I turn my attention back to the crowd and continue scanning the rows when I notice this tiny figure tucked into the back corner seat on the opposite side of the auditorium from Aunt Nola. And even though I can only see the very top of her outfit—a white frilly neckline peeping out over a maroon sweater—I can tell that Ms. Downer has dressed up for the occasion. And she’s wearing one of her hats, a little black pillbox. I wave, and she smiles.
Once everyone is seated, Father Benjamin gets up and starts talking about living righteously according to the teachings of the Bible and the Lord. Then comes a long, drawn-out speech about practicing the virtues of chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility during our time off and throughout our lives. Only, he keeps drifting away from the microphone, and I can only make out every other sentence. At one point, he just stops talking for like a minute, but it’s obvious he’s not done with his speech. The teachers all whisper to one another, and Keisha and I start laughing. I’m pretty sure he’s fallen into one of those sudden old-people naps. You know how they’ll be sitting at the dinner table talking to you, asking about school and your exams, then all of a sudden, they’re out like a light, and you’re not sure whether they’re asleep or dead. So there’s Father Benjamin, not speaking, not moving, just leaning up against the lectern. And then, just as suddenly as he stopped speaking, he starts up again, as if he’s been given a jolt. And the mike makes this loud whistling sound, which is followed by boos, claps, and catcalls from the middle section of the auditorium.
A couple of teachers speak, including Devil Nun. Only, all I hear from her is “wah, wah, wah,” like the adults in the Peanuts cartoons.
Since they go alphabetically, my name is one of the first to be called for the freshman year completion certificate. And I’m shocked because someone is hooting and hollering and whoo-hooing all over the place for me.
Once I’m on the stage, Father Benjamin hands me a piece of paper that has my name written on it in calligraphy, then shakes my hand. And I can’t help but think how funny it is that they’re making such a big deal out of this.
“That’s right, Faye. You a sophomore now, baby. You a sophomore.” Jerry’s voice rings out above the polite applause as I make it down off the stage. He’s standing at the back of the auditorium cheering like the Yankees just won the World Series.
I thought I’d be a little embarrassed if he showed up, on account of his hair. But it’s nice having a cheering section. It’s nice having my three guest spots filled, especially since I didn’t think there would be anyone there to support me at all.
I wave my certificate at Jerry, who yells the entire time I’m on my feet and doesn’t stop until I’m back next to Keisha. He’s really an okay guy. I just hope Mama doesn’t screw things up with him.
“Let me see it,” Keisha says excitedly before I can even get my butt back into my seat.
“It’s just a stupid piece of paper,” I say.
“Yeah, but it’s the last thing we’ll ever get as freshmen in high school.”
“And after this, we only have one more year where the pressure is off,” Nicole adds. “Once we’re juniors, we’ll have to start thinking about colleges and maybe even about moving away from home.”
“Moving away from home,” I echo. What wonderful words.
After the ceremony, everyone pours out into the atrium. There are hugs and more congratulations before Aunt Nola leaves with Jerry, who has agreed to drop her off at home on his way back to work.
I walk around looking for Ms. Downer, but she seems to have disappeared into the sea of people. Charlene manages to stand out, though. And as usual, Curvy Miller is circling around her, even though he’s a sophomore and should be with his own class, getting ready for their ceremony. I just shake my head. Guess Ms. Downer was right and I did get a little caught up in the whole looks thing myself. Why else would I have liked a guy who never really showed me an ounce of interest?
Once I rejoin Keisha and Nicole, they let me in on their plan to go to a nearby Italian restaurant for lunch with some of the other kids. But when Keisha stops talking mid-sentence and gestures over my shoulder, I turn to find Ms. Downer standing there.
“I’m so happy you came,” I say as I give her a hug. “I want you to meet my friends Keisha and Nicole. And Keisha and Nicole, I want you to meet my friend Ms. Downer.”
