nerve to tell Muh’Dear about Mr. Boatwright abusing me. I didn’t know if she would believe me. And if she did, would she blame me? I knew that if I ever did tell her, our relationship would never be the same again, and I liked it the way it was.
“Brother Boatwright was right proud of you. Everythin’ he advised me on was for your benefit. His real concern was keepin’ you in line ’til we got you a husband. So many girls in Richland had to give up their dreams to raise babies alone. Brother Boatwright’s the one that persuaded me—”
“Let’s not talk about him anymore.”
“It’s too painful, ain’t it?” Muh’Dear sighed.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, looking around.
“What I wouldn’t do to be young again so I can do better with my life,” Muh’Dear commented, giving me a thoughtful look.
“What would you do differently?” I asked, looking in her sad face.
“There’s somethin’ I’d never do if I had it to do over again. I had men usin’ me like they had paid for me by the pound. Don’t never let no man use you…for money. It ain’t worth it. There’s always a better way. I am so proud you ain’t the type to end up doin’…what I done, what the girls in Scary Mary’s house do…” Muh’Dear shook her head as hard as she could. “It’s the worst thing a woman can do to her body.”
“I know it is, and I’ll never do it,” I said, nodding and deliberately looking away so she couldn’t see my lying eyes.
We didn’t talk for a few moments.
“Did I tell you Judge Lawson’s havin’ a little birthday celebration for me next Friday before his poker party?”
“No, Ma’am. You didn’t tell me.”
“Well he just told me day ’fore yestiddy.” Muh’Dear paused and chuckled softly. “Poor thin’. Dyin’ right before my eyes, but he still havin’ his parties and guzzlin’ his highballs. See how good God’ll be to you when you do right by God? That’s the one thin’ I hope you never forget.”
I nodded. “I’ll call you for sure to wish you happy birthday.”
“Fifty-two.” Muh’Dear sighed. “Sometime it feel like a hundred and fifty-two.”
“Fifty-three,” I corrected with a chuckle.
Muh’Dear shrugged and shook her head. “Fifty-somethin’ years old and the white folks still call me girl.” Muh’Dear paused and looked me up and down. “Don’t you forget that.” Her eyes watered.
“What?”
“To the white folks you’ll always be a girl. You can’t never sass none of ’em, don’t care what they do to you. I’ll never get over the way we used to have to hide from the Klan ’cause your daddy was the outspoken kind always sassin’ white folks back in Florida. Lord, the way he took off with that white woman that mornin’ was suicide. I bet they didn’t make it two miles. I bet his carcass layin’ rotten in the Everglades with a rope ’round his neck right as we speak.” Muh’Dear sobbed, then fished her handkerchief from her bosom and wiped away a tear and blew her nose.
I don’t know why I said what I said next. “Muh’Dear, the way things were for you, did you ever wish you’d never been born? Or that you were dead?”
“Never in my life.” She closed her eyes for just a moment, and her lips curled up at the corners. “I’m glad I was born. And I sure ain’t ready to lay down and die. At least not until I get to see the Bahamas,” she said longingly.
“And get that restaurant,” I added.
“And get that restaurant.” She smiled, and with a mischievious glint in her eye, added, “Just like Mr. King’s.”
CHAPTER 44
I arrived in Erie on a gloomy morning just before noon. The trip had taken a little more than two and a half hours, with several stops along the way.
I stumbled off the bus, retrieved my luggage, and crawled into the backseat of the first available yellow cab.
“Is there a cheap but nice motel close to the downtown area you can take me to?” I asked the middle-aged East Indian driver.
“There is many cheap motel, hotel.”
“Well, can you take me to one? As long as it is near the downtown area. The nearest Travelodge will do,” I instructed.
Erie looked a lot like Richland. The bus station was located in a fairly nice-looking area, but once we drove across some train tracks the houses and everything else started looking pretty shabby. One street we drove down reminded me of the street in Richland we had lived on before moving