Ugly Ways

by Tina McElroy Ansa

  "Look at you, Betty. You took care of us, all of us, all your life. You didn't get to go to college like Emily and me even though you were probably the smartest one of us. You stayed around here doing right by Poppa and Mudear. Doing better than right by them. And look what you accomplished in the process. You got two thriving beauty shops, everybody knows they the best, classiest places in Mulberry. You even been quoted in Essence magazine on hair care.

  "Do you ever sit back and appreciate what you've done? Sit back and be proud of yourself, and rightfully so? No!

  "And I won't even go into Mudear and Poppa," Annie Ruth said, recalling her nighttime kitchen chat with her father. "Mudear got that old man out at the house in Sherwood Forest weeping into his coffee and banging his head on the kitchen table, for God's sake. How the hell were we ever supposed to see how love worked, men and women are supposed to act and love and get along? We sure as hell didn't get any instruction about a loving relationship other than 'A man don't give a damn about you.' We taught our own selves about loving each other 'cause that's all we had.

  "Hell, I used to read books just to find out how normal people, families live. That's why Mudear hated to see us reading."

  Betty and Emily exchanged glances.

  "Oh, no, Miss Things, you're not gonna do that, try to shame me into not saying what we all know is true. You both can give each other all the knowing looks you want. It doesn't change the truth of what I'm saying and you know it.

  "Sure, we know all about Mudear, we know all about ourselves, but when we gon' start making a change? Seeing some joy, having some appreciation?

  "I'm sick of being a product of Mudear, sick of it.

  "'Don't let nobody steal your joy,' indeed! What you think her purpose in life was?

  "You know what, I want to get big as a house and have this baby and love her and sit and rock her and brag on her and bore people to death talking about her and making them look at pictures. Before she's even born, I want to think about her and worry about her and name her, name her Betty Jean or Emily or even Esther, no, not Esther. But name her something that has some meaning for me and will for her. So when I look into her face I think of something I love, when I call her name I remember tenderness. I don't care if I call her 'Turnip Green,' at least when I say it, I'll remember how good and sweet turnips are when Betty cooks 'em down with a little fatback and a long red hot pepper."

  Annie Ruth was out of breath and leaning against the wide doorjamb leading to the hall for support, but she wasn't finished.

  "It's the truth. I hear myself thinking while I'm talking sometimes, and I realize I'm still editing myself according to what I think Mudear might think. Sometimes, I don't edit, I translate. And when I open my mouth, Mudear's voice comes out. And I have to cover real quick for something real mean and evil I said. Are we supposed to keep on tiptoeing around Mudear and her mess and the trail of pain she's left everywhere she's been even after she's dead? I don't believe so because then that means we ain't never gon' be free of her. And I can't live like that, I refuse to live like that. I put three thousand miles between her and me, went to live in that godforsaken Los Angeles and I still drag her around like a dead stanking corpse tied to my leg, like some cat rubbing up against my leg.

  "I'm turning her a-loose. And I'm telling her so. As a matter of fact, I'm going right back down there now and tell that bitch so right to her face."

  "Annie Ruth!" Betty jumped up from the sofa, shocked.

  "Don't 'Annie Ruth' me. I know I'm the one who had the nervous breakdown, I'm the one who went out. I'm the one who can't make a cross-country flight without seeing cats on the plane——Shit!"

  "You seeing cats, Annie Ruth?" Emily asked, more interested than shocked.

  "Maybe so," Annie Ruth shot back. "But that don't change nothing. I don't know about you two, but I know I got to tell Mudear this stuff. All the things we've always been too afraid to say to her face. Like Mudear some kind of powerful goddess who can strike us mute or dead for some minor transgression.

  "Well, she's not. She's just a woman with no heart and no feeling who cared more about herself, her creature comforts, sleeping late, gardening at night, than she did her own children, her own family.

  "But I'm wasting my breath telling you all this. You know it. I'm going down to Parkinson Funeral Home and tell it to the person who should be hearing it. I'm gonna do what she always told us to do to men to put them in their place. I'm gonna pull the sheets off that woman." Annie Ruth headed for the back door.

