Dollbaby

by Laura Lane McNeal

  Ibby headed over to the bar.

  “What’ll it be, Miss Ibby?” Crow was perspiring as well. He patted his cheek with a cloth. “Champagne? Maybe a Sazerac?”

  “Just a Shirley Temple.”

  People in New Orleans were used to drinking more than communion wine by the time they were teenagers, but Ibby didn’t much care for alcohol. As she turned to go, she bumped into T-Bone, spilling her drink all over his starched white shirt.

  She picked up a cocktail napkin and tried to wipe his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

  He grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Miss Ibby. Don’t worry about it.”

  The warmth of his hand made Ibby look up.

  “You look right pretty this evening, Miss Ibby. Right pretty.”

  Across the way, Fannie was giving Ibby a disapproving look.

  “Miss Ibby, you all right?” T-Bone asked.

  Ibby smiled at her grandmother, then reached over and gave T-Bone a big kiss on the cheek.

  Fannie came charging over. “Ibby darling, why don’t you go mingle with some of the other guests?”

  “I’m fine right here.”

  Fannie grabbed her arm and pulled her away, whispering in her ear, “Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends, young lady, or there will be consequences.”

  Ibby yanked her arm away and stormed into the kitchen, fuming. She undid her corsage and hurled it across the room. It landed beside the open back door.

  Queenie came in carrying a tray. “What you doing hiding in the kitchen? That don’t look like no party face. Something wrong?”

  Ibby shook her head.

  “We gone run out of food soon if those people keep eating like they is. You’d think they hadn’t eaten in a week. You seen Birdelia? Where that girl gone off to?” Queenie muttered as she carried the tray into the dining room.

  Ibby was about to go back into the party when she heard a rustling in the backyard. At first she thought it was just the low grunts of the bullfrogs. Then she heard it again. It sounded like somebody whispering. She turned off the kitchen light, not wanting to be seen, and looked out the window.

  A single light attached to the garage cast a thin yellow line across the yard. Someone was standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. When he stepped forward, Ibby saw that it was T-Bone. Then someone else giggled, and an arm that was so white it glowed in the dark reached over and took the cigarette from his mouth. Ibby could just make out Annabelle’s profile as she put her elbow on T-Bone’s shoulder and took a drag from his cigarette.

  Ibby was about to march out and give Annabelle a piece of her mind when she heard another voice.

  “Why don’t you go back on inside, Miss Annabelle?” Birdelia tugged on Annabelle’s arm, trying to pull her away from T-Bone.

  Annabelle yanked her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

  Somewhere in the dark, a deep voice emerged. “Hey, brother, I been looking for you.”

  The man was dressed in black trousers and a black T-shirt. His bushy Afro caught the light from the garage as he strode up the driveway.

  “Purnell, what the fuck you doing here, man?” T-Bone said.

  Purnell came over and slapped T-Bone on the back. “Ain’t you glad to see me? Who’s the white bitch hanging all over you?”

  “Shut your mouth, Purnell,” Birdelia said.

  Purnell grabbed Birdelia by the shoulder and gave her a hug. “That any way to talk to your uncle, little bird? Last time I saw you, you came up to my shoulders. Now look at you, all growed up.”

  “That’s on account you ain’t been around, Uncle. You’d rather hang out with them troublemakers.”

  “That’s not true,” Purnell said. “Can’t get a job, that’s all.”

  Ibby jerked around when the kitchen door opened. There was a bump, then a crash as a metal tray dropped to the floor.

  “For God’s sake, Miss Ibby, what you doing standing there in the dark?” Doll flipped on the light switch.

  The voices in the backyard caught Doll’s attention. She went over to the window and stood next to Ibby.

  “I’m in a tight spot. I ain’t leaving until I get me some cash,” Purnell said to T-Bone.

  “I ain’t got any on me,” T-Bone said.

