Getting Mother’s Body
A NOVEL
Suzan-Lori Parks
Random House
New York
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
About the Author
Copyright
FOR FRANCIS AMMON — THE FIRST TEXAN I EVER MET.
AND, OF COURSE, FOR PAUL.
BILLY BEEDE
“Where my panties at?” I asks him.
Snipes don’t say nothing. He don’t like to talk when he’s in the middle of it.
“I think I lost my panties,” I says but Snipes ain’t hearing. He got his eyes closed, his mouth smiling, his face wet with sweat. In the middle of it, up there on top of me, going in and out. Not on top of me really, more like on top of the side of me cause he didn’t want my baby-belly getting in his way. He didn’t say so, he ain’t said nothing bout the baby yet, but I seen him looking at my belly and I know he’s thinking about it, somewhere in his mind. We’re in the backseat of his Galaxie. A Ford. Bright lemon colored outside, inside the color of new butter. My head taps against the door handle as he goes at it.
“Huh. Huh. Huh,” Snipes goes.
In a minute my head’s gonna hurt. But it don’t hurt yet.
“Where—” I go but he draws his finger down over my lips, hushing them so I don’t finish, then he rubs my titty, moving his hand in a quick circle like he’s polishing it. I try scootching down along the seat, away from the door, but when I scootch, Snipes’ going at it scootches me right back up against the door handle again. I wonder if my baby’s sitting in me upside down and if Snipes’ thing is hitting it on its head like the door handle is hitting me on mines.
“Ow,” I go. Cause now my head hurts.
“Owww,” Snipes go. Cause he’s through.
He lays there for a minute then pulls himself out of me and gets out the car. He closes up his pants while he looks down the road. Zipper then belt. In my head I can see all the little seeds he just sowed in me.All them little Snipeses running up inside me looking for somewheres to plant. But there’s a baby up in me already, a Baby Snipes. Baby Snipes knocks down the Little Snipes Seeds as fast as they come up.
“How you doing?” Snipes asks.
“Mmokay.”
I turn from my side onto my back, raising up on both elbows. My housedress is all open and the baby makes a hump. Snipes turns to look at me, his gold-colored eyes staying on mines, seeing the hump without really seeing it. He ducks into the front seat, getting his Chesterfields out his shirt pocket, and standing there with his back to me, smoking in just his undershirt.
“Penny for yr thoughts,” I go but he don’t turn around or say nothing. I sit up, buckling my bra and taking a look around for my panties, first in the front seat then running my hand between the backseat and the seat back, thinking my panties mighta got stuck in between but not finding nothing. Then I do feel a scrap of something and give it a yank. Big red shiny drawers. Not mines. Snipes turns around and sees me holding them.
“My sister’s,” he says smiling and putting on his shirt. “I let her use my car sometimes.”
I stuff the drawers back where I found them, first leaving a little red tail sticking out, then stuffing them back in all the way.
“I didn’t know you had no sister,” I says. “I don’t know nothing about you.”
“Whatchu need to know?” he says.
“What’s her name?”
“Who?”
“Yr sister.”
“Alberta,” he says. Then he turns away showing me the side of his face, shaved clean and right-angled as my elbow. He’s smiling hard, but not at me.
“Clifton, can I ask you something else?”
“I’ll get you some more panties, girl, don’t worry,” he says.
An hour ago, when Snipes came to get me, I was doing Aunt June’s hair. I heard his whistle. He weren’t stopped at the pumps. He was stopped across the road, standing against his car looking cool, waiting for me to come outside but waiting cool, just in case I didn’t show. I seen him and run across the road without even looking to see if cars was coming and he picked me up and swirled me around. Just like Harry Belafonte woulda.
“You ain’t been around in almost a month,” I said, breathless from the swirling.
“I been working, girl,” he said. He got a custom-coffin business. He makes and sells handmade coffins in any shape you want with plush lining inside and everything. While we drove he showed me his sample book with three new photographs, proud, like folks show pictures of they children. A oak Cadillac, a guitar of cherry wood, and a pharaoh-style one too, all big enough to get buried inside, the new ones not painted yet so folks can pick out they own colors.
“People been talking,” I said.
“What they saying?”
“Stuff,” I said. “They saying stuff.” We kissed as we drove down the road and then I started laughing cause he was tickling me and getting me undressed and showing me his sample book and driving all at the same time. His left hand on the wheel, his right hand between my legs. Then we pulled off the road. Then we did it. Now we done.
“I’ll get you a whole damn carload full of panties, girl,” he says. “Them panties you had on is probably along the side of the road somewhere between here and Lincoln.” He smiles and I smile with him. I remember taking them off. The wind was whipping and musta whipped them out the window while we drove. But that was an hour ago.