“It’s good to meet you girls. Keisha, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ms. Downer says. “Faye, can I borrow you for one moment? I won’t keep you away from your friends for very long.”
“It’s okay, Faye,” Keisha says. “I need to go talk to my folks. We’ll just meet back near the door.”
I walk with the old lady back into the auditorium, which is a lot calmer and less congested than where we had been standing.
“You sure look fancy today,” I say.
“Well, I suppose a good occasion calls for good clothes.” She goes into her handbag and pulls out an envelope, which she hands to me. I open it to find one of those “You’re a Graduate Now” cards inside.
“Well, I didn’t actually graduate yet.…”
“I know, but try finding a freshman year-end ceremony card … not so easy.”
I laugh as I flip the card open. Inside are all these crisp, clean bills. I count them—with my eyes, not my fingers, because I don’t want her to know I’m doing it. That seems a bit rude and tasteless. And there’s like four hundred dollars. But the weird thing is, I’m nowhere near as happy about this as I should be.
“In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve come such a long way,” she says. “And I know there are probably a few things you’ll be needing when it comes time to start school again. Maybe school supplies. New clothes, shoes …”
But I don’t really say anything. I just stand there looking at all that money, feeling guilty about accepting it.
“Is it not enough?” she asks.
“It’s the most money I’ve ever had,” I say.
“I would have gotten you an actual present, but I don’t know what you like, and I figured you might enjoy it a little more if you were able to shop for it yourself.”
“But I can’t keep it,” I say. And I pull 280 dollars out of the total amount and hand it back to her. “Well, not all of it.”
“What’s this?” she asks.
“It’s what I owe you. I’ve owed it to you for a long time now. Just wouldn’t feel right having it. I really do like your present. And I still have a hundred and twenty of it, and that’s more than enough for me to get some cool stuff with.”
Ms. Downer looks at the money for a while, then smiles, nods slowly, and tucks the cash away in her purse.
The Saturday after the last day of school is all rainy and grim. It’s Jerry’s birthday, and he’s having his assistant manager open up the store for him since Mama has decided to make him breakfast to celebrate. I’m thinking this is a really good sign for Jerry, because she never makes breakfast. It’s always every man for himself, with toast or cereal or a random piece of fruit.
When Mama realizes she’s out of eggs, she dispatches me to go and pick some up from Waldbaum’s. I don’t really want to, since the thunder is rumbling something awful outside. And I’m pretty comfortable watching the Saturday-morning cartoons. But it’s not like I can say no without risking death, so I grab an umbrella and head out.
There’s hardly a soul in the supermarket, probably on account of the weather. Then again, I’m not usually trolling through the aisles at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning. But just as I grab a crate of extra-large eggs, I see Caroline racing a grocery cart toward the refrigerated section. Gillian is right behind her. They haven’t seen me, and my first impulse is to make a beeline for the cashier, pay for the eggs, and hurry on out. But that impulse is pretty quickly trumped by anger.
You would think that in the five or so weeks that have passed since the whole Dressy Dress Mart incident, they would have popped up at some point to make sure I was okay. Ma
ybe left a note under my door. But there hasn’t been any sign of them at all. They haven’t been ringing my doorbell or waiting outside my building for me. They haven’t even been hanging out in front of their own building. It’s almost like they’ve been lying low. I guess recently I haven’t exactly been running around trying to make time with them either, but considering the seriousness of what happened, you would think they would have been curious enough to check on me. They must have noticed I didn’t come sprinting through the doors of that store. For all they know, I could have been caught and thrown into juvie hall, or worse yet, killed. Shot point-blank by a trigger-happy NYPD cop.
I’m not so mad at Gillian, since she’s more or less mentally impaired and doesn’t know any better. She might even have told Caroline they should check on me. But if Caroline said no, that would have been the end of that. It’s not like Gillian would ever do anything on her own.
