God Still Don’t Like Ugly

by Mary Monroe

  As hard as Daddy had worked in the fields, we hadn’t had much money. We had always lived on the outskirts of Miami in shacks. Living that way hadn’t bothered me because in addition to the Savior we worshipped every Sunday, we had each other. We even slept together in the same bed.

  Recalling my past suddenly had me feeling as weak as a bowl of jelly. My emotions ran wild, from one extreme to the other. I was ecstatic, confused, angry, happy, and apprehensive. I had opened a Pandora’s box and I didn’t know how to handle it. I got light-headed when I thought about Muh’Dear and I had to ask myself, What have I gotten myself into?

  I felt safer telling Muh’Dear over the telephone about my conversation with Daddy than I would have to her face.

  “What in the world—girl, have you lost your mind?!” Muh’Dear roared. She had to stop talking long enough to catch her breath. She lowered her voice to a boom and continued, “I don’t want you to have a damn thing to do with that no-good bastard after what he done to us! I…can’t…believe…my…ears!” Muh’Dear sounded like she was coming through the telephone.

  I rarely raised my voice to my mother and I didn’t want to do that now. I managed to keep myself under control. “I don’t care about all that anymore. He’s my daddy and I still want to see him. And he wants to see me.”

  “And what about what I want? I don’t want you to let him ruin your life.”

  “How is he going to ruin my life? I’m a grown woman!” I snapped, no longer able to hide my anger and frustration. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore!”

  Muh’Dear sucked her teeth and shot back, “Don’t you sass me, girl! I ain’t too old to come over there and whup your ass and you ain’t too old for me to do it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I mumbled contritely.

  “I can’t believe you doin’ this to me. You choosin’ him over me after all I done did for you, girl? Where was he when we was runnin’ from pillar to post? Where was Frank when we had to steal food to eat a decent meal? Where was he when I had to suffer with you and that shame you got yourself into gettin’ pregnant? Poor Brother Boatwright was playin’ Frank’s part. Where was Frank? He was God knows where, lickin’ his white woman’s flat ass. And now you tellin’ me you want to hook back up with him?” Muh’Dear started choking on her words.

  “Muh’Dear, please don’t do this to me. You stop that crying. I am not choosing Daddy over you. What’s wrong with me having both you and him in my life now? Other than you, he’s all I have.”

  Muh’Dear clicked her teeth and groaned. “You got your Aunt Berniece and her husband over there in Jersey. You got everything you need.”

  “I don’t have my daddy.”

  “You don’t need no daddy now! You ain’t got no daddy, girl! A real daddy would never have done to you what Frank done.”

  “He made a mistake and he regretted it, Muh’Dear. Aunt Berniece told me that he tried to find us after he moved back from Texas.” My ears were ringing and my eyes started burning from the tears I couldn’t hold back. I refused to give in and neither would Muh’Dear.

  Muh’Dear gasped and said hotly, “I bet he did. After that white bitch got through with him, where else could he go? We don’t need him now, nohow! We doin’ fine without him.”

  “You have Daddy King and you have a lot of friends. I don’t have anything in my life. I’m tired of being alone.”

  “Alone? What?! How can you say you alone? We both got Mr. King. He is your daddy now. You got Pee Wee and Rhoda. And you know you can always count on Scary Mary and her girls if you just want somebody to talk to. Your problem is, you too picky. Shame on you. Still single at your age with all these fine, single Black men in Richland.” Muh’Dear’s voice softened. “Sugar, how come you won’t get to know some of them nice young single men at the church? Deacon Brewster’s been tryin’ to hook you up with his nephew Jacob for months. Jacob just bought a brand new car.”

  “I don’t care if Jacob Brewster just bought a brand new chariot,” I said through clenched teeth. “That man couldn’t turn me on with a pair of pliers. I don’t want him. And Pee Wee doesn’t always have time to spend with me that much anyway.”

  “What’s Rhoda’s telephone number? I am goin’ to call up Rhoda and tell her to come pay you a visit. She the only one can talk to you that you’ll listen to.”