  "For God's sake, Annie Ruth, don't be going out of this house shaming us in the street," Betty said, catching her sister by the arm in the kitchen and pulling her back into the hall.

  Annie Ruth snatched her arm away.

  "Betty, you the smartest one of us. Don't you get it? We ain't never done nothing to shame us in this town. Hell, we ought to be proud we still alive and just slightly crazy.

  "And this town ain't done a thing to us. It couldn't touch us. Don't you know who made us feel shamed?"

  The question, asked right out, stopped her sisters where they stood, about to pounce on her as if they wore white jackets and had a straitjacket ready to take her to the crazy house in Milledge-ville. Their pause gave Annie Ruth enough time to snatch up Emily's car keys slung over her purse in the hall, dash through the kitchen, and bolt out the door to her sister's red Datsun in the driveway. She jumped in, locked the car door, and screeched out into the street before her sisters were down the steps. Bumping a yellow light at the comer, she raced through the intersection, shifting the gears like a race-car driver, speeding toward the funeral home.

  Even though she didn't see them in her rearview mirror, Annie Ruth knew her sisters would be following close behind.

  CHAPTER 31

  Would you look at that child driving like a bat out of hell.

  Surely, she don't plan to actually come down here and get in my dead face with all that crazy talk about wanting to let me go.

  I wonder if they been smoking that marijuana again.

  CHAPTER 32

  When Annie Ruth burst into the wide carved wooden front door of Parkinson Funeral Home, she looked like a well-dressed wild woman. On the crazy drive over, she had let her window down to yell at some woman to get herself and her three kids in a minivan out of her way, she was coming through. Now, her thin windblown red curls stood up all over her head. But her close-fitting cat suit, more snug than usual, still looked stunning on her and the African beaded jewelry she wore with it stood up to her drama. One of the funeral director's assistants, a sturdy round-shaped young man with a bounce to his step and a large white apron on, watched her with admiration from a small window in the back of the establishment. The drive from Betty's house and her fury had given new, unexpected color to her face. The man thought she looked like an avenging angel would look if angels were to wear skintight black jumpsuits.

  And that's how she felt, like an avenging angel striding through the halls of the funeral home in her high-heeled black boots looking for the deceased.

  She hadn't even noticed if the gang of cats that had been hanging around the entrance to the funeral home earlier was still there when she entered. She couldn't even tell anybody where she had parked Emily's car or if she had turned the engine off.

  And she didn't even think about trying to find one of the Parkinson family to direct her to Mudear's body. She just went tearing from memorial room to memorial room of the elegant old building, her heels clicking on the parquet floor. Yanking open single and double doors, Annie Ruth went in search of Mudear. In the first two chapels, she came upon funeral services in progress. People were crying and moaning. And to both crowded rooms, Annie Ruth said the same thing. "Mudear? Mudear? Excuse me, I'm looking for my mother."

  Then, she backed out of the rooms and slammed the doors shut, leaving two sets of mourners puzzled and irritated by the disruption. Annie Ruth moved across the hall to the next door. The room was empty.

  By the time
she reached the fourth door, she was nearly running, muttering, "I'm looking for Mudear." She pulled the door open and ran straight into the chest of a man coming out of the last chapel. The chest of his dark suit smelled deeply of carnations.

  "Why, Annie Ruth!" Billy Parkinson took her into his arms so adeptly that she was enveloped in his flowery embrace before she realized it. "I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon. But you know it's always a pleasure. Except under these circumstances." He still had not let her go.

  She was having trouble breathing and she could tell she was on the verge of an anxiety attack. All the time Billy talked, Annie Ruth squirmed and struggled to free herself from his grasp. But he just pulled her closer to him.

  "I saw your pretty sister Betty this morning, and she told me what she needed, so your mother is all set up in the Light and Shadow Memorial Chapel right here. I thought this might be a litde more comfortable for you girls than being in the back with all the ... ah, others."

  Annie Ruth still struggled like a kitten in a wet croaker sack to get away from the mortician, but he seemed to anticipate her moves and outmaneuver her.