  “Oh, Lawd,” Doll said. “That’s my brother Purnell. I got to get rid of him before Queenie finds out he’s here.”

  She opened the screened door and let it bang shut behind her.

  “Miss Annabelle, you get on back inside now, you hear me?” Doll pointed toward the house.

  “Why should I?”

  Doll looked as if she was going to grab Annabelle by the neck and drag her inside herself. “You want me to go fetch your mama?”

  “I’m going.” Annabelle dropped the cigarette and started toward the house.

  “No, unh-unh, Miss Annabelle. You go on up the driveway and go in the front door.”

  After Annabelle left, Doll turned to Purnell. “You know better than to come around here when we at work.”

  “I’m in trouble. Understand what I’m saying?” Purnell said.

  “This ain’t the place.”

  “I ain’t got no choice, sister.”

  Doll shoved him. “I got nothing for you. Now, go on. Get out a here.”

  Purnell leaned in defiantly. “Want me to march in there, tell all them white folks about you?”

  “What you talking about?”

  “You know. Think I never figured it out?”

  Doll glared at Purnell. “You don’t know nothing. Now here, take this.” She took a few bills from her bra and counted them out. “Now go, before Mama sees you.”

  “It ain’t enough,” Purnell said, holding out his hand.

  “It’s all I got.”

  He shook his head angrily. Ibby thought he was going to get into a fistfight with Doll, but he turned and ran down the driveway, disappearing into the night as fast as he’d come.

  T-Bone and Birdelia came in through the back door just as Queenie barreled into the kitchen carrying an empty chafing dish. She set the dish down and yanked Birdelia’s arm. “Come on over here and help me fill this tray. Where’s that daughter of mine?”

  Doll came in the back door, perspiring heavily.

  “What you doing out back, Doll?” Queenie asked.

  “Had to get rid of something, that’s all,” Doll said.

  As Doll sat down at the kitchen table, Ibby noticed her hands were shaking as she straightened her hairpiece.

  “Doll, something you want to tell me?” Queenie asked.

  “No, Mama.”

  “You sure?” Queenie eyed her. “Why you sweating? You never sweat.”

  “Just a hot night, Mama, that’s all.”

  Queenie turned to T-Bone. “Crow ain’t feeding Miss Fannie bourbon, is he?”

  He shook his head. “Miss Fannie ain’t the one you need to be worrying about. You seen that nun? She’s out there pounding them old-fashioneds.”

  “The last thing we want to do is overserve a nun. Don’t want no trouble tonight.” Queenie shook her head. “T-Bone, get on in there and make sure that don’t happen. Do something to liven up the party.”

  “What you want me to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know”—Queenie handed a tray to Birdelia—“but think of something quick. The last time I looked, Mr. Waguespack was doing a slow waltz with Sister Gertrude as Fannie sang a rendition of ‘You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans.’”

  Birdelia followed T-Bone out of the kitchen.

  Doll drummed her fingers on the table. “You know, Mama, they is something strange about that nun. She ain’t no normal run-a-the-mill nun.”

  “Everybody acting all crazy tonight. Just like you. You ain’t yourself this evening. You sure they ain’t something you want to tell me?”


  “No, Mama.”

  “Miss Ibby, why you still in here?” She waved her hand. “Miss Fannie didn’t go to all this trouble for you to be sitting here in the kitchen.” Her head shot up when some music started playing. “T-Bone bring a piano player with him?”

  “Not that I recollect,” Doll said.

  “Then who’s that playing Professor Longhair?”

  Ibby and Doll began snapping their fingers to the sound of “Big Chief,” a tune that in New Orleans had become synonymous with having a good time. Whenever it was played, the locals tended to get up and dance.

  Doll peeked through the door. “Mama, you got to come see this. You ain’t gone believe it.”

