Soulful Strut (14 page)

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Annabelle
blinked hard as she looked at him. She seemed to be the one who was
unsure.

“No problem, no problem.” He gestured for
Annabelle to follow him. After a whispered exchange, Annabelle
slipped him several folded bills. He stuffed them into his pocket
quickly, and then grinned at Monette. “Next time we gonna take you
out to eat for sure.”

“Humph.” Monette watched him head for the
door. Waylon disappeared quickly, making Monette think he was
grateful to get away. From Annabelle’s expression, it was clear she
thought so, too.

Annabelle gazed after him for a few moments,
and then recovered her brilliant smile as she faced Monette again.
“Now what we gonna do? Sit here or take a walk?”

“Sure you can walk in those?” Monette pointed
to the sandals her mother wore.

“Since it’s just you and me now, loan me a
pair of comfortable shoes. I got to take a rest from looking cute
since Waylon is gone.” Annabelle chuckled at her own vanity.

“I thought so. Lucky for you we both wear a
size seven. Be right back.”

Monette went upstairs. She found a pair of
soft walking shoes in her closet and joined her mother. Annabelle
chattered on about small-town gossip from back home. She sighed
with relief when she took off the sandals. Once she’d slipped on
the leather walking shoes, they went out on the porch. Monette led
the way toward a small downtown park a couple of blocks away. Late
spring sunshine made the day bright. Both women put on
sunglasses.

“So anyway, I told Vada that she needed to
quit bailing her son out She’ll be an old lady eatin’ cat food and
that boy will be back in jail again anyway. Oh, and some of your
old friends said to tell you hi.” Annabelle finally ran out of
steam. “But enough about them crazy folks in Rougon. Tell me what’s
goin’ on with you.”

“Nothing much more than Rita probably told
you. I’m doing community service work at a local program and a
radio show,” Monette said as they stopped on a corner. The light
signaled that it was safe for them to cross. “Let’s sit over
there.”

“I haven’t been downtown in Baton Rouge for a
long time. Not since I went to court with your brother back in
eighty-nine.” Annabelle fanned her face.

North Boulevard had two lanes on either side
of a landscaped area in the middle. Monette pointed to a set of
wooden benches beneath a set of huge oak trees. The small park sat
in the middle of North Boulevard. A red brick path cut through the
middle of the grass. Sparse traffic flowed on either side of the
urban refuge. Annabelle collapsed onto the bench with a sigh.

“Got your own radio show. That’s somethin’.
Bet that Winn Barron breaks out in a sweat when he hears your name.
He’s the one should be in prison for setting you up. Not that I
didn’t try to warn you about him. Must have been out of your mind.”
Annabelle managed to criticize Barron and throw Monette’s past in
her face in one breath.

“A lot of women have made mistakes with men,
Mama.” Monette gazed off into the distance.

“Yeah, you’re right. We all do the best we
can with what we know at the time.” Annabelle searched the small
yellow purse that matched her sandals and the daisies in her
blouse. She took a cigarette out of a pack and lit it.

“So how long you and Waylon been ‘friends’?”
Monette glanced at her.

“About two months. He’s a nice enough guy. He
even picks up his own tab once in a while.” Annabelle tried to
laugh but coughed instead.

Monette patted her on the back. She noticed
the pinched look around Annabelle’s mouth for the first time. “You
okay?”

Annabelle took a peppermint candy from her
purse, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. She shook her
head after a few moments. “I’m fine. Like I said, Waylon is fun
most days.”

“You like ’em younger than you now, huh?”
Monette could always get to the real deal with Annabelle, even if
they ended up not speaking for days.

“All I want from an old man is directions to
where the young man hangs out. Them senior citizen men just out
here lookin’ for a nurse and a purse anyway,” Annabelle replied,
waving a hand in the air.

Monette laughed hard. Her mother was a lot of
things, but she had a wicked sense of humor. “Guess I’m about to
find that out myself.”

Annabelle gave Monette a playful slap on the
shoulder. “Girl, please. Don’t go round actin’ old. Folks gonna
start figurin’ out my age next.”

“Yeah, and we both know you’ve been
thirty-nine for the last twenty years,” Monette teased.

