The Secrets of Silk

by Allison Hobbs

  “I’ll catch you later.” Tate wheeled around and walked away.

  “Tate, wait a minute,” Silk called out. But he kept on moving, with a dip in his walk that was so smooth, Silk could feel her heart beginning to flutter. “Ugh. I hate that cocky bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

  Dallas squeezed Silk’s hand again. “Are your nerves bad, M’dear?”

  “A little bit, sweetiekins.” Silk stroked Dallas on the cheek. “But I’ll be much better after you give me some thrills.”

  • • •

  Dirty laundry was piling up, and Buddy had started complaining that his work uniforms needed washing. Bruce had run out of clean clothes, underwear, and pajamas. And for some unknown reason, bed linen from the boys’ room was being stuffed inside the clothes hamper on a daily basis. The laundry situation had Silk stumped. There was a shiny washer in the small room off from the kitchen, but Silk didn’t have the first idea of how to operate it. Big Mama had done their washing in a metal tub with a washboard, and at times, she lugged dirty laundry down to the lake.

  Wanting to keep her ignorance a secret, Silk considered hand washing Buddy’s uniforms, but she doubted if she’d be able to get the grease and grime out of his coveralls. Her delicate hands had no experience with toiling. Back home, Silk wasn’t required to labor. Her only job was to deliver Big Mama’s remedies to the white folks.

  Big Mama came home looking particularly tired after a long day of hunting. “Dragging that hog through the wood done sapped me of all my strength.”

  “I can help you hunt hogs, Big Mama.”

  “No, I want you sitting right here in this house looking pretty when I come home. I don’t ever want you getting your pretty, little hands dirty.” Big Mama held up her hard, roughened hands. “Do you see my hands?”

  “Yes, Big Mama, I see your hands.”

  “This tough ol’ leathery skin was made for hard work and healing. Your soft, gentle hands was made for rubbing the kinks out of my neck and squeezing and loving up on my titties on nights like tonight, when I’m too dog tired to climb on top of you.” Big Mama plopped wearily onto the wooden chair. “Go fetch a cool rag and wipe the sweat off my face.”

  Twelve-year-old Silk dipped a square cloth into a basin of water and wrung it out. Carefully, she dabbed the beads of perspiration from Big Mama’s face and the creases in her neck. “You want me to get the kinks out your neck, Big Mama?”

  Big Mama began unbuttoning her mannish shirt. “Nah, skip that and get right to squeezing on my tits.” She closed her eyes in anticipation. “I’m awful tired, so use your hands real gentle, the way I taught you, and make Big Mama feel extra good tonight.”

  “Okie-dokie.”

  Untrained in domestic work of any kind, Silk abandoned the idea of trying to hand wash a week’s worth of laundry. Struck with the idea of asking the neighbor lady and babysitter, Mrs. Sudler, to show her how to operate the machinery, Silk picked up the phone and called her.

  “This is Silk, Mrs. Sudler. How are you doing? Listen, we have so much leftover food from the funeral, I was wondering if you’d drop by and take some of it off my hands.”

  “Merciful Jesus. Thank you, Silk. My husband got laid off from his job, and our food was starting to get low.”

  “I had no idea, but you know the Lord works in mysterious ways. I’ll see you shortly.”

  It took a less than ten minutes for Mrs. Sudler to arrive with a large shopping bag. After Silk filled the bag to capacity, she casually said to her neighbor, “That washer that Ernestine used ain’t the kind we use down South. Do you think you could show me how to run this thing, so I can wash Buddy’s work uniforms?”

  “Sure, I can show you. What did you use down South—those old wringer washers?”

  “Yup, that’s exactly what we used.”

  “You’re gonna love the automatic washing machine. It’s fast and convenient, and less dangerous. I’ve heard tales of quite a few women getting their hands caught up in the wringer,” Mrs. Sudler said with a shudder.

  Silk listened and watched closely as Mrs. Sudler walked her through the steps of washing a load of clothes. Filled with Buddy’s uniforms, the washer hummed and vibrated as it went through the various cycles. After the load of clothes was washed, Silk walked Mrs. Sudler to the door.