Now I look down the road, seeing if I can see them. I see somebody down there walking in the dirt and the shimmer from the heat.
“I don’t wanna go home without no panties,” I says.
“You worry too much,” Snipes says.
All the car doors are open and the wind goes through, drying the sweat off the seats.
“I gotta know som
ething,” I says.
“Whut?”
“The man’s supposed to ask the girl,” I whisper.
He don’t speak.
We been together since March. Now it’s July. I wanna give him a chance to ask me.
“You said I wouldn’t get bigged the first time we did it,” I says.
“Was our first time your first time?” he says.
“You gonna marry me or what?” I says. The words come out too loud.
He don’t speak. He cuts on the radio but it don’t work when the car ain’t running. He gets out, closing the back two doors, leaving mines open and getting back behind the wheel.
“Sure I’m gonna marry you,” he says at last. “You my treasure. You think I don’t wanna marry my treasure?”
“People are talking,” I says.
“They just jealous,” he says and we both laugh. “Billy Beede got herself a good-looking man and they all jealous.”
When we quit laughing we sit there quiet.
“You my treasure, girl,” he says. “You my treasure, capital T, make no mistake.”
“I’m five months gone,” I says. Too loud again.
He wraps his fingers tight around the wheel. I want him to look at me but he don’t.
Someone comes up, stopping a foot or two from the car to stare at us openmouthed. It’s Laz. He got his wool cap down around his ears and his plaid shirt buttoned to the chin.
“You want yr ass kicked?” Snipes asks him.
“Not today,” Laz says.
“You don’t stop looking at me and my woman, I’ma kick yr black ass,” Snipes says.
Laz looks at the ground.
“You don’t get the hell outa here, I’ma kill you,” Snipes says.
“Being dead don’t bother me none,” Laz says. He got a bold voice but he ain’t looking up from the ground.
Snipes jumps out the car and they stand there toe to toe. Everything Snipes got is better than everything Laz got.
“Go the hell home, Laz,” I says and he turns and goes. Snipes throws a rock and Laz runs.
“Goddamn boot-black-wool-hat-wearing-four-eyed nigger probably wanted to see us doing it,” Snipes goes, getting back in the car and laughing and holding my hand. “Peeping and creeping boot-black-winter-hat nigger.”
“Laz is just Laz,” I says.
“His daddy runs the funeral home but Laz ain’t never gonna be running shit,” Snipes says, laughing hard and squeezing my hand to get me to laugh too and I laugh till his squeezing hurts and I make him let go.
“Today’s Wednesday, ain’t it?” Snipes says. He looks down the road, seeing his upcoming appointments in his head. “I’m free towards the end of the week. Let’s get married on Friday.”
“Really?”
“Friday’s the day,” he says, taking out his billfold. He peeks the money part open with his pointer and thumb, then he feathers the bills, counting. His one eyebrow lifts up, surprised.
“That’s what you call significant,” he says.
“Significant?”
“What year is it?”
“ ’Sixty-three.”
“And here I got sixty-three dollars in my billfold,” he says smiling.
He pinches the bills out, folding them single-handed. He reaches over to me, lifting my housedress away from my brassiere and tucking the sixty-three dollars down between my breasts.
“Get yrself a wedding dress and some shoes and a one-way bus ticket.”
“I’ma go to Jackson’s Formal.”
“Get something pretty. Come up to Texhoma tomorrow. We can do it Friday.”
“You gonna get down on yr knee and ask me?”
“You come up tomorrow and I’ll get down on my knee in front of my sister and her kids and ask you to marry me. Hell, I’ll get down on both knees. Then we can do it Friday.”
“How bout today you meet Aunt June and Uncle Teddy?” I says.
“Today I gotta go to Midland,” he says.
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“I don’t got a minute,” he says. He looks at me. He got lips like pillows. “Have em come to Texhoma Friday. They can watch us get married. I’ll meet em then.”
“When they come up you gotta ask me to marry you on yr knees in front of them too,” I says. “They’d feel left out if they didn’t see it since you’ll be asking me in front of yr sister and her kids and yr mother and dad—”
“My mother and dad won’t be making it,” Snipes says.
“How come?”
“They’s passed,” he says. He starts up the car, turning it around neatly and pulling it into the road, heading back towards Lincoln. On Friday my new name will be Mrs. Clifton Snipes.
“I was ten when Willa Mae passed,” I says.
“Willa Mae who?”
“Willa Mae Beede. My mother,” I says.
Snipes takes his hand off the wheel to scratch his crotch. His foot is light on the gas pedal. There’s a story about my mother. All these months I been seeing Snipes, I didn’t know whether or not he’d heard it. Now I can tell he has.