“Damn right. I’m blessed with young-lookin’
kids. You could pass for thirty-two easy. Remember that time I made
you and Rita pretend y’all was still in high school when I hooked
up with Guy?” Annabelle shook her head. “That fool believed it for
five years.”

“He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed,
that’s for sure.” Monette leaned toward her and pointed a
forefinger at Annabelle’s nose. “Shame on you telling him we kept
failing. Lucky for you he lived over in Plaquemine. You used to
really pick ’em.”

“Hey, I met some nice dudes at The Spot”
Annabelle protested with mock indignation.

“That juke joint was located in a scenic
little town called Tombstone, Mama. That alone should have been a
sign it wasn’t the best place to find husband material.” Annabelle
took a pull on her cigarette. She chuckled as she exhaled a stream
of smoke. “Yeah. I wasn’t known for havin’ much sense when it came
to men.”

“Something I inherited,” Monette quipped. Her
amusement soured when she thought of her children. “But at least
you raised your kids.”

Her mother continued to smoke for a time.
Tense silence stretched between them. Finally Annabelle dropped the
cigarette and crushed it with the heel of her shoe. “Look, don’t be
beatin’ yourself up over stuff you can’t change.” “Move on like
you. Thanks for that bit of advice,” Monette said, then pressed her
lips closed.

“I put clothes on your backs and food on the
table. No reason I couldn’t have some fun, too.” Annabelle stabbed
a forefinger in the air as she made a point. “And that stuff with
Charlie, well, when I found out what he’d done to you, I threw him
out. To hell with callin’ the police. Had my brother and uncles
whip his ass good. Bet he thought long and hard ’bout touchin’ some
other woman’s child.” Monette shivered at her blunt discussion of
“what he’d done.” Charlie Givens had been one of Annabelle’s three
live-in lovers. He’d raped Monette when she was only nine years
old. Even so many years later, Monette still had an occasional
nightmare about that rainy afternoon.

“Thanks for the gesture.” Monette shifted on
the bench. “Look, I’m not trying to blame you for every dumb
mistake I’ve made. I picked some real thugs and knew better. What
happened to me almost happened to Talia when she was fourteen.
Because of me bringing a no-good bum into my house.”

“What?” Annabelle’s mouth dropped open. “Who
touched that girl?”

“Earl.” Monette closed her eyes for a moment,
then opened them again.

“So that’s why he ended up dead. He had it
comin’,” Annabelle spat out.

“Mama, if you recall, I didn’t kill Earl.
Winn’s investigator finished him off. Then Winn punished me for
cheating on him with Earl. I don’t have room to criticize your
lifestyle.” Monette wished she smoked at times like these.

Annabelle fluttered her fingers in dismissal.
“You did the best you could with what you had. Just remember that.
We both came up hard. I could be mad at my mama and daddy, but that
wouldn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you should give this speech to Talia.”
Monette grimaced at the thought of her oldest daughter.

“I would if Miz Uppity ever called me. Got
that big- time life up in D.C. and don’t think about nobody but
herself.” Annabelle pulled out the pack and lit another
cigarette.

“She’s been hurt. I did most of the damage
with the way I was living back in the day,” Monette replied.

“Who ain’t been hurt? That girl needs to stop
holdin’ grudges. You made mistakes, but at least you take care of
your own.”

‘Talia doesn’t owe me or any of us a thing,
Mama. I’m glad she and Derrick are successful. At least she’s done
better than me.” Monette tried to convince herself that Talia’s
happiness mattered most of all. Yet she still had that familiar
hollow sensation when she thought of Talia.

“Yeah, well, you ain’t doin’ too bad at all.
Thank the Lord strugglin’ along with too many bills and not enough
cash is over for you. Poor Rita got it rough, though. Them kids of
hers keep her nerves bad.” Annabelle glanced at Monette sideways.
“I can’t help her much. A few dollars here and there.”

Monette let out a grunt that expressed her
scorn. “Rita is always a dollar short of taking care of herself.
She should stop getting those fancy two-inch acrylic fingernails
with rhinestones every two weeks. That oughta save her fifty bucks
a month. Oh, and while you’re at it, tell her to cut back on paying
her man’s bills.”

“Rita ain’t perfect, but you can’t throw
stones. You got nerve lookin’ down on your own sister,” Annabelle
snapped back.

