The Bad Lady (Novel)

by Meany, John

  The bad lady did not say anything. I don’t think she was sure who was right and who was wrong.

  As for me, I had no idea where the Bible belt was either. I had heard the term used before, yet had never known what it represented. I did know one thing, however, on television there in Hampton, Ohio, were dozens of preachers. Particularly on Sunday morning. There was always an animated holy man, like a Billy Graham or a Jerry Falwell, standing at a podium addressing a church congregation with, GOD THIS, GOD THAT. OR JESUS, HALLELUJAH! JESUS WILL SAVE YOU. HAVE FAITH IN THE LORD. Always seeming to emphasize every word convincingly, in a dramatic tone, while using fist-clenched hand gestures.

  “Miss Hall, if you’re so into Christianity, then what’s with your bizarre new look?”

  “What about my new look?”

  Nancy laughed, mockingly. “Who on earth are you supposed to be, Ozzy Osbourne from the 80’s? I thought only misguided teenagers into Goth rock wore blue lipstick, a ton of mascara, and powdered their faces as white as snow. The only thing you need now is a nice nose ring, and some tattoos of dragons or something. Or who knows, maybe you already have tattoos of dragons.”

  The bad lady seethed. “What does my new appearance have to do with the laws of God?”

  Again, Nancy snickered, as she casually returned to sweeping the driveway “I’m saying, the way you made up your face today, you look pretty Satanic to me.” Now it seemed that Nancy wanted to tear the bad lady down.

  “Why don’t you come over here and say that?”

  “Get away from my yard.”

  “What’s the matter, Sutcliffe, are you afraid?”

  “No. I just don’t want to be bothered with you anymore. You’re either clearly nuts, or high on drugs.”

  “You are afraid, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a grown women,” Nancy says. “I’m not gonna fight you.”

  “Chicken . . . Bawk, bawk, bawk!”

  “As I said to you when you got here, Miss Hall, get back in your car and go. You’re not wanted here.”

  “Bawk, bawk, bawk!” The bad lady started to dance around like a chicken.

  “Oh. Aren’t we mature?”

  “You say you don’t want to fight me, Nancy, because you’re a grown woman, yet you have no problem messing around sexually with a kid. Sounds to me like you’re the one who is either nuts or high on drugs.”

  “Nah. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Listen Miss Hall,” Nancy shouts, suddenly marching toward the border of the lawn, where the bad lady remained defiantly, and only mere inches away from trespassing. “Do you want me to call the police? Because if you don’t get the hell away from my property right now, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

  “Go ahead, call the police. See what I care.”

  “I’m not kidding, I will.”

  “Then go right ahead. And when the cops get here, I’ll let them know all about how you molested my boy. How you had him stick his tongue in your greasy hole, and how you attempted to masturbate Billy. With the aid of baby powder of all things.”

  “Oh. For crying out loud,” Nancy shouted. “They’ll never believe that.”

  “Why wouldn‘t they?”

  I could tell that Nancy did not intend to notify the authorities. The way I viewed the situation, if she really meant to call the police she would have done it by now.

  It was strange, how my mother had driven down to the station, and then had decided to leave because she did not think the cops would accept the allegation that I had been sexually abused as true. Now Nancy also threatened to get the police involved, yet, in my opinion, was unmistakably bluffing.

  Those two factors, for me, combined with how long this argument had progressed, made me realize how incredibly tricky this type of situation must have obviously been to resolve, whether through the legal system or without the law involved.

  “They won’t believe that,” Nancy explains. “Because I’m friends with a few cops on the force. They go to my ex husband’s dentists’ office to have their teeth cleaned. And these cops that I’m friends with know that I’m a respectable citizen in the community and that I would never, and I repeat, I would never harm a child. Not your child or any child. I love kids. That’s why I work for Good Humor.”

  The bad lady shook her head. “That’s why you work for Good Humor. I have to admit, Nancy, that didn’t come out right.”