  The three of them stuck their heads through the door. Birdelia was standing at one end of the dining room table with a stack of linen napkins in her hands, passing them out to the party guests, who were fashioning them into do-rags by tying the four corners into knots and placing them on their heads. When Ibby had first seen this, at a party a few years back, she thought everybody had had too much to drink—they danced around with do-rags on their heads, waving napkins in their hands. Now she was just as likely to join right in and dance along with them.

  “Look at Mr. Rainold! I didn’t know he could play the piano!” Queenie mused.

  Mr. Rainold had taken off his jacket, his red suspenders dangling by his sides, as he stood, banging away at the piano. T-Bone was leading a line of napkin-headed people around the room, his trombone swinging up and down to the rhythm as Sister Gertrude brought up the rear, doing a little jig.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Queenie said, watching Crow clap his hands and whistle.

  Doll pulled Ibby into the dining room. As soon as Fannie saw her, she grabbed Ibby’s hand and dragged her into the second line. They danced around a good half an hour, until Queenie came into the dining room carrying the birthday cake. The crowd gathered around the table and sang “Happy Birthday” as Queenie lit the candles. Fannie raised a glass.

  “To my lovely granddaughter on her sixteenth birthday.”

  Ibby paused a moment, holding her breath, hoping Fannie wasn’t going to surprise her with another birthday doll.

  “Well, what are you waiting on, dear?” Fannie said.

  Ibby breathed a sigh of relief and blew out the candles.

  It isn’t such a bad party after all, Ibby was thinking as Queenie cut the cake.

  After Ibby said her goodbyes to the last guest, she stood in the hall and gazed absentmindedly through the glass in the front door.

  Doll came up and stood next to her. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m not thinking anything.”

  “Yes, you is,” Doll said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re disappointed your mama didn’t show up.”

  Ibby hated how Doll could always see right through her. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then how come you got that poor-pitiful-me look on your face when you should have a that-was-a-right-fine-party look?”

  “I couldn’t care less if my mother came or not,” Ibby said.

  “That ain’t true, but Miss Ibby, no use crying over spilled milk. Miss Fannie went out of her way to throw this party for you, sent out fancy invitations, had the house painted, fixed up the yard. She’s never done that for anyone before. You should be happy.”

  Ibby didn’t want to listen to Doll anymore, even though she knew she was right. She went upstairs to her room.

  A little while later, Doll came up to find her. “Here, I brought you something.”

  Doll handed Ibby the life-size doll she’d made her for her birthday, dressed in an exact replica of the dress she had worn this evening, down to the corsage and white gloves.

  Ibby flung the doll onto the floor.

  “Listen”—Doll wagged a finger—“you lucky she didn’t give it to you in front of all those people. If she had her way, that’s what she would have done, but I talked her out of it.”

  “I hate those dolls!”

  “You gone hurt my feelings.”

  “Why does Fannie keep giving me dolls? I’m too old for dolls. They’re weird.”

  Doll picked the doll up from the floor and brushed the yarn hair to the side. “These dolls are Fannie’s way of showing she loves you. One day you’ll understand.”

  “Why can’t I just have a normal life like everybody else?” Ibby said.

  “Normal? What’s normal? You think everybody at that party tonight got a normal life? We all got something we don’t like, that we want to change.” Doll pointed a finger. “Miss Ibby, I’m gone tell you something you may not want to hear. It’s about time you grew up. They ain’t such thing as normal, and I ought to know. Your grandmother loves you. And if you can see it in your heart to let her in, she’ll more than make up for your mama not being here for you. Understand?”

  Ibby sat up and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You think I’m a brat?”

  “I think you’re a sixteen-year-old that’s mixed up like any sixteen-year-old. Which brings me to another thing. You can’t go kissing no black boys in front of Miss Fannie, even if it is T-Bone, you understand me? It just ain’t right.”

  “Why can’t I kiss T-Bone if I want to?”

  “Well, for one thing, he’s family. And for another, white girls shouldn’t be kissing black boys. You need to find a nice white boy to kiss.”