  “Not anymore, Muh’Dear.” There was a long pause while I waited for Muh’Dear to respond. “Are you still there?”

  “I’m still here. I had to go take a pill.” Muh’Dear paused again and cleared her throat. “I am so glad Brother Boatwright ain’t alive to hear all this foolishness.”

  “Please don’t bring up that man’s name,” I snarled. I screwed up my face and held up my hand and swallowed so hard my eyes closed all by themselves. “I don’t want to talk about Mr. Boatwright anymore.” Things looked fuzzy when I opened my eyes and my butt had started itching.

  “Have you been drinkin’?” Muh’Dear sucked her teeth and let out an impatient sigh.

  “No.”

  “Smokin’ that stuff? And don’t lie to me. I know what that stuff smells like and I done smelled it in that house over there after you and Pee Wee done fiddled around. I bet Brother Boatwright spinnin’ in his grave. Lord have mercy on your soul, girl.” The more I heard Mr. Boatwright’s name, the more my butt itched. I couldn’t even sit still and I was too angry to even scratch myself.

  “Daddy’s sending me the money for a plane ticket,” I said calmly.

  “And where is all the money he owe me for back child support? Is he sendin’ that, too?” Muh’Dear shrieked.

  “I really want to see my daddy.” I sighed with defeat as I rubbed my chest, which had started aching so hard I could barely breathe. “But if it hurts you that much and you don’t want me to see him, I won’t.”

  “I don’t want you to have nothin’ to do with that man! Aarrgh! He’s a demon! He’s evil! Don’t you know that?”

  My ears were ringing and burning now. My butt felt like it was on fire. “What do I tell him?” I felt like I was falling apart, a few pieces at a time.

  “I don’t care what you tell him. After what he done to us, you don’t owe him nothin’.”

  After I hung up from my conversation with Muh’Dear, I crawled back into bed. It was still damp from Pee Wee’s juices, but I stayed in the same spot for the next six hours. Crying.

  CHAPTER 24

  F

  our days after my conversation with Daddy, I received a special delivery envelope from him. In it was a money order. It contained enough to cover a round-trip plane ticket to and from Miami. First class, Daddy had instructed in a note paper-clipped to the money order.

  I had not seen or talked to Muh’Dear since I had told her about my conversation with Daddy. I had taken a few days off from my job at the Buttercup, so she and Daddy King didn’t expect to see me there. When I didn’t return to work the following Monday, my stepfather came to the house.

  “Annette, we was worried about you,” he told me, removing his hat and fanning with the tail of his overcoat as soon as he entered the door. In his late seventies now, my stepfather was even older than Daddy was. Daddy King didn’t have much hair left, but he still had firm features and all of his teeth. He dipped his head and peered at me over the top of the thick glasses he wore. The only thing I didn’t like about him was that he was the same shade of reddish brown that Mr. Boatwright had been. Arthritis caused him to walk with a slight limp.

  “I’m all right, Daddy King. I just needed to be by myself for awhile. I guess Muh’Dear told you about my daddy. You want something to drink?” I waved him to the couch.

  He shook his head and removed his glasses and wiped them with the tail of his plaid flannel shirt. “She sure did and I told Gussie Mae to her face she was wrong for puttin’ you on that spot. She ain’t got the right to live your life.”

  Hearing that I had at least one ally gave me the hope I needed. “What did she say?” I asked anxiously.


  “Well, I won’t repeat it ’cause I know it’d only make you feel even worse. I think I will have a glass of buttermilk.” He fanned his tired face with his hat.

  Daddy King was a sensitive man. He tried to avoid a lot of confusion and turmoil. I knew that it had not been easy for him to come talk to me about such a tense situation. The strain showed on his face.

  “Will you talk to her? She might listen to you.”

  “She might and she might not. She pretty well set in her ways, you know,” he replied. Wheezing, he followed me to the kitchen.

  I sighed. “All my life I’ve bent over backward trying to make her proud of me.”

