach them how to make their own breakfast and lunch, and she also thought Bitty would be happy to reorganize the “Tupperware cabinet,” as Beanie called the space beneath the pine hutch where Sweet kept all her plastic containers. Bitty would have everything sorted by size and shape faster than you could say Bob’s your uncle.
That left B-Kay free to go visit her mama, which Bubba John intended to do before the change of plans.
B-Kay packed a suitcase with great care, and asked her father for a little cash to stop by Walmart and pick up a few things she thought Sweet would need, including fresh pajamas and underwear.
Bubba John handed her a hundred-dollar bill and a couple of twenties. “That enough?”
“Whoa,” B-Kay said. “I don’t think I’ve ever held this much money all at once.”
“Well, the times, they are a’changin’,” Bubba John said, flinging caution to the wind.
“Does Mom know you’re spending all this money?” B-Kay tucked the bills into her purse. “I think she might freak out a little.”
“She might, but you let me worry about that.” Bubba John hollered for his oldest son, slapped his hat on and bolted for the door. “Come on, Tee, I don’t have all day.”
T-Ray stumbled down the hallway and through the kitchen. He had no intentions of staying home with Beanie today. Lord only knew what she’d be having them do next.
***
Sweet Atwater was sitting up in bed when her firstborn child entered the hospital room. Sweet’s first thought was she looks so young. B-Kay’s first thought was the opposite and it terrified her. She immediately burst into tears.
“Mama,” B-Kay managed to choke out.
Sweet stretched both arms out toward her daughter and B-Kay fell into them, sobbing.
“Shhh, now,” Sweet crooned. “Hush, baby, I’m okay. Aw, baby…”
Sweet held her stricken child until she quieted a bit, then she pushed her gently away, and tucked a strand of hair behind B-Kay’s ear.
“Let me look at you, baby,” Sweet said. “It’s only been two days and it seems like a month.”
B-Kay settled herself on the edge of Sweet’s bed.
“You don’t look good, Mama,” B-Kay said. “Are you going to get well?”
Sweet laughed, then gasped. “Ow, ow, don’t make me laugh, B. That hurts.”
“Sorry…”
“No, no, I’m happy I have at least one child who will always tell me the truth,” Sweet said. “I’m going to be fine, B, but it’s going to take some time. Where’s your daddy? Did he stop by the cafeteria first?”
“He didn’t come with me. There was no school today, so he and Tee had some stuff to do. Beanie’s keeping the babies.”
“You came over here all by yourself? What in the world is he thinking?”
“Mama…it’s fine. I wanted to. Besides, I have GPS on my phone. It’s not like I’ll get lost or anything.”
“That’s not the point,” Sweet snapped. “What if the car breaks down?”
“Then I call Dad,” B-Kay shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal? Really?”
“Yes, really, Mom. Really. Look, I even stopped by Walmart on the way over. I got you some stuff Dad said you might need. New underwear, and pajamas – just like you like, all cotton, with no scratchy lace around the neck.”
“What was so important that he couldn’t come with you is what I want to know?” Sweet would not be distracted. “I’m sick of it, B-Kay. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired and your daddy not giving a rat’s ass about it.
Sweet dropped her head back on the pillow, threw one forearm across her eyes and burst into tears.
“Mama, stop,” B-Kay said. “That’s just not true, it’s not. If you had any idea how worried Daddy is…”
“Then where is he? I don’t understand…”
“Mama, listen to me…seriously. Stop crying and look at me. I have to tell you something,” B-Kay stood and faced her mother.
Sweet turned her sodden face toward her daughter. “What?”
“You have to promise me you won’t tell Dad I told you…” B-Kay began.
“I’m not promising anything. What is it? Is it bad?”
“No, Mama, it’s not bad at all. It’s good…it’s really good, but you have to promise me you won’t tell.”
Sweet sniffled and wiped her nose with a tissue.
“Okay, I won’t tell,” Sweet sounded more like a child than the mother of five children.