  “Oh. That’s real funny. Real, real funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

  Clearly, Nancy had now heard enough, as this time, when she reached the sidewalk; she stopped directly in front of the bad lady, so that they stood face to face. I swear they looked like two boxers at the start of a fight, when the referee gives instructions. I don’t know who appeared to be winning the wicked stare down. To me, it seemed to be a tie.

  “Are you stepping on my feet?” the bad lady taunted, giving Nancy a casual, yet intimidating shove to the shoulders.

  “Don’t push me.”

  “Why, what are you gonna do about it?”

  “Miss Hall, just so you know, you don’t scare me.”

  “No?”

  “No. Not one bit.” Violently, Nancy pushed the bad lady back, knocking her off the sidewalk. “Now get out of my face! This stupid, pointless conversation is over. Do you understand what over means? Get the fuck out of here!”

  Looking stunned to be on the receiving end of physical retaliation, the bad lady, who had fallen down to her knees, took a quick moment to regain her composure. Then, after brushing either sand or gravel from her scuffed knees, she immediately climbed back up onto the pedestrian walkway.

  “Why, you kid-touching whore,” she snapped harshly, practically foaming at the mouth. “Now I’m gonna tear you apart.” The bad lady looked so pissed off, I thought I saw devil horns sprout out of her head. “How dare you put your hands on me. First you put your grubby, sinful paws on my son, now you put them on me.”

  “That’s’ because you pushed me first,” Nancy stated protectively, while courageously standing her ground. This time, rather than rely on her hands, it was obvious that Nancy, to defend herself, intended to use the broom.

  “What do you plan on doing with that thing?” the bad lady says, referring to the broom.

  “I don’t know. Do you want to find out?”

  ***

  Suddenly, and I couldn’t believe it, the bad lady craned her head over her shoulder and looked toward the car, at me watching from the backseat window.

  “Billy,” she called.

  I swallowed the uneasy lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure if I should answer or not. After all, the bad lady had warned me not to say anything.

  “Do you hear me, Billy?”

  “Yeah,” I called back to her, figuring I had better respond.

  “I want you to come here.”

  “But I thought you said you wanted me to stay in the car.”

  “I changed my mind. Me and this woman here would like to have a word with you.”

  Me and this woman here? Boy, she sounded madder than ever.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’m coming.” I did not have to be a rocket scientist to know that this would probably not turn out well. Anyway, I got out of the car and hurried across the road. Both the bad lady and Nancy Sutcliffe stood eagerly waiting.

  “Okay stop,” the bad lady said to me when I had gotten close to the sidewalk. “Billy, I want you to stand next to me.”

  “All right.”

  “Hello Billy,” Nancy says.

  “Hi,” I reply meekly, glancing down at my white Nike sneakers. I did not want to look her in the eyes.

  “Don’t talk to my son.”

  “Well, excuse me,” Nancy says. “I was just being polite.”

  “I didn’t tell my son to get out of the car and come over here to listen t
o you try to be polite.”

  “Of course you didn‘t,” said Nancy insensitively. “You don’t know how to be polite.”

  The bad lady ignored the sarcastic comment. Then, while holding my hand, she says to me, “Billy, Nancy Sutcliffe tells me that yesterday, when you and her were alone in the Good Humor truck together, that she never touched you in an indecent way, or vice versa . . . What do you have to say about that?”

  I could not believe I was being put on the spot like that. It seemed that no matter how I answered the question, the response would garner grave consequences.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Did this woman here touch you in an indecent way, or vice versa, did she have you touch her in an indecent way?”

  “This is crazy,” Nancy grumbled. “Billy, tell your mother what really happened. How you said to me yesterday that she beat you for accidentally breaking the living room lamp, because you were kicking your Nerf football inside the house. How your mother told you to get out of the house and not come back until around dinner time, when she might be calmed down.”

  The bad lady stared at me menacingly. “Well Billy?”