  “And you did, child. You her pride and joy. But you gotta look at things from her point of view. She don’t want to see you get hurt.” Daddy King paused to drink a full glass of buttermilk in one long gulp. A white line remained above his top lip. “She ain’t gwine to rar back and let nobody do nothin’ that might hurt you. She real, real proud of the fact that she got you through life in one piece. Somebody was to harm you, that woman would bring down the whole world,” he rasped, wiping the milk off his lip with the back of his hand.

  My mind flashed on Mr. Boatwright and the dozens of times he had raped me. After what Daddy King had just said, I tried to imagine what Muh’Dear would have done to Mr. Boatwright, had I exposed him for the monster he was.

  “When I was with that Sadie, she didn’t care if them gals of hers burned city hall down and run off with Godzilla, just as long as they didn’t keep her from watchin’ them soap operas she was so addicted to.” Daddy King was a tall man, but he was so thin his clothes always hung on him, leaving almost enough room for another person. He looked like a scarecrow. “Ain’t you glad to have a mama that care so much about you?”

  “I am.”

  I walked Daddy King to the door where he paused and patted my shoulder.

  “Now your mama is a good woman and that’s the main thing. Even though I think she wrong for wantin’ to keep you from your daddy, she got a right to feel that way. Let’s give her some time to digest this thing. Wait awhile before you bring it up again. She’ll break down sooner or later.”

  “Will you talk to her some more?”

  “Every chance I get. Now how come you ain’t at work today? You know how shorthanded we been. And, by the way, one of them construction workers that eat at the restaurant every day, been askin’ about you. One of the Simmons boys. He eats like a stevedore so I bet him and you would get along real good.” One of the few things my stepfather had in common with Muh’Dear was, he also wanted to see me settle down with a man. Any man. The Simmons man he had just mentioned had a prison record and babies by four different women.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  I walked my stepfather to his car and waited until he drove off before I waddled back inside and folded myself back onto the couch.

  When I returned to work three days later, Muh’Dear acted like the conversation she and I had had about Daddy had not occurred. She cornered me in the kitchen five minutes after my arrival, buttoning the back of the plain blue uniform I had to wear.

  “Deacon Brewster just called to make a dinner reservation for him and his wife this evenin’. Lord, I hope Margaret don’t wear none of that loud perfume of hers that leaves the dinin’ room smellin’ like Scary Mary’s whorehouse on a busy weekend. He’s bringin’ his charmin’ nephew Jacob, too. You remember him, the nephew that just got divorced from that girl he picked up over there in them Philippines. Ain’t that nice?” Muh’Dear paused just long enough to take a deep breath. “Poor Jacob’s depressed. I told Deacon Brewster, there’s a slew of single Black girls around here that’s itchin’ to cheer Jacob up. He asked about you. Ain’t that nice?”

  “That is nice. Listen, I’ve been thinking about trying to go back to work for the telephone company. They had an ad for switchboard operators in the newspaper last week.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. You got too much goin’ for you to be sweatin’ away the rest of your young years bein’ a waitress. Which, by the way, is years that ain’t so young no more. Do somethin’ with your life before it’s too late. God ain’t through with you yet, but you got to meet Him part of the way. Don’t expect the Lord to do all the work like he been doin’ so far. He outdid hisself when he blessed us with Brother Boatwright and then Mr. King. Why don’t you go in the restroom and put some rouge on your jaws before the Brewsters get here.”

  CHAPTER 25

  I

  waited two more days before I called Daddy back. He was happy to hear from me again, but disappointed that I hadn’t called sooner.

  “I wanted to call you, but I misplaced your telephone number. Hold on. Let me find a pencil so I can get it again.” He returned in less than a minute. “This time I’m gwine to scribble it on my Medicaid card. I ain’t about to misplace that.” I gave him my telephone number again. “You get that money I sent?”

  “Yeah…”

  “When you comin’? You better hurry up if you want some of that hog we slaughtered. Them pork chops we cut up and stuck in the freezer is screamin’.”

  “I can’t come down there right now, Daddy. Uh, Muh’Dear’s not doing too well and she needs me here to take care of her.” I didn’t like lying, but I didn’t see any other way out of this mess.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Oh, nothing serious.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Just female problems.”