  The kids were out back, splashing around in a wading pool their father had recently purchased for them. “Myron!” Silk yelled out the back door.

  The boy jumped out of the pool immediately, and came inside the house. “Yes, M’dear?”

  “Dry off, and then go upstairs and bring down the hamper of dirty laundry in you boys’ room.”

  An odd expression came over Myron’s face.

  “Are you deaf, boy? Don’t stand there and gawk at me.” Silk yanked hard on Myron’s earlobe.

  “Ow!” With a hand covering his ear, Myron bounded up the stairs. It took him longer than it should have to bring down the wicker clothes hamper from his room, and when he did, he tried to slip it into the wash room and then dart out the back door, unnoticed. But Silk caught him.

  “Where are you running to?” She pointed to the wicker basket. “Explain to me why there’s a bunch of sheets and pajamas and things in that laundry basket?”

  Myron avoided eye contact with Silk. “Bruce changes his sheets every morning as soon as he wakes up. And, um, he throws his pajamas and underwear in the hamper, too.”

  “Why does he do that?”

  Myron shrugged.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me. I’ma whoop Bruce’s ass and I’ma whoop yours, too, if you don’t spill the beans and tell me what you know.”

  “Bruce pees the bed,” Myron blurted.

  “That boy is too old to be pissing the bed.” A hot rage blazed through Silk. “Go back upstairs and get me one of your daddy’s leather belts. I’ma light a fire to Bruce’s ass.”

  Myron scampered back up the stairs and came back down quickly, holding a brown leather belt.

  Silk flung the back door open and shook the belt threateningly. “Get out of that pool, Bruce. Your ass is grass!”

  “No, M’dear. Please. I didn’t do anything,” Bruce wailed with a look of terror in his eyes.

  “Did you hear what I said? March your ass in this house, right now,” Silk said through clenched teeth.

  Bruce climbed out of the pool. Wet and shivering from fear, he slowly walked toward the back porch. When he got close to Silk, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside the house. “Go outside and look after your sister, Myron.”

  Myron raced out of the back door, leaving Bruce alone with Silk.

  “So, you done turned into a little pee-pot just to spite me, haven’t you?”

  “No, M’dear. I don’t know why I keep having accidents.”

  “That’s bullshit, you lying little bastard.” Silk moved closer to the boy, and bent low, putting her face only an inch or so away from his. “You don’t like me, and you never did. You and your brother had it in for me from the first day I set foot inside this house. Well, you don’t have to like me, but you’re damn sure gonna respect me. Do you hear me, you little bastard?”

  As Bruce nodded briskly, Silk raised the belt and brought it down on his wet back. An angry welt appeared immediately. Bruce screamed and jumped around, exaggerating his pain.

  The way he was acting the fool made Silk want to beat the skin off his back, but she didn’t think Buddy would approve of her leaving his son scarred and bloody. It took a great deal of willpower for Silk to put the belt down. But she wasn’t finished with Bruce. He’d never learn a lesson if she let him off the hook with only one lashing.

  “Nasty, evil alley cats go around pissing on things when they’re mad about something. You wanna act like an alley cat, well, I’m gonna treat you like one. Do you want me to get a litter box for you to squat down and do your business in?”

  “No, M’dear.” Tears rolled down Bruce’s cheeks as he stood in a puddle of water tha
t had dripped off his wet swimming trunks.

  Silk looked down at the puddle of water, and then glared at Bruce.

  “I didn’t pee on the floor, M’dear. I swear to God.”

  “Hmph. Tell that to a fool that don’t know any better. You about as nasty as they come, and I’m gonna break you out of your disgusting habits. Go upstairs to your room, and strip out of them wet trunks. I’ll be up there to finish your punishment in a few minutes.”

  “What are you gonna do to me, M’dear?” Bruce asked through chattering teeth.

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Now, get up those stairs.”

  Silk had a brilliant idea, and all she needed was a few items that Clara had accidentally left behind when she returned to Louisiana. Silk scratched her head, wondering where Buddy had stored Clara’s junk. Then, she recalled that there was a box on the top shelf of the hall closet with Clara’s name written on it.

