seen, you was well enough to go pay your respects.”
“She too busy layin’ in there gobblin’ up chicken wings and readin’ pornographic books,” Mr. Boatwright yelled from the hallway. I’d been reading Peyton Place for most of the day. Within seconds he was in my room. His housecoat belt was tied securely and he was buttoned all the way up to his neck.
“Shame on you, Annette. I thought Rhoda was your best friend,” Muh’Dear gasped, waving a finger in my face. “I bet she right frantic. I can’t believe you ain’t over there to hug her.”
“Can I go over there now?” I asked, looking at Mr. Boatwright from the corner of my eye. He glared at me.
“I guess so. I’ll be over there as soon as I bake ’em a cake,” Muh’Dear said.
“There’s a whole chicken in the freezer we can donate, too,” Mr. Boatwright offered. “My bum leg wasn’t in such misery, I’d go with y’all. I leave the house bad as I’m feelin’ now, I might be the next one to wind up on that slab in the undertaker’s house.”
CHAPTER 30
The Nelsons’ flag had been lowered to half-mast, and there were several unfamiliar cars parked up and down the street. Mr. Boatwright ended up going with us, walking with me holding him by one arm and Muh’Dear holding him by the other. I don’t think he was as helpless as he claimed to be, he just liked being in control when he was upset. I was convinced that he had changed his mind about going to the Nelsons’ house with us was because Muh’Dear kept going on and on about how handsome Jock must look in his army uniform.
“What took you so long?” Rhoda asked, looking directly at me when she opened the door.
“I was resting,” I said.
“From that flu bug that put her in the hospital,” Muh’Dear said quickly.
As soon as we got inside, Mr. Boatwright started jerking his head from left to right, looking all over the place with an expression on his face that reminded me of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. I heard him mumble to Muh’Dear, “Is that rum I smell?”
The mob in the living room was mostly people from various churches and the neighborhood. Florence greeted me but kept her distance because she knew Rhoda didn’t like seeing her with me. Three white boys under ten were running throughout the house punching one another.
Rhoda introduced us to her white relatives from Alabama, then led me to a corner, where she whispered something about each one.
I squinted to look across the room resting my eyes on Uncle Johnny standing in the middle of the floor with a drink in his hand and swaying like he was about to fall. “Uncle Johnny’s drunk. Your daddy’s not afraid he’ll get loose in here?” I asked.
“Oh, Uncle Johnny can handle his liquor,” Rhoda said seriously. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Boatwright hugging Rhoda’s mother and crying like a baby about how Granny Goose was going to be missed. Every time the door opened his head snapped around toward it. I knew he was looking for Jock to appear.
Rhoda’s mother, wearing a long black hostess gown, left and came back into the room a few minutes later carrying a tray of mixed drinks. “Brother Boatwright, would you care to have a drink?” she asked. He was on the couch with Muh’Dear and a woman I didn’t know.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said quickly, reaching for the tallest glass.
“Don’t worry, this batch is nonalcoholic,” Mrs. Nelson assured him. As usual, her hair and makeup were flawless.
“Oh,” he grunted, looking at the glass like he wanted to shatter it. As soon as Mrs. Nelson walked away, he walked over to Uncle Johnny and they left the room. Minutes later they returned and Mr. Boatwright had a different drink in his hand that I was sure was alcoholic.
“See that thin, blond-haired woman standin’ there talkin’ to Scary Mary? That’s my aunt Lola,” Rhoda said. I looked at the woman, who appeared to be in her fifties. She was pale and tired-looking, but she had nice features. Her face was small and oval-shaped like Rhoda’s. She had big pretty green eyes that had more than enough eye shadow and mascara on them.
Rhoda sniffed. “She might move in with us after she sells her house down South. Lookit the lipstick on her teeth. She used to be a whore in a