  "I have your mother in her casket and this room isn't scheduled to be used for a few hours, until eight tonight. So, you and your sisters—By the way, where is that fine Emily? Will she be here today? She's put on a few pounds lately, huh? but she still look good.—you and your sisters can take care of your mother undisturbed. Okay?"

  Annie Ruth was about ready to scream. Instead, she just reached up with the one hand she was able to wiggle free and clawed at the man holding her in his clutches. Three of her bright crimson fingernails caught him at his throat and drew blood.

  He let out a little yelp of surprise and let go of Annie Ruth to clasp his hand to his throat.

  Annie Ruth stepped back and leaned against the door to get her breath. She looked up at the mortician who was standing there touching his throat and examining his hand. Three red lines appeared on Billy's pale neck and at the end of one of them a drop of blood began making its way down to his stiff white shirt collar.

  "Whew, you clipped me there. Don't worry, don't worry. It's okay. A death in the family is a very stressful time. Don't upset yourself." Billy tried to sound like his usual confident self, but the whole time he talked he continued backing off from Annie Ruth, putting as much distance between them as quickly and politely as he could.

  "When your pretty sisters show up, I'll tell them where you are," he added as he started toward her for a last squeeze. Then, he thought better of it, turned, and quickly headed toward the back of the building.

  Annie Ruth made sure he disappeared down the hall and then slipped inside the room and closed the door quickly behind her. She was still having trouble catching her breath and her heart was vibrating in her chest. She could almost hear it in the silence of the room. This place must be soundproofed, she thought. She couldn't even hear the organ music or the wailing from the two services in progress across the hall.

  She closed her eyes a few moments as she leaned against the door. When she opened them, her gaze went directly to the front of the chapel and she let out a long, deep breath.

  Under a single soft light shining from the ceiling, Mudear lay on champagne-colored satin in her white oak casket, illuminated like a Madonna. A tall candleholder stood at each end of the coffin with a fake lit candle atop.

  It had been a few months since Annie Ruth had seen her mother, but seeing her in a coffin, still, motionless, but not asleep, made her feel five years old again.

  Annie Ruth slowly walked to the front of the chapel. Heavy velvet maroon drapes with silk tassels sewn along the top border were hung across the front wall of the room. There was a low platform stretching in front of the drapes and a narrow lectern off to the side with a purple nondenominational streamer draped over the front.

  Mudear's white oak casket rested on a collapsible gurney on the low platform. The gurney was like the one they had seen outside at the side of the mortuary. Billy had adjusted the legs of the wheeled stand so Mudear's body came up nearly to Annie Ruth's breasts. Annie Ruth moved in closer.

  Mudear's beautiful brown skin looked tight and hard as if it were frozen and glazed with ice. And when Annie Ruth tentatively touched her shoulder through her navy blue dress, she wished she hadn't. It, too, felt hard and unhuman. Mudear's hair did need some hot curls put in it, but brushed back from her face the way she wore it, it looked natural and right. Billy must have put a pillow or block behind her head for Betty to do her hair because the crown of her head was tipped forward a bit with her chin on her chest. The small gold hoops in her ears seemed to hang back against the pillow.

  The simple string of pearls Betty had put around her neck still seemed to glow next to Mudear's dead ashen skin.

  As Annie Ruth looked down at her dead mother, she realized that she was still furious. Annie Ruth thought that the rage would have drained from her the moment she saw Mudear's body. But it hadn't. She was about to lean down closer to Mudear's face and speak vile mean words when she heard the doors to the chapel crash open. She turned to see her sisters come in.

  Betty and Emily burst in the chapel door like henchmen. But they stopped to turn and close the door behind them so no one could see and hear what was going on.

  "Still sneaking around closing doors and making excuses, trying to protect her from this town, huh, sister girlfriends?" Annie Ruth asked as she leaned back on the edge of the coffin with her elbows. The whole thing wobbled a bit.

  "Annie Ruth! I can't believe you," Betty said in a harsh whisper from the door. "Even if you are pregnant and upset. This is too disrespectful even for you. Too disrespectful of Mudear, disrespectful of the dead." She came racing up to the front of the chapel.