“They say yr mamma went into the ground with gold in her pockets,” Snipes says.
“You believe that?” I says.
“I’m just telling you what they say.”
“And I say Willa Mae Beede was a liar and a cheat. Getting locked up in jail every time she turned around. Always talking big and never amounting to nothing.”
He takes his foot all the way off the gas to look me full in the face. We coast along. “She was your mamma, girl,” Snipes says.
“Willa Mae passed and it didn’t bother me none. I was glad to see her go,” I says.
“How come you call her Willa Mae?”
“Willa Mae is her name,” I says.
He turns his eyes back to the road and we pick up speed. We go fast. The hot air swishes through the car with all the windows down. I put my hands on the sides of my head, keeping my hair in some kind of shape.
“Willa Mae’s pockets of gold ain’t nothing to sneeze at,” Snipes says. He sorta yells it over the loud whoosh of the air.
“Shoot, Snipes,” I says. “Willa Mae Beede was the biggest liar in Texas. She didn’t go into the ground with shit.” I feel mad then I laugh. After a minute Snipes laughs too.
“Any jewels she had was fake,” I tell him.
“It makes a good story,” he says.
“A good story’s all it makes.”
He checks his wristwatch. We come up on the road that leads to the Crater and he pulls over.
“I gotta let you out here.”
“Can’t you take me all the way home?”
“I gotta get to Midland.”
Sanderson’s is only a mile away. I can walk.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I says.
“Nothing on my mind but coffins,” he says smiling, looking down the road, hands easy now, two fingers of each balanced on the wheel. “Doctor Wells is dying. I’ma talk him into getting buried in a black doctor’s bag made outa oak.”
“That sounds nice,” I says.
His arm grazes my belly as he reaches over to open my door for me. I get out then lean through the window so he can give me some sugar. My dress gaps open. He looks quick at his sixty-three dollars.
“We getting married on Friday, Billy Beede!” Snipes hollers, taking off, driving north, waving at me as he goes.
I walk home the other way.
SNIPES
I don’t know how the hell I get into these messes.
This mess I’m in now started with me needing three dollars’ worth of gas and a Coke. Just goes to show.
“That’s a nice car you got,” she said. “What’s it called?”
“It’s a Galaxie.”
“Like the stars and stuff?”
“It’s just a Ford, girl,” I said. I was on my way home. It was getting late. The man who’d sold me the gas had gone inside through the filling station and into what looked like a trailer out back. The gir
l was lingering.
“You like cars dontcha?” I said.
“Not really,” she said.
“You wanna go for a ride?” I ast her.
“It’s late,” she said.
“Maybe some other time then,” I said. And I went on.
But I came back the next day. Don’t ask me why cause I don’t know. Billy Beede got a good head of hair and a nice smile tho there’s plenty of gals with that. I heard folks say her mamma died rich, but I didn’t have no designs or nothing on her money. I was just headed back to see her.
“You wanna go for a ride?”
“I’m supposed to be watching the place. My aunt and uncle’s getting groceries in town.”
“We’ll only go down the road,” I said. And we went.
I thought it would be hard to get her. But it was easy. Right on the side of the road the first time and on the side of the road, every other week or so after that, whether I had business in Lincoln or not. From March until today. The first time I went slow. I told her I loved her and that she didn’t need to worry about nothing cause couldn’t nothing happen the first time.
She only told me a few things about herself—that she had a talent for hair and used to do hair in town. I kept my cards close to my chest too. I only talked coffins. I coulda tolt her how I got a mother and father living in Dallas. I coulda tolt her that. I coulda tolt her other things. But I wasn’t wanting to let too much of my life loose cause letting yr life loose can turn a good time bad. Just goes to show, cause now the little bits of my life I done let loose at her has gone and made a mess.
Maybe Doctor Wells will go for my doctor-bag coffin. He wants to go out in style and I’ll give him a good price.
I’ma have to cross Lincoln off my list. It don’t bother me. Jackson’s Funeral ain’t never gonna buy nothing from me no way. Still.
Shit.
I don’t know how I get into these messes.
LAZ JACKSON
I wished I coulda caught them doing it. If I coulda caught them doing it, then my anger woulda come up and I woulda tolt Snipes that Billy Beede belongs to me and I woulda been so mad I mighta maybe kilt him. I seen them in the car. I got all the way up to the windows without them seeing me. But they was through doing it already and when I seen them sitting there I didn’t feel mad I just felt sick.
Now I can hear Billy walking in her shoes. Clop clop. Like a horse. Walking down the road. I’m laying flat on my back. Flat on the ground and right alongside the road. I got my hands acrosst my chest, I’m all laid out to rest. When she walks by she’s gonna pay her respects. She’ll have to.
Getting Mother's Body Page 1