room before I set the iron to them.
Miss Lizzy sat with me for a little while and talk. She talk about her little boy. About when he died. He had a disease that was a science name. She said it was a blood disease, about a luke. She talk about he was just a little boy. How sad it was. How much she miss him. That she just wish she could see him one time. Just to touch him.
I know how she felt. My baby ain’t dead. But I can’t touch her. I sure wish I could.
After Miss Lizzy told me her story, I come up here and tell mine into this tape. I’m making this a tape by its self. I maybe think my child wouldn’t like to know this part. It’s part of her remembery, but maybe it’s cruel. Folks been cruel to me, and I don’t want ever to be cruel to my child.
I was pretty once. That’s not bragging on myself. It’s a fact. People said I was pretty. And I was skinny. Until sixth grade. Then I started getting boobs and hips.
My clothes got tight in some places, and boys whistled and said, “You be fine!” And they try to rub up against me and laugh that . . . laugh. Not a happy laugh. One that scared me.
But I was dumb. I didn’t know.
In seventh grade, things was going good and I was used to the whistles. The boys only talked and pushed against me. And the laugh didn’t scare me so much.
Here’s the part I don’t like to say. I don’t like to think it. But I got to tell the truth on this tape.
I . . . I sorta . . . liked boys talking to me. And wanting me to talk to them. Granny didn’t talk to me ’cept to holler. I never had no friends. People called me White Trash and dumb and like that.
I thought those boys liked me.
I made us a good dinner of pork chops that was grilled with special sauce and potatoes cut thin and sautéed in butter and fresh green beans.
I was full of confusion and upset and jangling pans and silverware, sounded like a whole circus show.
“Has something happened to get you in a tizzy, Quincy? You seem off-footed,” Lizabeth said.
I decided to tell them. “I work with a woman name Ellen. She got a husband. Today she come in with her face all busted up. Jen tole me that Ellen’s husband done it. He drinks. And when he gets all liquored up, he wants her paycheck so he can go drink some more. Ellen didn’t want to give him her paycheck ’cause he drinks up all the rent money. So he bust her in the face and beat her up.”
I stopped and looked at Biddy and Lizabeth. “Here’s the thing. This ain’t the first time he done it. He does this a lot.”
Biddy and Lizabeth just sat there.
I stopped cutting my chop. “Cain’t you two say boo to a ghost?”
Lizabeth made a little face I couldn’t figure out. “What are we supposed to say?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Lizabeth! This ain’t no Special Ed girl. This is a full-growed-up woman. She don’t have to let no man knock her around like that.”
Lizabeth looked like she was gonna cry. “Quincy, do you think that you have to let someone treat you badly because you’re Special Ed?”
I got all the over fidgets then. “No, that’s not it. I . . .” Biddy was staring into her plate. She sure wasn’t going to be no help.
“It’s just Ellen and Jen is my friends and it don’t seem right that they . . . I mean . . . Ellen, she’s growed up — she should know better. . . .” I husht. That ole lady don’t know what she’s talkin’ about.
“Just never mind about the whole thing,” I said.
I get up early to check Mama Duck. Around sunup, she flies off and leaves her eggs. I got scaredy the first morning. I ready to put a towel on her eggs to keep them warm, when Mama Duck come flying home. She lit in the yard. Waddled to her eggs. Set right down. She wiggled and waggled and squirmed. She used her beak to push her eggs around just right. Then she drank water.
I feel OK. She had to leave her babies to do her business. But she come right home to them.
Miss Lizzy’s been poorly. I don’t know why. ’Cause
Miss Lizzy sat with me for a little while and talk. She talk about her little boy. About when he died. He had a disease that was a science name. She said it was a blood disease, about a luke. She talk about he was just a little boy. How sad it was. How much she miss him. That she just wish she could see him one time. Just to touch him.
I know how she felt. My baby ain’t dead. But I can’t touch her. I sure wish I could.
After Miss Lizzy told me her story, I come up here and tell mine into this tape. I’m making this a tape by its self. I maybe think my child wouldn’t like to know this part. It’s part of her remembery, but maybe it’s cruel. Folks been cruel to me, and I don’t want ever to be cruel to my child.
I was pretty once. That’s not bragging on myself. It’s a fact. People said I was pretty. And I was skinny. Until sixth grade. Then I started getting boobs and hips.
My clothes got tight in some places, and boys whistled and said, “You be fine!” And they try to rub up against me and laugh that . . . laugh. Not a happy laugh. One that scared me.
But I was dumb. I didn’t know.
In seventh grade, things was going good and I was used to the whistles. The boys only talked and pushed against me. And the laugh didn’t scare me so much.
Here’s the part I don’t like to say. I don’t like to think it. But I got to tell the truth on this tape.
I . . . I sorta . . . liked boys talking to me. And wanting me to talk to them. Granny didn’t talk to me ’cept to holler. I never had no friends. People called me White Trash and dumb and like that.
I thought those boys liked me.
I made us a good dinner of pork chops that was grilled with special sauce and potatoes cut thin and sautéed in butter and fresh green beans.
I was full of confusion and upset and jangling pans and silverware, sounded like a whole circus show.
“Has something happened to get you in a tizzy, Quincy? You seem off-footed,” Lizabeth said.
I decided to tell them. “I work with a woman name Ellen. She got a husband. Today she come in with her face all busted up. Jen tole me that Ellen’s husband done it. He drinks. And when he gets all liquored up, he wants her paycheck so he can go drink some more. Ellen didn’t want to give him her paycheck ’cause he drinks up all the rent money. So he bust her in the face and beat her up.”
I stopped and looked at Biddy and Lizabeth. “Here’s the thing. This ain’t the first time he done it. He does this a lot.”
Biddy and Lizabeth just sat there.
I stopped cutting my chop. “Cain’t you two say boo to a ghost?”
Lizabeth made a little face I couldn’t figure out. “What are we supposed to say?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Lizabeth! This ain’t no Special Ed girl. This is a full-growed-up woman. She don’t have to let no man knock her around like that.”
Lizabeth looked like she was gonna cry. “Quincy, do you think that you have to let someone treat you badly because you’re Special Ed?”
I got all the over fidgets then. “No, that’s not it. I . . .” Biddy was staring into her plate. She sure wasn’t going to be no help.
“It’s just Ellen and Jen is my friends and it don’t seem right that they . . . I mean . . . Ellen, she’s growed up — she should know better. . . .” I husht. That ole lady don’t know what she’s talkin’ about.
“Just never mind about the whole thing,” I said.
I get up early to check Mama Duck. Around sunup, she flies off and leaves her eggs. I got scaredy the first morning. I ready to put a towel on her eggs to keep them warm, when Mama Duck come flying home. She lit in the yard. Waddled to her eggs. Set right down. She wiggled and waggled and squirmed. She used her beak to push her eggs around just right. Then she drank water.
I feel OK. She had to leave her babies to do her business. But she come right home to them.
Miss Lizzy’s been poorly. I don’t know why. ’Cause
Similar Books