  "Disrespectful? Oh, I'm supposed to be showing some respect? Did you hear that, Mudear?" she said, turning around to face the woman in the coffin. "Betty here thinks I should be more respectful. Well, this is as respectful as it gets.

  "I told you both I was coming down here to tell this woman how I feel and that's what I'm gonna do."

  Betty grabbed Annie Ruth's arm and motioned for Emily to take the other one. Emily hurried down the maroon runner of the middle aisle with her purse flying behind her. "This is too much, Annie Ruth. You've gone too far. We're not gonna allow you to go on with this. Tomorrow, you'll regret it. Come on, we're taking you home!"

  "I'm not going anywhere 'til I've done what I came to do," Annie Ruth said and tried to snatch her arm away, but she accidentally hit Betty in the jaw with the back of her hand. Seeing her sister wince, Annie Ruth stopped and reached out to comfort her. When she did, Emily saw her chance and grabbed Annie Ruth around the waist. Emily tried to grunt quietly. Annie Ruth, feeling tricked, spun around on her high heels and, peeling Emily's arm away from her waist, she pushed her away, causing her to bump into Mudear's casket. The coffin rocked a bit on the gurney with its accordionlike legs, then steadied itself. The movement made Mudear's head seem to shake "no" two or three times.

  Emily found her footing, too, and, straightening her red knit dress and throwing her purse over her shoulder, she came at Annie Ruth again. Betty was still rubbing her face, but she had recovered from the blow enough to act. She grabbed one of Annie Ruth's elbows while Emily clasped the other in both her hands.

  "Annie Ruth, settle down!" Betty hissed at her sister as they turned her away from the coffin and in the direction of the door.

  "I will not be told to go somewhere and sit down," Annie Ruth said in a loud voice. "That's all we've ever been told in one way or another. And I won't be dictated to like that, shuffled aside, brushed aside like so much garbage." And grateful for developed biceps, she yanked her arms away from her sisters. Then, she spun around to face Mudear again.

  "I've had a lifetime of that from you, Mudear," she began to shout in her mother's face.

  But in spinning around, she somehow lifted one leg and got the sharp heel of her boot tangled up with the long gold and b
lack leather strap of the purse Emily had hanging from her arm and began to fall. Reaching out to break her fall, Annie Ruth let out a little cry and grasped for Betty's broad shoulders beside her. But she caught Betty off guard and brought her sister crashing down to the parquet floor with her. Emily, still hanging on to her purse, lost her balance, too, and was pulled down with her sisters, her hair swinging around her.

  They fell near the first row of chairs in the Light and Shadow Memorial Chapel right in front of Mudear's casket, holding on to each other and letting out little cries of surprise and pain as they hit the floor and each other. The soft folds of Betty's royal blue skirt ballooned gracefully up around her chest. As Betty and Emily tried to disengage and right themselves, Annie Ruth just tried to escape. She inched along the wooden floor, dragging her sisters with her because they refused to turn her loose.

  As they struggled on the floor in a tangle of high-heeled shoes and purses and silk skirts and lacy garter belts and arms and legs, Betty and Emily attempted to keep their voices down so no one else in the funeral home would hear them. But Annie Ruth was screaming at the top of her lungs and kicking her feet back and forth on the shiny floor. "Let go of me! Let me up," she yelled at her sisters. "I haven't finished telling this woman what I came down here to say."

  As she flailed around, trying to elude the grasp of her sisters who still held on to her, she rolled closer and closer to the foot of the gurney that held her mother's coffin aloft. But just as she was finally making some progress, struggling to rise to her knees, her high heel got caught in the accordion spokes of the gurney and, twisting in the space, caused one end of the table slowly to collapse.

  The girls all heard the small creaking noise, even above Annie Ruth's shouting, and all three of them turned and sat back on the floor to watch as the gurney collapsed. The end of the oak wood coffin holding Mudear's head tilted toward the floor, then slowly slid off the surface of the gurney. The shiny wooden box gained some momentum when it fell farther off the low platform and sailed across the waxed surface of the floor, coming to an abrupt stop at the edge of the maroon floor runner and tipping over.