  “Well, I’ll be here whenever you do decide to come. I ain’t gwine nowhere.”

  “You still have my address?”

  “It was on the same scrap of paper I wrote your phone number on that last time that you gave it to me. The same scrap of paper I lost. Give me your address again, too.”

  I received a letter from Daddy the following Friday. And another one a week later. Not a week went by without a letter from Daddy. Every time I opened my mailbox and spotted an envelope with his spidery handwriting, I got excited. Each time I heard from him, he wanted to know when I was coming to visit him.

  The same day John Lennon was murdered, December 8, 1980, Daddy stopped asking when I was coming to visit him. When we did communicate, we discussed everything but that.

  The telephone company had hired me back. After a while, it seemed like I had never left my job as a switchboard operator in the first place. I was determined to keep myself busy.

  I even volunteered to do things that Muh’Dear used to have to beg me to do. Once a month, she and Daddy King and Scary Mary cooked food and donated it to a homeless shelter. Then they not only served it, but also after everybody had eaten, they cleaned up the mess. I had always gone out of my way to avoid spending an entire day at the shelter. Now I looked forward to it. I even started going around with Muh’Dear and Scary Mary to visit sick people from the church, cooking and cleaning for the ones who lived alone. These were things I should have been proud to do and I was. Muh’Dear and I had so much to be thankful for now. Just like Scary Mary and Daddy King had shared their good fortune with us, we shared ours with people not as fortunate. “Baby, one day God is goin’ to bless you with even more. A husband, children, good friends. Just be patient,” Muh’Dear told me. I didn’t want to seem greedy, but even with as much as I already had, I did want the things that Muh’Dear believed God had in store for me.

  Pee Wee was still making his regular trips to my bed but I continued to go out with somebody’s unattached male relative just to keep Muh’Dear off my back.

  I even went to a Christmas party with Deacon Brewster’s nephew at one of his white co-worker’s sparsely furnished tract house near the trailer camp on the outskirts of town. I hadn’t been in this shabby neighborhood since we’d lived in it, before we moved to the house on Reed Street. It was a place I did not miss. Old cars and motorcycles lined the unpaved streets. Somebody had parked an old school bus on the side of one of the streets and was living in it. Dog shit littered the ground like works of art. A three-legged dog yippe
d at my legs as we made our way up onto a porch with two steps missing.

  “Don’t step in none of that dog dooky. I don’t want you to embarrass me by trackin’ up Mark’s floor,” Jacob advised me, leading me by my arm.

  I felt like I was being led to a slaughter. I prayed that they would have plenty of alcohol available. That was the only way I could see myself surviving this night.

  Jacob Brewster was the kind of man every Black woman wanted her daughter to hook up with. He had a good job working at one of Richland’s steel mills, he drove a big, new car, he liked to spend money on his women, he was devoted to his mama, and he went to church every Sunday. But he still lived with his domineering mama and he had the face of a mule and the breath of an ox.

  “Annette, since you don’t want to dance with me, do you mind if I dance with Ingrid Dobbs? She been eyeballin’ me all night,” Jacob whispered in my ear, spraying the side of my face with his sour spit. He had been drinking heavily and could barely stand up straight. But he was so clumsy anyway, I didn’t want to take a chance on him grinding his thick-soled running shoes into my feet. The fly on his wrinkled gabardine pants was open. His wiry black hair had been plastered to his head with the same foul-smelling pomade Mr. Boatwright used to wear.

  “Go ahead. I don’t know any of these new dances anyway.” I waved him to the dance floor, looking at my watch instead of him.

  As soon as Jacob weaved his way across the floor, a man I had never seen before stepped from behind the couch I was sitting on and plopped down next to me. Other than me, he was the only person on the premises dressed nicely. He had on a dark blue suit, a light blue shirt, and black shoes that shone like new money. Ironically, I had on a dark blue silk dress with light blue cuffs and collar and a pair of black pumps. Being somewhat superstitious, I took these coincidences as a sign.