  “I did say that,” I confessed.

  “You said what?”

  “That you became really upset and hit me because I broke the lamp.”

  “See,” Nancy says.

  “No I don’t see anything,” the bad lady replies.

  “Your boy started to cry. So since I felt sorry for your son, I gave him a hug and a kiss.”

  “Is that all that happened, Billy?”

  Now it was Nancy’s turn to frighten me with her aggressive stare.

  “Mom, I’m scared.”

  “What are you scared of?”

  “I just am. Can I go back to the car?”

  “Not yet. Why are you so frightened, Billy?”

  “I don’t know. I just am.” I wasn’t exaggerating; I did not like being put in the middle of this situation. I wanted to go back and sit in the car. Let them work this out.

  The bad lady would not let go of my hand. “Billy, you told me that Miss Sutcliffe here had you take off you shirt, to cool it off in the freezer. Then you said that, after she showed you a stack of naked pictures of herself from her trip to Hawaii, that she also removed her shirt, and asked you to feel her breasts.”

  Suddenly Nancy kicked a pebble into the street. “That‘s a lie,” she hissed. “That never happened.”

  “Did she show you naked pictures of herself?”

  I nodded.

  “Does that mean she did?”

  “Yes.”

  “And after that, did Miss Sutcliffe proceed to take off her shirt and coax you into touching her boobs?”

  Nancy seemed to snarl. “C’mon Billy,” she says. “You know I only hugged you. Please honey! You can’t go around telling people lies. You and I are supposed to be friends, don’t you remember?”

  My eyes started to well up with tears. This was too much for me to handle. I felt that, regardless of whose side I took, I could not win. I would lose either way. I did not want to hurt Nancy, but I did not like the fact that she was standing there and outright accusing me of being a liar.

  “That’s what she did,” I blurted.

  “She asked you to touch her boobs?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then did she take off her bikini bottoms and have you-”

  “That’s it!” Nancy interrupted. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “Yes,” I answered anyway. “She took off her bottoms, made me wet my lips with ice cream and beer, and then had me-”

  “Enough!” Nancy repeated wrathfully. “That’s total bullshit. I would never do something like that. I’m almost forty-years old; I could have any man I want. Any man. It’s a fact. Why would I do something like that with a child? That‘s obscene!”

  “You’re fucking right that’s obscene,” the bad lady, concurred. “And I don’t know why you would fool around with a kid. But the sad thing is, Nancy, I kind of get the feeling that you’ve probably messed around with little kids before.”

  “Up yours Miss Hall.” Obviously backed into a corner, Nancy did the only thing she felt she could do; revert back to telling us to get lost. “Miss Hall, take your son and get the hell out of here.”

  “See Nancy, you don’t want to face it. You’re a child molester.”

  “The hell I am.”

  “Billy,” the bad lady said, finally letting go of my hand. “You can go back to the car now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” As I started off back toward my mother’s blue Toyota, Nancy gave me one final questionable look. I hopped back in the car, shut the door, and then waited for the bad lady. She wasn’t done with Nancy.

  “Well?” she says.

  “Well what?” Nancy asks.

  “Now that you’ve heard what my son had to say, is there anything else, in your defense that you would like to add?”

  “Miss Hall, I’m not going to tell you again, if you don’t get back in your crappy car and hightail your ass out of here, I’m gonna take this broom that I have in my hand and smack you across the face with it.”

  I shivered, thinking that maybe Nancy could have gotten away with saying something like that to my mother. However, in my humble opinion, I did not think there was any way possible that she would be able to get away with threatening the bad lady.

  “That was a big mistake on your part,” the bad lady said, eyeing the broom.

  Nancy raised the weapon over her head, preparing to swing. “Miss Hall, I’m not bull crapping you. I mean what I say. If you step one foot on my property, you’re gonna get it.”