“First you have to stop crying,” B-Kay said.
“Okay,” Sweet said, drying her eyes with a clean tissue. “What is it?”
B-Kay took a deep breath. “I promised Daddy I wouldn’t say anything, but I can’t stand to see you this way, especially since it’s half my fault in the first place.”
“Why is it your fault?” Sweet pulled herself up in the bed, wincing at the pain in her belly.
“I’m the one who told you Daddy was having an affair with Beanie, but that’s just not true at all.”
Sweet groaned. “I know it’s not. That’s not what I’m mad about. It’s just that all of the sudden he’s too busy to do anything. It’s not like him and, quite frankly, his timing stinks.”
“You’re the one who said I always tell the truth, and I do. All I’m going to say is this – Daddy is planning a surprise for you. It’s something you’ve always wanted, and Daddy’s working real hard to get it for you. That’s why he’s been gone a lot, but it’s all about you, I promise.”
“How do you know?” Sweet said, still not quite sure what to believe.
“I’ve known for a while, Mom. Beanie knows, too. Everybody is worried about you, but Daddy is so dead set on surprising you, he can’t even see how hurt you are. He thinks everything will be fine once you see it. I think he’s crazy, but that’s nothing new.” B-Kay grinned. “Mama, I promise you, you’re going to love the surprise. You may kill him before you get it, but if you’ll just be patient, I know you’ll forgive him.”
“You’re not going to tell me what the surprise is?” Sweet was incredulous.
“Nnnnnope!” B-Kay said. “We have not worked this hard to spoil it now. But you gotta get better, Mama. We like Miss Beanie fine, but we’re all tired of you being gone. So’s Beanie.”
“Oh, God, I was so mean to her…” Sweet covered her mouth with her hand.
“She understands, I think. But she thinks it’s her fault you’re still sick.”
“Oh, no…I’m so sorry, B. Please tell her I’m sorry.”
“Well, you can tell her when you get home. In the meantime, you will never guess what she has the little kids doing. The laundry! Can you believe it?”
By the time B-Kay left that afternoon, B-Kay felt like she had her old mama back, and Sweet felt like her daughter had grown into a woman overnight. And one thing Sweet was certain of, if her daughter told her everything was going to be okay, that was something she could believe. And she did.
What puzzled her the most, and she ruminated over it until they brought her supper, was why in the world did Bubba John think she wanted a ring so badly that he would sell his mama and daddy’s house to get it? But far be it from her to spoil a surprise. If he was bound and determined to get her a ring, she was bound and determined to act happy about it.
Dottie Brentwood
It’s not that the things she says are anything new. People been saying stuff like that for years. They just learned to keep a lid on it in the name of political correctness. But lately, people have been emboldened to say things they know are wrong and to hell with who gets hurt.
I keep thinking of an Irish Proverb my mama had hanging on her kitchen wall. It read: May those who love us love us, and those who don’t love us, may God turn their hearts. And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping.
Now, I’m not particularly churchy myself. I believe in the Christian faith to which I was born and raised, and I pray to God on a fairly regular basis. In fact, I’ve been praying about this thing with Suvi a lot lately. But I get a little tired of going to churches set up like country clubs, where people use God as a tool for social-climbing and shutting people out. I mostly keep my faith between God and myself and it suits me just fine. Anyway, what I was saying about that proverb…seems to me that’s kind of what God’s doing with this political thing right now. Just giving people permission to say in public what they’ve been saying in their living rooms for years on end. He’s turning their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping. And isn’t it better to know the truth about what your friends think, so you can choose them wisely?
See, the problem with this town is, we’ve always been like a big ol’ boat rowing up-river. We aren’t getting anywhere, but as long as we all sit tight and keep rowing, we think we’re doing fine. At least we’re not falling overboard. Well, we’re not fine. We’re not okay. And I don’t care if we all stand up at the same time, we are going to turn this boat around or sink it and drown. Right now, I don’t care if I get wet. I’m standing up.
What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1) Page 23