Caroline almost bites it as she tries to pop a wheelie. I move right into her path, planting myself in front of the dairy items. I watch as she and Gillian horse around and giggle. I watch as they get closer and closer to me. I watch as Gillian finally notices me, and the smile leaves her face.
“Ooh, she’s not dead,” Gillian almost yells out in shock.
Caroline brings the cart to a sudden stop and just stares at me. “Ooh, girl, there you are. Where you been?” she asks. But there’s more surprise than excitement or relief in her voice.
“Haven’t heard from you all,” I say.
“That’s ’cause we thought you was dead,” Gillian says.
“Shut up,” Caroline barks at her before turning to me. “How’d you get out of there?”
“I walked.”
“Well, we waited for you. I swear on my grandmother. But so much was happening.… Then the cops came, and the ambulance, so we just figured we better get out of there. We thought that wobbly old security guard had shot you or something.”
“Shot me with what? His bad leg? No. But he had a heart attack. Right there on top of me. I couldn’t move. I was just stuck there, and you guys didn’t even come back to see if I needed help. And you were the ones who really wanted to steal those clothes.”
“So? Nobody forced you to put that stuff in your bag. And we had nothing to do with old peg leg’s heart stopping, so why are you acting all mad as a hatter like we owe you something? We don’t owe you diddly-squat. If anything, you owe us. You owe me. You didn’t have an ounce of courage when you first moved around here. And you might think you’re big and bold now, but you’re not shit. I’m the one who’s always carrying you. Without me, you can’t do shit. You look like shit and you ain’t worth shit. And that’s why your mama treats you like shit.”
Heat spreads over my face, and I feel as if I’m about to step out of my own body. From the corner of my eye, I make out the quart-sized glass bottles sitting there on the milk shelf. And I know that if I just latch on to one, I could wield it with all my might and bring it down against Caroline’s bloated head. And maybe that would put her out of her misery and put me out of mine at the same time. I’m trying to breathe. I’m trying to tell myself she’s not worth it. But I feel myself shaking. I close my eyes and try to think of what I’m about to do. I think of that gimpy-legged security guard and the old lady. I think about that word karma and about making better choices.
When I open my eyes, I feel this calm come over me. Caroline and Gillian both look as if they’re bracing themselves for whatever storm is about to come, but I just shake my head, force a smile, and say, “You know what I’ve realized? Hardly anything good has happened to me since I met you guys. So don’t worry about having to ‘carry’ me anymore, Caroline, because I wouldn’t want to hold you back any. So this is me releasing you. Good-bye forever. And that goes for you too, Gillian.”
“Forever?” Caroline yells as I start walking away. “Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts. ’Cause we’re the only friends you got. We’re the only ones willing to deal with your stupid ass. Summer’s here. What you gonna do with all your free time? Have some nice mommy-daughter get-togethers? We know that’ll never happen. Or maybe sit around talking to yourself, wishing you had a friend. Forever? Yeah, right. We’ll see you when you come crawling back, ringing our bell, begging for someone to hang out with.”
I don’t let her words affect me. She’ll see just how long forever is to me. Once I pay for the eggs and walk out into the warm rain, I find myself shaking again. But it’s not from anxiety or fear. It’s on account of this excitement that’s come over me for standing up for myself. I can’t believe how good I feel.
* * *
There’s a little bounce in my step as I get off the elevator and walk down the hall. But when Jerry opens the door to our apartment, it all changes. It’s as if he has been waiting there for me to get back. I swear, I don’t even have the chance to pull my finger away from the buzzer before there’s the click of the lock being undone. And I hear Mama ranting and raving in the background.
“I’ve not even been gone a half hour,” I say. “What could possibly have happened in that short amount of time?”
“Maybe you should go back out,” Jerry says to me.
“It’s raining. Hard. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Is that her?” I hear Mama yell out. And Jerry’s shoulders fall a bit.