  PART NINE

  AFRAID TO WATCH

  CHAPTER 20

  Not only did the bad lady step on Nancy’s property, she smacked the broomstick out of her hand. The broom landed on the grass. Then, rather than punch her foe, or jump on top of her, the bad lady, yanked down part of Nancy’s pink half shirt. I was afraid to watch.

  “Billy said you have a scar on one of your breasts,” she screams, “and what do you know, there it is. Right near your nipple. Must be from where they put the implant in . . . If my son was making up the story about you molesting him, how could he possibly know about that scar on your tit, huh?”

  Speechless, Nancy quickly fixed her shirt so that her boobs weren’t hanging out. Then she bent down and tried to get the broom back. It was no use, however, as the bad lady again kicked it from her grasp. Except this time, instead of leaving the broom on the lawn, she picked it up and then hurled the potential weapon toward the garage, rendering it useless. The yellow broomstick landed, making a rowdy bump, on the concrete driveway.

  “All right,” the bad lady says, now walking away. “I’ll see you at the courthouse, you sick cunt.” She was headed back to the car.

  “Whatever you say,” Nancy scoffed, throwing one of her yard work gloves into the road.

  “You are a sick cunt, I hope you realize that.”

  Nancy gave the bad lady the middle finger.

  “You’d better put that finger away, before I come back over there and snap it off. Then force you to eat it.”

  “Oh. You‘re so tough.”

  “I’m tougher than you.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Sutcliffe, your days of driving an ice cream truck are over. You’re finished! I hope you realize that.”

  “What are you saying, I’m gonna be collecting unemployment?”

  “That‘s right,” was all the bad lady would clarify. “And another thing, you’d better hire yourself a damn good lawyer, because you’re gonna need one.”

  “You have no proof of anything.”

  “I saw the scar on your titty, bitch, didn‘t I?”

  “That means nothing.”
/>   “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see nothing, Miss Hall. You need help; do you know that? You need to do something about your bad temper.”

  “Shut up. I’m done taking.”

  “It‘s about time,” Nancy yells. “You dumb loudmouth. Maybe if you were a decent mother, Miss Hall, your kid wouldn’t be afraid to go home. Remember, if we end up in court, I’ll be telling the judge how you beat your kid. How your boy wanted to tag along with me the other day in the truck because he‘s scared to death of you. Do you understand me, I mean business.”

  For a minute, I thought the bad lady was going to head back to Nancy’s property and punch Nancy in the face. As an alternative, she opted to get back in the car.

  “Billy,” she says to me as she put the key in the ignition. “There is no reasoning with that woman.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Why? Because Nancy Sutcliffe is a no good excuse for a human being. That‘s why.” The bad lady was so fired up, it almost seemed like she might put her fist through the windshield.

  “I heard you say that you’re gonna take her to court, is that true?”

  “Never mind,” she says, starting the car. The engine hummed. “Do you have your seatbelt on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s buckled?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Good. Stop looking at her, Billy.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Like I said to you, that woman over there,” she pointed, “was never your friend.”

  As we drove away, my eyes, which gazed intently at the scenery outside the car the window, met with Nancy’s gaze. I could sense what she was thinking. Her dazed eyeballs seemed to be saying, “BILLY, WHAT WE DID YESTERDAY INSIDE THE ICE CREAM TRUCK WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR SECRET. DON’T YOU REMEMBER? YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TOLD YOUR MOTHER. YOU PROMISED ME THAT YOU WOULDN’T TELL ANYONE WHAT WE DID. YOU BROKE OUR BOND OF TRUST.”

  At that instant, I knew my days of driving around with her were over. I liked Nancy. I liked her a whole lot. But she shouldn’t have done what she had done. She never should have crossed that line. My mother had made me understand that.

  I wished so desperately that I could have stopped what was about to happen next. Something in the bad lady snapped. She had begun to drive slowly around the block, while again mumbling to herself. Her voice sounded extremely spooky, as if she belonged in an insane asylum.