  Carrying the box, she raced up the stairs. When she burst into the boys’ room, Bruce was dried off and sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a white undershirt and white briefs.

  “Take them drawers off,” Silk said, motioning impatiently.

  “Why?”

  “Because you ain’t nothing but an overgrown pee-pot, and I figured out a way to break you out of that bad habit. Now, get out them drawers like I said.”

  Bruce removed his briefs and self-consciously covered his private parts with both his hands.

  Silk shot Bruce a cold stare. “Your little ding-a-ling don’t faze me none. I ought to cut that lil’ weenie off and throw it in the frying pan. I bet that would put an end to all that bed wetting.”

  “Please, M’dear. Don’t cut my wee-wee off.” More tears spilled from Bruce’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks. With his knees locked together, he protectively shielded his private parts.

  “Move your hands!” Silk shouted.

  “What’s in the box? What are you gonna do to me, M’dear?”

  “Stop asking so many questions.” She opened the box and retrieved a cloth diaper, a pair of jumbo-sized safety pins, and a pair of yellow rubber pants. “Since you wanna pee all over the place like a big ol’ baby, you better start getting used to wearing your little cousin’s diapers. No more drawers for you until you start pissing in the toilet like a normal seven-year-old boy.”

  “I don’t wanna wear Vernon, Jr.’s diapers. Please don’t make me. I won’t pee the bed anymore. I swear to God.”

  “Hush up. You should be ashamed using the Lord’s name in vain. Now, lift up your behind, so I can get this diaper on you.” Silk had watched Clara change Vernon, Jr. more times than she’d cared to, but now the unwelcome tutorials had come in handy. She shook baby powder on Bruce’s genitals before pinning up each side of the diaper. “Here, put these rubber pants on yourself.”

  “They’re too little,” Bruce protested.

  “Squeeze into them. If you’re uncomfortable enough, maybe you’ll stop being such a nasty pee-pot.”

  Crying his heart out, Bruce did as he was told.

  “Now, put some clothes on before your brother and sister discover you have to wear baby diapers.”

  Bruce quickly put on a pair of pants and a shirt.

  “When you have to go to the bathroom, open up one side of the diaper, and then pin it back up after you finish. There’ll be hell to pay if I find out you took that diaper off and put your drawers back on.”

  Sniffling and wiping tears, Bruce nodded. “How long do I have to wear this thing?”

  “Until you stop pissing the bed.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Whenever there was a household dilemma that she couldn’t handle, Silk always called on Mrs. Sudler. This time, Dallas was the source of her grief. The child was crying and shrieking in pain, and Silk didn’t know what to do.

  “How are you, Mrs. Sudler? I hate to bother you, again, but I need some help with Dallas’ hair.”

  “What’s the problem?” Mrs. Sudler asked.

  “Well, her hair was smelly from being under that bathing cap in the pool every day. So, I shampooed her hair twice. I dried it with a towel, and then I let her play in the backyard, to let it air-dry the rest of the way. Now, her hair is standing all over her head, and it looks and feels like steel wool. It’s so tangled up and knotty, I can’t even get a comb through it. She’s bawling her eyes out while I’m trying my best to tackle her wild head of hair.”

  Mrs. Sudler chuckled over the phone. “Dallas’ hair doesn’t take water. Ernestine always gave her a hard press, and while Buddy’s sister was visiting, she ran the hot comb through the child’s hair several times. You should have combed through it and braided it up while it was still damp…then it would have been easier to handle when you pressed it out.”

  “Should I wash it again?”

  “Do you know how to use a hot comb, Silk?”

  “No,” Silk admitted.

  Mrs. Sudler chuckled again. “You don’t know the first thing about taking care of kinky hair, so it would be best if you take Dallas to see Carmalee.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “She’s a beautician. She lives over in the projects on Ruby Street. Her salon is set up in her kitchen. Carmalee charges three dollars for a press and curl, and two-fifty to only press hair.”

  “I’m taking Dallas to her right away. Where’s Ruby Street?”

  “You can’t drop in on Carmalee. She’s always booked up, so you’re gonna have to make an appointment.”

  “Do you have her phone number?” Silk asked desperately.