“Yes, Jeanne,” he says as he ushers me in. See, the thing is, Mama has had her moody spells since Jerry’s moved in, but she hasn’t had one of her “lock her away in Bellevue” shrieking spells till now.
“What happened?” I ask again as I follow Jerry down the hallway.
“She found the pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“The ones your father sent. And the letter too.”
I just shake my head. When I packed up my locker, I stuffed the pictures into the inside pocket of my loose-leaf notebook. The notebook is still in my knapsack, which I shoved under my bed.
“What was she doing in my bag?”
“Awww, man, little Faye, it was all my fault. I decided to go over some figures as I was having my coffee. I’d been adding things up in my head, you know. And your mother says why don’t I just use a calculator. But I don’t have one. Well, I do at the shop, but … And she says you use one for school, so she goes to your room. But a good amount of time passes, so I tell her it’s no problem if she can’t find it. That’s when she comes out holding the envelope with the pictures and the letter, looking like she’s just seen a ghost.”
We get to the end of the hall, and Mama rushes up to me, stopping only about an inch from my face. And her eyes are huge, and there’s this superhuman vein throbbing away in the center of her forehead.
“How long have you had these?” she asks. Only, she’s not yelling anymore. Her voice has become calm and measured, which makes me more uneasy than when she’s ranting and raving.
“N-n-not so long,” I stutter.
“Then why is this envelope postmarked two and a half weeks ago? Unless they had a hurricane down in Florida, one I didn’t hear about … and unless that hurricane picked this letter up and out of the mailbox and blew it all around the state, there’s no way it took that long to get here. Why didn’t you tell me about this, Faye?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just figured it wasn’t my place. That Daddy would have told you.”
“Well, he didn’t. He didn’t.” And she’s shaking a little. And part of her hair falls out of the loose bun she had it up in and settles on her shoulder. And her eyes are glowing red. She looks like how I picture that crazy lady in Jane Eyre, the one who was locked away in Mr. Rochester’s attic.
“Jeanne, why you getting mad at Faye? She didn’t do nothing. It’s not that big a deal,” Jerry pleads with her. But it makes no difference.
“Not that big a deal? Not that big a deal? How would you feel if the person you’ve been married to for fourteen years just up and has some babies with someone else and you’re the last one to know?�
�
“I wouldn’t care. If I wasn’t married to that person anymore.”
“Well, technically, that’s not the case.”
“What you talking ’bout, Jeanne?”
“I didn’t sign those papers yet, so technically, we are still married. We’re still married!”
“Wait, but I thought you said you signed them. And what should it matter if he’s marrying someone else? Truth is, I want to marry you, Jeanne. I want to make you my wife. So there. He’s not the only one marrying someone else now.” But Mama doesn’t answer. She just keeps looking at those pictures.
“So what you think of that, huh, Jeanne? About becoming my wife? Mrs. Jerry Adams?”
But Mama doesn’t even seem to hear him. She’s just pacing and poking at that giant vein in her forehead with her left pointer finger.
“So he’s off having bastard babies. It’s not just some fling. It’s not just some fling.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jeanne. You’re with me now. And I love you. This is your time to move on. This is our time to move on … together.”
“It’s not fair. I gave him all I had. I gave him his daughter. Shouldn’t that be enough? But he just … he just makes someone else more important. He has a child with someone else.”
And I look over at Jerry. He’s standing in his undershirt, which is tucked into his high-waisted, stonewashed jeans. And he has these little man-breasts that are pushing up against the fabric. But that doesn’t even gross me out as much as it probably should. His face is like I’ve never seen it before. He looks as defeated as any of those wrestlers who’ve ever had to step into the ring against Superfly Snuka. And as Mama continues to pace and ignore him, Jerry grabs his pullover from the back of one of the kitchen chairs, pats my left shoulder, and starts to leave. And it reminds me of how Daddy looked that night I last saw him.
Revenge of a Not-So-Pretty Girl Page 22