good news gospel, Calvary Baptist preached the bad news gospel, and First Baptist preached the new clothes gospel.
Clarice didn’t begin a recitation from her catalog of the ways Minnie’s behavior offended her, though. A glance through the window provided her with something new to complain about. Pointing outside, she said, “There’s Barbara Jean and Lester. You know, she really should call when she’s going to be this late. It’s not right to worry everybody like this.”
Clarice was mostly letting off steam, but she had a point. The summer heat tended to aggravate Lester’s various health problems. And there was quite a list of problems. Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys. If it was still in Lester’s body, it was going bad. They often appeared for supper an hour late after having to pull their car over for Barbara Jean to kick-start one of Lester’s vital organs with a remedy from the portable clinic she kept in her pocketbook.
So, when I turned to watch Barbara Jean and Lester Maxberry making their way toward the restaurant, I was surprised to see Lester moving much more energetically than usual. Dressed in a white suit and matching white fedora, Lester’s usually round back was straight, and he hardly leaned on his ivory walking stick at all. He lifted his knees high in that almost military way he did when he was feeling spry. It was Barbara Jean who slowly shuffled along, frowning with each step.
Barbara Jean wore a snug-fitting bright yellow dress and a yellow hat with a brim at least three feet wide. Her calves were encased in white go-go boots that had three-inch heels. Even from half a block away I could see that the boots were paining her. With every step she took, the corners of Barbara Jean’s mouth turned down a little more, and she occasionally stopped walking altogether to take a deep breath before soldiering on.
Clarice said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, would you look at that.” She pointed toward our approaching friend. “No wonder they’re so late. She’s wearing that yellow dress again. That thing is so tight she can barely breathe, much less take a full step. And would you look at the shoes she’s trying to walk in. Those heels are six inches, if they’re an inch. I tell you, Odette, Barbara Jean has got to accept the fact that she is a middle-aged woman and she can’t wear the things she wore when she was twenty-two. It’s unseemly. We really should have a talk with her about that. She needs an intervention real bad.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
Clarice would never say a word to Barbara Jean about the way she dressed, and we both knew it. Just like she and Barbara Jean wouldn’t tell me to my face that I was fat, and Barbara Jean and I wouldn’t remind Clarice that her husband was a dog. These were the tender considerations that came with being a member of the Supremes. We overlooked each other’s flaws and treated each other well, even when we didn’t deserve it.
When Clarice got to carrying on the way she was, it always came back to one thing: Richmond. When he was up to no good, Clarice grew fangs that filled her mouth with bitterness. Mostly she swallowed the poison, but sometimes it came seeping out.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Clarice said, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress.” Clarice was nowhere near as big as me, but she was solidly built, no matter how she starved herself. If either of us was ever foolish enough to try and force ourselves into Barbara Jean’s sexy little dress, death would most likely be the outcome.
The only thing I didn’t like about Barbara Jean’s and Lester’s outfits was that they made my stomach growl. I was ravenous and, with her in that yellow dress and him in his cream-colored suit, they got me thinking about a slice of lemon meringue pie.
Truth was, Barbara Jean looked lovely in whatever she wore. She’d been the prettiest girl in our high school and she became the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. In middle age, it’s still difficult to look away from her. Every single feature of her face is striking and exotic. Looking at Barbara Jean makes you think that maybe God is a wonderful, ancient artist who decided one day to piece together all his loveliest creations and craft something that put his other works to shame.