  “No, I don’t, but why don’t you walk on over there and introduce yourself. Maybe she’ll squeeze Dallas in tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! I need Dallas’ hair straightened out today. Buddy will think I’m a bad mother if he comes home and sees his daughter looking like Buckwheat.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. One thing about Ernestine, she kept herself and those children well-groomed at all times. I never saw Dallas with a hair out of place.”

  Silk was ready to fly off the handle and curse Mrs. Sudler out for bringing up Ernestine’s name, and for singing her praises, but she held her temper. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “Can you give me directions to Ruby Street?”

  “Sure, honey. Walk down Twelfth Street, and on the other side of Max’s store is Nooker Street. Next to Nooker is Morris Street. Keep walking, and you’ll bump smack into Ruby Street. If you pass by a kiddy playground, you’ll know you walked too far. Turn onto Ruby and walk almost to the end of the block. Carmalee lives on the left-hand side. Folks will be sitting out on their stoops and kids will be outside playing. Ask anybody to point out Carmalee’s house for you.”

  “Okie-dokie.” Silk had heard there was never a dull moment in the projects, and she’d been itching to be right in the midst of all the excitement, and it looked like her wish was about to come true.

  Avoiding Sonny Boy, who always got overly excited and stopped whatever he was doing and tried to follow her around if she came into Max’s store or even if she merely walked past, Silk traveled on the opposite side of Twelfth Street. Following Mrs. Sudler’s directions, she reached Ruby Street in a matter of minutes. As predicted, people were out in droves. Little girls jumped rope in the middle of the narrow street while adults sat on stoops and lawn chairs, smoking cigarettes and chatting.

  All conversations ceased when Silk made her way down the street.

  “Hellooo! Are you lost, miss? Are you looking for somebody?” asked a plump woman with bulging eyes, and whose hair was styled in finger-waves. Shiny metal clamps decorated her head, holding the waves in place. Grinning broadly, she fluttered her fingers, greeting Silk.

  Right off the bat, Silk disliked her. She could tell the woman was pretending to be friendly when she really wanted to get in her business and find out all she could about Silk.

  Silk bypassed the nosey woman with the finger-waves and approached two women who were thumbing through magazines, while stealing glances at
Silk. Both of the women had on duster dresses with snaps down the front and wore bedroom slippers on their feet. The one wearing the blue duster was looking through a copy of True Confessions and the one wearing an orange duster with flowers and birds embroidered around the neckline, was glancing at a copy of True Romance.

  As Silk grew closer to the two women, she heard one of them say, “That must be that high-yella gal from New Orleans that everybody’s talking about.”

  “She don’t look like a voodoo lady to me,” the other woman said.

  “No, she don’t. But you can tell by the way she walks that she thinks she’s high and mighty.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Carmalee?” Silk asked in a kindly tone that she hoped would distract them from envying her looks.

  The two greeted her with hard expressions while their gazes traveled from Silk’s recently purchased, two-tone, stack-heeled pumps and all the way up to the stylish chignon bun on the top of her head.

  While the women checked Silk out with their faces twisted in scowls, the nosey neighbor got up from her stoop and ambled over. “You looking for Carmalee? I’ll show you where she lives. Come on with me, I’ll walk you over there.” Guiding Silk by the arm, she steered her away from the unfriendly duo.

  “My name is Franny. You must be the New Orleans gal who married Buddy Dixon,” the plump woman said.

  “I’m not from New Orleans. I’m from another part of Louisiana.”

  “Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?”

  “I lived near the swamps in a part of Louisiana you ain’t never heard of.” Silk didn’t mind giving out vague information about herself. She was no longer concerned about Sherriff Thompson. He would search high and low in all the surrounding towns and boroughs near Devil’s Swamp, but it would never enter his mind to look for her up North in Chester, Pennsylvania.

  “You’re the talk of the town. Folks say you put some roots on Buddy, and that’s how you got him to marry you before Ernestine was even in the ground.”

  “That’s a lie. We didn’t get married until after the funeral. And for your information, I don’t know the first thing about working roots, so tell all the gossipers that they can kiss my high-yella ass,” Silk said in a tone loud enough for the two women on the stoop to hear.