  “But I like T-Bone,” Ibby said.

  “Miss Ibby, how can I make you understand?”

  “He told me I was pretty.”

  Doll shook her head. “Miss Ibby, lots of boys gone tell you you’re pretty. The first time someone told me I was pretty, nine months later I had Birdelia. We don’t want nothing like that to happen to you. Now you go on and get some sleep.” When Doll came over to kiss Ibby good night, her foot hit something under the bed.

  “What’s this?” She reached down. “Miss Fannie’s photo album. I thought I told you to hide that thing.”

  “I did. Under the bed,” Ibby said.

  She sat next to Ibby on the bed and started flipping through the pages.

  “What are you doing?” Ibby asked.

  “There’s been something on my mind all night. Where’s that ad with Miss Fannie, the one that has the other lady with the alligator?”

  “Toward the back,” Ibby said.

  “Here it is.” Doll unfolded it and smoothed it out. “Uh-huh—thought so.”

  “What?” Ibby asked.

  “Something about that other woman look familiar?”

  “No, not really.”

  Doll pointed at a photo. “Look at Gertie the Gator Girl.”

  Ibby stared at the tall broad-shouldered woman with her foot on top of the alligator. “Yeah, so?”

  “Look again, real close. Something about her mouth.”

  Ibby still didn’t understand what Doll was getting at.

  “Miss Fannie never did say how she knew Sister Gertrude. Now I know why.”

  Ibby’s mouth fell open. “That’s Sister Gertrude?” Then it hit her. “Fannie told me Sister Gertrude taught her how to dance. Now I know what she meant!”

  “They say the Lawd works in mysterious ways,” Doll said. “And this sure is one of them.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Later that week Ibby was in the kitchen watching Birdelia practice some dance moves out on the back porch when Queenie set a box on the table in front of her.

  “What’s that?” Ibby asked.

  “Miss Fannie ordered stationery so you can write thank-you notes to everybody that came to the party,” Queenie said.

  “But there were over a hundred people there! That could take me all summer!” Ibby protested.

  “I believe that’s the point. Give you something to do so you stay out a trouble. Besides, you can thank your fri
end Winnie Waguespack for giving her the idea. She the one that sent you that thank-you note after her party.”

  “Why don’t you just tell Fannie I wrote them and be done with it? Be our little secret,” Ibby suggested.

  Queenie shook her head. “That won’t do. Miss Fannie say she want to see them when you finished.”

  Ibby opened the box to find engraved monogram note cards.

  “Look at that—your initials are LAB, for Liberty Alice Bell. Like one of them Labrador hunting dogs,” Queenie chuckled.

  Ibby closed the lid. “Don’t remind me. Annabelle Friedrichs discovered that my first day of school, when she saw the monogram on the collar of my uniform. She’s been barking at me in the hall ever since.”

  Birdelia stuck her head through the back door. “Tell Mama I be back in a little while.”

  “Where you off to?” Queenie wiped her hands on her apron.

  “I might go over to Audubon Park,” Birdelia said.

  “Now listen here,” Queenie fussed at her. “T-Bone just got that part-time job over at the Audubon Stables. Don’t go messing it up for him while he’s at work.”

  “Can I come?” Ibby asked.

  “If you want.” Birdelia shrugged.

  “What about your thank-yous, Miss Ibby?” Queenie asked.

  “I can do those later.” Ibby followed Birdelia out the back door. “Or never.”

  Queenie opened the screened door and called out after them, “You hear what I say, Birdelia? Don’t go messing around with T-Bone while he’s at work.”

  “Yes’m.” Birdelia gave a backhanded wave and kept walking.

  Birdelia headed toward Magazine Street, a few blocks from Fannie’s house toward the river. When they got to the stables, they went around back, where they found T-Bone hosing down one of the horses.

  “Why you all here?” T-Bone asked.

  Birdelia reached up and grabbed a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Just came to see how you doing.”