“I wouldn’t have to look down if Rita did
something to pull herself up. She’s always got an excuse—with help
from you,” Monette replied. She faced her mother’s scalding gaze
without flinching. “You need to quit bailing those kids of hers out
of trouble.”

“I helped you out a few times. Remember?”
Annabelle stabbed a finger at Monette’s nose.

“Yeah, a few is right,” Monette muttered.

“As many times as you got into trouble I did
all I could. I didn’t make enough money to spend it all on you. I
was sweatin’ for minimum wage, and where was you? Out runnin’ the
streets instead of goin’ to school, that’s where,” Annabelle
shouted.

Monette rubbed her forehead and wondered how
they’d slipped back into an old pattern so quickly. Arguments laced
with bitter accusations were their version of a family reunion.
“You’re right. I screwed up all by myself back then. We all
did.”

“I tried my best,” Annabelle said again.

“Yeah, you did.” Monette looked off into the
distance. Mentioning the parade of men Annabelle had brought into
the house or her drinking would be pointless. Her mother would
never see anything in the past as her own fault.

“Okay, so Rita and the others ain’t got as
much as you, but that’s no reason to throw them away,” Annabelle
said. “Look, if you can’t spare the money, just say so. I’m not
gonna be on my knees. I’m just your mother is all, and I’m askin’,
not beggin’.” Annabelle huffed in anger and crossed her arms.

Monette gave in because it was easier. “I
don’t have any cash on me, Mama. I’d have to go by the bank.”

“If you’re sure. Like I said, we’re not
comin’ hat in hand every time we need. Family oughta stick
together.” Annabelle looked at her.

“It’s okay. But I’d have to go to my bank
soon because it closes at noon on Saturday,” Monette said.

“I’ll call Waylon right now. We appreciate
it, sugar.” Annabelle chattered on happily now that her true
mission had been accomplished. She stopped long enough to call
Waylon on her cell phone.

Monette wished she could believe that
Annabelle had come to see her, but she knew better. Annabelle
hadn’t been the worst mother in the world. She was simply self-
absorbed in a way that left Monette feeling forgotten. Monette’s
three sisters were no different Family sentiment aside, Annabelle
and the others had probably calculated how much they thought
Monette should help them.

“He’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. I
saw a little store down the street. Let’s walk and get me some
cigarettes. By the time we make it back, Waylon should be waiting.”
Annabelle stood.

“Sure.” Monette patted her pants pocket and
felt the debit card. She knew Annabelle would expect to get a
carton as a gift.

Her mother had timed their arrival back at
New Beginnings just right. Waylon sat outside in his dark red Ford
Explorer with the engine running. He drove them to a branch of
Monette’s bank. Annabelle had him park, and she followed Monette
inside.

“If you can spare six hundred that would hold
us over,” Annabelle said in an even tone, as though that much was
nothing for Monette.

“Six hundred?” Monette stopped and put both
hands on her hips.

“We need two hundred to fix my car. That’s
our only transportation. Then Rita’s got some bills and I—”

“Never mind.” Monette did not want to hear
the details. She strode into the bank, withdrew the cash, and
handed it to Annabelle.

“Wait a minute,” Annabelle said. She glanced
toward the parking lot, where Waylon still sat in the SUV. She put
fifty dollars in her wallet, then stuffed the rest of the money
into a side pocket of her purse. “Okay, let’s go.”

“I can tell this relationship won’t last. No
trust.” Monette knew exactly what her mother would do. She’d tell
Waylon that all Monette had given her was the fifty.

“Hey, what he don’t know won’t hurt me,"
Annabelle wisecracked.

By the time they dropped Monette back at the
halfway house, she felt drained and depressed. A visit from her
relatives had a way of doing that to her. Candi was sitting on the
front porch in one of two oak swings attached to the ceiling. She
pushed herself back and forth with her legs. When Annabelle waved,
Candi waved back. Monette climbed the stone steps without looking
at the Explorer as they drove away.

“How’s your mama doin’?” Candi said when
Monette sat next to her.

“Better than me in some ways,” Monette
replied. They swayed for several minutes without speaking.

“You need to have some fun. And don’t tell me
how you’ve got a lot to do. Damn, Monette. Lighten up.” Candi
slapped Monette’s thigh playfully.